LIFE & THE WADHAMS
Is there room in the busy house for a hard-luck case? Even if Polly’s priorities have changed…
Drew Wadham was angry. His eyes were hard and his nostrils flared as he flung himself through the back door and threw himself down at the kitchen table of No. 23 Elderslie Terrace. His sister, Pinky Clark, on the other hand, remained calm. She knew her brother of old, and knew that the best thing to do was to let him tell his story in his own time. She handed Drew a coffee, then busied herself with the breakfast dishes left behind by her large noisy family as they’d dispersed to follow their weekend ploys.
Seventeen-year-old Jennifer was off to the sales, while Matty had taken himself off next door, to play his latest computer game with Amanda. Husband Jim was at the garage catching up on paperwork, and baby Ruby was upstairs with Grandma Polly and Grandad Mike in their granny flat.
As Drew sipped his coffee, Tyson crept out from under the table and pushed his nose into the vet’s strong, capable hands. As he absently stroked the little Jack Russell’s head, the fire stilled in Drew’s eyes and he sighed heavily.
Pinky settled herself opposite him with her own coffee.
“So?” she said enquiringly. “What is it?”
But she already had an inkling. The only thing that could upset Drew to such an extent was cruelty to an animal, and though he’d seen plenty in his time, he’d never become inured to it.
“Annabel went down to the cat sanctuary this morning as usual,” Drew said. “She wasn’t expecting anyone in as they’re shut to the public over the holidays, you know, and there are no cats there at the moment, but as soon as she got there, there was this knock on the door, and a young girl standing there with – ”
“With a kitten?” Pinky guessed. “Bought for Christmas and thrown out with the wrappings when they realised how much attention it would need?”
Drew shook his head. “Worse. It was a full-grown cat – though you’d hardly have known it by its scraggy state. It was so thin and its coat was matted, and it was shivering with cold, poor thing.
“The girl stayed long enough to tell Annabel that she thought it belonged to one of her neighbours – and that it had been yowling outside their door for days and nights – ever since
Christmas Day, actually.”
“Had they gone away and left it?” Pinky was shocked.
“No.” Drew shook his head. “She knocked at their door, and the big burly man who answered it denied it was their cat. And get this – the girl could see through to their sitting-room, and there were their kids, playing with a puppy, which they’d obviously got for Christmas.”
“So out with the old and in with the new. How awful!
Are you going to report him?”
“Already have,” Drew said grimly. “He’ll be getting a visit from the police and the RSPCA – and we’ll see if he can intimidate them as much as he did that young girl.