This is not ideal, Thomas thought as another flash of lightning lit up the sky above him. The rain was so hard it was hurting his face as it struck with heightened force when the strong winds blew it in all directions around him. Rain was supposed to fall down but this rain was going in a horizontal direction more than a vertical one. It was the middle of July, but it was hard to see that right now. He hadn't even left the main grounds of Downton yet and he was already soaked to the skin. He was beginning to reconsider going against Phyllis's advice of staying at Downton and calling Richard later to let him know. She said that he would understand. Thomas knew that she was right, but Richard had been out all day in York seeing new suppliers for his shop and taking the opportunity to visit his parents too and Thomas wanted to see him. Richard had also called at Downton earlier to let Thomas know that he would be home later than expected as his train was delayed due to the weather. That was over four hours ago though and Thomas was a bit worried about him. Logic told him that there was no need to worry as Richard was probably just sitting in a train station waiting room, but he couldn't help it. As a result, he wanted to get home so that he would be home when Richard came back. Besides, he was here now and there was no point walking back and getting even wetter so he carried on, trying to avoid the puddles or small rivers that were in the lanes. He hoped that he would be able to dry his clothes well enough by the fire when he got home.

Another flash of bright white lightning lit up the sky, followed by a fork that darted down from a cloud to hit the ground a few miles away. Thomas was feeling a bit wary of walking underneath the trees but he had to get home so he had no choice. Lightning was supposed to hit the highest point so that it could get to the ground the quickest. The highest point here would be the trees above him, which was concerning, so he walked quickly. Running would be foolish as he would only slip and fall. As a child he was not scared of thunderstorms. Quite the opposite in fact. He would sit at his bedroom window for hours watching them and how each flash and rumble was different to the one before. He had other things to be scared of as a child. But he had always been home and dry then, now he was losing his fondness for thunderstorms very quickly indeed.

He had left the trees behind him and was walking along the side of a field, not too far outside of the village when he felt something grab at his leg. Assuming it was a large twig or branch from a tree again, he annoyingly kicked it to the side and carried on his way, narrowingly avoiding the puddle in front of him his torch had missed. He heard a splash behind him. He stopped. Despite the rain, wind and lightning, he listened as best he could as he could swear that something was following him. He heard nothing. You idiot, he thought shaking his head before carrying on walking. Only a few paces later though something grabbed at his leg again. He shook it off again. Is every twig determined to trip me up tonight? Something then pulled at his coat and that got his attention. He shone his torch down at his feet and was definitely not expecting to see what, or who, he saw.

A small and completely soaked cat was clinging desperately to the bottom of his coat. It was black so he could hardly see it, although it had four white paws and one white ear and one black one. Well at that moment, they were more brown than white. The cat looked young, not a kitten but not fully grown either. The light from another lightning flash lit up in the cats eyes and the cat meowed, although the storm was so loud that Thomas couldn't hear it. "You should go home little one," he said to the cat as he tried to walk on. The cat however, had other ideas. It suddenly switched from clinging to Thomas's coat to clinging to Thomas's leg. "Ahh!" Thomas cried out as the full force of tiny sharp claws grabbed his ankle. "So what do you want?" he asked the cat. The cat looked up with pleading eyes at him. Thomas observed him more closely. It's very thin, he thought. And cold, soaked to the skin. The cat meowed again, louder this time. And then it dawned on him. "You're asking for my help aren't you?" he asked. The cat shivered and sneezed as rain drops ran down its tiny face and it then tried to hide under Thomas's coat. "You're a wild little thing aren't you?" Thomas said. He remembered how Richard said he had a cat when he was a boy. He didn't hesitate then. He picked up the cat, rather easily considering it was scared, and tucked it under his coat and carried on home.

All the many times in his life that Thomas had felt left out in the storm, both literally and figuratively, he knew he couldn't just leave this vulnerable creature here, where it would most certainly perish. "We'll look after you okay," he said as he held the cat tight. The cat snuggled into Thomas as far as it could. Thomas felt a warmth within him, and despite the circumstances, he smiled.

