Her Song

36 - The Universal Rule of Cats

**Kim**

"That fucking arsebadger!" I threw my phone across the bus. Five sets of male eyes and one set of female flicked between it and me in consternation.

What a fortunate thing the phone didn't break because I needed it so I could show Lucy the utter wankery that Van's total twat of a brother had pulled now. If I'd been able to get my hands on him I'd have hit him with the quick one-two of a throat punch followed by a hard kick to the gonads. And I'd enjoy it.

I plucked the throw pillow from behind my back and screamed into it. It may have been Van who say beside me on the built in sofa and rubbed a restless hand over my back but it was Bas who spoke. "What's wrong? What's happened?" It was up to me to reply because Van's teeth were clenched so tightly together he was in danger of breaking his jaw. He'd been reading over my shoulder and knew exactly what was going on.

"I can't. I just can't." I waved an agitated hand. It was all I could do to bark, "Lucy, check your notifications."

We had notifications set up on each of the band members names, the band's name and to my deep dismay my name. Lucy had warned me that I might not like it much, she'd long since decided she had desire whatsoever to know what people were saying about her and Bas online – Fiona kept an eye on all of that – but since I'd popped my head above the parapet with my public statement about my miscarriage in defence of Van it was essential we keep a finger on the pulse of public opinion. Otherwise what would be the point in sharing something so personal?

Lucy edged away from Bas, honestly they were like conjoined twins, to dig her phone out of her pocket. With a few frantic swipes of her finger she was well and truly clued into this latest crisis. My god I was sick and tired of lurching from crisis to crisis.

Bloody hell.

Bad things come in threes, surely to goodness this was the last horrible thing to happen. It had to be. It was tempting to call London and check in on how my cats were doing and I would have done if Hope hadn't been spamming Lucy and me with photos of Kev panting and grinning between two unimpressed black, furry blobs. It was good to see there'd been an armistice in the war between the species. Every once in a while a picture of Ben, Lucy's little brother, holding a glaring Jonah or Zinzan would find its way into the mix. I wonder if Hope was consciously following that universal rule of the internet that stupid cat pictures make everything better. I can't deny the mood enhancing properties provided by a snap of my grimly tolerant fur babies.

"Fucking hell Van. Your brother really is a bellend isn't he?" Lucy snarled. It was kind of like watching her dog snarl, simultaneously adorable and terrifying.

"Nothing I didn't already know Lucy." Van's voice was a muffled rumble. His hand was clenched over his face like the face-sucker alien in Alien as his other hand rubbed on my back with such concentrated focus I wouldn't have been surprised if he'd rubbed through my epidermis and clear through to my spine.

Gray, Ace and Josh were watching on with frustrated curiosity. I'm surprised they hadn't already reached for their phones to start searching for answers. Bas's gaze volleyed back and forth briefly before he impatiently plucked the phone from between Lucy's fingers. His eyes roved quickly over the words on the screen before he began to swear with the proficient fluency of a former bad boy.

"What the fuck is going on here?" Ace growled, eyes narrowed.

Van's teeth were still too tightly clenched together to allow him to answer. Lucy had stood up and moved away from us to pace agitatedly back and forth between the bunks with her phone pressed to her ear. If I had to guess I'd say she was planning to send Fiona Arkwright into a rage stroke. Bas was still muttering ever more creative curses. I was vaguely impressed and I say this as someone who had spent time on a tour bus with a rock band, lived with New Zealanders and met Lucy's cousin Sterlo and his cricket team friends.