WRITERS ABROAD MAGAZINE: THE THIRD SPACE
‘What?’
‘I’m sure I heard something. Maybe Murphy trying to get in.’
Goddamn cat.
She leapt out of bed before Robert could stop her. Guilt rose up inside him, but he
squashed it down; what he’d done was for the best, Sarah would forget the cat soon
enough.
He looked up as his wife backed into the bedroom.
‘Robert,’ she whispered, her eyes wide.
Shock punched him in the gut as two men followed her into the room. Dressed in black,
balaclavas pulled over their faces, guns in their hands, they ushered Sarah toward the bed.
‘Sentarse!’ one of the men snapped and she sat abruptly, shuffling closer to Robert and
taking his hand in a tight grip.
‘Salir de esa cama y estás muerto.’ They both went out, but one remained just outside
the door.
Sarah turned to him, her face etched with strain. ‘What are we going to do?’
Robert squeezed her hand. ‘They must have disabled the downstairs alarm,’ he said
quietly. ‘But there’s still the one in here. We need to get to it.’ He glanced across the room,
but it might as well be a mile away. If he tried to reach it, the man in the hall would spot him
as soon as he moved.
‘We can’t, they’ll see us. Oh, I wish Murphy was here.’
So did Robert. Unfortunately it was impossible; Murphy was incarcerated in a cats’
home on the other side of Marbella.
Then he stared, for standing, framed in the doorway, was Murphy.
The cat strolled into the room, leapt lightly onto the sideboard and inched towards the
alarm button. He stopped just short and stared at Robert for long moments out of
inscrutable green eyes. Then he blinked twice and slowly rubbed his body against the
button.
Robert let out the breath he was holding.
It seemed like hours later when he heard the sound of sirens approaching. One of the
robbers ran into the room. ‘Usted llamó a la policía,’ he screamed, raising his gun.
Murphy sat on top of the wardrobe and watched, tail twitching. The gun was now
levelled at Robert and the man’s finger tightened on the trigger. Then Sarah gasped and
the gun swung toward her. Murphy leapt. He landed on the man’s head and dug his claws
in, hard. The man screamed, flung the cat from him and ran out of the room. The front door
slammed.
‘Thank you, Murphy,’ Robert and Sarah said in unison.
The following morning Sarah put the phone down and sat next to Robert at the kitchen
table. ‘That was some cats’ home,’ she said. ‘Apparently the cat you brought in yesterday
escaped last night.’ She gave him a long, hard look and he had to hold himself still so as
not to squirm. ‘I presume it was a wrong number.’
‘Yes, darling.’
He watched with resignation as she stroked Murphy’s tummy. He supposed he was
going to have to get used to the animal. Then he peered closer.
‘That cat’s got balls,’ he said.
‘I know,’ Sarah replied. ‘He’s really, really brave. Aren’t you, Murphy?’
36 | May 2016