The lightning was persistent. Thomas was hoping that these strong winds would blow the storm away soon but as he tried to unlock the door to their home with one hand, as the other hand now contained a torch and a wiggling cat, the storm showed no signs of easing up. After several attempts, he finally unlocked the door and the two of them rushed inside, shutting the storm out behind them. Thomas now had to consider what to do with his new friend. He put the cat down on the hallway floor as he took off his coat, which was dripping pools of rainwater onto the floor. I'll deal with that later, he thought. Everywhere was dark and silent. Richard wasn't home yet. Thomas told himself that this would be expected considering the weather and that now at least he was home so if Richard called he could answer. The telephone was a relatively new installment in the shop and had partly been due to Izzie pestering Richard to get one so she could talk to him more. He looked at the cat who was sitting on the floor, and still shivering. Neither of them would fare well if they stayed wet for too long, but considering the cat only had fur and was small and vulnerable, Thomas decided to get it dry first. "Come on you," he said as he picked the cat up and carried it upstairs to the spare bedroom, that was supposed to be his. He and Richard used it more as a spare storage space and the wardrobe in it was where they kept extra towels and blankets. He pulled out a towel that he hoped Richard wouldn't mind being covered in fur and mud and gently draped it over the cat who had instinctively taken shelter in the corner of the room. "Hey, there is no need to be scared," Thomas said softly as he bent down and rubbed some warmth into the cat's soaking fur. Thomas wanted to give the cat a bit of a wash, but anyone who knew anything about cats knows they are not fond of baths. If he was going to build up this cat's trust then that would not be the best approach. Besides, most of the dirt seemed to come off with the towel and before too long the cat was looking more black and white, instead of black and brown. "I need to warm myself up now okay?" he said to the cat, who was now looking much happier. He picked it up in the towel and took it with him to his and Richard's room where he changed his wet clothes, not being too concerned that he was being watched by a cat, as he didn't think animals cared about modesty. He then reached to the back of the wardrobe and found a large warm jumper. "This will do," he said. The jumper was Richard's and Thomas thought it would be ideal for a makeshift bed for their visitor, until they could get something more permanent arranged, if the cat wanted to stay of course. He won't miss it, Thomas thought. He never wears this one anyway.

After warming up Thomas and the cat went down to the kitchen to find something warm to drink. For Thomas, this was hot chocolate. Thomas decided that he would warm up some milk in a bowl for the cat, to help give it some strength and reduce the chances of it catching a cold and becoming ill. Thomas felt a bit guilty doing this though as it was the last of the milk, leaving none for Richard when he came home, but Thomas hoped he would understand. The milkman would come tomorrow anyway, he thought. As soon as he put the bowl down on the floor, the cat wasted no time in lapping up every drop of warm milk and then, after not very long at all, it sat there licking its lips constantly so it did not miss a single drop. Thomas drank his hot chocolate at the table whilst listening to the rain hammering against the windows and the door. He did not want to risk spilling it whilst carrying it and the cat upstairs to the living room. Despite the distraction he still couldn't stop himself from looking at the clock. It was getting rather late now and he was getting more and more anxious for Richard's return home. The cat seemed to be feeling more comfortable by the second though. It had now started washing itself; licking its paw and them wiping it over its face constantly. Thomas didn't know how effective this was but it meant the cat, at least, was feeling content. That makes one of us, he thought. The cat looked at him with big black eyes, wide because of the dim light in the room. Maybe it sensed Thomas's mood but it stopped its washing routine and padded gently over from its position near the empty bowl and over to Thomas and sat at his feet and looked up at him. Thomas's unconvincing reassuring smile (mainly to try to reassure himself) didn't seem to be believable by the cat and the cat then decided what Thomas needed was a cuddle. As much of a cuddle as a cat can give whilst sitting at a person's feet anyway. It rubbed its body around Thomas's legs, its tail snaking around him and then sat very close to his feet and started to purr. It was quiet at first, barely audible above the sound of the rain outside, but got louder when Thomas stretched down and stroked its head and back. "The stone floor must be cold for your feet," Thomas said. He finished his drink and put the cup down on the table, before picking up the cat and carrying it upstairs.

