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I walked on, past the recreation ground where us cats met up, but no one was there. But then, the weather had turned quite horrible so my sensible cat friends were probably warm and cosy at home. I would see them soon though, I knew. We Edgar Road cats were quite the gang. I made it to Harold’s house, went round the back, and let myself in through the cat flap.

Harold wasn’t a fan when he first met us, but George saved his life and now he liked cats more than people. Especially now he had Snowball. It hadn’t been easy for us at first, me and Snowball. Not only were we trying to see where our feelings were – she was my first love, after all – but also I had been with Tiger in between and, on top of that, George took against her because he felt she was trying to replace his mum. It took us a while for us all to figure out our relationship but we did, eventually, and we were all happy together now.

This was illustrated by my finding George and Snowball together in the living room at Harold’s house. Harold sat in his favourite chair, watching some kind of war programme on the TV. Snowball was sat on one arm of the chair, George on Harold’s lap. They all looked so comfortable, I felt a pang. I stood and watched them for a moment, the two cats I loved so much together, and then Harold spotted me.

‘Ah Alfie, now I have a full house!’ He laughed. I jumped onto the other arm of his chair and lay down. None of us moved for a moment. We were there together and that was enough for now. More than enough, in fact, as we all purred with contentment.

Chapter Four

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By the time George and I returned home, the house was full again. I hadn’t had the chance to tell Snowball about Tommy yet; George was present, and I didn’t want to worry him until I had a chance to think it through a bit more – that was parenting for you. You tried to protect your children, although I had learnt you can’t protect them from everything.

We went through the cat flap and into the hallway where Pickles, Polly and Matt’s pug, waddled up and licked us both.

‘Oh, hey Pickles,’ George said, as he used his paw to wipe where Pickles had licked. I followed suit. Pickles licked everything and you could never be sure quite where that tongue had been.

‘How are you?’ I asked. My role with Pickles was like an uncle; he didn’t have dog parents, so I took the responsibility of being the non-human figure of authority very seriously. I’d known him since he was tiny, and often been in charge of looking after him, and I really was very fond of him. As was George, even though he didn’t always like to admit it. George saw him as an annoying younger sibling, I think. Pickles got me in a lot of trouble, but then most people and cats in my life did, so I was certainly used to it.

‘I’m so good,’ Pickles said, snuffling around to see if there was any stray food. I liked my food but I had nothing on Pickles. Polly was always putting him on a diet so he had to come up with more and more ways to sneak food. When it came to eating, there was no stopping him. ‘George, the kids are playing upstairs, will you come with me?’ Pickles asked, waggling his bottom with excitement. We could hear Toby, Summer, Henry, and Martha, laughing and shrieking.

‘OK.’ George tried to sound reluctant. He was so grown up now that he said the games they played with the younger kids were beneath him! However, I knew he secretly still loved it. I watched them both rush off then went into the living room where, to my delight, Polly, Franceska, Claire, and Sylvie were. Claire was clutching baby Theo, who seemed to be asleep.

‘I can’t believe he’s sleeping,’ Sylvie said, as if reading my mind. ‘He’s been terrible lately; I think it’s a growth spurt. Feeding all the time, not sleeping, it’s exhausting. If I knew that having a baby at my age would be so tough …’

‘You wouldn’t be without him though, would you?’ Polly asked.

‘No, of course not – I adore him. But Connie’s so much older, so I really had forgotten what it was like to have a newborn. Thankfully Marcus is great and supportive, but I’m conscious that he has to work.’

‘It’s a tough time, the first year,’ Claire said. ‘But also amazing. I sometimes look at Toby, who feels as if he’s been with us forever, and I feel guilty that I wasn’t the one to comfort him when he was this age.’ Claire sounded emotional. Toby was adopted by us when he was five. Wedon’t talk about his life before and neitherdoes he anymore. Now he’s been with us, such a huge part of our family for years, it’s as if he was always here. I kind of know what Claire means though.

‘Theo’s only three months old, remember,’ Franceska said. ‘Soon enough he will find his routine; babies do it in their own time. Goodness, not that I remember, my two are so growing fast.’ I glanced at Franceska and jumped onto her lap. She got her words a little bit mixed up when she wasworried. Perhaps I would hear more about the Tommy situation now. Franceska sighed.