The Happy Cat's Home Boxset: The Happy Cat's Home Novellas, #1

By Alex Mahon

When Cristina Solans returns from Canada to become a vet in her home town, she doesn't expect to take on cases to help maintain a cat's refuge. Add a dollop of romance to the mix and you have moggies, mystery and mayhem – the perfect ingredients for lots of fun and adventure for Spain's latest amateur sleuth – The Happy Cat's Detective.

 

As an added bonus there is a childern's story about a blind kitten which sets off on an adventure to find its mother. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Alex Mahon
• Release date: Nov 13, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223380399

Alex Mahon

I was born in Glasgow, Scotland in 1964, but moved to Renfrew when I was seven. After wandering around various countries, working in numerous jobs, I met a woman In Lleida, Spain, who was crazy enough to put with my nonsense and married her. I now work as an English teacher as punishment for my past sins.

Book preview

Contents

THE HAPPY CAT’S DETECTIVE

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Epilogue

THE MYSTERY OF THE VALLEY

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

THE HAUNTED INN

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

THE HAPPY CAT’S DETECTIVE

Chapter 1

THE GARBLED ANNOUNCEMENT heralded the end of our misery.

Flight BCN 438776 Toronto to Barcelona is ready for boarding at gate five. Please form two orderly queues.

We stampeded towards the gate like elephants fleeing a forest fire. No wonder. We’d been stuck here for over four hours and all we’d heard from the Inquiry Desk were promises, lies, and rudeness.

Squeezing through the herd, I fended off sharp elbows, shoves and shoulder charges to stake a place near the front. For several moments, I basked in the glory of having reached so high in the pecking order. After all, some of my rivals were big-boned, thick-armed and looked like they could pack quite a punch. But packed together like sardines, two hundred-odd passengers generated a lot of heat. And the least said about the stench, the better.

I was doing okay until the little boy in front of me farted. Something akin to rotten cabbage permeated the air. The bilious gas made my stomach churn. I desperately needed fresh air, but who knew how long it would be before we could escape the terminal?

He glanced over his shoulder, pinched his nose, and flashed a toothy grin. Pooh! he said and started giggling.

At least one of us found it amusing.

The PA system crackled to life again. For goodness’ sake. Form two orderly queues.

After much arguing, threats, and swearing, the herd thinned out into two long queues. The two men at the tail end of it ordered drinks at the bar.

Have your passports and boarding passes ready.

A huge man wearing a black jumper and jeans stepped in front of me.

No way was I accepting that. I tapped him on the shoulder. Excuse me. I was here first.

He turned to me with narrowed eyes and a furrowed brow. I don’t care, he trumpeted.

For several moments we locked eyes, neither of us blinking, then he faced front.

If I’d been somewhere else, I would have caused a scene. But with all the reported air rage incidents going on nowadays, and the terrorist threats, they would probably throw me in jail alongside him. Still, I refused to let him get away with it. When the right moment came, I booted his ankle, then wheeled round to the woman behind me, pretending to be in a conversation.

What did you do that for? The man yelled. His outburst hushed all conversation around us.

I turned to face him, prepared to deny the accusation, but he was referring to little farty-pants who had burst out crying.

The boy’s mother poked the man’s chest. Hey, you! Who do you think you are? I’ll have you arrested.

The man pointed an accusatory finger at the boy. He kicked my ankle.

Did you, Peter? the woman asked her son.

No, Mummy, he replied, sniffing.

You did so, the man insisted.

The mother’s huge breast heaved in a sigh. You calling my son a liar? Stuff it! I’m calling the police.

He raised his hands defensively. No, don’t do that, he whimpered. Just leave it. Maybe it was somebody else.

Get lost, creep.

The man left the queue, limping.

Half an hour later, we channelled through the gate and made our way outside into the death-defying chill. Tiredness had weakened my defence against it, but then again, it was a welcome relief not to smell little farty-pants’ puke-inducing gas. That kid had a serious intestine problem.

The waiting plane stood about a kilometre away. I assumed a bus would take us there but the flight attendant who had checked our tickets ordered us to follow her. The herd spread out, each one of us jostling for pole position behind her as she bounded across the tarmac like a gazelle in flight.

A fleet of vehicles crisscrossed our paths. A fuel truck nearly ran down an old woman who dared to step onto a zebra crossing. The driver beeped his horn and swore at her. She stuck up her middle finger.