Once upstairs, Thomas fetched Richard's jumper, sorted out the fire and to warm up them both and his soaking wet clothes, and sat down on the sofa. The cat all the time sat patiently on the carpet, washing itself once again. They hadn't lit the fire in months, due to it being the middle of summer, but there was a need to feel comforted and dry, so he lit it all the same. Thomas had put the jumper down near the fireplace, and then placed the cat on it who seemed content at its sleeping arrangements. After another lengthy spell of washing, the cat finally settled. He looked right at home.

...

Richard didn't even bother looking at the time as he struggled with the lock in the dark and the rain. He just knew it was late and he felt bad for not contacting Thomas to let him know. It was not possible to call from York as a power cut had meant everything was down. He had hoped that the rescheduled train would at least run on time but they were delayed mid-journey several times and by the time he got into Downton station it was too dark for the darkness to just be the result of the storm. He wondered if Thomas would even be home. It would make more sense for him to sleep at Downton instead of walking back in the storm, but since Richard saw a very wet coat hanging up in the hallway by the door as he walked in, he knew Thomas had made the journey after all. He took of his coat, glad that he had a spare, and put on the kitchen light so he could drop a few things off in the office from his trip today, as well as putting a box of homemade shortbread biscuits that were a gift from his mother, down on the side for Thomas, Chris and himself. He then noticed the empty mug on the table and the chair that hadn't been pushed back in. There was a muddy towel on the floor too, which was odd but maybe Thomas slipped when walking home. What was more unusual though was that there was an empty bowl in the middle of the kitchen floor. He didn't remember leaving that there.

The light was on upstairs in the living room so Richard figured that Thomas was still up. He wouldn't blame him if he was in bed. He truly felt home when he pushed open the door and saw Thomas sitting on the sofa, a blanket on his lap, the fire lit, despite it being July. He was glad for that, he needed warmth. Thomas turned his head and smiled at him with sleepy eyes as he shut the door behind him. He was asleep, Richard thought. "You didn't have to stay up darling," he said as he pressed a tender kiss onto Thomas's lips, which was followed by another, which Thomas returned gladly.

"I wanted to wait for you. You wouldn't think me too soft if I said I was worried would you?" Thomas said quietly.

"You care, that's all," Richard said. He looked down at Thomas's lap. Something moved under the blanket. It was then that a small black and white face peeped out from under the blanket and blinked up at Richard contentedly. "What's this little creature doing here?" he asked.

It took Thomas a while to realise, in his sleepy state, what Richard was referring too. "Oh, he was asleep by the fire on your jumper, but kept on jumping up onto my lap so I gave in."

"I see," Richard said. "But I meant why do we suddenly have a cat?"

"He followed me home when I walked back from Downton. He was soaked to the skin and shivering and was asking for my help Richard. I couldn't just leave him," Thomas explained whilst stroking the cat, who started to purr. "You don't mind do you? You said you once had a cat when you were younger."

Richard sat down on the chair next to Thomas and kissed Thomas again. He has such a big heart. How could anyone ever think he never had one? Richard thought as he remembered something Thomas once told him. "Course I don't mind. You did the right thing. I do have a soft spot for cats too," Richard said. "And you are a handsome young thing aren't you?"

"Thanks," Thomas said.

"Not you Thomas! The cat," Richard said with a grin as he stroked the cat behind the ear, which made the cat purr even louder. "But yes Thomas, you are a handsome young thing too." They both laughed at that.

"Do you think he can stay?" Thomas asked.

