I found Niamh in one of the gardens with the quartet of cats. After our encounter in the closet, Portia had returned to Niamh’s bedroom, one kitten at a time, as if she’d decided the hole in the wall was no longer up to her standards. Niamh had neglected to mention at the time that she’d used more than one can of tuna to lure Portia back into her clutches.
That had been two weeks ago. The kittens hopped and ran around the garden as Portia watched attentively. They were mostly squeaks and fur at the moment. When one tried to pounce on my foot and began to gnaw on my shoelace, I picked it up. It squealed in annoyance.
“How can something so small be so loud?” The kitten mewed and began to gnaw on my finger. I winced; those tiny teeth were sharp.
Niamh smiled. “Have you never been around ba
