‘Cat and Mouse.’

She slipped the black patent leather shoe off her right foot, reached down and rubbed her corn. She’d forgotten that they were a little tight as she only ever wore them for special occasions, weddings, funerals etc., and she hadn’t been to any of those for a long time. Although she hoped that today would be a very special occasion. Sitting towards the back of the bus, on the elevated seats over the rear wheel, she had a perfect view of the bus and it’s passengers. She would always sit here if she could, so that she could ‘people-watch’, one of her favourite pastimes. Ever since she was a child she’d preferred to be on the outside watching, studying others, trying to understand how they interacted with one another. Her family had always been distant, not very affectionate, so she had found close friendships difficult, that was until her son was born. After that she had had someone to love, and someone who loved her unconditionally, but things never last, others get in the way.

Today she was sitting on a half empty midday bus in her Sunday best, a grey twin-set, with her mother’s pearls, on her knee her handbag, and under that the birthday present. Well, you couldn’t arrive on a special birthday without a present, could you?
The package was about the size of a large book, wrapped in brown paper, with a label on the front addressed in a distinctive hand, and written in bright turquoise ink. He’d recognise both, and be left in no doubt whom it was from. It was also stamped, as she’d originally intend to post it, but decided in the end not to risk it, as she wanted to make sure it reached him on his 40th birthday. She smiled to herself imagining him taking it from her, holding it to his ear and shaking it. Why did people always do that? What would he think it was? A book? A video perhaps? Oh, they didn’t do videos now did they, it was all DVD’s now wasn’t it. Sometimes she felt so, so out of touch.
Anyway, she wouldn’t see him open it, even though she’d love to see the look on his face when he did. It had been so long since she’d last seen him, he’d only ask difficult questions, and wonder why she was there. So, she’d just post it through his letterbox and leave. It had taken her so long to get here, having to change trains, and now this bus journey, that unless she got the next bus back she’d miss her connection and would have to pay the extra fare. She’d travelled on a ‘cheap day return’, and had to be back home before the rush hour commenced. She’d always been careful with her money, as that’s how she’d been brought up, and she wasn’t going to change now.
The bus was beginning to empty out now as it neared the end of the run .The shops were mostly derelict. Those that were open had heavy security shutters and CCTV. Not, a very nice place to live she thought, not what she’d imagined anyway, as the address had sounded quite quaint. Perhaps it had it’s advantages though, people wouldn’t ask too many questions. If you kept your head down, you could be totally anonymous. That would suit him, he could have a fresh start, without people staring, whispering behind his back.
She could understand that. She’d had a fresh start too. Things had changed such a lot in the last year. Who’d have thought that she’d have her own computer. They’d never have thought she’d be able to learn how to use it at her age, people always underestimated her, they always had. They wouldn’t believe the things she could do now, all due to her computer. She’d planned this trip ‘on-line’, then printed out the bus and train timetables, which she now had in her bag. Although, at last minute she’d decided to pay for the tickets in cash at the station, you couldn’t be too careful.

It had all begun a little over a year ago. She’d been sitting in the in the activity room of the secure unit making salt-dough animals. To be honest the novelty of this had worn off more than a decade ago, but it was that or watch the soap operas on the large communal television with the other patients. When a new support worker came in, switched off the TV, and clapped her hands, the other inmates groaned and complained. She ignored their protests, and called for silence.
Catherine studied her, she was youngish, probably mid-thirties, dressed in clothes a bit too young for her, and definitely overweight. She had the ruddy complexion and jovial manner of the closet evangelist, and no doubt the revolutionary zeal too. Catherine hated her and all she stood for, saw obesity as evidence of moral laxity, and had encountered too many like her over the years.
She explained that there had been an ‘initiative’ by the local mental health trust to give service-users training in IT skills. Basically that meant, ‘computers for loonies’, thought Catherine. Well, she supposed it made a change from yoga and pilates. Continuing, she explained that there would initially be group tuition in basic skills, with further support for more advanced students. Catherine could see no use at all in this and continued with the salt-dough, she had started making a caricature of the support worker, when the presentation finished and the woman came over to her.
“ Hi, you must be Cat.”
“Catherine”, she didn’t look up, and continued with the salt-dough.
“We don’t need to be so formal, I’m Dee. Pleased to meet you.” She held out her hand.
Catherine indicated the salt-dough on her hands, she had no intention of shaking her hand anyway. “ D?”
“Yes, Dee.”
She had that annoying way of speaking, that made everything sound like a question. Plus the sing-song voice that they all used when talking to patients, a cross between the voice people used to talk to babies, and disobedient pets. Catherine hated her even more now.
“ D? Isn’t that short for something?”,asked Catherine. Dee ignored the question and continued.“Well Cat, how do you feel about joining ‘Dee’s crew’?”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t know how to row.” Her face was impassive. The younger woman seemed confused. Then asked.“Are you joking me ?”. No. I’m laughing at you thought Catherine, but she answered. “Yes”. They both smiled for different reasons. Dee continued, “I can see you’ve got a playful streak. I’m sure we’ll get on like a house on fire.” This time Catherine smiled to herself. Rather an unfortunate turn of phrase, the woman obviously hadn’t read her case notes.
She decided there and then to take the course, things had been boring for some time. She had no interest in computers at all, but realised she could have some fun undermining Dee’s authority.
“ What are you making ?” asked Dee. Catherine held up the caricature.
“A hippopotamus.”
“ It’s very lifelike, you’ve must have hidden talents.”