"I see no reason why not. Could be handy actually, as the last thing we want is any nice coming in and nibbling the books. If he has survived on his own then he must be a good hunter. Chris won't mind either, he likes cats," Richard said. "I think the real question is more like if he will want to stay with us?"

"Well he hasn't freaked out when you kissed me so he can't be too judgy," Thomas joked.

"Does he have a name?" Richard asked.

"Well I have an idea and I think you will like it," Thomas said.

"Oh?"

"And no I'm not calling him Richard!" Thomas said.

"I gathered that," Richard said, pretending to be disappointed.

"No, I was thinking of calling him Wilde," Thomas said. "A double meaning. I found him in the wilds of a storm..."

Richard thought a bit whilst looking at the cat. "Hmm Wild. I like that."

"Wilde with an 'e'," Thomas confirmed.

"Oh. Well in that case, I'd say he has a rather appropriate name for living above a bookshop," Richard said. "Welcome to the family Wilde."

…

The next morning when Thomas woke before his early alarm, as the sun was already shining through the window behind the curtains, he looked down towards the floor on his side of the bed where he and Richard had made Wilde a bed underneath the table in a box that Richard found from the shop. He had told Thomas that cats like boxes, as it makes them feel secure. They had put the jumper Thomas had dug out earlier in it, as well as a blanket that they wouldn't miss, and Thomas had reckoned it looked rather cosy. When they finally got to sleep that night, Wilde was curled up in his bed too so they assumed it met with his approval also.

This morning though, Wilde was nowhere to be seen, his bed empty. Thomas had wondered if the cat would stay. It was obviously a stray and perhaps human company was not what he had wanted for the long term. These thoughts were quickly proved wrong however, as Wilde jumped up onto the bottom of the bed and gently padded up the bed, gracefully stepping over his and Richards legs, and came to sit right up next to Thomas's face purring as if to say 'You need to get up.' Thomas tickled Wilde's face around his ears, when he noticed how one ear had a small rip in it. He felt over it gently with his finger. It was an old wound and had long since healed up with no signs of infection. "Been in the wars haven't you," he said to the cat. Thomas stretched and in doing so, took his head off the pillow momentarily. In that moment however, Wilde decided that he would like to have Thomas's pillow and quickly sat on the pillow where Thomas's head should have been resting. "Wow thanks," he said sarcastically to Wilde. The cat just purred more and settled down. Thomas was left lying with his head lying on the mattress and not the pillow. Richard, who was tired from his journey and late return home last night, was blissfully unaware of all of this. Thomas sighed as he lay there with Wilde's tail tickling his forehead. He looked at the clock and since he only had five minutes until he had to get up anyway, switched the alarm off and decided to get up.

Thomas had left Wilde, who had occupied his side of the bed, and had headed to the bathroom. He was thinking about what he was going to give Wilde for breakfast. Do cats eat breakfast? How often do we feed him? Does he feed himself? Thomas thought as he brushed his teeth. He washed the brush off and turned around and jumped. Wilde was sitting right behind him. He didn't even hear him come in or push the door open. Maybe he was summoned by Thomas's thoughts about food. That led to another silent question. Can cats read minds?

...

Thomas got himself dressed in the bedroom, Richard was still in a deep sleep. Thomas smiled to himself when he heard Richard lightly snoring. If he gave Thomas any reason too, I could tease him about that later, he thought. Wilde apparently had to follow Thomas everywhere and was now sitting on the floor next to the wardrobe. The door was open and Wilde peaked curiously inside. Thomas pulled him back. "Not a good idea, you will get shut in and that would be no fun at all," he said quietly to Wilde so he didn't wake Richard. Thomas heard the door downstairs click closed. He's early again, Thomas thought as he heard Chris come in at the time that he usually did. He left the bedroom and went to the living room to open the curtains and then continued downstairs, Wilde running after him and almost tripping Thomas up on the stairs. "Morning Chris," Thomas said as he walked into the kitchen.

