A Walk in Wildflower Park. Bella Osborne

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      ‘It’s not what you think,’ said Karl, before joining Sophie in hysterics.

      ‘For goodness’ sake – shhh. And pull yourselves together,’ snapped Anna, anxiety coursing through her at the thought of being caught in this situation. ‘Get rid of it!’ Anna stabbed a finger at the white powder.

      Sophie paused her giggling to sweep the white powder into a plastic cup of what looked like water. The liquid fizzed. Sophie gave it a swirl, lifted it to her lips and to Anna’s horror drank it down. Anna dropped her notebook and papers as her hands flew to her head. Was Sophie trying to get rid of the baby?

      ‘Whoa. It’s okay,’ said Sophie, seeming to realise Anna’s distress was very real. ‘It’s only paracetamol.’

      Anna didn’t believe her. Paracetamol came in tablets not white powder. ‘You’re mainlining paracetamol?’

      She glared at Karl. ‘Sophie’s got a headache and I read somewhere it acts quicker if you crush the tablets and take them in lemonade,’ he said.

      Sophie was nodding. ‘I had a wicked headache and I don’t like taking anything when I’m pregnant. I thought I’d try a single crushed paracetamol and see if it worked. It’s probably hokum.’

      Anna was shaking her head. ‘I thought it was … It looked like … Bloody hell, you scared the life out of me.’

      ‘Did you think we had a crack den going in here?’ Karl looked amused.

      ‘No … well, possibly. What on earth was I supposed to think?’

      ‘This was totally innocent. If you’re after the real crack den, it’s in the stationery cupboard up on the fourth floor,’ he said, with a tap of his nose.

      ‘You are a pair of idiots. Anyone would have thought the same as me. Now clear away any trace of that stuff,’ said Anna, picking up her things from the floor.

      ‘Sorry,’ said Sophie. ‘We didn’t mean to freak you out.’

      ‘We’d have been snorting it through ten-pound notes if we did,’ said Karl, with a chuckle.

      ‘I hope your headache goes,’ said Anna, as Sophie left the room.

      ‘Right, Karl, let’s talk Design Architecture,’ said Anna, turning back to him.

      Karl narrowed his left eye and pouted. ‘I’m guessing you’ve not spoken to Hudson then?’ Of course Hudson had jumped the gun and spoken to Karl already, without her. Anna felt an involuntary sigh escape. She was feeling less and less guilty about whacking the guy in the eye.

      After the day from hell Anna was in need of a strong coffee and a good old moan but what she opted for was a trip to the cat rescue. She didn’t like going home to an empty flat and it was a small stand for something she wanted and Liam had never let her have. And moaning to herself was never any fun, but with a cat at least she’d feel like someone was listening. As she had suspected they had lots of kittens and any one of them would have been perfect. They were all cute and all she had to do was choose one. She liked the one with the black patch over its eye and the one who looked like it was wearing a dinner jacket.

      A young couple with two small children were looking at the same litter of black and white splodges. There was only one volunteer who was clearly rushed off her feet and was being continually harassed. Anna moved out of the way and went to peruse the pens at the other end away from the kittens whilst she waited for her turn. Each cage had a jolly write-up of its occupant. A very noisy Burmese called Sasha focused his elongated meow at her until she spoke to him. Anna moved out of Sasha’s field of vision and was watching Bill and Ben, two ginger and white males, who were peering over a sign on their window that said ‘reserved’ when there was a thud behind her. Anna turned around to see an exceptionally large tabby cat with both paws on the glass window of his pen. Clearly happy he’d attracted Anna’s attention, he started to parade up and down in front of the glass with his fluffy tail held high. Anna smiled and went over.

      His bio said his name was Maurice and he was nine years old, though when Anna peered closer, he didn’t look like an old cat. The dark, long-haired tabby was now sitting, staring directly at Anna. He seemed to fill most of his pen. Anna didn’t think she’d ever seen a cat that big before that wasn’t in a zoo.

      ‘Sorry, were you next?’ asked the volunteer.

      ‘Yes,’ said Anna. ‘Is he really nine?’

      ‘Maurice? Yes, he is, but there’s plenty of life left in him,’ said the volunteer, reaching to open the pen so Anna could meet the cat.

      ‘It’s okay. I was really after a kitten.’ Anna felt instantly guilty. She sidled away so Maurice wouldn’t hear, which she knew was a bit crazy.

      ‘We have plenty of kittens. Let’s fill the form in and you can tell me which one you’d like.’ Anna relaxed and followed the volunteer back to the kitten section. She glanced over her shoulder. The big fluffy cat was watching Anna intently. The volunteer went through the questions but Anna’s mind kept going back to Maurice.

      ‘Has Maurice been here a long time?’

      ‘A couple of months. He’s got a lovely nature but very few people want the middle-aged ones. Is your property rented or owned?’

      ‘It’s owned. Where did he come from?’

      The volunteer stopped filling in the form and looked at Anna. ‘It’s a bit sad really. His owner had a fall and had to go into a nursing home and they couldn’t find anyone to take Maurice so he came here. He’s struggled to settle into life at the centre. He’s been used to the same lap to sit on for nine years and a garden to wander around in, so it’s a bit of a shock for him. That’s why he doesn’t interact much.’ She sighed. Back to the form: ‘Any other pets?’

      ‘Err, no. Poor thing, he seemed quite friendly.’

      ‘Did he? You should be honoured. He ignores most of us.’ She scribbled her initials at the bottom of the piece of paper. ‘Right, we’ll pop over one evening and do your home check, and then you’ll be able to come and collect your kitten. Which one was it?’

      ‘It was … um …’ Anna had to think hard as both the kittens she’d liked had slipped from her mind and all that was there was a picture of Maurice. ‘Actually, could I have another look at them please?’

      Sophie kissed Arlo’s forehead and smoothed his hair to one side. It was wayward like his father’s. ‘Night, sweetie. Straight to sleep now.’

      ‘I don’t see why I should when Petal is still up,’ said Arlo, folding his arms indignantly over his Star Wars pyjamas. ‘She’s younger than me!’

      Tiredness had claimed most of Sophie’s body and it felt like she was sinking. Sophie sighed and adjusted the grumpy jiggling mass on her hip that was Petal. She’d forgotten how tired she got when she was pregnant. It went beyond the usual levels of yawning and looking forward to bedtime and was more a sensation closer to lapsing unconscious.

      ‘Sweetie, Petal’s going to bed now too. Night, night.’

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