The Scratch. Andrew Taylor

a valley in the Forest.’

      ‘He came from the Forest? So he’s wild?’

      ‘Probably not, though you never know. He was tiny – two or three weeks old, the vet reckoned. When Annie saw him, he was in the middle of a path making tiny mewing sounds. It was love at first sight. On Annie’s side, at least.’

      Cannop got up, turned his back on us and sat down again. I tried not to anthropomorphize cats but I was sure that he knew we were talking about him, and he didn’t like it.

      ‘We fed him with a bottle in the first few weeks. We didn’t think he’d survive. But he did.’

      ‘So if he wasn’t wild, how did he get in the Forest?’

      ‘I don’t know. Maybe his mother was a runaway. Or maybe he was picked up by a bird or some sort of animal – then dropped. It happens.’

      ‘I bet he was wild,’ Jack said. ‘Isn’t that more likely?’

      ‘Maybe. Cannop’s always been a bit stand-offish, like farm cats are.’