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Doogie and Miranda are at work and I can’t ask Mr Goodson, can I?’ I argued, putting some urgency into my whispering. Gibberish though it was, it was enough.
    â€˜Oh, I see. Sure, fine. On my way.’
    As she backed out of the room, I moved carefully closer to Springsteen, crouching down until I was on my knees an arm’s length away from him. The growls were coming in short bursts now as if his heart (if he had one) wasn’t quite in it. The tail lashing became more pronounced and I could feel the thump as each beat hit the floorboards. It sounded to be in 9/8 time. Dave Brubeck can play in that too. At least his ears weren’t flexed back. If you ever see that happen head-on, you’re too close to the cat, and with a cat like Springsteen, it could just be the last thing you ever see.
    â€˜You been in the wars, old son?’ I said soothingly, tipping the bottle of Italian brandy so that the liquid soaked the finger tips of my left hand. Then I took a swig for myself before putting the bottle down on the floor.
    I held my fingers out towards his nose and got them close enough so that his nose went into full wrinkle and his head went on one side and his mouth drooped open.
    â€˜You really should pick on someone your own size, you know. I mean, it’s not that you’re getting too old for a bit of playful homicide, but you’ve got to learn to pace yourself a bit more. Ripping women’s tights off with your teeth is a young man’s game; take my word for it.’
    The brandy and the inane chat distracted him enough for me to get my right hand on the length of material hanging from his mouth. Keeping well away from his right side and the injured leg, I worked the nylon up and over his back teeth until I felt it go slack and could gently pull it out, trying to be as delicate as a surgeon operating on a private patient.
    â€˜That’s Chiffon,’ said Fenella behind me, making me flinch.
    Springsteen, who hadn’t indicated in any way that she was padding up behind me – pretending to be befuddled by the brandy fumes – took the opportunity, now I was distracted, to lash out with his left paw and rake me across the back of my hand. It wasn’t a severe clawing; he couldn’t get the angle right from the way he was lying to protect his right leg. There were only two tracks of blood.
    â€˜Oooh, did that hurt?’
    I looked up at her and bit my tongue.
    â€˜I’m going to hang a bell on you if you insist on wearing those slippers,’ I growled.
    â€˜I was only saying you were right,’ she said, all innocence. ‘That shade of tights is called Chiffon. Lisabeth has some airing in the bathroom.’
    Now there was an image I didn’t want to dwell upon.
    With my back to Springsteen I zipped up my leather jacket to the collar then said: ‘Just throw me the towels.’
    At least she’d remembered them and had at least three large fluffy beach-size ones draped around her neck. One was the official Star Wars – The Phantom Menace souvenir beach towel. I didn’t ask; life’s too short.
    â€˜Now?’
    â€˜Now.’
    She bent her head and flipped the towels off her neck. I caught them and in one fluid movement, because I knew I wouldn’t get a second chance, turned and flung them over Springsteen, rolling him into them as if I was trying to smother a fire. I grabbed the bundle, hugged it to my chest and got to my feet.
    â€˜Now what?’ Fenella asked, a look of absolute horror at what I had just done on her face, which had gone a whiter shade of grey.
    â€˜Run!’
    It was all that needed saying.
    We thundered out of the flat and down the stairs, making so much noise I could hardly hear the Satanic growling coming from inside the bundle of towels I clutched to my chest.
    â€˜Get the door!’ I panted, allowing Fenella to overtake me and jump the last few steps, her Panda slippers skidding on the fake