Unlike every other airline I’d ever flown with, there was no seat allocation on board the plane. It was every man for himself. We jostled, threatened and snarled at each other like customers at a Boxing Day sale as we searched for a vacant seat. I found one next to the old woman who had stuck up her middle finger. I’d no idea how she had found a seat so fast. Maybe she was an old hand at this kind of stuff and knew all the tactics.

While she was reading a newspaper, I squashed my backpack into the overhead locker, then lifted out the in-flight magazine from the net pouch fixed to the back of the passenger seat in front. Flicking through it, I spied an advert for O’Grady Jet. It boasted the airline was cheap and cheerful. True, the flight ticket was far cheaper than those sold by its rivals. As for the cheerful part, nobody seemed to have told the stern-faced ground staff.

Finally, came the moment of take-off. It was as graceful as a flatulent cow taking a run and jump off a trampoline. Once we were above the clouds, we circled, weaved and jerked across the sky.

The captain garbled his script in a monotone voice. ...Sorry, for...delay. I’d like...welcome aboard Doug McCoy...O’Grady Jet...flight..to Barcelona. We hope...a nice flight...

He left it to us to fill in the blanks. Or perhaps speaking fewer words was part of the no-frills deal.

Somewhere over the Atlantic, we hit turbulence. The plane staggered about the sky like an old drunk. The constant shaking weakened my bladder. With the seatbelt sign illuminated, I couldn’t move from my seat. So I just sat there, legs crossed, eyes glued to the sign, wishing the light would go off.

After reading all the adverts about duty-free, exotic islands and the lives of the rich and famous in the magazine, I grew bored. I looked at my travelling companion, hoping to engage her in conversation. She was around seventy and wore a white blouse and a long, grey skirt. Her short, straight hair was an unusual tint of strawberry blonde speckled with grey flecks. She seemed too engrossed in her newspaper, so I decided not to disturb her.

Suddenly, the plane fell through an air pocket. I inadvertently grabbed the woman’s hand. It was cold and bony. Her body jerked in spasms at the sudden intimacy.

She gave me an icy stare through her reading glasses. Do you mind? Her voice was sharp and threatening. She threw my hand away.

I gave her an apologetic smile. Sorry. I’m nervous.

I was hoping to find pity in that stern old face of hers. All she did was mutter something under her breath.

Two coffees later my bladder was close to bursting point. Looking up at the seatbelt sign, I thought it strange that it was forbidden to go to the toilet, yet okay for the flight attendants to wheel their trolleys up and down the aisles. I suppose a mere triviality like health and safety should never impede something as important as making money in our capitalist-driven society.

I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I unbuckled the seatbelt and stood up. A flight attendant came tearing down the aisle and ordered me to sit down. I refused, stating my desperate situation. I noticed the stares from the other passengers. I wasn’t sure if they had the same problem or they thought they were about to witness an air-rage incident.

I need to go too, the man behind me said.

A chorus of passengers echoed his sentiment. The flight attendant relented and demanded we go in an orderly fashion. I bolted to the toilet first.

When I’d finished my toilet, I studied myself in the mirror. My eyes had lost their sparkle and were now a dull pea-green colour. There were bags under them from lack of sleep the previous night. My skin looked sallow and my cheekbones more pronounced. The grimy heat in the plane made me sweaty, causing my black, curly hair to become matted and lose its healthy shine. I looked a right mess.

Somebody banged on the door. Will you hurry up in there? I’m desperate.

The critical assessment of my looks would have to wait.

Strapping myself in again, I started thinking about the coffee and doughnut I’d had earlier in the departure lounge. I could feel it swirling inside my stomach like clothes in a washing machine. I closed my eyes and tried to think of a lake surrounded by flat meadows. The image disappeared, replaced by a sugar-coated doughnut bobbing in a choppy sea of coffee. The waves curled over it, spinning the doughnut faster and faster and faster. My stomach thought it a disgusting image and spewed out its contents onto the floor.

I pulled out the sick bag from the net pouch. Spewing into it, my companion pressed a button above her that summoned the flight attendant. A small brunette appeared with a load of paper towels and a damp cloth. I helped her wipe away the sick on the floor, though I was still holding the sick bag in case another bout was due. The passengers in my immediate vicinity looked on disgustedly.

I turned to my companion. Sorry about that.

She scowled. Of all the people I had to sit beside. She went back to reading her newspaper.

Many stomach-churning hours later, the plane descended towards Barcelona Airport. It rolled left and right in the crosswinds as it approached the runway. I wasn’t sure if we were in the air or sailing in a choppy sea.

