Three Knocks

Leo lived in a flat on the second floor of an old building. One night at ten o’clock, as he sat reading on the sofa, three sharp knocks echoed through the flat. Knock, knock, knock. He lowered his book and listened, certain that he had not imagined it.

Leo put his eye to the little hole in the door but saw no one. Puzzled, he opened the door. The corridor was empty and dark, and the only sound was the distant hum of the lift. He closed the door, turned the lock and returned to his book, though he found that he could no longer concentrate on a single line. He even checked the lift, but it stood empty on the ground floor.

The following night, at exactly ten o’clock, the three knocks came again. Leo was afraid, but his curiosity was stronger than his fear. This time he switched off the light, pulled a chair close to the door and waited in the dark, listening to his own heartbeat and to Mrs Gray’s television murmuring faintly through the wall.

Knock, knock, knock. Leo flung the door open. On the floor of the corridor sat a small grey cat with a toy mouse clamped in its mouth and one paw raised against the door. It looked up at him with perfect composure and said, “Miaow.”

Leo burst out laughing. The cat dropped the toy mouse at his feet, as if it had been waiting for an invitation. A label on its collar read, “My name is Pip. I live in flat 4.” Leo carried him along the corridor, and Mrs Gray opened the door with a smile. “He likes you!” she said. The next night, at ten, Leo was sitting by the door with a bowl of milk.