"Morning Thomas, coffee?" Chris asked.

"Would love to, but I think I'll have to skip it today. I'm a bit late," Thomas said. "And before I leave I need to have a rummage through the cupboards."

"Oh?" Chris asked before he noticed that Thomas was being followed by a mostly black and partly white cat. "Who's your shadow?" he asked Thomas.

"Oh him. Yeah it seems that I left here yesterday with no pet cat and came back with one," Thomas said. "I picked him up in the storm last night, he was following me and seemed to be asking for help. He slept here last night and I was wondering if he would leave in the morning as I think he is a stray, but he seems to be sticking around after all."

"He seems to have taken a liking to you Thomas," Chris said as he bent down to stroke the cat, who seemed to sense that Chris was a 'cat person' and welcomed the attention.

"Yes. I have to say I'm rather fond of him. I was hoping he wouldn't leave," Thomas said. Chris smiled at the note of affection in his voice.

"What does Richard think?" Chris asked.

"He likes him I reckon. He had a cat when he was younger," Thomas said.

"Have you given him a name?" Chris asked. The cat was still rubbing its face around Chris's hand as he stroked him, loving all the fuss he was getting.

"Yeah. I thought we'd call him Wilde," Thomas said.

Chris looked up. "Wilde? As in Irish poet Wilde or Wild as in wild storm?" he asked.

"Irish poet kind mainly, although if necessary it can be the other type of wild in case people find it hard to understand why I would name him so," Thomas said. The thought had occurred to him that some people might find it wonder why they would name a cat after a man convicted of 'gross indecency' several decades before. It was the same reason why any books written by him are never displayed at the shop window. People and their cruel judgement, Thomas thought. He didn't want to give into it, but they had to be careful. Richard did sell them though, he refused to hide such a talent completely, and people did buy them. Wilde therefore was a clever name. It could be either.

"Good choice then," Chris said. "Nice to meet you Wilde."

Wilde then meowed as if he was answering Chris, which made Chris and Thomas chuckle. "You have cats Chris. What do they eat? And how often?" Thomas asked.

"Well technically they are my neighbours cats but she tends to give them the off cuts of whatever she is cooking. She puts some aside and gives parts of it to them over the next few days. Other than that, they are good hunters and tend to feed themselves. Milk is also a favourite and sometimes fish," Chris said.

"Well I suppose the Downton kitchens could spare enough to feed him. Although this morning I think we will have to open a tin of tuna," Thomas said.

Chris, who was still on the floor next to Wilde, smiled up at him. "Oh I am sure Wilde could put up with that, isn't that right?" he said to the cat and to Thomas. Thomas didn't want to waste a whole tin on the cat but since Wilde hadn't eaten last night, and maybe for several nights before he didn't think it would be wasted. Wilde was hungry and ate it all quickly.

"Could you give him the rest later?" Thomas said.

"Sure. Though I have an idea," Chris said.

"Yeah?"

"Stephen's bloke, Daniel. Since he works at the butcher shop then he could get some offcuts easily. I'd talk to him," Chris suggested.

"Not a bad idea, I'll do that," Thomas said.

...

Thomas was later now though he quickly made a last trip upstairs to say good morning and goodbye to Richard before he left. Richard was now awake and Wilde had followed him upstairs again, still licking his lips after a satisfying breakfast. "I'm awake a minute and now you have to go," Richard said stifling a yawn.

Thomas leaned across the bed and kissed him. "I'm late," he said although he was reluctant to hurry away now.

"Will you be back late this evening?" Richard asked.

"I hope not. But that will depend on how the day goes. I can call you if I am late okay?" Thomas said softly.

"Yes, telephones are handy things. Although I will miss walking up to Downton in the evenings to meet you," Richard said.

"That doesn't have to stop just because we got a telephone Richard. You can still do that. I like the surprise," Thomas said, as Richard cupped his cheek with his hand and kissed him again. Wilde, feeling left out, jumped up onto the bed and meowed loudly.

