Molly And The Cat Cafe

27

‘We need to build our profile on social media, apparently,’ Debbie announced one Sunday afternoon from behind the laptop. She and Sophie were sitting at the dining-room table, both hard at work.

‘Right,’ Sophie replied vaguely, not lifting her eyes from her schoolwork.

‘I should be tweeting and updating our Instagram feed at least twenty times a day, according to this new-business forum I’ve joined.’

Sophie looked at Debbie, and raised an eyebrow sceptically. ‘Mum, do you even know what Instagram is?’

‘Well, no, but I’m prepared to learn! You can show me, can’t you? You’re an expert at all that stuff.’

‘I s’pose. I can show you if you like, but I’ve got to finish my revision.’

Sophie returned to her work, flicking studiously through the pages of her textbook. Debbie started to chuckle, and Sophie’s eyes flicked towards her, puzzled and slightly annoyed.

‘What now, Mum?’

‘Sorry, love, I was just thinking: who would have believed, six months ago, that I would be pestering you to use Instagram, and you would be telling me that you can’t because you’ve got work to do? Who’d have thought it, eh? Or, as a tweeter-er might say: hashtag-never-saw-that-coming.’ Debbie snorted at her own joke.

Sophie rolled her eyes. ‘Oh, Mum. Please don’t ever use the word tweeter-er again.’

‘Hashtag-OK,’ Debbie replied with a giggle.

Sophie dropped the textbook onto the table and glared at her mother. ‘Or the word hashtag. Seriously, Mum, stop distracting me. I’ve got work to do.’

Although the café’s future still hung in the balance, Debbie and Sophie’s conversation helped to clear the air between them. Debbie seemed to have drawn strength from Sophie’s conviction that she mustn’t give up on the café without a fight. She became ruthlessly focused on trying to make the business a success, and her research on the laptop led her to try all sorts of initiatives. She introduced a customer loyalty card; tried various promotional offers, such as free cup of tea with every slice of cake; and even touted the notion of building a website for the café. That project had faltered, however, when Debbie had innocently enquired, ‘What’s HTML, Soph?’

‘Mum, sorry, but no. Just, no,’ Sophie had replied firmly, and Debbie had muttered that maybe the website could go on the back burner for now.

In spite of Sophie’s evident frustration with some of her mother’s schemes, their bickering remained good-natured. There was an atmosphere of female solidarity in the flat, which extended to me, too. It seemed that Debbie, Sophie and I had all reached the same conclusion: there was no certainty about what the future held for any of us, so we just had to make the best of what we had in the present. It was a strange time, knowing that we could all be about to lose what little security we had, but I took comfort in the camaraderie that had developed between us. Whatever fate had in store, it felt as though we would face it together.

I did my bit for morale in the flat by raising my kittens to the best of my ability. I made sure they were spotlessly clean at all times and scrupulously attentive to their own personal hygiene. If they were too boisterous or their play became aggressive, I could be a firm disciplinarian, putting them in their place with a swipe of my paw. But I also encouraged their independence and adventurousness, knowing that in later life they might need resilience and courage to fall back on. I took some comfort in knowing that I had provided them with the skills they needed to give them the best possible chance in life.

When the kittens were about eight weeks old, Debbie was going through the accounts books on Sunday evening when Sophie rushed in, her face flushed with excitement.

‘Mum, look at this.’ The kittens sensed her heightened mood and emerged from their various hiding points around the room, keen as always to be at the heart of the action. Sophie held out her phone to Debbie, who was putting her glasses on to view the tiny screen. She looked confused.

‘I don’t understand, Soph – is it a funny cat video?’

Sophie tutted impatiently. ‘No, it’s not a cat video, Mum. It’s a cat café.’

Debbie’s face was blank. ‘A cat café?’

‘Yes, like a normal café, except that it’s got cats. Customers come specifically to see the cats; and to eat, of course.’

Debbie took the phone from Sophie’s hand. ‘But I don’t understand: how is that possible? How do they get around health-and-safety?’

‘I don’t know, but it must be possible – someone else has done it!’

Debbie stared intently at the screen.

‘We should do the same, Mum. It’s obvious! We can keep Molly and the kittens, and the customers will love it.’

Debbie started to smile uncertainly. ‘But that isn’t . . . We couldn’t . . . Surely it can’t be that straightforward?’

‘It could be, Mum,’ Sophie laughed. ‘There’s not just one of these places – they’re popping up all over the world. Cat cafés are the in-thing right now, and in case you hadn’t noticed,’ Sophie gestured to the kittens, who had jumped onto the dining chairs and were now scaling the tabletop, ‘we’ve got the cats and we’ve got the café, so we’re practically there already!’

Debbie’s face wore a look of half-excitement, half-consternation, but Sophie was not done yet.

‘And I’ve been thinking, Mum. You can tweak the menu, you know? Cat-shaped cookies, cupcakes with whiskers – that sort of thing. The tourists will go crazy for it.’

Debbie laughed nervously. ‘I don’t know, Sophie. It sounds lovely, but . . . could it really work?’

‘Well, there’s only one way to find out,’ Sophie answered decisively. ‘You need to ring the council and ask.’

Her enthusiasm was infectious, and I could feel my stomach lurch with excitement. But, like Debbie, I couldn’t let myself get carried away. A voice in my head urged caution. It all sounded too good to be true.