Christmas at the Cat Cafe

‘I thought long and hard about it, David. Margery wanted Molly to be taken care of, and I think my solution will make that possible.’

David grunted, and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. For the first time in my life I found myself in the position of depending on David to be my ally. I wanted him to challenge Debbie, to tell her that it was out of the question for him to look after me – that neither of us would be happy with such an arrangement. But he looked deep in thought.

‘On balance . . . I think it’s fair,’ he said finally.

‘Good, then I’ll get the letter in the post first thing tomorrow,’ replied Debbie, breaking into a relieved smile.

Debbie walked with David to the door. As he was about to leave, he turned to face her. ‘My mother was very fond of you, and of Molly,’ he said, his eyes darting self-consciously across the floor by Debbie’s feet. ‘I’m grateful that you took the time to visit her. It meant a lot to her.’

Debbie looked stunned for a moment, and then her composure crumbled. ‘Oh, David, come here,’ she said, flinging her arms around him in a bear hug.

David’s discomfort was evident, but he tolerated the hug, and even lifted one hand to pat Debbie’s back.

With a final curt nod, he was gone. Debbie locked the door behind him, puffed her fringe out of her eyes and heaved a huge sigh of relief. As she wearily climbed the stairs, I stared after her in dismay, wondering what on earth it was that David had just agreed to.

25

During our walk that evening, I recounted to Jasper the conversation I had overhead. The moon drifted in and out of sight behind the shifting clouds above us, as Jasper loped along the slush-covered pavement beside me, one ear cocked attentively.

‘So, did Debbie say anything specifically about rehoming you?’ he asked when I had finished.

‘No, not specifically,’ I admitted. ‘But she said there hasn’t been enough room for us all recently, and that it’s not what Margery would have wanted for me. What else could she have meant?’

We slowed to a halt underneath the elm tree in the square and paused to contemplate the town’s festive decorations. Lengths of coloured bulbs were strung between the lamp posts, and the handsome Christmas tree by the town hall glittered with lights. After a few moments’ silent deliberation, Jasper glanced at me sideways and said, ‘Well, if Debbie thinks there isn’t enough room for all the cats, maybe she’s planning to rehome Ming.’

‘No, it wouldn’t be that,’ I replied disconsolately. ‘If Debbie decided to rehome Ming, she wouldn’t need to tell David first. Ming has nothing to do with Margery’s legacy.’

‘Hmm,’ he mused, unconvinced.

A knot of frustration formed in my stomach, as the conviction grew that Jasper thought I was overreacting. Jasper’s equability was one of the things I loved about him – it anchored me, when my natural inclination was to worry – but at times his implacability infuriated me. He had never been a pet, and had never experienced the intense attachment to an owner that I had felt for Margery, and that I now felt for Debbie. As an alley-cat, how could Jasper possibly understand how it felt to lose your home and owner, or how terrifying it was to think it might happen again?

I stood up and wandered off dispiritedly, unable to bear his measured attempts to reason away my anxiety. A burst of raucous laughter issued from inside a pub to my left and I instinctively swerved away from the noise, skidding on an invisible patch of ice. As I rounded the corner of the square, I broke into a run, fleeing not only Jasper’s scepticism but also my own disappointment that, once again, I was alone in recognizing the threat our family faced. I ran back to the parade, paying scant regard to the cars that rushed past me.

Ming was fast asleep on the cat tree, but Abby and Bella raised their heads drowsily as I pushed through the cat flap into the dark café. Upstairs, Debbie and Sophie had gone to bed and the flat was silent and still. In the living room Eddie was fast asleep in the shoebox, with his tail draped over the cardboard rim. I jumped onto the sofa and settled my gaze on the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest, taking comfort in the fact that, although I did not know what our future held, at least all my kittens were safe. As I succumbed to the irresistible pull towards sleep, I was aware of a feeling of relief as my worries scattered and my mind drifted into darkness.

I was eating breakfast with the kittens the following morning when I heard Debbie on the phone. ‘Hi, Lind, it’s me. How are you?’

I swallowed my mouthful and stepped away from the food bowl, allowing Eddie and Maisie to devour greedily the last few biscuits in the bowl.

In the living room Debbie was standing at the window, the telephone pressed to her ear. ‘Look, Linda, I think we need to talk. If you’re free this evening, why don’t you come for dinner?’ She wrapped the spiral telephone cord nervously around her finger.