The evening was beginning to darken into night. Stella mooched about the house like a lost soul. “He isn’t going to call is he?”

“I don’t know, Stella, I really don’t.”

“But you don’t think he is do you?”

“Please don’t put words in my mouth, I don’t know. Want some more tea?”

“No, I’ll be peeing all night as it is.”

“Suit yourself.” I switched on the kettle, my tummy rumbled so I reached for the cream crackers and some cheese. “Want any of these?” I said showing them to her. She shook her head and continued her wandering. Whilst I felt for her, her inability to settle was beginning to irritate me.

I ate my crackers and cheese and drank my tea. The phone rang, and I begrudgingly put down my snack and went to answer it. “Hello?”

“Hello Cathy, did the package arrive?”

“Yes Tom, I was just having a quick snack and was then going to call you. Thanks so much for sending the stuff, it’s going to be very useful.” We chatted on and on for maybe twenty minutes when Stella appeared and looked at me and at her watch. She wanted to know how much longer I’d be in case Des phoned. I came to within a fraction of an inch of telling her where to go.

I finished the call with Tom, promising to go and see him as soon as my commitments in Bristol allowed me. I glared at Stella and went to check my emails. Those kept me busy for the next hour. I suddenly realised, the wandering one wasn’t wandering. My heart nearly stopped as the recollection of what happened the last time she got depressed, hit me.

I rushed into the lounge, she wasn’t there, upstairs — nowhere to be seen. I looked in the kitchen and she had Spike in one hand and a knife in the other. My body froze and my throat refused to function other than to choke with a huge lump in it.

Unable to move I watched as she moved the knife closer to Spike. I couldn’t bear to watch, and if she saw me, who knows what would happen. The knife got closer and closer and whilst I couldn’t bear to watch, I seemed unable to turn away or cry out. With a very delicate move, she seemed to put the point of the knife in the dormouse’s mouth and flicked, a piece of nut or something similar flew out.

“There we are little critter, that should feel better.”

I regained the use of my body and mouth. “Oh there you are, I was just coming to feed her.”

“I’ve done it for you, she’s quite cute isn’t she?”

“What’s the knife for?”

“She got some nut stuck on a tooth and didn’t seem able to free it herself.”

“Oh, I thought perhaps you were teaching her to use a knife and fork.”

“Don’t be silly, her paws are too small. It’s a pity, back at Daddy’s house I have a whole pile of doll’s stuff including cutlery, which would be around the right size. Sorry Spike, you’ll just have to eat with your fingers until I remember it.”

“She doesn’t look too downhearted. Shall I take her?”

“Yeah, she’s had two hazel nuts and a couple of almonds.”

“Okay, I’ve got some meal worms in the fridge, she likes the odd one of those too.”

“Ugh, fancy eating something while it’s still wriggling.”

“I know, but have you ever had oysters?”

“Yeah, they’re vastly overrated.”

“You eat those live.”

“Ugh, I suppose you do. Can’t say I’ll be wanting one of those again in a hurry.”

“Nor me, I don’t fancy slimy food anyway.” I gave Spike the meal worm and she held it and her little jaws smacked with pleasure as she bit off its head.

“Ugh! That is like–ugh! Gruesome.” She shuddered and moved away. “I don’t suppose Des emailed?”

“Fraid not, least not to my email address, does he have yours?”

“Dunno, can’t remember if I gave it to him or not.”

“My puter’s still on if you want to go and check.” She did and left as Spike dispatched the next meal worm. I gave Spike one more then put her back in her cage with a dog biscuit in case she wanted to gnaw on something. It was safer than eating her cage.

When I got back to the dining room, Stella was still looking at her emails. “I have one from Tom asking me to ask you to make him some bread to take back with me.”

“I should think that might be arranged, depending upon which day you go back.”

“I could hardly go until this is sorted, could I?”

“I didn’t mean it like that, Stella. You know you’re welcome to stay as long as you like, or it takes. Might be worth warning Tom, though.”

“Oh, I can’t–what if it goes pear shaped, I’d never be able to face him again.”

“I’d have thought he’d be rather sympathetic towards you. He’s very fond of you.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s just–I dunno–just so traumatic. Once I get over this, I’m never gonna let another man near me as long as I live.”

“They’re not all bad, you know.”

“Yeah, prove it.”

“Well just think about the two who have called tonight, Simon and Tom. They are both lovely men. Surely you can’t include them in such a generalisation.”

“What, all men are bastards?”

“That sort of thing, because clearly they aren’t.”

“No but they are all stupid.”

“Sometimes, but then so are we.”

“Whose side are you on?”

“No one’s, because I don’t feel it’s a partisan argument. We can all be nasty and stupid, not necessarily at the same time. Sometimes it’s a response to life and sometimes it seems innate. Besides, what will you think if Des decides he can’t live without you?”

“That’s different.”

“Is it? He’s a man, isn’t he?”

“Oh yeah, he’s that alright, but he’s still a bastard, keeping me on tenterhooks all this time.”

“Yeah, but he is making a commitment for the rest of his life. So it isn’t an easy situation.” I didn’t know why I was almost defending him.

“Yeah, so? I made the same commitment when he asked me to marry him and I didn’t need six months to think it over. I answered immediately.”

“You’re fortunate to know your own mind. He obviously isn’t so sure of things or we’d have heard from him by now. What if something else has happened and he’s unable to get to a phone?”

“Like what?”

“The BBC could have sent him off on a commission somewhere.” I was clutching at straws.

“Yeah, sure, like they don’t have payphones anywhere or a signal for his mobile. Come off it, Cathy, why are you protecting him, you don’t fancy him, do you?”

“I’m not defending him, I’m just testing your arguments. No I don’t fancy him, in fact, I’m not sure I really like him.”

“So if I married him, we’d never see you?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“No but you haven’t denied it either.”

“I don’t care who you marry, Stella, as long as you’re happy. I’ll cope with the larger social issues as they arise.”

She was about to respond when the phone rang again. I picked it up, “Hello? Oh hello, Des. Stella, he wants to speak with you.”