Richard laughed. "I know you are here too. Mr Barrow though, is very important to me so you will have to share my affections," he said to Wilde. "Chris in yet?" he asked Thomas.

"Yeah. He and Wilde have already made friends. He's got several suggestions on how we look after this guy," Thomas said, before standing up again.

"You have a good day," Richard said.

"You too," Thomas replied. "And you," he said to Wilde, "Keep him company until I get home okay? I know you don't know him that well yet but I promise he is lovely when you do get to know him."

Thomas wondered if Wilde would follow him still, but was happy to see him settle down next to Richard.

...

Thomas was walking quickly and he was hoping he'd have enough time to eat his own breakfast before serving the family's upstairs. Walking quickly was making him hot as the cold he felt yesterday from the rain had been replaced by hot humid air and a clear blue sky, now that the storm had passed. He was not alone however, as he saw Daniel Jones, the butcher's son walking just as quickly towards him coming from the direction of Downton Abbey. He was who Chris had earlier referred to as 'Stephen's bloke'. "Morning Daniel," Thomas said to the young man.

"Good morning Mr Barrow." Daniel thought he saw the question of 'why are you up here so early?' on Thomas's lips, though he was sure Thomas knew the answer to that. Despite this he still felt like he had to explain. "I had a social visit at Downton, I hope you don't mind?"

'Social visit?' Really, that is the best you could come up with? "I see," Thomas said. Now of course he knew the real reason for Daniel's early visit to Downton. He was seeing Stephen. And of course Daniel knew that Thomas knew. Nevertheless, it was best they kept conversation on this, especially out in the open, to a minimum, just in case.

Daniel had gone a little red. "I'll be up with the delivery later today okay Mr Barrow?" he said, changing the subject.

"Very good," Thomas replied. "Be careful though okay? I hope you have a good cover story for your early morning outing?"

"Sure I do. I'm visiting Mr Masons farm to see the pigs," Daniel said, a youthful smile on his lips.

"Well you better get yourself over there or else that excuse won't stand," Thomas said. Thomas then remembered Chris's suggestion. "Actually Daniel. I need to ask a favour."

"Mr Barrow?"

"I have taken in a stray cat and am in need of scraps or offcuts of meat for it. I would be grateful if you or your father's shop have any, if you could bring them up with the delivery later? I'll pay of course," Thomas said.

"Oh, um yeah we have always got plenty of those. We don't normally charge much for them," Daniel said. "I'll select some myself."

"Thank you Daniel, see you later," Thomas said before heading on his way.

...

Everyone sitting at the servants hall table stood when Thomas walked into the room. He remembered when he first took over as butler that he wasn't sure what to make of this tradition. One the one hand he rather liked it, but on the other it felt strange to be shown a level of respect and to have all eyes on him where for years people mainly ignored him. "We had to start without you," Mrs Hughes, who sat to one side of Thomas, said. "I hope you don't mind."

"No, it's alright, I understand. I was late. Had a bit of a morning," Thomas said.

Mrs Hughes has noticed that sometimes Thomas has said this before when he has turned up a bit late in the mornings. Some of those times he is in a rather unusually good mood, if a little flustered. She may not know everything but she wasn't born yesterday and she bet on an educated guess that it had something to do with the open secret that Thomas and Mr Ellis were a couple and got up to what couples do sometimes. Today though, Thomas just looked tired, so something else must be up. "Is everything okay?" she asked.

"Yes, yes, just a few unexpected events I have had to deal with in a hurry, last night and this morning," Thomas said. It was a vague answer and one he gives when he doesn't want to say more on the matter, so Mrs Hughes left it at that.

