Molly And The Cat Cafe

26

In the weeks that followed the bombshell of the council’s letter, uncertainty about my future became a constant backdrop to my life. I was intensely conscious that every developmental leap in the kittens took them closer to independence, and me closer to possible homelessness. I lived in a limbo-like state. Sometimes I found the uncertainty unbearable, and I fantasized about running away. At least that would spare Debbie the pain of having to make the decision herself.

Debbie, meanwhile, was increasingly stressed about the café, which had started to lose customers. When she wasn’t in the café she was at the dining table, going through the accounts or typing emails on her laptop. I couldn’t help but notice that her relationship with Sophie was also deteriorating. Sensing that her mother was preoccupied, Sophie became sarcastic and stroppy. I was reminded, unhappily, of how she had behaved when I first moved in.

It seemed like things were beginning to unravel for all of us, and the worst part was that I felt responsible. I could see that the presence of the kittens was adding to the pressures on Debbie. They were six weeks old now and were hungry, boisterous and playful. Their adventurousness was no longer confined to the living room: they got into the kitchen cupboards, underneath the beds, and on one occasion Purdy climbed up inside the chimney breast and had to be rescued by Debbie from the soot-filled flue. Much as I adored their liveliness, I bitterly regretted that it was always Debbie who had to step in when one of them needed rescuing, or to clean up their trail of mess and destruction. I could do nothing but stand back and watch and I worried that, much as Debbie loved the kittens, her patience was being stretched to breaking point.

One evening she had finally sat down with the laptop, having just finished washing up in the kitchen, when Sophie walked in, frowning. ‘Mum, have you seen my geography project?’ she asked sharply.

Debbie was squinting at the screen through her glasses. ‘Mmm?’ she replied, distractedly.

‘Mum?’ Sophie snapped. ‘I left it on the kitchen worktop this morning. It’s gone. Have you seen it?’

Debbie took off her glasses and turned to look at Sophie. ‘Sorry, love, what did you say?’

‘My geography project, Mum. It’s due tomorrow. I left it on the worktop.’ I could see that Sophie’s frustration was about to turn to anger.

‘Sorry, love, I don’t remember seeing it,’ Debbie replied. She put on her glasses and turned back to the laptop. ‘I put the recycling out this afternoon,’ she added vaguely.

‘The recycling?’

‘Yes, there was a stack of old newspapers in the kitchen . . . ’

Sophie stared at her mother. ‘A stack of old newspapers? And did you happen to notice whether my geography project was on the top of that stack?’

Debbie frowned and rubbed her forehead. ‘Sorry, love, I don’t recall seeing any project, but I’m not sure—’

Sophie had gone, slamming the living-room door behind her. I heard her run downstairs, and a few seconds later the café door slammed too.

Debbie dropped her head into her hands. She sighed deeply, then closed the laptop and stood up, walking across the room to the sofa. Her cheeks were pink and I knew that tears would soon follow. I had tried to keep some distance from the situation, not wanting to inflame matters between mother and daughter by getting involved, but I could not sit and watch Debbie cry. I climbed out of the cardboard box and went to sit by her ankles, looking up at her face.

Debbie noticed me and smiled tearfully. ‘Oh, Molly,’ she sighed, putting her hand down to stroke my ears.

That was all the invitation I needed. I jumped up onto her lap and rubbed my head against her damp cheek. I let her cry into my fur until the combination of her tears and my loose hairs sticking to her face meant that she had to reach for a tissue. When she had blown her nose, she held my face between her hands and looked me in the eye.

‘Oh, Molly, what a mess I’ve made of things. What am I going to do, eh?’ I blinked at her slowly, wanting to encourage Debbie to keep talking. There may have been nothing I could do to help, but I could listen. ‘I don’t know what to worry about more: that Sophie’s starting to hate me again, or that the café’s going under. So far I’m making a complete mess on both fronts.’ She stroked my ears, and I rubbed my cheek along the side of her hand. ‘You know the really crazy thing, Molly? It turns out that you were what the customers wanted all along, but I didn’t realize until it was too late.’

I looked at her inquisitively, not following what she was saying. ‘It’s “Molly’s Café”, isn’t it?’ she said by way of explanation. ‘Everyone used to see you in the window, and that’s why they came in. They expected you to be inside. They all loved hearing about the kittens – couldn’t wait to meet them – but now I’ve had to tell people that you won’t be coming downstairs any more. And, well, they’re just not coming through the door like they used to.’ Her eyes filled with tears again. ‘If I let you downstairs, that witch will have me shut down by Environmental Health, but if I keep you up here we’ll lose all our customers and the café will probably go under. So I’m damned if I do, and damned if I don’t, aren’t I?’

