Pet,’ Brutus repeated. ‘Bitch.’ ‘Don’t be offended,’ I said. ‘He calls everyone that.’ I winked at Brutus

From somewhere above me, there was an irritated hiss. ‘Food.’ I strained my head upwards. ‘Hi, Brutus.’ His yellow eyes stared down at me, unblinking. ‘Food, bitch.’ I sighed. ‘I’ve told you time and time again. If you call me that, I’m not going to feed you.’ ‘Food.’ ‘Give me a minute.’ ‘Food.’ ‘I’d like the chance to get a cup of tea first.’ ‘Food.’ ‘Piss off.’ ‘Food.

Afford me a very enjoyable view of his arse, which was a particularly tight and well-rounded specimen. He might have had a rod jammed up it but that didn’t mean I couldn’t appreciate the way it was put together.

Harold,’ I called. ‘Harold! It’s Ivy from down the hall.’ The cat didn’t answer. Perhaps I was being too familiar with the familiar. I tried again. ‘Harold Fitzwilliam Duxworthy the Third? Are you there?

You should count yourself lucky,’ she grinned. ‘I’m far too much like hard work.’ It was on the tip of Winter’s tongue to tell her that she should know by now that he liked hard work.