The Note

 

The note said to be at the bench nearest the west entrance to the park, so here I was, tightly wrapped in my old army greatcoat.

I arrived fifteen minutes early in the hope I’d be able to check the area, but the sudden fog limited my vision to just a few yards.

I should’ve been more careful. I never should’ve left her alone when I went back into the house to get my pipe.

As I sat there, I thought back over the last three days. I hunted high and low for her. I visited all her favourite places, but I found no evidence that she had been present. Then came the letter.

The Victorian style peasouper intensified, and I was distracted by the calls of the crows nesting in the nearby tree. What if I never see her again? What if she’d been hurt?

I heard feet approaching on the stone path. Could this be who I’m here to meet?

With my heart in my mouth, I turned to peer into the gloom as a large shape materialised from the mist.

False alarm, it was a bobby on his beat, likely heading back to the station.

Suddenly, I felt someone sit on the other end of the bench.

“Hi! I’m so sorry I’m late, had a last-minute customer” I turned and saw a young woman clasping a small handbag and a medium sized cardboard box.

She reached into the box and removed a small ginger cat. “Cleopatra!” I shouted, “I’ve missed you”.

“I’m Jenny,” said the woman. “It’s a good job you had her chipped before she escaped. I got your address from the national database”.