Finally, the plane bounced along the runway like a pogo-stick, before taxiing at an alarming speed. I began to wonder if the plane was a wrecking ball, and the airport authorities had earmarked the terminal building for demolition to pave the way for the growing demand for houses. Luckily for us, the pilot deemed the old rust bucket still useful for one more flight.

Once parked, I unbuckled my seat belt and immediately made my way to the toilet again. The flight attendant, who had helped me clean up my mess, chased me away.

Please, I begged her. I’m desperate. The seatbelt sign has been switched on for most of the flight.

And it’ll remain that way until we say so. It’s for safety reasons.

I stormed back to my seat.

It took ages between the aeroplane doors opening and the staircase sidling up to the doorway. The air was hot and sticky, but at least it wasn’t artificial.

I fetched my hand luggage from the overhead locker and snaked between the passengers to the exit.

Thank you for flying O’ Grady Jet Airways, the flight attendant said with a grimace as I was about to step off the plane.

You should rename it Crazy Jet, I retorted.

She muttered something unintelligible under her breath which I doubted was an apology for the poor service.

At passport control, the customs officer performed his bureaucratic duty with the utmost diligence. His beady eyes scrutinised everybody and everything that approached him. This lengthened the queueing time. A normal procedure, but when you’re dying for the toilet it seems like forever.

I tried not to think of dripping taps, waterfalls and fountains, which made me think of them even more. Performing the wee-wee dance, I scrunched up my face to stay my bladder from draining itself.

What’s wrong with you? the passport officer asked when I reached him.

Desperate for the toilet.

Eyeing me warily, he gestured for me to hand over my passport.

It had reached the point where I was about to wet myself. Is it okay for me to leave the passport here? I’ll return for it later. Honest.

He took another look at my passport. What’s your name?

I summoned up all the patience that bureaucracy usually demanded and hissed, Cristina Solans Sentis. Born on the 15th of July–

He glimpsed again at the passport. Okay. I believe you.

Free of all bureaucracy, I ran as quickly as I could along the corridor to the toilets in Baggage Reclaim. They were out of order. I was sorely tempted to leave my rucksack alone to do the rounds on the carousel until I returned. But there would be no way back without having to go through a whole raft of security checks. I waited to retrieve my rucksack.

As always, it was the last piece of luggage thrown onto the carousel. In excruciating pain, I grabbed it and sped along the concourse, trying to find the toilets. All I could see were signs for car rental firms, buses, taxis, cheap holidays or changing money. I sprinted past the coffee shops and tourist information. I wanted to stop and ask somebody where the toilets were but feared I’d start trickling.

Finally, I found the toilet by smell. The cubicle was hardly big enough for me, let alone a fully laden rucksack. With a struggle, I somehow squeezed it in and balanced it on my lap.

Relieving myself, my spirit left my body and drifted towards the ceiling. I doubted any alcoholic drink or drug could ever replace the high I felt now.

Chapter 2

MUM WAS WAITING FOR me outside Lleida Train Station. She was lanky, steely-eyed, and had her long, grey hair shorn into a trendy page-boy style.

Missed you loads, I said.

She echoed the sentiment, and we flung our arms around each other, both of us crying.

Soaking up her warmth, memories of my childhood came flooding back. Every school trip I went on, she’d always be outside the gates, waiting for my return. I had always looked forward to seeing her. Nothing could replace dear old Mum.

We pulled away from each other and wiped our tears away.

You’re looking well, I said.

Wish I could say the same about you. Rough trip, was it?  That was typical of Mum-always said what she thought, no holds barred.

You’d look the same if you had been through what I had. It was a nightmare. Anyway, I’m exhausted. If you don’t mind, I just want to shower and collapse into bed.

Good idea. Let’s get you home.

In the taxi, she updated me on everything that had happened. She had retired months before from the Unemployment Office and was doing odd jobs for local charities. She also rescued stray cats from building sites that were earmarked for demolition.

She began her crusade after reading an article in the local newspaper about the plight of a colony of cats that would have been killed if the building contractor had got their way. She had joined forces with her best friends, Laia and Ingrid, and protested outside the building–a derelict supermarket. They got their names and faces in the local newspaper and on television, resulting in the women from the local cat refuge coming and taking the cats away.

And we’re thinking of setting up a cat sanctuary, she said as the taxi drew up outside our building. We’ve found the perfect spot for it.

