**Whiskers Is Gone**
“Natasha, are you home?” Oliver burst into the flat and froze when he saw his wife in the hallway. She was crouched on the floor, sobbing uncontrollably. “I couldnt understand a word you said on the phone. You were crying so hardthen the call cut out. Whats happened? You look like youve seen a ghost.”
“Whiskers is gone,” Natasha choked out. “Hes not here.”
“Gone?!” Olivers voice cracked. “How? Where could he have gone? Maybe hes hiding somewhere in the flat?”
“No. Your sister Vicky She said he slipped out into the stairwell when she took Michael outside to play. But Oliver, you *know* Whiskershed never just run out on his own. Why would he? After what happened to him out there I think she *let* him out. On purpose.”
“What?!” Olivers fists clenched. “Where is she? Wheres Vicky now?”
“Supposedly at the shops I dont know. Ive been searching everywhere for Whiskers, but no ones seen him. How could someone *do* this, Oliver? Throw a helpless creature out into the cold. In *winter*. Who *does* that?”
“Most people wouldnt. But Vicky would. Shes done it before. Dont worryshe wont set foot in this flat again. And I *will* find Whiskers.”
—
*A month earlier*
Oliver had been walking to the bus stop when he spotted something grey half-buried in the snow.
At first, he thought it was just a stone. But then it *shivered*like an old fridge rattling on its last legs.
Thats what caught his attention. Since when did stones tremble from the cold?
Curious, he stepped off the path and moved closeronly to realise it wasnt a stone at all. It was a tiny grey kitten.
“Bloody hell” Oliver muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “What are you doing out here, little mate?”
Not that he needed an answer.
Any fool could see what a pet was doing alone in the snow. *Surviving.* Thats all this kitten was trying to do.
It didnt mewl. Didnt beg for help. Just lay there, shudderingas if it had given up hope that anyone would care.
Oliver scooped it up, brushing off the snow before tucking it inside his coat. The bus was just pulling up, and he sprinted to catch it, cradling the tiny body against his chest.
On the ride home, he remembered Natasha had always wanted a kittena grey tabby, just like this one. Theyd talked about adopting, but never found the time.
Now here one was, handed to him by fate itself. And when fate gives you a gift, you take it.
“Natasha, Ive got a surprise for you,” Oliver announced as he stepped inside.
“Oh, youve been spoiling me rotten lately,” she laughed, coming into the hall. “First those gold earrings, then the phone Id been eyeing, then cinema tickets. Whats it this time? A ski holiday?”
“Better.” Grinning, Oliver unzipped his coat and pulled out the kitten. “Ta-da! Found him outside. Isnt this the exact kind you wanted? Grey and stripey?”
“Oh my God.” Natasha gasped. “Hes *freezing*, poor thing. Give him hereIll warm him up. You get changed, wash up, and come to the kitchen. Dinners ready.”
She cradled the kitten, smiling softly. “Hes *gorgeous*”
Thats how Oliver and Natasha got Whiskers. They debated names for agesTom? Alfie?but settled on the classic.
“Whiskers suits him better than something posh,” Natasha said.
“Agreed, love.”
It had happened in late November, just after the first snowfall. Which meant Whiskers had never known the full cruelty of winter.
Thank God. For many strays, that cruelty was the end.
In the two weeks since, Oliver and Natasha had grown fiercely attached. Notheyd loved him instantly, but every day deepened it.
Whiskers loved them too. Good people. The kind who wouldnt hurt him. Who wouldnt abandon him like his first owners had. So he was at easeeven when he knocked things over, and instead of scolding, they just asked him to be careful.
*I will!* hed chirp, before promptly leaping onto the dresser and sending the TV remote clattering to the floor *again*.
Everything was perfectuntil the knock at the door.
“Whod come by this early on a Sunday?” Oliver rubbed his eyes and checked the clock. Half six. Still dark outside.
“Neighbours, maybe?” Natasha guessed. “Something urgent?”
Oliver opened the doorand there stood his sister, Vicky. With her five-year-old, Michael, in tow.
“Hello, brother,” she beamed. “Surprise visit! You dont mind, do you?”
“Actually”
“Oh, I *know*, I shouldve called. But it was all so sudden, and you wouldnt have picked up at this hour anyway. Can we come in? And help me with the suitcasedragging it up four flights nearly killed me.”
Oliver let them in, though the suitcase gave him pause. People didnt usually bring luggage for a casual visit.
“Whats going on?”
“Isnt it obvious?” Vicky sighed. “My husband kicked me out. Found himself a new woman, can you believe it? Ive got nowhere else to go. If you dont mind, Ill stay awhile. Figure things out. Maybe even spend New Years togetheritll be *brilliant*! We havent properly caught up in *years*.”
“You know why we havent,” Oliver said flatly.
“Oh, *give it a rest*. Who holds grudges this long? So I made a mistakehavent we all?”
Oliver bit back his retort. No point starting the day with a row. Natasha wouldnt approve, not when Vicky had just been thrown out.
But he *had* reason to resent her.
Five years ago, their father died. Hed left a spacious three-bed flat in Londonmeant to be split between Oliver and Vicky.
At the time, Vicky was pregnant (by *who*, she never said). Shed begged Oliver to sign over his share, insisting she needed it more.
“Youre a *man*, Oliver. Youll manage. But where will *I* go with a baby?” Their mum had backed her up.
Oliver hadnt fought it. He *got* itshe needed stability. Hed been in student digs; he could sort himself out.
Then, after the baby came, Vicky *sold* the flat and moved in with some new bloke who didnt mind a ready-made family.
“Vals got a business, and he needed the cash,” shed shrugged. “Besides, it was *my* flat. I can do what I like.”
Oliver had *raged*. The deal was *her* keeping itnot funding some strangers venture. She couldve at least split the money.
But no. Mum stayed out of it, as usual.
Just like she had when they were kids, and Oliver brought home a stray kittenonly for it to vanish.
He hadnt suspected her. Shed *allowed* the pet. Which left Vicky.
“Where is it? *Tell me!*” hed shouted.
Shed denied itbut Oliver *knew*. That kitten had annoyed her from day one. When he brought home *another*, it disappeared too.
Coincidence? Hardly.
Mum just shrugged. Vicky played innocent. After that, Oliver stopped bringing animals home.
So no, their relationship wasnt exactly warm.
And now here she was, suitcase in hand, asking to stay.
“Oliver, where *else* can she go?” Natasha had sighed. “Not with a child. And its nearly New Years. Maybe its time to mend things.”
Oliver relentedbut his gut warned him. Nothing good would come of this.
He was right.
The very next day, Vicky started complaining. Whiskers kept her up at night. He sat on *her* sofa. He looked at her *funny*.
Then Michael developed a sniffle.
“Its *allergies*,” Vicky declared. “From *your* cat. He was *fine* before.”
“Or he caught a cold,” Oliver countered. “You *do* take him outside.”
“And if it *is* allergies? What then? Whiskers is *family*.”
Vicky laughed. “*Family?* God, Oliver, I thought youd grown up. Who gets this attached to an *animal*?”
“Youve *always