The strange thing was, that for once Dee was right. Catherine did have hidden talents, she took to the computer as her mum used to say, ‘like a duck to water’. Very soon she’d learned everything Dee could teach her, and as their relationship became more and more strained she was increasingly left on her own to do whatever she wanted.

While Dee made snide comments about Cat and her mouse to the remaining members of her ‘crew’.

Initially she contented herself with printing charts and tables for the ward. Designing posters and notices for the various clubs and activities. Then they let her go ‘on-line’, and the whole inter-net was spread out before her. She’d never felt so empowered, so free. Early on Dee had said that everything was possible with computers. If you didn’t know how to do something you could find out how on the inter-net. If you had a problem to solve, your computer would let you solve it. At first she’d thought this was ridiculous, but the more she understood what was possible, the more she realised that she was correct. Of course not all the information she’d like was open to her, as her access was restricted to sites that the hospital deemed acceptable. If she wanted to gain access to those others she’d need to be discharged.

This realisation hit her like a thunderbolt. She’d never had any intention of leaving here. She felt safe, it was her world. She understood it, and it’s rules. She’d always been carefull at her annual assessment to exaggerate her symptoms and neuroses However, now if she wanted to take things further she’d need to make a speedy recovery.
From then on she became a model patient. She read everything she could, so that she was well prepared for her next review, which she passed with flying colours. She told them that working with Dee on the computer course had given her a purpose again. That she wanted to rebuild her life, give something back to the community etc.. In fact everything that she knew they wanted to hear. They decided that she was no longer a threat to herself or others.
Dee got more funding for her course, they got rid of a troublesome patient and she got her freedom. Every one was happy, hence no one looked to closely at why her attitudes had changed so rapidly. They congratulated themselves, and praised the ‘initiative’. Initially she got ‘day release’, and a job in a charity shop, where she revolutionised their stock control, printed posters and staff rotas. They thought she was a ‘treasure,’ and a shining example of what could be achieved with a seemingly hopeless case.

Very soon the day came for her final discharge from the ward. Even though Dee had received undeserved praise for Catherine’s miraculous improvement, there was still a great deal of animosity between them. Dee, would always call Catherine, ‘Cat,’ even though she knew she hated it. Still continued to make the same jokes about Cat and mouse. She knew that she’d try to embarrass her on her final day, try to score some final points. However, Catherine had plans of her own. A few months before while designing some posters for the ward, she’d been left in the office alone for a few minutes and had had a look at the staff files.
They assembled in the recreation room to see her off. She was wearing the same suit she had on today, and the few possessions that had survived the fire were being loaded into the taxi.
Dee clapped her hands and called for silence. Then made a short speech, finally calling Catherine to the front for a presentation. She began in her sing-song voice.
“ As you seem to be inseparable from your mouse, we’ve bought you a special one of
your own to go with the computer that you’ve been given through the ‘initiative’.”

Catherine tore off the wrapping paper. It wasn’t a normal mouse it was one of those joke ones, this time in the shape of a large chubby pink cat from a children’s TV programme. Dee was beaming at her, she knew what was coming next.
“Not any old mouse, but a cat for Cat,”a few of the patients chuckled.
Catherine paused, then replied, “I’d like to begin by thanking Dierdre for this gift. I can see that she’s put a lot of thought into it.” She looked over at Dee who was now bright red. How did she know? “ I can honestly say that whenever I use it,” She looked down at the fat pink cat, and up at Dee ,“ It’ll always remind me of dear Dierdre.” By now Dee was apoplectic, some of the other patients smaned. Catherine took her leave and slipped out of the ward to her taxi and freedom.

