Christmas at the Cat Cafe

In the afternoon Debbie appeared at the bottom of the stairs carrying a large cardboard box full of Christmas decorations. She placed it on an empty chair and shouted up the stairwell, ‘C’mon, Soph, I need your help.’ When Sophie shuffled downstairs a few minutes later, she found Debbie rummaging inside the box. ‘Untangle these, will you, love?’ Debbie asked, handing Sophie a twisted coil of fairy lights.

With a sigh, Sophie tied her hair back in a messy ponytail and set about unthreading the tangled wires.

Once the decorations had been sorted into messy piles on the table, they started adorning the café. Debbie sang along to Christmas carols on the radio, ignoring Sophie’s cringes and eye-rolling, while the kittens did their best to hamper proceedings, jumping in and out of the cardboard box, or leaping up from the floor to swipe at the rustling fronds of tinsel dangling enticingly over the table edge. Ming observed the scene from her platform, with her customary air of curious detachment.

John arrived a little later, hauling a Christmas tree by the trunk. He carefully manoeuvred the tree into position next to the fireplace and snipped away at the netting that encased it. The tree’s branches instantly sprang outwards, filling the café with the scent of fresh air and pine forests.

When Jo passed the café window with Bernard plodding along by her side, she tapped on the glass, waving cheerily.

‘What do you think of the tree, Jo?’ asked Debbie, opening the door to let her in.

‘About time too, Debs!’ Jo teased, brushing the snowflakes off her jacket with the back of her hand. Her nose was pink with cold and her knitted bobble hat struggled to stay on over her unruly hair. Bernard waddled into the room after her and, as soon as he was inside, sank down gratefully on the doormat.

‘Hello, Bernard, you lovely old boy,’ murmured Debbie, bending down to rub his tummy. Bernard’s tail flopped up and down on the coir mat, and within minutes he had fallen wheezily asleep.

Debbie passed around tumblers of warm mulled wine and, as the afternoon sky darkened outside, all four of them set about dressing the tree with ornaments and lights. The kittens gamely did their best to bat the baubles off the branches as quickly as they were hung until, worn out by their exertions, they retired to their usual places for a recuperative nap. When the tree was finally finished, Debbie stepped back and looked at it approvingly. ‘Ready, everyone?’ she asked, with a look of child-like excitement.

She nodded to Sophie to switch off the overhead lights, and a hush descended on the dark room. Even Bernard drowsily raised his head from the floor, sensing anticipation in the air. Debbie flicked a switch and, suddenly, the café was transformed. Everywhere I looked, lights twinkled and glowed. The tree was enrobed in tiny berry-like bulbs that blinked mesmerizingly. A string of white lights wove its way across the mantelpiece, and a wreath of flashing stars framed the serving counter. In the semi-darkness the kittens’ and Ming’s eyes flashed a luminous green, and I had to look twice to be sure which were cats’ eyes and which fairy lights.

‘Oh, Debs, it looks beautiful,’ Jo exclaimed.

‘It does, doesn’t it,’ Debbie smiled proudly. ‘I’m sure Linda would approve,’ she added, looking suddenly wistful.

She flicked the overhead lights back on, and the room was flooded with yellow light once more. Bernard emitted a low groan of protest and repositioned himself on the doormat.

‘Have you heard from Linda since yesterday?’ Jo asked tentatively, as Debbie straightened the row of red stockings hanging from the fireplace.

Debbie shook her head. ‘I know what she’s like – she’ll need some time to cool off before she’ll speak to me,’ she replied. ‘I’ll give it a few days, then I’ll call her. Besides, I need to let Linda know that I’ve decided what to do about the legacy.’

The others exchanged surprised looks behind Debbie’s back.

‘Sounds fair enough,’ Jo replied carefully. ‘So, if it’s not rude to ask, Debs . . . what have you decided?’

Snow still covered the ground on Monday morning and, with logs crackling in the stove and the festooned tree by the fireplace, there was a definite buzz of Christmas in the air. Debbie had put a sign in the café window – The boys are back! Welcome home, Eddie and Jasper! – which lent a frisson of excitement to the festive mood; and before long, Debbie and her waitresses were rushed off their feet. Café regulars and Christmas shoppers streamed through the door, and Eddie was showered with attention, while Debbie dutifully repeated, ad infinitum, the story of how he and Jasper had been found.

It was almost seven o’clock when the staff hung up their aprons and went home. Debbie collapsed onto one of the café chairs, puffing out her cheeks with relief. She had only been there a few seconds when the door tinkled open.