“You see, cats know. They understand when their time is up. He went outside because he was going to die, and he knew it.”
Nora tried to take this in. Now she thought about it, there hadn’t been any external signs of damage on her cat’s body.
She had just jumped to the same conclusion that Ash had jumped to. That a dead cat on the road was probably dead because of the road.
“And if a surgeon could think that, a mere layperson would think that too. Two plus two equals car accident.”
“Poor Volts,” Nora muttered, mournfully. Mrs Elm smiled, like a teacher who saw a lesson being understood.
“He loved you, Nora. You looked after him as well as anyone could. Go and look at the last page of The Book of Regrets.”
Nora could see that the book was lying on the floor. She knelt on the floor beside it. “I don’t want to open it again.”
“Don’t worry. It will be safer this time. Just stick to the last page.”
Once she had flicked to the last page, she saw one of her very last regrets – “I was bad at looking after Voltaire” – slowly disappear from the page.
The letters fading like retreating strangers in a fog. Nora closed the book before she could feel anything bad happen.
“So, you see? Sometimes regrets aren’t based on fact at all. Sometimes regrets are just... A load of bullshit.”
Nora tried to think back to her schooldays, to remember if Mrs Elm had said the word “bullshit” before, and she was pretty sure she hadn’t.
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