Alfie The Doorstep Cat

Chapter Fourteen

I woke very early; I knew because it was still dark. I was a little surprised to see that I was still on Jonathan’s sofa. He hadn’t kicked me off, but left me sleeping. I must have fallen asleep whilst he was watching that gruesome film. I was reluctant to leave, but I really wanted to go to Claire’s, eat some breakfast, and then go and wait at 22A for any movement. I wondered if 22B would be occupied soon, and what the new family there would be like. Perhaps I would visit only the nicest of the two; I still hadn’t forgiven Polly for calling me a baby killer.

When I arrived, after my morning meal, there was a van outside the building and the door to the other flat was open. It wasn’t a smart looking vehicle, like the one that Matt and Polly had had their furniture delivered in the previous day but a slightly battered, dark blue van that looked as if it might have hit a lot of lamp posts and run over a lot of animals. I shuddered – hopefully not cats. Two men were unloading furniture from it, which they were carrying into the house. I peered into the open front door. 22B was an upstairs flat. As soon as you opened the door there was a small space and then stairs. I was tempted to go in, but I held back as the men carried a table into the flat. They were struggling to negotiate the small space with the piece of furniture, and I sensed the danger of getting involved. They were speaking in a language I didn’t recognise. Their voices were quite loud and animated as if they were rowing, although I didn’t think they were. Mind you, seeing them have to carry the furniture up the steep flight of stairs, if they had been, I guess you couldn’t blame them. I hung back for a while, still itching to go inside, but fearful and unsure. Not only because the men were quite big, but also because of the language I didn’t understand. What if they were from a place where they ate cats? I didn’t know if such a place existed but I didn’t want to take any chances. Agnes had told me tales of countries where they ate dogs. Apparently it was normal for some cultures. I shuddered again. I didn’t want to end my life in anyone’s cooking pot.

I wanted to find out more about the people who lived here, though. I lay low in the shadows as I saw the men come back downstairs. Despite the fact that I thought I was being discreet, one of the men spotted me and came over to pet me. I blinked a ‘hello’ and he looked as if he blinked back. Although he seemed huge, he was surprisingly gentle with me and I purred at him. He seemed to blink quite a lot as he spoke to me in his strange language, and then a woman appeared and joined him. She was quite small but very pretty, with dark hair and brown eyes. She crouched down to pet me.

‘He don’t speak Polish,’ the man said, giving her a kiss.

‘Cats no speaking, Thomasz, she replied, in an accented voice. They both laughed and then went back to communicating in their original language. They looked to be about the same age as Polly and Matt, I guessed, and they seemed very kind and friendly. The woman’s smile was really infectious and made me want to smile, although of course I did so with my eyes, by squinting at her. I’m not sure she noticed though, she was busy talking to both the men and I still couldn’t understand a word they were saying.

‘He still here,’ she said, suddenly turning her attention back to me.

‘Maybe he welcome us here,’ the man joked.

‘Maybe. Nice cat I think.’ Her smile disappeared suddenly and she turned to the man, clinging to him and looking scared. I tilted my head to one side, intrigued, as she said something in the funny language again.

‘Franceska, it will be OK. We come here for a better life. For us and the boys. I promise you it will be good.’ He took her in his big arms and although she was crying, she managed to smile too. Another friend in need for me, it seemed. I had a radar, and I felt that this street had given me a purpose in life; helping people.

Relieved that I felt needed, I smiled to myself; I was learning that humans were more complicated than I thought. But they were friendly, and although the woman was sad, I saw a strength in her that neither Claire nor Polly seemed to have. I was sure that I would be welcome here, and I looked forward to coming back. I watched the woman go inside, before realising that it was sunny and bright and therefore time for me to go and get my second meal of the day.

Stalking through the cat flap, I found Jonathan sitting at the kitchen table, eating toast and drinking coffee, dressed in sportswear. I miaowed loudly, to announce that I was there.

‘Hello, you. I’m guessing you want to eat?’ I jumped up on the chair next to him, and he laughed.

‘OK mate, hang on a minute. Let me finish my toast.’ I sat and waited, patiently. I think Jonathan had made a massive mistake somewhere along the line. I don’t mean the work thing he told me about, but the house. It was so empty with just him there, almost mocking him; taunting him that he was alone. If I was him, I would have chosen something smaller that didn’t seem so empty with just him and me to fill it. One of the flats at number 22 would probably have suited him better. I understood now why he spoke to me; like Claire, it was loneliness. I began to realise that I wasn’t the only one to have suffered from feeling excessive loneliness; I saw it in Claire, I saw it here, and I’d seen something like it, although perhaps not quite the same, in Polly and Franceska.

There was much for a small cat like me to ponder; there was even more for me to do to put things right.

Jonathan fed me some tuna from a tin, which wasn’t quite as good as the fresh prawns or smoked salmon, but I wasn’t one to complain.

‘I’m going to the gym, Alfie. Need to make sure I don’t get fat living here on my own like a mad man with only a cat to talk to.’ I was startled at his revelation but then he laughed, and I felt relieved. Of course he wasn’t mad, he was just a little unhinged.

I decided to go and get some exercise as well. I’d eaten twice already and the fact that I was now being fed in two homes was something I had to consider. Of course, I didn’t want to give up eating the food; the memory of struggling to eat for days meant that I would never snub another meal in my life. But if the people at number 22 started feeding me as well, then it wouldn’t be just Jonathan getting fat, but me too. And there was no way that that could happen. I’d never fit in the cat flaps for a start.

Despite the fact I was visiting different houses in the street, which meant I stalked between them, I was aware I had become a bit lazy, the way I was in my old life with Margaret. I was also looking better, being a much heartier weight. However, I still couldn’t chance being too lazy or complacent. What if I had to somehow survive on my own again? And although I shuddered at the thought, I knew it was a possibility. Hopefully not one I’d face, but one I had to be prepared for, this time, as I was never going to take chances ever again.