The bus had reached it’s final stop. The passengers filed off, and Catherine followed them onto the street. While the driver turned the handle to change the destination board for the return journey. She didn’t have long to deliver the parcel. She needed to catch the return journey in order to make her connection home. She knew from the map she’d downloaded that his address was only a few hundred yards away, and she had twenty minutes.
It was a small rather nondescript house in a very tawdry street. The paint was peeling from the window frames and door. She was about to knock on the door, but stopped herself. He wouldn’t be home yet, and even if he was, what would she say to him. She opened the letterbox with one hand and carefully pushed the parcel through. It fell on the mat with a satisfying thud. While the flap was open she peered inside. The parcel was laying on a coconut door mat together with some post, a bill and two coloured envelopes, obviously birthday cards. She wondered who they were from, perhaps Uncle John and Cousin Rachel? It would definitely look as though they’d all arrive in the same post, he wouldn’t notice her parcel hadn’t been franked. No one would know she’d been here. She closed the flap slowly so that it didn’t make a noise, and attract attention to her. Then hurried down the road and boarded the bus, just in time. The engine was already running, and the driver, who was impatient to start his return trip, was telling the passengers to hurry up and get on board. She had just settled herself in her favourite seat when the bus pulled away.

Opening her bag she searched for the railway timetable to check her connections, when she noticed the letter. Why had she brought it with her? If she hadn’t kept it, or it had been lost in the fire, she wouldn’t have been able to find him. She opened it and read it one last time. It had taken her a few days on her computer to work out what colour the ink was, and then track down a supplier. Then many weeks to be able to copy the handwriting well enough to address the parcel. However, before that she’d had to find him.
People thought it was easy to disappear. You could change your name, and move to the other end of the country, but you always left loose ends, especially family. The letter had given her the first clue. She’d received it just after the trial from his mother, asking her to forgive. Pleading with her as one mother to another to forgive her son. How dare she!! She had been about to burn it. Had lit the match, and held it under the letter, that was the last she remembered…
They said she’d set fire to her house, and had tried to kill herself. She didn’t remember anything, so she probably had done it. What had she had left to live for anyway? When the firemen had pulled her out of the burning house she still had the letter clutched in her hand, and had kept it in her handbag all these years.

It was once she’d got on the inter-net that she realised that she could track him down, confront him. She found it ironic that he’d spent less time in jail than she had in hospital, when all she’d done was try to kill herself.

The letter was the first piece in the jigsaw. There was no address on the letter, but the postmark showed her where his mother had moved to after the trial. A quick search found his birth certificate, gave her his date of birth, and mother’s maiden name. Then a check of the voting register in the area of the letter’s postmark found her brother John and his daughter Rachel. She assumed that when released he’d move nearer to his family, as it was the other side of the country, and he could have his fresh start. The next bit was a bit more complicated. He had changed his surname, but couldn’t change his date of birth. When she eventually found him, he’d also kept his first name, and used his grandmother’s maiden name. Now he was looking forward to celebrating his 40th birthday. He obviously felt safe, thought that everyone had forgotten what he had done. Everyone that was except Catherine.
She checked her watch, he would just be finishing work. He worked shifts at the foundry, and was on the ‘early’ shift this week, so he would be home in a few minutes. Then he’d see the parcel, recognise the ink and handwriting, think it came from his mother.
She would love to see his face when he opened it and saw the old press clipping inside ‘SCHOOLBOY MURDER – LOCAL MAN SENTENCED’,Then, he’d know that he couldn’t hide. Unfortunately, she still had to make her connection, the bus was stuck in traffic and she didn’t have long to reach the station.
She’d phoned in sick to the charity shop first thing this morning, and Claire had said that she’d open up and cover for her. If anyone checked the rota that she’d printed out and pinned to the back wall, it would show she had worked today. Plus she’d paid for her ticket in cash, so there was no record of the journey.
Suddenly the traffic cleared, the bus moved off, and it reached the station with just enough time for her to catch the train. She reached the platform as the train pulled in and the doors opened. She checked her watch it was a little early. Would he be home yet? As she stepped onto the train, she thought she heard a noise, no, that must be her imagination. She settled herself in a corner seat, as the train pulled out on time.
Smiling to herself, Dee had been right all along. If you needed something or needed to make something a computer will show you how. Even a parcel bomb.

THE END.