The Cat Next Door by Marian Babson

Pausing to catch her breath at the top, she looked back and felt a cold chill.
    Nan was still standing just inside the front door,
watching her shrewdly. Nan had been standing there watching her all along.
    Nan gave a cheery wave of encouragement and, this time, left the house, closing the door softly behind her.
    â€˜I’ve been ringing and ringing,’ Lynette complained. She was propped up against the pillows, fractious and flushed with the exertion of her bell-ringing. Or was it temper? ‘Where’s Nan?’
    â€˜Gone to church,’ Margot said coolly, regarding her in the new light of the suspicions that had surfaced during the night and could not be completely discarded. ‘What is it you want?’
    â€˜I want Nan! When will she be back?’ Lynette pushed the bell aside and looked at Margot uneasily, as though sensing something less than whole-hearted approval.
    â€˜I don’t know. What is it you want? I can get it.’
    â€˜My tray is in the way.’ Lynette pouted at the bedside table where the tray occupied most of the space.
    â€˜I’ll take it down.’ Margot picked up the tray and hesitated. ‘You know, you could just put it outside the door and then anyone going downstairs could take it down with them.’
    â€˜I’m not well!’ Lynette recoiled as though she had been struck. ‘I can’t get up.’
    â€˜You get up to go to the loo, don’t you?’
    â€˜Yes … but I don’t have to carry anything.’ She was being bullied unmercifully, Lynette’s body-language conveyed. She sank deeper into the pillows, her eyelids fluttered down, her voice grew weaker. ‘I’m not well.’
    â€˜You might feel better if you tried to move around more.’
    â€˜Are you a doctor?’ Lynette’s eyes opened and flashed hostility.
    â€˜No, I’m just trying to help.’ Margot realised she must go no further. Perhaps a seed had been planted. Perhaps. ‘Is there anything else you want?’
    â€˜Yes. I want Tikki. Where is he?’

    â€˜I haven’t seen him,’ Margot replied truthfully.
    â€˜He’s been here. I can always tell when I wake up. He likes to play with the jigsaw pieces. Yes – that’s what else you can do. Pick them up off the floor … please.’
    Margot set the tray down on a nearby chair and stooped to gather up the scattered pieces. Sudden dizziness overcame her and she sat down heavily on the floor.
    â€˜What’s the matter?’ Lynette cried in sudden panic. ‘Are you all right?’ She reached for the handbell.
    â€˜No, no, it’s nothing,’ Margot said quickly. ‘It’s just – I haven’t had breakfast yet. My blood sugar is a little low. That’s all.’
    â€˜You’re sure?’ Lynette was not convinced. ‘You’re not … sick?’ Dying, she meant. Her world had caved in so completely beneath her feet that she no longer trusted the firmest surface, the strongest person. Anything – anyone - could betray her at any moment.
    â€˜No, no.’ Margot forced herself to her feet and dropped the jigsaw pieces on the table. Cautiously she reclaimed the tray. ‘I’m going to get some breakfast now.’
    â€˜Is my father downstairs?’ Lynette asked abruptly. ‘I want to see him. Send him up to me.’
    â€˜If he’s there,’ Margot promised.
    â€˜I know he’s there,’ Lynette insisted. ‘I’m sure I heard his voice a little while ago.’ She paused. ‘But don’t let Verity come up. I don’t want Verity.’
    â€˜ Who does?’ Margot stopped herself from actually saying it, but the thought seemed to hang in the air and Lynette was not stupid.
    â€˜You don’t like her, either.’ Lynette exuded satisfaction; she had discovered an ally. ‘I think she’s terrible. I don’t want her to be my new – ’