It wasn't that Mrs Hill would describe herself as superstitious. It was just that there were certain things - little rituals and the like - that she had to do before she went out. First she had to make sure everything was in the right compartment of her handbag. And she had to put her coat on in just the right way. Of course, being a sensible lady, she had to check all the appliances were off and all the doors and windows locked. Only then did she feel able to leave her house.
As Mrs Hill rattled the handle of the front door to check it was locked (Three times - just to be sure!), a flash of movement caught her eye. A black cat had leapt up from its hiding place under the hedge and was now perched on the gatepost at the end of the path, cleaning itself.
Mrs Hill froze. Black cats? If one crossed your path was it lucky? Unlucky? She couldn't remember. Slowly, so as not to disturb the cat, she extracted her keys from the door lock and dropped them into her handbag.
The cat stopped its grooming and lifted its head to stare at Mrs Hill. A pair of green, slitted eyes focussed on her.
Mrs Hill resisted the impulse to ask the cat what it wanted. Instead, she lifted her hands and flapped them. "Go away! Shoo!" The cat refused to move.
A thought rose to the the surface of Mrs Hill's mind. If she could outstare the cat, make it look away from her, then she would be the dominant one. The cat would go away, leaving her free to go about her business. "Alright," Mrs Hill muttered. "Let's try it." She blinked rapidly, trying her best to moisten her eyeballs for the coming contest of wills, then returned the cat's stare.
For long moments, the pair locked eyes. Mrs Hill's eyes felt fine at first but, as the contest went not, they began to itch and burn. Meanwhile, the cat sat on the gatepost, seemingly unperturbed. When the pain in Mrs Hill's eyes got too much to bear, she closed them and looked away. When she opened her eyes again, the cat was still there, looking at her as if to say, "Really?"
"Why don't you just go?" Mrs Hill took a step forward. In response, the cat arched its back as if it was about to jump down in front of her. Mrs Hill stopped, afraid of the consequences.
"Oh - there you are!" A young woman - no more than a teenager from her dress and appearance - had stopped at the bottom of the path. She smiled at the cat and picked it up from the gatepost, then nodded to Mrs Hill. "I hope he hasn't been a nuisance. I've been looking everywhere for him."
"N-not at all," Mrs Hill stuttered.
As the girl walked away, Mrs Hill caught a last glimpse of the cat's green-eyed glare.
