Christmas at the Cat Cafe

‘Well, you were right. Debbie wasn’t planning to rehome me. Linda’s going to be moving into Margery’s cottage – that’s all.’ I braced myself for a response of the ‘I told you so’ variety, but Jasper merely blinked in tacit approval. Heartened by his reaction, I said, ‘Also, Ming’s deaf. That’s why she never talked to any of us.’

At this, his eyes widened slightly. I waited for him to say something, but he maintained his diplomatic silence.

‘Go on then,’ I said, slowing to a halt among the headstones.

‘Go on then, what?’ Jasper replied.

‘Say “I told you so”,’ I said, through clenched jaws.

‘I never said I thought she was deaf,’ he pointed out, generously.

‘No, but you thought I had misjudged her, and you were right.’

Jasper looked away, apparently distracted by a pair of magpies cawing argumentatively in a nearby tree, but I suspected he was sparing me the embarrassment of having to look him in the eye while admitting that I was wrong.

‘Just like you were right about Debbie not planning to rehome me,’ I said sullenly.

‘What’s done is done,’ he said, returning his gaze to the muddy turf in front of us. ‘I’m sure Ming will forgive you.’

‘I’m not sure she’ll be around long enough to forgive me,’ I replied churlishly. ‘Linda wants to take her to the cottage when she moves out.’

At this, Jasper’s ear flickered and his eyes narrowed a little. I wasn’t sure whether his expression indicated surprise at Linda’s offer, or disappointment that Ming might be leaving us.

‘There’s one more thing,’ I said, glancing nervously at him. ‘I’m worried about Purdy.’ For a fleeting second I thought I saw a flicker of ‘What now?’ in his eyes.

‘Why’s that?’ he said guardedly.

‘She told me she doesn’t like living in the café. I’m worried she might run away,’ I explained. ‘In fact,’ I added, trying to fight my rising angst, ‘she hasn’t been home since yesterday.’

Jasper surveyed me calmly through his amber eyes. I knew what he must be thinking: no sooner had one of my anxieties been allayed, than another had rushed in to take its place. ‘Purdy has an adventurous spirit. We’ve always known that,’ he said steadily.

‘I know,’ I snapped, resenting his unruffled tone. ‘But I think it’s more than that.’ I could feel my frustration suddenly rise up like bile in my throat. ‘Do we just wait till one day she decides she’d rather live on the street than in the cafe? That is, if she hasn’t already . . .’

I looked away. My eyes were tingling and I felt desperate as my conviction grew that it might already be too late to change Purdy’s mind, and that, just as I had with Margery, I had wasted my last chance to say goodbye to her.

‘She’s half alley-cat, remember,’ Jasper said, with a slight puffing-out of his chest.

‘So?’ I hissed, my tail twitching irritably.

‘So,’ Jasper replied with infuriating calmness, ‘she’s also a grown-up now. If she doesn’t want to live in the café any more, there might be nothing we can do about it.’

28

I couldn’t have felt less festive as I nosed back through the cat flap to be greeted by the sound of Christmas music and the smell of mince pies. I picked my way forlornly between the customers’ coats and shopping bags, to take up my usual position in the window, and cast my eye around the café, on the off-chance that Purdy had returned during my absence.

It was the last working day before the holidays and the café was full. Debbie and Linda bustled between the tables with sprigs of tinsel pinned to their Molly’s aprons. Some of the customers had brought gifts for the cats, little gift-wrapped parcels that Debbie placed in a pile beneath the tree. They smelt tantalizingly of catnip and cat treats, and as I surveyed the room I spotted Eddie prowling around them, sniffing greedily. Opposite me, Ming was meditating on her platform, with Maisie asleep in the domed bed beneath, and at the fireplace Abby and Bella were being entertained by a young girl who was dangling a toy fishing rod over the back of the armchair. But there was no sign of Purdy.

It was only since speaking to Jasper that I had acknowledged the possibility that, in spite of her promise, Purdy might already have run away. Out of the blue, a memory popped into my mind of the time Eddie had disappeared. I had asked Purdy if she knew where he was, and she had said, ‘Maybe it was just the right time for him to go.’ I had dismissed the idea as naive, certain that such a notion was out of character for Eddie. On that occasion, my instincts had been proved correct. But it hadn’t occurred to me, until now, that there might have been more to Purdy’s comment than I had realized. Had she, in fact, been trying to tell me that she felt it might soon be the right time for her to go?