Broadface is a fabulous, old, famous cat, and no one knows where he lives or where he goes, but he goes more or less everywhere. The first time we saw him he was sitting under the umbrella tree, side by side with Pink, staring along the garden path. When we came up he fled, licketty spit across the block paving leaving Pink to her own devices, and that’s as close as he’s ever been to Alleycat’s command. We saw him occasionally after that, always a long way from home, and once I met him coming down Bugle Street in broad daylight. He wasn’t walking on the pavement, or the path; instead, he padded along the kerb and never strayed from it, as if the kerb was a lay line and he had to follow it, plodding along on his endless journey. Broadface has never been seen talking to anyone except Pink, and he isn’t affiliated to any of the local cat families. He’s a cat alone. Even in deep winter he’ll be out there, moving along, and Pink doesn’t care he’s gone or wonder where he’s going, because everyone loves her and she knows that once, and only once, Broadface broke off from his endless questing and sat with her, silently, while the world stood still under their feet.