Christmas at the Cat Cafe

‘At least John knows what he’s letting himself in for,’ Linda remarked, with an air of pragmatism.

‘Don’t worry, I know my place in the pecking order,’ John said with a theatrical sigh, pulling Debbie towards him again and kissing her hair.

While Linda was in the kitchen fetching champagne there was a knock at the window, and I turned to see Jo waving feverishly through the glass.

‘So, I take it congratulations are in order?’ she asked excitedly when Sophie had let her in.

‘Were you in on this, too?’ Debbie replied in disbelief.

‘’Fraid so,’ answered Jo, taking a glass of champagne from Linda. ‘I’ve been waiting for Sophie’s text all morning. I couldn’t set off for Dad’s until I’d come to celebrate with you!’

‘I’m starting to feel like I’ve been set up!’ Debbie said, looking alternately amused and aggrieved as she surveyed the grinning faces all around her.

‘That’s because you have been, Debs,’ Linda replied matter-of-factly.

For twenty minutes they stood around, sipping champagne and laughing while Debbie repeatedly complained about being set up, bemoaned the fact that she looked ridiculous in her apron, and threatened Sophie with indefinite grounding if she so much as thought about posting online the footage of John’s proposal. I watched them all from the windowsill, feeling a glow of pride for the part I had played.

Jo’s glass was still half-full when she took Debbie’s arm. ‘I should be getting off,’ she said softly.

Debbie turned away from the others and said in a low voice, ‘Actually, Jo, there’s something I want to ask you.’

They sat down at the little table nearest the window, just a few inches from my cushion. Debbie’s eyes were shining, whether from emotion or the effects of the two glasses of champagne she had downed in quick succession, I wasn’t sure.

She placed her fingertips on the table edge and said, ‘Now I don’t want you to feel obliged, but I was wondering . . .’

Jo looked at her keenly, but Debbie seemed to have suffered a loss of nerve. Her eyes danced worriedly across the tablecloth.

‘I mean, I know it’s a bit of a strange thing to ask, what with this being a cat café and her being – well, a cat; and I know you’ve got a lot to think about at the moment, and that you’re more of a dog person really.’ Jo continued to stare at Debbie with an expression of patient bafflement. ‘But I just thought, with you losing Bernard and giving up the shop, and moving to the farm, and I know you’ve always had a soft spot for her – oh!’ A hiccup caught Debbie unawares. Looking faintly startled, she covered her mouth with the back of her hand and took a deep breath.

Jo smiled supportively. ‘Debbie, I haven’t got a clue what you’re talking about,’ she said at last.

‘What I’m trying to say, Jo, is . . . how would you feel about, feel about . . . adopting Purdy?’

Confusion clouded Jo’s face. ‘Adopting Purdy? You mean, taking her to live with me?’

Debbie nodded. ‘I just thought – after everything that’s happened – it might be nice for both of you to live on the farm. Together.’ She hiccupped again.

There was a pause as Jo absorbed Debbie’s words, then: ‘Debs, are you kidding? I’d love to take Purdy!’ she said breathlessly. ‘But are you sure you want to let her go? I mean, this is her home. Her whole family’s here.’ Jo glanced sideways, and I was touched by the concerned look she gave me.

‘I’m quite sure,’ Debbie answered emphatically. ‘I think she’s outgrown the café – it doesn’t suit her any more. To be honest, she spends more time in your shop than she does here.’ Her eyes started to well up and her face had flooded with colour. ‘And I couldn’t think of a b— a better life for her than on the farm with you,’ she stammered, a tear sliding down her cheek.

Jo’s eyes were suddenly brimful of tears, too. ‘Well, if you think she’ll be happy, Debs, I’d love to. You know I’ve always adored her. It’ll be like taking part of Stourton with me,’ she said with a watery-eyed smile.

‘Exactly!’ Debbie agreed. ‘And of course it’ll mean I have to visit you, to make sure you’re looking after her properly.’ She reached across the table to squeeze Jo’s fingers.

Jo fished in her pocket for a packet of tissues and they each took one and dabbed their eyes. Then Jo glanced at her watch, gasped and stood up.

‘And there was I, thinking you were going to ask me to be your bridesmaid!’ she quipped, fastening her jacket.

Debbie’s eyes lit up. ‘Oh my God !’ she shrieked, looking thunderstruck. ‘I almost forgot! I’m getting married! Of course you’ll be my bridesmaid, won’t you?’ Debbie shrieked. ‘Along with Linda and Sophie of course,’ she added, with a worried look across the room at the others.

‘It would be an honour,’ Jo replied, leaning in for a hug.

‘I hope you both like taffeta,’ Linda said drolly, before draining her champagne glass.