Chapter 15; The Passing

"I don't know how you did that, but thank you Haru," he said, taking the lid off the dinner and pouring half – it was Greg's soup – into Haru's bowl before taking a spoon and sitting down to eat the rest himself.

"Rreaow?" The sound was small, but it drew Humbert's attention to Haru waiting for him at the door of the kitchen. It was getting late, he ought to try and get some sleep, he knew, and he knew that was what Haru was getting at.

"I don't think I could sleep tonight Haru," he answered, kneeling down on the wooden boards of the kitchen floor in front of the elegant cat. "I'll stay up in the lounge room, near the phone. Will you keep me company? I'd really appreciate it."

Haru slipped out the kitchen door, leaving Humbert behind.

He sighed, he supposed he shouldn't have expected the cat to understand all that, he shouldn't have expected her to understand any of it, but she was very smart, and he thought she might – she'd known what he was talking about before after all. Resigned to a long night alone, Humbert dragged himself into the lounge room, and dragged his favourite comfy chair over to the phone before sitting down in it.

Just as he was thinking about how long the night would be, Haru backed into the living room, apparently dragging something.

Humbert got out of the chair to see what it was, and smiled.

She hadn't deserted him; she had been fetching his blanket, pillow and dressing gown. It must have been difficult for her to drag down the stairs, but she had brought it for him. Sleeping somewhere different wasn't a problem for Haru, she would be able to snuggle down in Humbert's lap or take up residence on a cushion.

"Thank you Haru," Humbert said, taking the blanket and pillow to his chair and folding up the dressing gown on the table. "You really do look after me, I don't deserve such a wonderful woman in my life," he added, kissing his finger and touching it to her nose before giving her a proper hug.

Humbert, wrapped up in his blanket and with Haru curled up down the side of the chair, with the best intentions of staying up all night until the call came, nodded off.

It wasn't the sound of his phone ringing that woke him; it was the sound of it being picked up. It was her again, wrapped up in his dressing gown, holding the receiver to her ear.

"Is this Cousin Jemima?" she asked. Her words flowed normally tonight, as though she had never had any trouble forming even the smallest sentences.

"Yes, is Humbert there?"

"He's asleep, I think the stress of the day caught up with him. How's Andrea?" There was emotion in her voice. This woman Humbert was certain had never met his mother, sounded desperate to know how the matriarch was.

"She's gone, just five minutes ago."

The brown-haired girl sighed, her shoulders slumping. "Then she is at peace, at least," she said into the receiver. "What about you? And Humbert's father?"

"Harold's crying, but he's smiling too. We're all feeling sorry for ourselves just now, but I think Uncle Harold is mostly glad that Aunty Andrea isn't in pain any more. Will you tell Humbert? He doesn't have to come over, but if he wants to, we're all awake over here."

"I will, I promise," answered the young woman, her hand gripping tightly to the chord of the phone. "I'd better go and check on Humbert, and tell him if he's up."

"Sure, bye."

"Bye," the girl said, and hung up the phone. She turned and was visibly surprised to see that Humbert was watching her. "Do you want to see your father? Jemima says that everyone is awake, if you want to go over." She didn't need to say that the imperious Andrea von Gikkingken was now the late Andrea von Gikkingken.