Angel on the Inside Read Online Free Page A

again.
    â€˜Isn’t it obvious?’
    â€˜No, Fenella, actually it isn’t. What happened?’
    â€˜I phoned for an ambulance but they wouldn’t come. So I came out here to try and grab a taxi.’
    â€˜I think I’m up to speed on that bit. Why wouldn’t they send an ambulance?’
    â€˜They said they don’t send them for cats.’
    I hit the front door with my shoulder and took the stairs three at a time.
    Â 
    â€˜He ... was ... eating ... something ... and ... it ... disagreed with him,’ panted Fenella as she caught up with me on the landing that lead to Flat 3 – my flat.
    â€˜Food poisoning?’ I scoffed. ‘That’s not possible. That cat’s got a 5-Alarm Chilli stomach. His digestive juices could cut through metal. In fact, I think that’s where they got the idea for the Alien monster.’
    â€˜No, I meant he was eating some thing . Something that was still alive. And I think it was fighting back. It hurt him.’
    I pinned Fenella to the wall by her shoulders, but my hands slipped on the satin of her dressing gown and there was a moment there when it could have been embarrassing for me and probably a first for her. I clasped my hands as if in prayer, if only to keep them out of mischief.
    â€˜Look, Fenella, sweetie, just please tell me what you think you saw,’ I pleaded.
    â€˜He was howling; that’s what woke me the second time. It wasn’t his usual “Let me in” or “Let me out” howl. It wasn’t his usual “I’ve killed wildlife come and see” howl. I know those. This one was really sad, a piteous, tragic sort of a howl. And really, really loud. So I came out to see what was the matter and he was here.’
    â€˜Where?’
    â€˜Here on the landing, walking backwards in a funny way and howling, all the time howling.’
    â€˜Yes, yes, I got the howling bit.’
    â€˜And then I realised he was limping and he was dragging something in his teeth, shaking his head as if he was trying to kill it, and then he went through the cat flap. Backwards. I’ve never seen him do that before. It was horrible. The thing he was biting. It was long and brown ... I thought it might be a fox. Are there foxes in Hackney?’
    That would be just typical of Hackney. With the Government trying to ban hunting with hounds they must have thought they were safe here. Nobody had said anything about cats. But it was a moot point. There probably were more foxes in London now than there were in the countryside, where they didn’t have to hunt – and be hunted – but just help themselves to the rubbish bins. And whilst I fancied Springsteen’s chances against most things, his motto being ‘Four legs – potential snack; two legs – open target’, even a soft townie fox wouldn’t go down without a fight.
    â€˜I don’t think it was a fox, Fenella,’ I said reassuringly, having checked there was neither blood nor fur on the wall she was leaning against. ‘How did he get in this morning?’
    â€˜I left your kitchen window open as usual,’ she insisted. ‘He must have used that, as he didn’t come in the front door.’
    â€˜Well, he wouldn’t have come through there with a fox in his teeth,’ I said confidently.
    â€˜I don’t know how he gets in and out of that window anyway,’ Fenella said, almost to herself. ‘It’s two floors straight down to the garden. At his age.’
    â€˜What do you mean by that?’ I snapped, then immediately raised my hands in apology. ‘Sorry, I know you’re only trying to help. So where is he now?’
    â€˜Under your bed,’ she said, drawing her dressing gown tighter. ‘Growling. He’s still got that thing in between his teeth and he won’t come out.’
    â€˜Did you ring the vet, the one on Homerton High Street? I left you the number.’
    Fenella