From the previous chapter;

With a dumbfounded expression parked on his face as he tried to work out what to say for the best, Igor looked as though he’d just been asked to expand on Einstein’s theory of relativity. If he said no, then they might check out the mouse traps and find out he’d sabotaged them by jamming the springs. How would he be able to explain that? No, it was better to say yes, he was sure. ‘We cotch plenty of mice, we no need cat,’ he reiterated.

     Laura could only imagine Igor was opposed to the idea of a cat being in the dry store because of his secret, clandestine meetings with his girlfriend. But that wouldn’t matter if he was going to move into the unused bedroom upstairs. The problem was, she wouldn’t be able to get the room cleared for a few days, and she didn’t want to mention it to him until she did. On the basis that he might have arranged another meeting with his girlfriend during the week, she suggested Jenny bring George’s cat over on Saturday.

     Igor was nearly in tears. The possibility that Nadzia and her babies might be murdered by a cat, was the last thing he’d expected…

   

By Monday morning, Igor had a plan of sorts. If he could capture Nazdia before she had her babies, and he didn’t doubt that would be any time soon, he would be able to hide her somewhere until the cat arrived on Saturday. But what then? He had no idea where he would be sleeping after the mouse killer arrived. His only other option was to return to his uncle’s house and the clutches of his obese, nymphomaniac, step-cousin, Mazeija. He didn’t doubt his recent body building at the gym might enable him to fight her off more efficiently than before, but the thought still terrified him. That being said, unless he could think of an alternative, moving back to his uncle’s might be his only choice.

     A foray around the dry store on Monday night resulted in him emptying out the contents of a large, rectangular tin of dried pasta into a black plastic bag. As soon as he found them a permanent place to live, he would buy Nazdia a proper cage, but until then, this would have to do. Using one of the metal skewers from the kitchen, Igor made air holes all along the back, before placing shredded kitchen towel inside to make it cosy. The small ramekin filled with water, and the large piece of her favourite cranberry and stilton cheese, would ensure she had enough to eat and drink for a few days.

     ‘I sorry leetle one,’ he told Nazdia when he picked her up and popped her in the tin box after she came to claim her piece of cheese that night. Igor could hear her squeaking with fear and frantically running around as soon as he put the lid on. ‘You safe now, Nazdia. You no get keeled by cat.’ he soothed.

     Igor didn’t doubt she was terrified, but what else could he do? Once her babies were born, they would be dependent on her for at least three weeks until they were weaned. After that, he would take them somewhere safe to set them free. He had done the same thing at the last restaurant he worked at in Poland because he appreciated the speed at which mice were able to reproduce. Much though he loved Nazdia, he didn’t want Laura’s hotel overrun by her offspring.

     Satisfied that he could do no more with regard to her safety, he placed the tin box containing Nazdia at the back of one of the shelves. He then took a piece of board and blocked the hole where she had popped out of every night when she came to visit him. Although he hadn’t seen any other mice, he knew they must be there. There had to be a ‘Mr’ Nazdia behind that wall, and the piece of cheese she took back through the hole every night was probably for him and a host of others. Hopefully, when they picked up the scent of the cat, they wouldn’t set foot in there again…

   

Laura was feeling very pleased with herself. Clearing the storeroom on the second floor turned out to be much easier than expected. When she called the Salvation Army, they agreed to collect the excess furniture within forty-eight hours. After it was gone, she set up a small kitchen area next to the ensuite, with a table-top fridge, microwave, and kettle she’d bought second-hand on EBay. It didn’t seem fair that Igor would have to go down to the hotel kitchen for something to eat or drink when he was off duty. Creating a home for him had cost less than a hundred pounds, and had only taken a few hours to organise.

    I wonder what he’ll think when he walks in, she pondered as she made up the bed with one of the striped duvet covers and matching pillowcases left behind by the Patels. The thought that Igor could invite his girlfriend over and relax in such comfortable surroundings brought a smile to Laura’s face again. It was also nice to think there would be someone she could call on if there was some kind of emergency. Her ‘legless’ experience had reminded her, yet again, that she didn’t have her husband by her side should something go wrong.

     Still determined to make it a surprise after the Polish night was over, Laura placed the large sign she’d made saying ‘welcome home Igor!’ on the chest of drawers facing the door. She would ask him to bring up the mattress that was still in the dry store after they finished in the kitchen, and hopefully, after he realised it was no longer required for his meetings with Nazdia, he would be delighted with the alternative.

     Satisfied she could do no more, Laura turned off the lights and went downstairs…

   

Igor tried to stay calm as he did his last minute preparations for the Polish evening. The restaurant was fully booked from six onwards, and he had cooked enough of everything to make sure they couldn’t run out of any of the dishes on offer. Because the event turned out to be such a popular idea, and they’d had to turn away so many bookings, he didn’t doubt Karen would want to repeat it on a regular basis. Anything not used tonight could be frozen and utilised at a later date.

     ‘I better make a couple of dishes for the hotel guests who might not like Polish food,’ Karen told him when she reamerged from the dry store. ‘I thought I would make some Penne Carbonara, just in case.’

     Igor doubted it would be necessary because he had picked six of the most popular Polish dishes that catered to the varied tastes of many nationalities. But Karen was the boss. If she wanted to make something else, then fair enough.

     ‘You want me to make?’ He asked over his shoulder as he stirred the huge pan of sausage and cabbage stew he’d made earlier.

     Karen shook her head. ‘No, it’s alright, Igor. You’ve got enough on your plate, and I’m feeling a bit redundant anyway. I’ve got everything I need right here, so I’ll just get on with it.’

     Having tasted the stew, Igor decided to add a pinch more salt before turning around. When he did, the ladle in his hand dropped to the floor, the contents spraying his checked trousers with cabbage and gravy.  There, on the metal work surface in front of Karen, was the tin box Nazdia had given birth in two nights before…