Maybe her mate, maybe her rival. A taxi horn blared and it was gone in a blur of movement back into the dark. The cat in the gutter started to pull herself along the road, claws scraping, dragging her useless back legs behind her. ‘No, lie still. It’s all right, it’s all right,’ I said, even though it wasn’t and we both knew it. ‘It’s all right.’ An old guy on a battered bicycle pedalled slowly past, his head turning to watch. Then he wobbled to a halt and stood there, leaning on the handlebars with his finger up his nose, studying the crazy gweilo talking to a dying cat. I flared inside, a red hot anger like a parachute flare going off and I felt my shoulders tremble and my stomach tighten and I glared at him. ‘If you don’t get on that sodding bike and get on your way I’ll ram it up your arse,’ I said. Maybe he understood English but more likely he just got the drift from the way I said it. Anyway he went, almost colliding with an old lady laden with carrier bags as he looked at me over his shoulder.