"Well you're here now. And there is something that I need to discuss with you," she said. The rest of the people at the table were talking amongst themselves. Thomas poured himself some tea. "I was going to mention this to his Lordship later this morning after their breakfast but I thought I'd ask you about it first." Thomas allowed her to continue, still none the wiser. "I hope I am wrong but I fear that someone may have broken in downstairs last night." That got Thomas's attention, and everyone else's. "I noticed the door was unlocked when I came in this morning and there were some muddy boot prints on the outside step, leading to and away from the building." Great, this is all I need, Thomas thought. Thomas looked up and then he noticed that Stephen had gone a bit pale, his attention fully on the conversation.

"I thought I heard someone on the stairs very early this morning Mrs Hughes," Charlotte added. Thomas quickly glanced at Stephen again, who had now dropped the piece of toast he was halfway through eating, seemingly without realising as his hand was still in the position of holding it. Thomas then realised what must have happened, and he had to quickly think of a way to explain this situation without exposing Stephen and Daniels' secret. He didn't fear for any judgement from those present, but it is best all the same if it remained a secret.

The best way to lie is to hide it within a truth, he thought. "Oh I don't think we have had any break-ins Mrs Hughes so there is no need to tell his Lordship about this. I think it was Daniel Jones, the butcher's son who does the deliveries here," he began. This didn't seem to help Stephen's reaction as now it looked like he had stopped breathing. "He was looking for me but as I was late he wouldn't have found me here. I did however see him on the road as I was walking up this morning. I spoke to him then and got the query he had settled."

Mrs Hughes nodded. "Oh I see, well that makes sense. I was sure there was a logical explanation," she said. "Although, the door was still unlocked."

"Ah yes, well that would be me Mrs Hughes. I was so keen to get home last night and to be out of the storm as quickly as possible, I must have forgotten to lock up. It won't happen again," he said. Thomas glanced at Stephen who now was thankfully breathing again, but looking rather shaken. Everyone's eyes were on him though, so no one seemed to notice his obvious distress, and Mrs Hughes seemed satisfied so the subject was then left alone. Thomas knew though that he would have to speak to Stephen which he was not looking forward to.

...

Later after he had come down from serving the upstairs breakfast, and after seeing to the invoice that Mrs Hughes handed him for the new cricket uniforms for some of the downstairs staff, he went in search of Daisy. The cricket match was coming up soon, although it had been delayed due to the poor weather and the fact that the field had to have time to dry out. He never let on, but he did look forward to it each year because he was rather good and it always felt nice to be praised for his efforts.

"Daisy, can I have a word?" Thomas said finding her outside the kitchen.

"Yes Thomas, " she said.

Thomas overlooked the lack of 'Mr Barrow', he didn't mind too much. "I was wondering if you could see about keeping some leftovers of meat or fish, perhaps a little cheese back for me at the end of the day?"

Daisy eyed him suspiciously. "Okay, yes I can," she said slowly. "But may I ask why? Because if you are getting peckish then I could always give you something nicer." Charlotte, who chose that moment to walk down the stairs, giggled.

Thomas felt a bit embarrassed now. "It's not for me Daisy. I have unexpectedly become the owner of a cat and I need it for him."

"You never said you had a cat before?"

"Well I didn't yesterday but now I do. I rescued it in the storm last night and now it seems to have decided to stick around," Thomas said.

A huge smile broke out on Daisy's face. "Oh Thomas! That is so sweet of you!"

"Mr Barrow to you," he said, which Daisy just rolled her eyes at and ignored. "Yes well if you could arrange something. Not everyday but two or three times a week maybe?" Thomas asked.

"Sure," Daisy said. "What's the cat called though?"

"Wilde," Thomas said, before leaving quickly as he could as he felt his face going red. He left the spelling of the name up to Daisy to determine.

Note: So there we have it! The latest of my original characters is in fact a cat. I have been wanting to include a cat in the story for ages and came up with the idea several months ago.

And yes, I rather admire Oscar Wilde, love reading his stuff.

A few ideas for this story that have yet to be written, have been loosely inspired by 'And suddenly there was a new door...' by 'MemberOfTheFates'