We weren't hungry so we skipped lunch and strode back over to the mud-brick building. To our surprise, we found it occupied by more than thirty cats! Tom was sitting on his bench looking like he owned the place while the others formed his audience sitting on the stone steps that descended into the atrium. None of them scattered, but they definitely found our presence disturbing. They retreated from us, eyeing us suspiciously. I'll be honest, we ignored them.
We made our way into the centre where, once again, I sat on the floor next to the bench while Al, Traeth and Rutter sat on the steps that the cats had vacated. I tried to tickle Tom, but he was having none of it. He got up and strode off, his tail flicking the air angrily. It briefly crossed my mind that I might have upset him but I was soon distracted by the chatter. We wittered on for a while about nothing in particular and then got up and left. None of us said why, but all those cats glaring coldly at us probably had a lot to do with it.
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