‘Rascal! What are you doing here?’ said Tina stooping to pick the cat up. She nuzzled her face against the animal’s neck. ‘How did you get out of the kitchen?’ As Tina walked down the hallway to the kitchen her mind went over the routine of that morning. Rascal was always confined to the kitchen during the day when Tina was at work. His passion for bringing his kill into the house and dropping it on the floor had meant his days of having access to all areas were gone. The live mouse had been the prize too far.
Tina remembered closing the door so the cat couldn’t venture anywhere else in the house. It was always the last thing she did before going out. She wondered if perhaps today she had forgotten to do it, what with all the upset of the night before. To be honest, she couldn’t remember. It was something she did every day: a matter of habit. She couldn’t recall doing it or not doing it. Maybe Dimitri had gone back into the kitchen for something. But she didn’t think so.
Tina felt her mouth dry and the reflex action to swallow stilted. Did that mean someone had been in the house today? Other than her leaving the kitchen door open, it was the only other explanation. They certainly wouldn’t have been able to come through the front door, but she would check with Mr Cooper anyway, just in case he had seen something. The windows were all double-glazed units and all were locked closed. There was no way anyone could have got in through a window. That left only the back door.
Striding into the kitchen and over to the half-glazed UPVC door, Tina rattled the handle. Locked. Definitely locked. No, she must have forgotten about the internal door and left it open or not shut it properly. Was it any wonder she wasn’t thinking straight after the night she’d had.
Later that evening, plating an extra dinner up, Tina popped next door to Mr Cooper. As was customary, she knocked on the back door and then let herself in. Tina had long given up telling him to keep the door locked. He was stuck in his ways, had never locked the door in all the time he had been there, in excess of fifty years – as he liked to remind her – so he didn’t see why he should now. Of course, he would lock it at night time, but not during the day. He wasn’t going to let society turn him into a jibbering wreck, afraid of his own shadow.
‘Mr Cooper!’ Tina called out, knowing full well he’d be sitting in the living room with the telly on loud. She could hear it blaring out now. She was thankful, as ever, that their dividing wall separated her living room from his staircase. She pitied the neighbours on the other side of him whose living room was back to back with Mr Cooper’s. Tina placed the dinner plate on the kitchen table and went further into the house.
The usual smell of mustiness, rather like a charity shop, assailed her nostrils, as did the smell of the downstairs toilet. Mr Cooper lived on the ground floor now, the dining room converted into a bedroom and what once would have been the scullery now a wet room.
Tina knocked loudly on the living-room door and pushed it open. ‘Hello, Mr Cooper.’
He looked up from his winged back chair and smiled a toothless mouth to her.
‘Hello, love. You all right?’ Mr Cooper smoothed his hand over his head, a mixture of grey wispy hairs and a balding patch, speckled with age spots. Ever the gentleman, he made to stand up, one hand grasping his walking stick and the other trying to gain leverage from the arm of the chair.
Tina waited until he had risen slightly and indicated to the other chair for her to sit. He really didn’t need to, but it was an old habit he clearly had no intention of breaking, despite her protests not to get up in the early days of her visits. She duly took her seat next to the fireplace.
‘I’ve put a dinner out on the kitchen table for you. Chicken pie and veg. Hope that’s okay.’ She smiled as he nodded.
‘Thank you. I’ll look forward to that for my lunch tomorrow.’ He settled himself back in his chair again. ‘How’s Dimitri? School okay, is it?’
The usual questions. It was comforting. However, Tina wanted to ask him about last night, but not in a way that would alarm him. ‘Did you sleep all right last night?’ she ventured.
‘Not too bad, love. Not too bad at all.’
‘You didn’t hear anything, then?’ She toyed with the idea of not mentioning the police, but then thought better of it. If one of the other neighbours spoke to him they might tell him. ‘I thought I saw someone in the alley last night. I was a bit frightened and got the police to come round. Just to check it out. Everything was okay, though. I must have imagined it.’ She added the last bit hurriedly to allay any fears.
‘Really? Well, no, I didn’t hear a thing. But then you know me, deaf as a post.’ He chuckled and tapped his ear. ‘I suppose you’ve come round to tell me to lock my back door.’ He looked good-humouredly over his glasses at her.