‘Oh, Rosi, do you think she’ll meet him today?’
‘I hope so, I really do.’
They would have to wait until later to find out.
Roisin put the rubbish bag down. She wondered how Shay’s morning was unfolding in the cottage where his mammy had grown up. Then, with a sigh, she realised Noah should call his father before they sat down to breakfast and wish him a Merry Christmas. She’d telephone him now and get it out of the way. The phone rang long enough for her to wonder how she’d feel hearing his voice after her carry-on with Shay yesterday. Would she blush bright red hearing Colin’s voice? Hearing him pick up and say, ‘The Quealey residence,’ however, she was surprised to find she didn’t feel much of anything. It seemed she really had moved on. She exchanged pleasantries and tuned out as he blathered on about it being very quiet given it was just him and his mother. She would not feel sorry for him, not after enduring the pre-Christmas, Christmas dinner with them. When he mentioned it was looking like cheese on toast for their lunch, she interrupted and called Noah over, pleased when he snatched the phone from her, eager to fill his daddy in on all the things Santa had dropped down the chimney for him. He was also bursting to tell him about the copious amount of poo Mr Nibbles had done on his journey over.
WHEN THE CRY WENT UP as most of them were scraping their plates clean, Roisin was marvelling at Cindy’s restraint in sniffing and only eating half the rashers on her plate. She’d never seen someone only eat the white of a fried egg before either. She was just thinking how well Patrick was doing out of it all, having seen him forking his girlfriend’s discarded food onto his plate when the squeal made her drop her fork and spin around in her chair. The rest of the family followed suit.
Roisin registered two things; Noah was sitting on the floor next to Mr Nibbles cage, and the door of the cage was open.
‘He’s run away!’ Noah wailed.
Now was not the time to ask him why the cage door was open, she decided, seeing his bottom lip was trembling and his eyes were beginning to fill up.
‘Christ on a bike,’ Moira said, the first to move. ‘Come on, you lot, shift it.’ There was a mass downing of cutlery as chairs were pushed back and the search began. Moira, who was surprisingly clear headed in emergency situations, took control ordering Cindy and Patrick to search their bedroom. ‘Roisin you do yours and Noah’s. Noah, see if he’s hiding in the bathroom. Mammy, check ours. Quinn and Ash, you’re on the living room and kitchen. And nobody is to leave the apartment. We’ve got a situation here that needs to be contained. Do you hear me?’ Everyone nodded and nobody thought to ask Moira where she planned on searching, not when she was doing such a good job delegating. ‘Right let’s bring this gerbil home.’ They duly headed off in the directions in which they’d been sent.
The sound of drawers slamming shut, wardrobe doors opening and closing, and audible groans as people stood back after being on their hands and knees searching under beds, emanated throughout the apartment but there was no sign of the furry fellow. Roisin was feeling sick as she checked through their cases. She’d been so sure it was going to be a perfect family Christmas and now this had happened. He was so small, so vulnerable, it didn’t bear thinking about. She realised she’d gotten very fond of the little chap and would be as devastated as Noah were he to have met an unhappy end.
She appeared back in the living room in time to see Mammy waving a piece of lettuce about making kissy-kiss noises as she called, ‘Here, Mr Nibbles.’ The only response was the thud of Pooh’s stumpy tail on the carpet. Roisin looked at Pooh and was suddenly horror-struck. Surely not? He and Mr Nibbles were related. Well, in a pet uncle, nephew way at least. She wasn’t sure she wanted to go closer for fear of him licking his chops and confirming her worst fears. She was going to have to though, they needed to know what had happened, to put together the missing pieces of the puzzle.
She got down on all fours and crawled towards him. ‘Have you something you want to tell me?’ She didn’t know what she expected the poodle to say. Should she suggest one woof for I did it, two for not guilty? As she drew nearer the tail thumping got more excited. He obviously thought she was playing some sort of game and he clambered off his bed eager to get things underway. Roisin gasped because there, curled up in the middle of the pillow, was a small brown and white furry ball. She carefully scooped up the bundle, hoping he hadn’t suffocated under all that curly poodle hair but to her relief he was warm and on closer inspection she saw his eyes were closed. He was sound asleep she realised, rolling him back into his cage and closing it with
