Page 56 of On The Edge

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Cat had spent the day discussing possible new ventures with Jess. She was finally sure that if she focused on her career, she could be happy. Maybe she didn't need some big love in her life anyway, and perhaps the costume dramas she had often watched back in Glasgow had given her an unrealistic view on what life had to offer. She had the gallery, and she had Jess, both of which made her happier than she had been in years. At the moment, she knew she could enjoy what she had, and make the most of it; anything else would happen if it was meant to. As the two girls drank coffee and made more detailed lists of business ideas, the door bell tinkled gently, and Andrew stepped in. Jess ran up to him like a carefree child, happy to show her emotions to the world, Cat had accepted her friend's happiness gladly, and really she knew in her heart that Andrew was the one for Jess. Their new love radiated through them both, it was something special, and Cat knew that Jess deserved every second of it. Andrew laid down a bag of fresh cinnamon scrolls on the table and winked at Cat.

“I hope I'm not too late for coffee? I know these are your favourite Cat, they just came out of the oven at the bakery!”

“Oh, you do know the way to a girl's heart Andy!” Cat poured him a coffee, enjoying their shared sense of humour, present this morning as much as any other.

“Hey what about me?” Jess pouted.

“You like the scrolls too!” Andrew chuckled at Jess's expression and took the cup offered by Cat.

“Sometimes I think you're here to see Cat more than me!” Jess playfully rolled her eyes and peeked inside the paper bag.

“Don't you want your best mate and boyfriend to like each other?”

“We could try to hate each other if you want us to!” Cat laughed, and gratefully took a pastry from the bag.

“Urgh, that's not what I meant, I just...” Jess bit her lip and went pink. “I don't know!”

The day had been quiet, with only one customer picking up their purchase. Cat had said she'd lock up, so Jess and Andrew had decided to go for an early showing of the latest superhero movie, and Cat was happy to decline their offer of being third wheel again. She briefly muttered to Jess that if she never saw another super hero movie, she would die content.

“You sound like an old woman Cat, a movie never did any harm!” Jess chuckled.

“Maybe. But I'm happy to say: I'm only doing things that I want to do from now on, that's the beauty of being single.”

“Hmmm,” Jess hesitated for a second lowering herself into Andrew's car, clearly mulling over what Cat had said, and seeing some truth in it, she smiled.

Cat waved to them and spent the late afternoon designing online marketing deals on the computer, as she enjoyed the background music overhead. Then Ella Fitzgerald's heart-rending vocals rolled out from the speakers. Cat lay back at the front desk, enjoying the sweet, lulling notes as she finished up scheduling their first promotion. She thought again of Patrick; she couldn't help it. The music transported her back to that day at the cafe, content with the gentle calm between them as they watched the lashing rain against the window and the people rushing past. Cat got up and went to the back studio where the music system sat, and changed the song to an upbeat 1940s track. She looked around the glow of lights illuminating each artwork on the walls, she had to pinch herself thinking about where she worked sometimes - and a business partner too! She glowed inside - her mum would be proud. Cat smiled to herself, no longer feeling the pain that came from thinking of her mother. She finally felt at peace with herself, and with the memories. Cat peered out the window: only the odd person passed by, saluting her if their eyes met, but otherwise it was quiet, as the cloudy sky grew darker with each passing minute. Cat stared out at the bleakness and thought that perhaps during winter time they should close the gallery and make more time for inspiration, and painting. Jess had thrown out some ideas for business plans for the colder seasons, but it was difficult when most of the island shut down in hibernation for the spring. Cat made a note on a nearby notepad to suggest to Jess tomorrow, and went upstairs to grab a snack from the fridge. She was midway through making a sandwich, lost in her duties for the rest of the day, when she heard a loud bang downstairs, followed by another in the seconds it took her to put down the beginnings of her sandwich. Cat jumped at the noise, a little frightened, but reassured herself something would have just fallen, most likely; a painting, or an easel in the studio area. She slowly made her way down the stairs, in case there was broken glass to take care of, but before she was halfway down she heard another bang, and the unsettling noise of something being dragged across the floor. Cat's heart beat so fast and hard, she could hear it pounding, fearing what she would discover once she opened the door to the gallery. Her brain processed the scene seconds before her emotions and adrenaline kicked in. Several canvases lay on the floor, torn down from the walls, leaving great big scratches on the paint, along with a large pair of open scissors, as if thrown down in fury. The scene was confusing and angry; she tried to let her head catch up to the panic that engulfed her, too scared to look around her for whoever had caused the damage. But as she took a step forward towards the mess, she caught a figure standing somewhere near the doorway out of the corner of her eye. She cried out in alarm, not knowing whether she should stay put and call the police, or run after the culprit herself. Following her instinct, Cat took a leap over her large tree canvas, seeing without really processing the thought, that it had been ripped down the middle, as though cut with the scissors. She ran to the door and outside in the gloomy light could just make out two figures in the distance on the road, wrestling and shouting. She walked into the cold in a daze, unsure of what to do, then froze on the spot, as she recognised that the newcomer was Patrick. He punched the unknown figure, who as Cat moved closer she saw was a younger man, his nose now bloodied as he lunged at Patrick again, making them both fall to the ground.