When we got out of the taxi, the driver retrieved my rucksack. I shrugged it onto my shoulders. as Mum gave him the exact change for the fare. She tipped nobody, believing that good service should be a right, not a privilege.

Aren’t there cat sanctuaries in Lleida? I asked her as she unlocked the main door of our building and stepped inside. She held the door open for me, then closed it.

Yes, she said. But they can’t cope. And this one comes with three cottages, a little hostel, barn, field, prune orchard, and garages.

I called the lift.

It’s always been my dream to live in the place, she said. When I was a teenager, I used to go there every summer and pick fruit or do odd jobs. The Solsonas didn’t have any children, so I was like their adopted daughter. Lovely couple. Both of them died weeks apart about two years ago. Their place has been up for sale ever since.

It’ll cost a lot of money, I said as we stepped into the lift. I jabbed ‘5’ on the silver panel. Like before, the doors took a while before they juddered closed.

I’ve got my retirement money. And a bit put away for a rainy day. Laia and Ingrid are also chipping in. We’ll own it together.

How are they both?

Same as always. They also retired this year. So now we’ve got all the time in the world. Just like the song.

I frowned.

It’s from a James Bond film in the sixties. Louis Armstrong sang it.

I see.

She began singing as the lift ascended. We have all the time in the world. Time enough for life to unfold. All the precious things love has in store. She stopped when we got out of the lift.

I’ve missed this old place, I said when she unlocked the flat door.

It’ll always be your home, no matter what.

I hope so.

Entering the living room, I shrugged off the rucksack, dumping it at my feet. I took off my boots and coat, dropping them next to the rucksack, then stretched out on the sofa.

Has anything else exciting happened in paradise while I was away? I asked.

Er...no.

Her blushing face hinted otherwise. Like me, she could never lie without turning pink. Maybe I’d find out later.

Tell me all about Canada, she said.

I yawned. Later. I just want to collapse in bed. It's been one long, long day.

Have a shower first.

Good idea, I replied, eyelids flickering. I yawned. Such a good idea and then–"

Mum spoke again, but her voice became a distant mutter as I sank into the deep void of sleep.

I dreamt of Alex, the forest ranger I met while working at Riding Mountain National Park in Canada. Like me, he was a volunteer vet for The Canadian Volunteers Service for the Protection and Survival of Wildlife or CVSPSW for short. We both had six-month contracts.

Until I met him, I had been working with different rangers to observe and inoculate beavers. He would be the last ranger with whom I worked. He was twenty-six, attractive, charming, and above all, single. We shared a cabin, sleeping in separate camp beds.

On the day before I left for the airport, I snuck out in the late evening, closing the cabin door quietly behind me. Guided by the fading sunlight, I ambled through the aspen forest, enjoying the sound of birdsong as I made my way to the stream at the bottom of the rise upon which the cabin stood. I often came here to view the scenery, or to reflect on the situation in which I had found myself. I could see no solution to it other than forgetting all about it and moving on with my life.

That was easier said than done.

I was admiring the view of the far-off mountains when I heard footsteps behind me. I glanced over my shoulder and saw him coming towards me, his head bowed. Like me, he wore a long, Canada goose coat, beanie hat, scarf, mitts, fleece-lined trousers, and boots except I wore an extra layer of clothing underneath.

He stopped a foot behind me, generating heat like a radiator. It made me feel warm and cozy inside.

I’ll miss you when you go, he said. Wish it could all have been so different.

In what way?

It doesn’t matter.

It does to me.

This place. It’s quite...I don’t know...a romantic setting. If I ever get married, I’d love to come here on my honeymoon.

Me too.

A chilly breeze blew in my face and I shivered.

You’re cold, he said. I’ll go back to the cabin and light the fire.

I was enjoying his warmth. No, stay here.

You’ll freeze.

Then wrap your arms around me. The words had tumbled out of my mouth before I realised.

He immediately put his arms around my waist, resting his hands against my stomach.

My heartbeat thudded. A tingling sensation ran through my body. I had experienced the same feelings one evening when our hands accidentally touched as they groped around the cutlery drawer. We had briefly smiled at each other. His eyes flashed something akin to desire or had I been just projecting my own.

I want to tell you something before you go, he said.

Goodbye?

That too.

What then?

Can I whisper it?

If you want.

His minty breath warmed my ear. I’ve enjoyed our time together. Pity that we never took it further.

I sucked in a breath and gave him a sideways glance. I never thought you liked me in that way. You were always so...platonic. I had also acted the same way, although I’d dropped subtle hints that I’d like something more. He never picked up on them.

