Forget Her Name(74)

I click my fingers. ‘Isn’t he gorgeous? Here, kitty kitty.’

Mum gasps.

Dominic grabs my wrist. ‘No.’ His voice is like steel. ‘Leave it alone.’

It’s as if he thinks I’m going to launch myself on the defenceless little thing and tear it to pieces with my bare teeth.

I glance at Dad, hoping for something equally dramatic. But he’s staring at me with that part-shocked, part-bemused look on his face, like someone just slapped him and he still can’t quite believe it.

‘What the hell do you think I’m going to do?’ I ask lightly. ‘Strangle the cat? For pity’s sake . . .’

Dominic hesitates, then releases my wrist.

‘Ouch, so unnecessary.’ I give my wrist a shake. It hurts, but no more than what we did earlier. I sneak him a dirty sideways look, and stage-whisper, ‘Better save that kind of kinky shit for bedtime, yeah?’

Dominic says nothing but there’s a flicker in his face. I’m guessing it’s fear. But it could be surprise.

I crouch down, holding out a hand, and Panther comes to me trustingly. As if he knows exactly what to do to horrify everyone else in the room. Gently, I stroke the short black fur behind his ears. At once Panther purrs, half closing his eyes with delight, tipping his throat back for more.

A willing sacrifice.

‘Look at that,’ I say softly. ‘Dear little kitty loves me stroking him. In fact, he’s practically gagging for it. Wouldn’t you say so, Jasmine?’

I smile up at my cousin, who sits frozen in shock, staring at me with her big wide eyes.

‘Do you like his name?’ I ask nobody in particular. ‘Panther.’ I smooth a hand along his thin back. ‘He’s still quite small, of course. A helpless little thing, really. But he looks like he’ll be a panther when he grows up, don’t you think? It’s the black fur. And the eyes, always watching . . .’

I stop stroking Panther, and my mother rushes forward to grab him. She backs away, watching me, clutching the kitten to her chest so hard he begins to struggle.

‘Look out, you’re the one strangling him now,’ I tell her.

‘Shut up,’ my father says.

I make a tutting sound under my breath. ‘Nice.’

Dad glances at Mum. I know that look. It means business. Nasty, unpleasant business. The kind that comes with pills and physical restraints.

‘That’s it,’ he says, ‘I’m calling the doctor.’

‘Doctor Holbern, by any chance?’ I ask sweetly.

‘But, darling, it’s Boxing Day,’ Mum says to Dad in a small, trembling voice. She has put Panther down on the floor at last, much to the kitten’s relief. ‘He won’t come out. He won’t be available. No one will be available.’

‘He’ll come.’

‘But darling . . .’

My father is frowning, very much the man in charge. ‘Would you get me the phone, please?’ he asks, turning to Dominic as his second-in-command, his voice strained but polite. He’s preserving the niceties at all costs. Because that’s what diplomats do. ‘I want to keep an eye on her.’

I watch as Dominic leaves the kitchen.

‘Got the good doctor’s number on speed dial, have you?’ I say. ‘In case of emergency. How very convenient.’

Jasmine is hurriedly collecting up the letter tiles and folding the Scrabble board. So helpful, I think, smiling at her. She stiffens, no doubt worried that I’ve turned my attention to her.

‘You were going to lose anyway,’ I tell her kindly. ‘My father had “kumquat”. You can’t compete with an exotic fruit.’

The door bangs open. Dominic is back with the phone. He passes it to my father, his gaze on my face.

‘And the hero returns, his mission accomplished.’ I flop with mock relief, one hand pressed to my forehead. ‘Thank God for that. We can all relax now.’

‘Cat,’ Mum says, pleading with me now.

‘That’s not my name.’

Dad stops pressing buttons on the phone and looks at me. His face is drained of colour.

‘Fuck,’ he says under his breath.

‘My name is not Catherine,’ I say loudly, just to be clear, and look around the room at every face. Even the kitten is staring at me from behind Mum’s legs. I make a loud ‘shoo!’ at him and he makes a dash for the utility room. That makes me laugh.

‘Yes, it is,’ my mother says stubbornly. ‘You were christened Catherine.’

‘But I renounced that name, didn’t I?’ I smile at Dominic, who looks back at me in shock. ‘That sounds rather impressive, doesn’t it?’ I say. ‘Kind of preachy too. Like renouncing the devil.’ I put on a deep pulpit voice that echoes about the kitchen. ‘I renounce thee, Catherine, in the name of the Lord!’

‘You’re still Cat to us.’

‘Oh, Mummy.’ I put my hands on my hips and tip my head to one side, mocking her. ‘Was I a terrible disappointment? Of course I was. Your only child, and a complete nutjob. It must have been hard for you to call in Doctor Holbern. Admitting to the world that you couldn’t cope with naughty little Catherine.’

‘Don’t,’ she begs me.

Dad has got through to someone on the phone.