The Road

As I said, I didn't wake up the next day until about 11 o'clock. I opened my eyes and the first thing I saw was a note stuck to the side of the lamp. It was from Martin.

'I phoned in sick for you. I said you'd been sick in the night. Get some rest. We'll talk about it all tonight. Give me a ring when you get up. Love you.'

I turned over and considered going back to sleep again, but then my eyes fell on the alarm clock.

I almost stumbled down the stairs and into the kitchen. I picked up the kettle from its cradle and filled it up with water from the tap. I stood staring at it until it boiled. Then I took a mug out of a cabinet and threw a tea bag inside it. I think I must've stared at the tea bag in the mug for ages, because I remember thinking that I needed to boil the kettle again.

I sat down with my tea, wrapped my hands around the mug and just kept very still. I hadn't looked out any of the windows yet. I had no idea what the weather was like outside. I wasn't really aware of what clothes I was wearing, although I realised later that I'd put my dressing gown on over my nightie.

It was when I brought the mug to my lips to take the first sip of my tea that I heard a noise from the road outside. A screech of brakes. A car door opening. Then silence for a few moments. Then a car door closing. And finally a car engine roaring away. There was something about the speed with which the car drove away that pulled me away from the kitchen and made me walk over to the front door.

I opened it and immediately saw something lying by the side of the road. There were some slippers by the door. I put them on and walked outside.

The thing lying by the pavement was a cat on its side. It wasn't moving but it was obviously still alive. Its eyes registered my presence. Its red tongue was half sticking out of its mouth. One of its front paws was making rapid, small jerky movements. Its fur was becoming increasingly in dark blood, but I couldn't see an obvious cut anywhere.

I knelt down and looked closely at the animal. It wasn't making a sound, but I could see that its breathing was becoming increasingly shallow and quick. Its eyes kept staring at me, blinking every now and then.

I remember staring at its unmoving body. I looked at its head covered in short, dark fur. I looked at its whiskers, long and thick. I looked at its paws, stretched out stiffly, paralysed. I saw the blood spread wider and further across the fur, making it look darker still.

I found myself reaching out to touch it. As soon as the cat noticed my hand coming towards it, its eyes opened wider and its breathing became more laboured.

"Shhh," I said. "It's all right. Don't worry." It actually took me a moment to realise that I was speaking. For some reason, my voice didn't sound like my own. I'd never had a cat as a child. In fact, I'd never had a pet of any sort. I'd never wanted to have one. But I found myself trying to comfort this animal.

I placed my hand as gently as I could on the top of its head. "You'll be all right," I said. "It's all right. Don't you worry now."

I tried to move my hand as slowly as I could. I lowered it a few inches, until it was lying at the top of the cat's neck. Then I allowed it to go lower still, closer to the growing patch of blood.

The cat's eyes kept staring at me. Its breathing had calmed down again. The jerky movements of its paw had become almost imperceptible.

I moved my hand lower and felt my fingers brush against a few strands of wet fur. A part of me wanted to pull away, but I forced myself to be very still. My hand moved again. I felt the blood begin to spread onto the tips of my fingers. It was hot and thick. Trying to keep my touch as soft as I could, I moved my hand lower and lower, finding a delicate trail through the mottled fur, all the way down to the end of the animal's body.

Then I heard the voice: "Is it dead?"

I jerked my hand away and rubbed it on the front of my clothes. I turned around and saw a man standing right next to me. I hadn't heard him walking towards me. I don't know how long he'd been there. He was quite elderly, probably over seventy. He was wearing a faded blue shirt and grey trousers. I'm fairly sure he had a bag full of groceries with him.

I stood up and took a few paces away from him. "Sorry?"

He pointed at the cat and spoke slowly. "Your cat. Is it all right?"

I turned to look at the bloodied mess lying by the side of the road, its eyes still staring at me. I thought that maybe it had stopped breathing, but I wasn't sure. Then I felt the stickiness on my fingers and I looked down at my right hand. A red thickness was beginning to dry into the lines of my palm. And that was the moment when I realised I was wearing my dressing gown: I looked down and saw a trail of faint crimson where I'd rubbed my hand.

"Sorry?" I said again. "No, it's not mine." I took a few paces backwards, in the direction of my front door.

"Oh dear," the man said. "Well, what's happened to it? Hadn't we better get some help?"

I shook my head and kept walking away, hiding my bloodied hand behind my back. "I don't know... I'm sorry... I've got to... get back inside..." I turned around and quickened my pace.

"But, just one moment." He'd raised his voice. "You could call the RSPCA or something. They'd tell us what to do."

I reached my front door and slammed it shut behind me. The next moment, I was running up the stairs and into my bathroom. I turned on the hot tap, shoved the plug into the hole in the sink and pumped the sink full of soap from the dispenser. I struggled out of my dressing gown and threw it onto the floor. I plunged my hands into the sink and rubbed every shred of the blood off. I pulled out the plug and watched the frothy water drain away.

I picked up the dressing gown and ran downstairs with it, almost throwing myself into the kitchen. I opened the washing machine and threw the dressing gown inside. I filled the tray with washing powder, turned the temperature setting to its maximum and switched on the machine. It was only when I heard the water start to pour into the drum that I felt my shoulders and the back of my neck relax.

And then my ears became aware of some sort of hubbub outside the house, somewhere beyond the front door...