I’m not very good at expressing my feelings, he said. "Probably

why I prefer being here with the animals. I find them easier to get on with than humans."

A moose bellowed in the distance.

Sounds like one of them agrees with you, I said.

We both laughed.

I’ll come to visit you, he said. There was sorrow in his voice. It saddened me to know that I had caused it.

You know where I live.

If we lived in a perfect world, I would... his voice drifted off somewhere as he moved his lips away.

Go on, I said, patting his hand. Tell me.

He let go of me.

I turned around. His face was scarlet. You’re blushing. What is it you want to say?

Smiling, he shook his head. It doesn’t matter.

I poked his chest. Oh, but it does.

Promise not to get mad. It was just a crazy notion.

I promise.

He gripped my shoulders gingerly and stared into my eyes. I want to kiss you.

My heartbeat jolted into overdrive. My breathing quickened.

You see. I knew it was just a crazy idea.

I cupped his face and kissed him. His lips were unusually soft for such a rugged man. Not that I was an expert in such matters.

His hands tightened their grip on my shoulders as we both moaned with pleasure.

After a long moment, I drew away from him, panting.

What’s up? he said with a shrug.

Just need to come up for some air, I lied. In reality, I was deciding what to do next. Should I encourage him to continue in the cabin? What would he think of me? Oh, who cared? I had been secretly wanting this moment for a long time. And by my reckoning, so had he. But I still followed the old-fashioned rules of the game where the man did the chasing.

Oh, I see, he said. He gestured at the cabin. Why don’t we continue this in there?

I felt playful and raised my eyebrows, hoping it enunciated a mock-shocked look. What kind of woman do you take me for?

His smile dropped. Oh, I...I didn’t mean that. Sorry.

I wanted to tell him I was only kidding. But now that we were playing by my rules, I could control the situation easier. I’ll forgive you if you carry me inside. That’s if you’ve got the strength.

He stretched out his arms. Just hope you’re not too heavy.

I gasped. What are you saying, Alex Burns?

He laughed. Nothing. He motioned at his arms. Jump on."

You said I was fat. I bent to make a snowball and threw it at him. He swerved even though it had no chance of hitting him.

Missed, he said. He started doing a jig. Try again.

I made another snowball. This time it hit his chest.

He looked down at the splash of white on his coat. Is that the best you can do?

No. I charged him, bowling him over. I fell on top of him, my face pressed against his. Am I too heavy now.

Weeeell!

I pulled his ears. Say sorry.

Sorry, he said in a belly laugh.

Are you?

Yes.

You’d better be. I rolled off him and stood up.

He touched his chest. Thank goodness for that. You were heavy." He sprang to his feet and ran towards the cabin, laughing hysterically.

I’ll get you. Just you wait. I chased after him but slipped and fell. I got up and barged through the cabin door. He had already hung up his coat on the peg behind the door and was kneeling by the fireplace.

I’ll fix the fire, he said. Then I’ll spend the whole night apologising.

I wagged a finger. Who says I’ll accept your apology?

I’ll beg.

I shook my head. It has to be my way. I took off my coat and hung it up.

What do you mean?

I sat on the side of my camp bed, facing his. Number one. Light the fire.

Your wish is my command, Your Majesty, he said, bowing.

When the fire was roaring in the hearth, I continued playing the game. Take your boots off.

He was about to sit on his camp bed to do it, but I said, No, no. Do it while standing up.

Are you serious?

I nodded.

Lifting his foot, he started wobbling.

Careful, I said.

He gripped the heel of his left boot and tried to pull it off. His face reddened with the effort. He wobbled again, before falling backwards onto the floor.

I burst out laughing.

You try it, he said.

I’m not the one who needs to apologise.

Isn’t there another way?

Yes. I tapped my lips. With a kiss.

His eyes lit up. Just one kiss?

As many as it takes for me to forgive you.

Moments later we were sliding our hands all over each other. I began to burn up from the heat of the burning logs, passion, and the thought of us making love. It would happen–if I so desired it. As for Alex, he was way beyond the point of no return.

When I reached the same point as him, I said, Let’s get out of these clothes.

His wide eyes burned brighter than the flames.

Chapter 3

I SNAPPED AWAKE WHEN Mum shrieked, Hurry! We’ve got work to do.

Eh? I mumbled, eyes still shut tight. What’s up?

We need to leave soon. My God, it’s stinking in here. When did you last shower?

Not since I left