Christmas at the Cat Cafe

‘He left,’ Debbie answered listlessly.

‘What do you mean he left? Did you have a fight with him, too?’

Debbie shook her head. ‘I’m not sure what happened. One minute he was standing between me and Linda, looking like he wished the ground would swallow him up, and the next minute he’d vanished. He must have gone while we were arguing,’ she said in a flat, expressionless voice.

Sophie leant back against the sofa arm, frowning. ‘Have you tried to call him?’ she asked with an air of no-nonsense practicality.

Looking faintly surprised, as though the thought hadn’t occurred to her, Debbie craned forward, reaching over me to fish her phone out of her handbag. She tapped at the screen, then held it to her ear, biting her lip nervously. ‘It’s just going to voicemail,’ she said, before leaving a brief message: ‘Hi, John, it’s me, could you give me a call when you get this?’

‘I’m sure he’ll be fine, Mum,’ Sophie reassured her, as Debbie tossed the phone back into her bag.

‘He might have thought he was getting in the way and wanted to give you some privacy.’

‘Hmm, I’m not so sure, sweetheart,’ Debbie smiled thinly. ‘I think he’s probably had enough of me and my sister. And who could blame him?’ She tried to muster a watery smile.

Sophie was beginning to look pained, as though she had exhausted all the avenues of reassurance she could think of and was struggling to come up with something else to say. ‘Shall I make a cup of tea?’ she asked at last.

Debbie smiled appreciatively. ‘Thanks, Soph, that would be lovely.’

When Sophie had placed the two mugs of tea on the coffee table, she grabbed the remote control and curled up alongside Debbie. Leaning back against the sofa arm, with her feet pressing against Debbie’s thigh and her toes touching my fur, Sophie flicked through the television channels. I stretched out lengthways on Debbie’s lap and rested my chin on her knees, purring steadily as she absent-mindedly stroked my back. I closed my eyes and indulged in the blissful fantasy that Linda was gone for good and I would never see her again. I lost track of time, as I hovered deliciously between consciousness and sleep for what might have been a few minutes or a few hours, until the sudden slam of the café door reverberated through the flat.

I jerked awake and instinctively sank my claws into Debbie’s legs in alarm. ‘Ow, Molly!’ she exclaimed, sucking air between her teeth as she gently unhooked my embedded claws, one by one, from her knees. ‘Hello?’ she called in a pained voice, shifting forward on the sofa under me.

Disorientated, I looked around, noticing that the candles had burnt down considerably since I had last noticed them.

‘Debbie, it’s me. You might want to come down.’ It was John. Something in the tone of his voice made my heart lurch.

Debbie and Sophie exchanged surprised looks above my head and we all scrambled to our feet and made for the stairs, Debbie in front, followed by Sophie, with me at the rear. I was still in the stairwell when I heard Debbie gasp, ‘Who is it?’ Feeling my pulse start to race, I ran down the remaining steps and onto the flagstones.

John was standing on the doormat, unwinding a scarf from his neck. In a split second I noticed the cat carrier on the floor by his feet. Debbie ran forward and crouched in front of the carrier, fumbling to unlock its door. I felt strangely detached, as if I was watching the scene unfold from a distance, or in a dream. When Debbie flung open the door, there was a faint rustle of newspaper and a glimpse of black fur inside. Then, slowly, nervously, Eddie crept out.

He looked around warily, glancing first at Debbie, then at Sophie. Then, at last, his eyes found mine. In an instant, I saw a succession of emotions flash across Eddie’s face: relief, shame and happiness – all conveyed in the look he gave me across the flagstones.

I felt a wonderful soaring sensation in my stomach. As Eddie began to walk gingerly towards me, I devoured him with my eyes. What struck me most was his height – I had forgotten how large and grown-up he was. During his disappearance, whenever I had pictured him in my mind, it had been as a gangly kitten. Seeing him in front of me, I was reminded that, outwardly at least, there was nothing kittenish about the rangy tomcat coming towards me.

His bulk was another surprise. I had convinced myself that Eddie would be half-starved after so long on the streets, and yet I saw no hollow cheeks, no protruding hip-bones or concave flanks. Wherever he had spent the past few weeks, I realized with a rush of relief that he had found food. One of his ears bore a fight scar, and his fur looked a little dull and scantily groomed. Other than that, he seemed unhurt; his gait was strong and his eyes as bright as ever.