"Fuck!!" I shout, making Smutty jump. He’s left the warmth of the blanket out of nosiness and followed me. My little black shadow.

"Sorry!" I call out after him as I scroll through my contacts and find the number of my landlady, Harriet. I walk into the kitchen and close the door. All I need is for Smutty to meow at the wrong time and I'm in deep shit because my rental agreement does not allow a cat. I did ask Harriet once (when Smutty was already living with me), but she was adamant: no cats. I couldn't really kick Smutty out so I’ve been hiding him ever since. Luckily he’s a housecat and doesn’t venture outside, so it's not like my neighbours see him walk in and out.

"Hello?" Harriet’s croaky voice sounds through the phone.

"Hi, it's Amelia from Taylor's Close."

"Amelia, everything okay?" I never call her. I'm an easy tenant, which is why I was doubly annoyed when she wouldn't allow me a cat.

"Yes, no... I think the boiler is playing up. All the radiators are cold and it looks like it doesn’t have any pressure," I explain whilst turning on my hot water tap to see if there’s been a miracle and it’s only the heating that’s impacted

"Oh, I'm sorry, Amelia." I mean, aside from the cat thing, she is actually a very nice person. "I’ll call the plumber now and will make sure we come over tomorrow," she assures me.

"Oh, don't worry, I can work from home, no need for you to head over, I can let him in." Please don’t hear the panic in my voice, please!

"Nonsense. I haven't done a property check in a while in any case. And this way I can deal with him directly, which should hopefully speed up the repairs."

Fuuuuuucccckkkk.

"Oh, okay. Sure. What time do you think you'll be here?"

"I'll let you know once I’ve spoken to the plumber but I'll aim for some time before noon."

I thank her and hang up in a state of hysteria. Smutty! What the fuck am I going to do with him? I scroll through my phone. Miranda is on honeymoon and Samira is allergic to cats. I press the call button next to Bea's number. The phone rings and rings whilst I walk back to the living room. Smutty has returned to the warmth of the blanket and gives me a dismayed look when I lift him so I can sit down and pull it over us.

The phone rings out and goes to Bea's voicemail. I leave her a short message telling her about the boiler and ask her if she can take Smutty for a few days before hanging up and trying again. She may just have been on the toilet or something. The phone rings a few times before she finally answers.

"Amelia, is everything okay? You never call." She’s right, we are more a text message group than a call group.

"Bea, can you take Smutty for a few days, please?" I plead.

"What? Why?"

"My boiler is broken and the landlady is coming over with the plumber in the morning. Please, Bea, you know I can't have him here. She’ll go ballistic if she finds any trace of him." Lucky for me, he doesn't scratch the furniture or carpet so aside from his litter box, food, toys, and scratch post, there isn't really anything around to give away that he lives here.

"Sorry, hun," she sighs dramatically, "but I'm very busy at the moment. I can't take on looking after a cat."

"He is very easy." I mean, he is. Feed him, cuddle him and he’s happy.

"Sorry, Amelia. Maybe it's time to give him to a shelter." Fuck you, is what I want to shout at her.

"I can't do that.” There is silence on the line, and Bea is clearly not offering help or any other solutions. “Anyhow, I have to go," I end the call. Thanks for nothing. Why am I friends with her again?

The first tears trickle over my cheeks. I can't give him away. I love him. He’s curled up in a small black ball in my lap, purring away as I gently stroke his soft fur.

I sniffle and open the search engine on my phone. I google catteries in the area. Okay, let's throw money at the problem.

"Don't you worry. I'll get you somewhere safe." Smutty ignores me, the ungrateful little twerp.

Half an hour later I want to throw my phone on the wall. As it is already after seven in the evening most places are closed. I eventually found one that had an out of office hours number and a lovely person called Bridget answered. She totally understood my problem and told me all about the Purr Inn which sounded a bit crazy. A bloody tablet in each cat's room so you can talk to your feline companion at any time. Luxury furniture, a TV and gourmet food. Smutty would have never wanted to come back if I put him there. But it’s just outside Little Hadlow so I could visit him if he has to stay longer. Then she told me the price and I almost choked. One hundred pounds a night. I can't afford that. Maybe for a night but I've been here before. It’s unlikely the plumber can fix the boiler tomorrow, especially if has to order parts, and then it's the weekend. We could be talking four if not five nights. That's half of what I pay rent for my house for a whole month.

I thank Bridget and end the call. What the fuck am I going to do? More tears and a little sob escape me before I pull Smutty closer. He graciously lets me cuddle him for a bit before gently biting my hand.

My gaze falls on my phone again. Another message from Bea apologising and Ben's message that I haven't read yet.

Ben

Please at least let me know you are okay.

I take a deep breath. I can't, can I? One look at Smutty and I know I have to at least try. Fuck it. Before I can change my mind, I type a message.

Me

Are you at home at the moment?

Immediately the little three bubbles appear telling me that he is typing.

Ben

Yes. Why?

Me

Okay, what's your address?

Ben

Are you going to answer any of my questions?

Me

Want me to come over or not?

Okay, maybe I am leading him on a bit here but I'm desperate. He’s my only option. I try to recall if he is a cat or dog person but I can't remember and frankly, I don't care.

A few seconds later my phone lights up with another message. Ben's address. He lives at the other end of the village near his sister; so too far for me to schlepp all of Smutty's stuff on foot.

Me

Okay. Stay there. I'll be with you in 30 mins or so.

I don't wait for his reply but go into full on mission mode. I put on yoga pants and a half decent jumper before packing up every little toy Smutty has, all of his food, his litter box, spare litter, and the fluffy cat bed he never sleeps in but might want to in a strange house. I dig out the cat carrier and with a ton of treats finally coax Smutty into it. He doesn't look pleased but doesn't cause a racket either.

The taxi I booked straight after I texted Ben is on time, but it takes me five minutes to convince the driver to take me and Smutty despite his no pet policy. It takes us another ten minutes to try to fit the scratch pole and all of Smutty's possessions into the boot before we make the short drive to Ben’s.

I'm surprised when the taxi driver stops outside a nice but reasonably sized house. I expected Ben to live in one of these outrageously oversized villas that are on almost every corner of the village now that Little Hadlow has become a commuter dream for the London bankers. But instead, Ben’s looks fairly humble and not like a house that shouts "I'm rolling in so much money I can waste tons on sending a dick shaped rocket into space."

The driver grumbles under his breath when I ask him to help me unload but eventually we have everything placed outside Ben's front door. I wait until the taxi disappears around the corner―I want to give Ben as little excuse as possible to send me away―and then ring the doorbell.