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Most of the cast left then, Matt rushing off to relieve Polly, who was coming here to work on sets, and I stayed with Aleksy and Connie because I wanted to be involved with everything. I also wanted to find the paint culprit which meant I had to be here as much as possible. The others all went home with Claire– not even Snowball could be persuaded to stay, as she said Harold would be expecting her home for dinner.

We all said our goodbyes, and I went to the backstage area to look at feet. Tomasz was supervising a team of people, some painting, others building things, and it was really quite noisy as they chatted, hammered, and assembled bits and pieces. They were building a shed-like structure, which would be the place where Mary and Joseph had the baby Jesus, and where we sheep and the shepherds would go and visit. When she arrived, Polly would be assembling props to go in it. They’d decided on hay bales for seats and Tomasz was building a manger with a couple of helpers. It was going to be quite minimal, to show that they didn’t have a luxury place for the birth, staying true to the original story. Also, I gathered they needed something that could easily be placed on the stage; we weren’t an elaborate production after all. Not with Jonathan in charge of budgets, in any case.

As they worked, I checked out as many feet as I could. There were only a few suspects, feet-wise, I mean. I ruled out all women– their feet were far too small – and only a few men had the right size feet and kind of shoes. None had yellow paint on, but then they would have got rid of them, wouldn’t they? One of the men had yellow paint streaks on his overalls, but then he had been painting the star before the stage sabotage happened, so I needed to keep that in mind.

Of course, it had also crossed my mind that the culprit might not be here at the moment. We had so many volunteers and they didn’t all come at once, because of the roster. In order to find out who did it I would have to be here all the time and even I couldn’t do that. I just had to hope that whoever it was hadn’t meant to tread paint over the stage but was too embarrassed to own up, and therefore wouldn’t be a problem again. I crossed my paws.

The evening passed nicely, actually. Even Barbara was friendly and nice to people, although she ignored me. I gave her as much space as I could and I was glad when Polly said it was time to finish up and she picked me up to take me home. I was tired and hungry. Food and bed, that was all I wanted.

But then Barbara offered to walk home with Polly and I. I was glad to be safely in Polly’s arms, I can tell you.

‘The cats seem to come everywhere with you,’ she said.

‘Yes, they are important members of our family,’ Polly said. ‘And of course they have to be involved in the show. Aleksy said it was Alfie’s idea.’

‘Meow.’ Finally, some recognition.

‘Really?’ Barbara sounded full of disbelief. ‘I’m pretty sure cats can’t have ideas.’

‘It’s a long story, but Alfie is quite remarkable. In fact, we are all friends because of Alfie.’

‘I never much liked cats,’ Barbara said.

Who’d have guessed? I narrowed my eyes at her but she didn’t look at me.

‘My late husband, he loved dogs, and we had one for years but when she died we were both so heartbroken we couldn’t think about getting another one. And now he’s gone too and I have nothing left.’ She began to sob.

‘Oh Barbara, I’m so sorry. It must be awful, losing him and then moving to a new place. Do you have family nearby?’

‘No, my daughter and her husband live up north. She encouraged me to join the play actually, said it would be good for me. She thinks I’m depressed.’

‘How long since your husband died?’ Polly jiggled me so she was holding me with one arm and touched Barbara’s arm with the other.

‘Six months. I had very little money left and had to sell our house in Richmond and move somewhere smaller. I hated leaving it. It felt as if he died all over again.’

She was properly crying now and Polly put her arm around her. I somehow found myself squashed between them but I didn’t object. I felt sorry for Barbara; she was obviously heartbroken. And she was crying, so she couldn’t hurt me, right?

‘Hey, listen, on Sunday we have a couple of friends coming round for lunch, would you like to join us?’ Polly asked as she stepped out of the hug.

‘That’s kind, but, no, no thank you. I’m happy to do the show but not quite ready to be in that sort of situation.’

‘Of course, you have to do whatever’s right for you, you’re the one who matters,’ she said, and I nuzzled into Polly, because she was right.

‘Yes, yes, whatever’s right for me,’ Barbara said.

We’d reached my house and Polly said goodbye to Barbara before taking me to the front door and ringing the doorbell.