“Stop it!” Cat screamed.

“Christ, what have you done, Alan?” Patrick bellowed as the young man grabbed him around the neck and smashed his head against the stone road. Patrick yelled in pain and the boy got up quickly, but Cat ran up in front before he could get past her.

“If you don't come back into the gallery now, I'm calling the police. I know your name, Patrick knows you, we'll get to you before you can even leave on the ferry tomorrow!” she panted, looking into a white face staring back at her with rage. The young man let slip an expression of brief uncertainty, then pushed Cat roughly out of the way, making her fall hard.

Patrick held the back of his head and called out after the figure: “Alan, the police will get you - the only way off this island is the ferry, and by god we'll have people looking for you tomorrow!”

The boy hesitated on the spot, and as Cat got up from the ground, composing herself, she knew there was something more to the situation that she had to get to the bottom of; the strange tension between Patrick and the young man was more than just incidental.

“Come into the gallery now, or I'll call the police immediately.” Cat brushed off some of the dirt from her elbow and clothes.

“Or I could make sure you don't call the police...” The figure turned to Cat with palpable malice, making her chest tighten and her skin turn cold.

“Stop that Alan, you wouldn't do that.” Patrick also rose from the ground and pulled himself up to his full height. “Get in there, now!” He pointed to the gallery and Cat swiftly walked back to the welcome glow of the lit doorway, without checking to see if either man were following.

Once inside Cat felt her whole body begin to tremble. She saw the canvases on the ground, and the scissors, and gulped at the work ruined before her.

Patrick came in, hand clasped around the back of Alan's dark hoodie, and pushed him into the middle of the gallery's open space. He took a moment to duck outside to see if there were any onlookers, but again the village was quiet.

“People are going to see us in here, especially after your scream Cat... Can you close the shutters?” Cat's shaking hands locked the door, and pulled down the shutters, shielding them from any prying eyes. Patrick put a hand on her back, and tilted her face towards his. “Are you OK?”

She nodded, unsure of what to say at a time like this. All she wanted were answers, but seeing her work, and the positive progress of the last six months of her life destroyed before her made her want to cry, and lash out at this cruel stranger.

Patrick turned on the young man. “How dare you come here, haven't you put me through enough?”

Alan gave a sarcastic laugh. “How dare YOU come here! Leaving me, taking mum with you! You're a sick bastard, Pat!”

Cat abruptly looked up at Patrick, he turned to her, his face taught with anger and nerves. “I'm sorry you've got embroiled in this Cat, I'm sorry about... this is my brother. Alan.”