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I couldn’t help but think that Barbara’s actions towards me and George were a result of her depression. Perhaps I could learn to forgive her … I was pretty sure I could. It was confusing but I was trying to be compassionate. I knew how much grief could mess with anyone. On the other hand, this woman had tried, more than once, to hurt me and my kitten. I was really feeling mixed up about it. Did I do what I normally would do – try to win her round, and make her feel better at the same time? Or did I take the more sensible option of keeping well away from her? I just didn’t know.

‘So, you had to walk home with the cat hater,’ George said when we were alone together that evening.

‘Yes, well, Polly held on to me so I was quite safe. But remember, she has had an awful time of it, losing her husband, moving house and she doesn’t even have family nearby.’

‘Oh Dad, I said I’d give her another chance, but this would be her third or fourth chance. And I still don’t see how we can trust anyone who doesn’t like cats.’

‘She did say she liked dogs rather than cats, so you’re not wrong there, son. Anyway, I’m declaring tomorrow a show-free day. I am going to see my friends, spend time with Snowball, and just do normal things, because I need a day off.’

‘Yeah I understand, but we will have to fit in one of our rehearsals. I’m sorry but you guys really need to practise more, otherwise the show will be a disaster,’ George said.

‘A disaster?’ Really, George was melodramatic.

‘Yes, if we can’t be good sheep then the whole thing falls apart,’ he said.

I decided not to argue with him. I didn’t think he was right, but I knew that there was no point. So, it seemed that there was no such thing as a show-free day for me after all.

Chapter Twenty-One

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The next day, I visited Snowball and we set out to see our friends. We had a nice stroll, we both napped, and really, it was all the things that cats like best. If I had been given pilchards it would have been perfect. But there were no pilchards. Never mind, it was still a pretty good, relaxing day until after school, when Aleksy and Connie came to our house, visibly upset.

‘The dance crew wanted to go to the hall so they could use the stage to practise, and we said great, we would let them in. I was going to use Dad’s key – he said he had his in his jacket pocket – but we looked and it’s gone.’

‘Oh, Jonathan loses his keys all the time,’ Claire said. ‘Your dad has probably put them somewhere else and thinks it was in his pocket. Take these for now and I’m sure they’ll turn up,’ Claire said. ‘I can’t come with you, unfortunately. Polly and Matt are working late and I’ve got all the kids.’ It seemed Claire might like a show-free day too, although the kids were upstairs practising their songs at the top of their voices, so it seemed that there was no such thing as a show-free day for her either.

Aleksy and Connie trotted off, and we settled down in our basket for a pre-dinner rest. Pickles was supposed to be up practising with the children but he joined us instead– clearly he had also had enough of the singing.

‘Apparently I am the best reindeer ever,’ he told us.

‘I doubt that,’ George said, but thankfully Pickles didn’t hear him.

‘I’m sure you are, Pickles,’ I said, giving George a ‘look’.

‘Guess, what though, I can even make a reindeer sound,’ he said.

‘What’s a reindeer sound?’ George asked.

‘Woof, woof, woof.’

‘Really good,’ I said, silencing George again.

I closed my eyes as George and Pickles bickered like siblings, and took another short cat nap. My nap count today had been impressive to say the least.

I was woken by a commotion as Polly arrived with Aleksy and Connie.

‘Calm down,’ Polly was saying. ‘You’re both talking at the same time, and I can’t understand – oh there you are Claire, thank goodness; maybe you can get some sense out of these two.’

‘What is going on?’ Claire asked. I sat up, yawned, and blinked. Whatwas going on?

‘The hall, we went there and the dancers got on stage to practise, so we went backstage to see how the props looked and it was a total mess. The star was all ruined, the stable had been broken, and there was mess everywhere. Nicky said that we should call the police, but then we thought we would ask you first,’ Aleksy gushed.

‘And there was no sign of a breakin?’ Claire asked.

‘No, and then I thought about how we couldn’t find Dad’s keys, so that means maybe …’

Surely they weren’t accusing Tomasz. Yes, he did have very big feet and he had keys but he wasn’t the sort to do—

‘Of course I’m not suggesting it was Dad, of course,’ Aleksy said. Ah, OK, I thought so. ‘But after the paint, we think maybe someone took his keys and did it.’

‘Yes, someone must have taken his keys last night, stolen them,’ Connie said, as if we were in any doubt as to what Aleksy meant.

‘Really?’ Polly scrunched her face up in disbelief. ‘Isn’t that a bit, well, extreme?’