Christmas at the Cat Cafe

Jo sniggered and the room suddenly felt lighter, as if a weight had lifted from them both, and they knew the worst was over.

‘I’ll be back in Stourton all the time, Debs, just you wait and see,’ said Jo, blinking away her tears. ‘We can still have our weekend takeaways. Besides,’ she added, taking Purdy’s face gently between both hands, ‘I couldn’t last long without coming back to see the cats. With Bernard gone, I’ve got to get my cuddles from somewhere, haven’t I?’

That was when it struck me: an idea of such self-evident simplicity that I couldn’t believe it hadn’t occurred to me before. I sat up on the window cushion and fixed Debbie with a stare. She was looking at Jo intently over the rim of her mug and, in the dancing light from the fire, I thought I could make out the faintest trace of a smile around her lips.

I hoped and prayed she was thinking the same thing as me.

29

I rose before dawn on Christmas morning and slipped outside before anyone else was awake. The sky turned incrementally paler as I made a solitary circuit of the churchyard and, by the time I reached the square, the orange sun had peeped over the skyline to reveal a glittering frost on the rooftops. I sat beneath the elm tree and took a moment to enjoy the peacefulness of the scene, in anticipation of what I knew would be a hectic day. Sure enough, when I returned home, I climbed the stairs to find that the household had come to life during my absence.

A glance into the kitchen revealed the kittens, Jasper and Ming, breakfasting greedily from the food bowls, while in the living room Debbie, Linda and Sophie had gathered in their pyjamas to exchange gifts. I strode towards them with my tail aloft, pausing to look twice at Beau on the rug by Linda’s feet. He was dressed in a lurid green elf costume, complete with jester’s collar, faux buckle-belt around his belly and pointed hat. His face was a picture of abject mortification and, when he saw me looking at him, he lowered his chin miserably onto his paws, causing the tiny bell at the tip of his hat to tinkle.

Sophie was sitting on the floor by the sofa, happily engrossed in the instruction booklet for some new electronic device Linda had given her. Full of smiles, Linda stood up from the sofa and reached for a luxurious-looking gift box.

‘Now, I know we said novelty gifts only, Debs,’ she intoned grandly, ‘but I saw this and . . . well, I just had to get it for you.’

Narrowing her eyes in a look of mild scepticism, Debbie took the box onto her lap and lifted the lid. She hooted with amusement as she unfolded a kitchen apron covered from top to bottom in a lurid montage of cats’ faces, with the words Crazy Cat Lady printed across the front.

‘Gosh, thanks, Linda,’ she said. ‘This makes me feel so much better about what I’ve got for you.’ Her eyes twinkled and she handed over a rather more modestly wrapped gift to her sister.

Linda ripped open the wrapping paper to reveal a sweatshirt emblazoned with a photo of Ming wearing a Santa hat. Have a Ming-ing Christmas! the garment exclaimed in shiny gold lettering.

‘I know how much you like Ming merchandise,’ said Debbie mischievously.

Linda pulled the sweater over her head and gave a little twirl on the rug. ‘I love it,’ she gushed, striking a pose for Sophie, who had raised her phone to photograph her aunt. ‘See, I told you Ming would wear the Santa hat!’ she added with an air of vindication.

‘She didn’t,’ Sophie said drily from behind her phone screen. ‘It’s Photoshopped.’

When everyone had showered and dressed, we all moved downstairs to the café. Debbie and Linda went straight into the kitchen to start work on lunch, but Sophie headed for the fireplace, where the pile of gifts from customers sat beneath the tree. ‘Come on, cats,’ she called, and the kittens trotted eagerly after her. Soon there was a frenzy of pouncing and shredding, as Sophie began to unwrap a seemingly endless succession of catnip mice and bags of treats.

‘A laser-pointer – cool!’ Sophie said, opening the last gift in the pile. She tore the pen-like toy from its cardboard packaging and aimed it across the room, making a dot of red light dance on the opposite wall, seemingly of its own accord. ‘Maisie, look!’ she urged, but Maisie and her siblings were more interested in the crinkling shreds of wrapping paper spread across the flagstones than in the dot of light on the far side of the room.

Ming, however, who until now had been observing the unwrapping process from her platform, appeared mesmerized. She jumped lightly down and prowled across the room, transfixed by the shimmering dot dancing across the wall. After a few stealthy wiggles of her hindquarters, she leapt upwards, her front legs outstretched and tail thrashing, trying to catch the wayward dot with her flexed claws.

‘Nice moves, Ming!’ Sophie giggled.