My head was spinning. I had had no idea my presence meant so much to the customers, and I felt a momentary glow of pride that I had been the reason many of them had come at all. But, on the other hand, this discovery merely reinforced my conviction that I was to blame for Debbie’s predicament.

While she had been talking, Eddie had woken up and had jumped onto the sofa, his tail happily aloft. He climbed onto Debbie’s lap alongside me and rolled onto his back. I pressed his exposed tummy with my paw and he squirmed from side to side, pretending that my foot was a foe he must fight off. Debbie watched Eddie and her tear-stained face melted into a smile.

‘See, Molly – we’re the same, you and I. We’re just trying to do what’s best for our children, aren’t we?’

I purred in agreement. Even though we were no closer to a solution, I was grateful for Debbie’s words. If nothing else, they made me feel that we were on the same side once more.

A little while later Sophie returned home. Debbie and I listened as she let herself into the café kitchen and climbed the stairs.

‘Hi, Soph,’ Debbie called quietly.

Sophie pushed open the living-room door. ‘Sorry about earlier, Mum,’ she said, her voice conciliatory.

‘I’m sorry too,’ Debbie answered, relief spreading across her face. ‘I’m sure we can find your project – it should still be in the box.’

‘Don’t worry Mum, I already found it. It’s fine, just a bit smelly from the bin.’

Debbie smiled. ‘Phew. Hopefully they won’t mark it down for smelliness.’

‘I don’t think they will,’ Sophie agreed.

‘I tell you what: shall I make us both a hot chocolate?’ Debbie suggested, and Sophie nodded.

Debbie reappeared a few minutes later with mugs of hot chocolate topped with whipped cream and mini-marshmallows. Sophie’s face lit up, and for a moment she looked like a little girl rather than a teenager. They sat on the sofa sipping their drinks, whilst trying to bat a persistent Eddie away from the whipped cream. Sophie eventually gave up and allowed him to lick a blob of cream from the tip of her finger, his rumbling purr filling the whole room.

‘So here’s the deal, Sophie,’ Debbie said, suddenly serious. ‘The way things stand, we’re not taking enough to make the monthly repayments for the loan. If we default on the loan, we stand to lose everything – the café, the flat, the whole lot will be repossessed.’ Debbie paused, and Sophie inhaled deeply. ‘So, the way I see it,’ Debbie continued, ‘we have two choices. We either soldier on as we are, hoping that people get used to the idea of Molly’s Café with no Molly, but possibly defaulting on the loan if they don’t.’ Sophie nodded slowly. ‘Or,’ Debbie went on, ‘we sell up now, before we fall behind on the repayments. We could probably get enough from the sale to break even; maybe even have enough left to use as a deposit on a little flat somewhere.’ She paused, watching anxiously as Sophie mulled over the dilemma. ‘Well, what do you think?’ she asked.

Sophie’s face was intently serious, and I was struck by how quickly she had switched from little-girl mode to grown-up. ‘I think . . . it’s too soon to give up. You’ve put so much into this place, Mum, and I know you can make it work.’ She put her hand on her mother’s knee encouragingly and Debbie eyes instantly welled up.

‘I don’t know, Soph. I wish I had your faith in me,’ she replied, wiping her eyes with a tissue.

‘But what’s the alternative, Mum? If you sell up and take the money – hopefully buy another little flat somewhere else – then what? We’ll just be back to square one.’

Debbie nodded. ‘I know – you’re right, but it just feels like a massive risk, and I don’t know if it’s fair to do that to you. You’ve got your GCSEs coming up. I should be helping you, not accidentally throwing away your coursework because I’m too busy poring over these bloody accounts!’

Sophie laughed. ‘Don’t worry about my coursework, Mum. I can handle that. You just need to put everything into making the café work. I know you can do it.’

Debbie nodded tearfully, and Sophie leant over to give her a hug, squashing the still-purring Eddie between them.

After they had finished their hot chocolates they both stood up, ready for bed. As Debbie turned out the light, Sophie said, ‘If we do stay here, Mum, what are you going to do about Molly and the kittens?’

Debbie paused. ‘I don’t know, Soph, I just don’t know.’