On the third day, two sad friends approached the quiet, dark lake as overhead, angels sang the death march.

Within his shaking palms, Charly cradled the little boat kindly made by the carpenter. When they reached the still bank, Charly lifted the boat and kissed the cold, black fur.

“Sleep well my love.”

Fighting back tears, he knelt and sprinkled petals upon his beloved pet and Grant handed him the burning torch.

He lit the kindling and gave the boat a gentle push, before handing the torch back.

As the boat sailed out, burning fiercely now, he sat and wept.
Grant put the torch out, and sat beside his grief stricken friend.

“I can’t go back yet,” Charly sobbed. “King or no king.”

“Never you mind mate. I’ll stay here with you.”

“You’re a damn good friend.”

As the boat burned Grant said, “I think a Viking funeral is lovely.”

Charly nodded silently.

“How did you two get hitched up anyway? You never said.

Charly smiled for the first time since his terrible loss.

“That was on my first day in Foxley mate. I’ll tell you if you like.”

“Go on then, I really want to know.”

It had been raining when Charly arrived in his new Foxley flat. All the furniture had been placed exactly where he wanted it of course.

As he gazed at the kitchen door, he thought to himself and muttered, “I really need more protection here. I want a rosary over that door. It should keep bad spirits out.”

He scratched his head and wandered the tow rear rooms.

“Hmm. Something wrong you know.”

When he returned to the lounge, he realised what.

“The flat feels dead. You know what I mean. No life force. Hmm. I wonder where the pet store is?”

He left at once and upon the happy street, he accosted a policeman.

“Sorry mate, this is my first day here. I’m looking for a religious shop and eh, a pet store.”

The young constable smiled.

“You will find both on market Walk sir.”

The delighted Charly thanked him and set off. After quite a time he found the religious shop. As he entered, the elderly keeper smiled.

“This may sound rather strange but I need a protective rosary.”

The woman smiled and led him to a small case.

“These are the usual ones sir.”

He scanned each one, before pointing to a particularly lovely blue one.

“Very good choice sir.”

He paid and took the rosary happily. He gazed at the crucified Lord as his fingers stroked the blue beads.

“I certainly feel safe now.”

He stopped and gazed around.

“Now where is that ruddy pet shop?”

He walked along the street and back again in mounting dismay.

“It might be further down.”

He walked past the religious shop and about four shops down spotted the pet store.

As he entered, a filthy smell struck his rather sensitive nose.

“What a rotten stink.”

He saw the caged rabbits and just slightly ahead another stinking cage. When he reached it, he stopped and stared.

A jet-black kitten with blue eyes stared at him. As its head moved, they changed to a dark colour. It yawned, exposing a small white bib upon its fluffy chest.

“How old?”

The keeper grinned.

“Six weeks sir. Minimum age to sell legally.”

Charly gazed at the tiny ball of love.

“Can you take her out for me?”

The keeper did so and the cat meowed happily.

Charly felt his eyes mist up.

After five minutes, the keeper became rather aggressive.

“Do you actually want her?”

Charly turned slowly.

“Oh yes...I’ll need a cat box and of course a feeding bowl. Have you food too?”

The keeper found these and Charly purchased the package for a staggering £48.

As he took her outside, he said quietly.

“No crying until we get home eh.”

He arrived back safely of course and placed the box gently upon the lounge carpet. The kitten sniffed and crept outside as Charly gave her a name.

“I reckon Christine fits the bill.”

The kitten sat upon its dark haunches simply staring.

Within his head a feline voice said, “I need feeding daddy.”

Charly smiled and poured the food out. When Christine refused, he knelt and adding a little water to soften, fed her by hand.

“Six weeks indeed. She’s just been ruddy well born!”

Christine fed happily from his palm and afterwards, Charly hung the rosary from the nail above the kitchen door. As he sat upon the sofa, Christine jumped upon his lap and purred sweetly.

“I love you daddy.”

He cradled her within his loving arms.

“Love you too Christine...”

Charly coughed suddenly.

“What a lovely story.”

“My first memory of her Grant.”

“I always wondered if you two would ever marry.”

Charly smiled at him.

A few years back you know, I carried out a short ceremony. So
technically I’m a widow.”

“Oh I see.”

Charley’s mind drifted again as the burning boat sank a little lower.

“Can I tell you about the night she vanished?”

Grant smiled.

“I would really love to hear that.”

Charly closed his eyes, mind linking with a happier past.

As Charly slept, lightning rent the cold, dark sky. As a sudden bang floated across the silent room, Charly sat bolt upright.

“Christine?”

There was no response.

“She usually sleeps with me. Where are you?”

Rather alarmed now, he climbed from beneath the warm covers and turned on the light.

“Christine?”

Again, only the rattle of thunder replied.

“I’ll check the lounge.”

When he entered, he saw the silent room,

“I know.”

He knelt and peeked behind the sofa but saw nothing.”

“She can’t be ruddy missing!”

He fell upon his knees and looked between the two chairs.

“Come on Christine stop it. You’re frightening daddy now.”

Again, there was only the crashing from the storm.

Charly wandered into the kitchen and looked everywhere.

Scratching his head he muttered, “She’s definitely not in here.”

He walked briskly into the rear bedroom.

“Come on darling. Stop fooling around now.”

Again, there was no response.

“This is damn weird. What was that bang then?”

He dashed back inside the bedroom and looked beneath the bed.

“She is certainly not there.”

He thought deeply then and smiled.

“I bet that I left that ruddy cupboard open!”

He dashed into the hall and saw that the door was only slightly
ajar. He opened it fully and gazed inside.

The dry clothes lay at the bottom. Above this upon the wooden shelve sat Christine. She simply stared and purred.

“Why did you wake me?”

Charly grinned.

“Less of that madam. We are both awake now. Come on then. You can
have some treats.”

Christine stretched before following daddy to the kitchen, and to the waiting treats.

Charly opened his eyes.

“She scratched and bit you know but at the same time, I know that she really loved me. I so loved her too.”

Upon the lake, the burning keel had reached a critical level. Charly stood slowly and watched as it suddenly flooded. The flames of mourning went out as the cat sank into the dark depths.

As his body shook with violent emotion Charly stammered, “Goodbye Christine.”

He turned slowly then.

“It’s time to leave this place.”

Grant embraced him as friends should and gently led him away.

Through a veil of heavy tears, Charly glanced down at the passing ground.

A spectral image ran beside him and a feline voice within his head whispered, “Come on daddy. Let’s go home.”

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