Last Night, in the Mews

Some kind of commotion in the Mews yesterday evening. The sound of a cat, lost and mewling, somewhere, and the sounds of people looking for it. There is nowhere for a cat to hide though, so where these people even connected to the cat? Heard them move up and down the Mews, overhear fragments of conversation 'I don't know what's happening with that flat'. Outside our door. Were they referring to my flat? Wait in the darkness of the kitchen. Noises at the door. Was somebody knocking on our door? Why is somebody knocking unexpectedly on a front door such a source of alarm? Further jump in nerves when I think I hear the door opening. The old tenants, now in my imagination a sinister family of villains, come to collect some old belongings left in the attic, like ghost-pirates searching for lost treasure in a childhood ghost story? Look down the steep stairs. The frosted glass is innocent. I can still hear the cries of the lost cat somewhere, and the sounds of what might or might not be searching continues.