Alfie The Doorstep Cat. A Cat Called Alfie. Alfie Cat In Trouble. Alfie Far From Home. Alfie And George

1. ALFIE THE DOORSTEP CAT

Chapter One

‘It’s not going to take too long to pack up the house,’ Linda said.

‘Linda, you’re so optimistic; look at all the junk your mother collected,’ Jeremy replied.

‘That’s unfair. She’s got some nice china and you never know, some of it might be worth something.’

I was pretending to be asleep but my ears were pricked up, listening to what was being said as I tried to stop my tail flicking in agitation. I was curled up on Margaret’s favourite chair – or rather, the chair that had been her favourite – watching her daughter and son-in-law discuss what would happen; determining my future. The past few days had been so terrifyingly confusing, especially as I didn’t fully understand what had happened. However, what I didunderstand as I listened, trying my best not to cry, was that life would never be the same again.

‘You’ll be lucky. Anyway, we should call a house clearance place. Lord knows we don’t want any of her stuff.’ I tried to sneak a look without them noticing. Jeremy was tall, grey haired and bad tempered. I had never really liked him, but the woman, Linda, had always been nice to me.

‘I’d like a chance to keep a few of Mum’s things. I’ll miss her.’ Linda started crying and I yearned to yowl along with her, but I kept quiet.

‘I know, love,’ Jeremy’s voice softened. ‘It’s just that we can’t stay here forever. Now the funeral’s over, we need to think about getting the house on the market and, well, if we get it packed up, we can be off in a few days.’

‘It just seems so final, though. But you’re right, of course.’ She sighed. ‘And what about Alfie?’ I bristled. This was what I was waiting for. What would happen to me?

‘We need to put him in a shelter I suppose.’ I felt my fur stand on end.

‘A shelter? But Mum loved him so much. It seems so cruel to just get rid of him.’ I wished I could voice my agreement with her; it was beyond cruel.

’But you know we can’t take him home. We’ve got two dogs, love. A cat just won’t work for us, you know that.’

I was incensed. It wasn’t that I wanted to go with them, but I absolutely couldn’t go to a shelter.

Shelter. My body shuddered at the word; such an inappropriate name for what we in the cat community thought of as‘death row’. There might be a few lucky cats who got rehomed, but then who knew what happened to them? Who was to say that the family that rehomed them would treat them well? The cats I knew unanimously agreed that a shelter was a bad place. And we knew full well that for those that weren’tre-homed, the death sentence loomed.

Although I considered myself a handsome cat with a certain kind of charm, there was no way I was going to take that risk.

‘I know you’re right, the dogs would eat him alive. And they’re very good at these shelters these days, so he might be rehomed quickly.’ She paused as if she was still mulling things over. ‘No, it has to be done. I’ll call the shelter in the morning and the house clearance company. Then I guess we can get an estate agent round.’ She sounded more sure of herself and I knew my fate had been sealed unless I did something about it.

‘Now you’re thinking straight. I know this is hard, but Linda, your mum was very old and honestly, it’s not like it was a huge surprise.’

‘That doesn’t make it easy though, does it?’

I put my paws over my ears. My little head was reeling. In the past two weeks I had lost my owner, the only human I’d ever really known. Life had been turned upside down and I was heartbroken, desolate and now, it seemed, homeless. What on earth was a cat like me supposed to do?

I was what was known as a‘lap cat’. I didn’t feel the need to be out all night hunting, prowling or socialising, when I had a warm lap, food and comfort. I also had company; a family. But then it was all taken away, leaving my cat heart totally broken. For the first time ever I was all alone.

I had lived in this small terraced house with my owner, Margaret, almost my whole life. I also had a sister cat called Agnes, although she was more like an aunt, being so much older than me. When Agnes went to cat heaven, a year ago, I felt a pain that I had never thought possible. It hurt so much that I didn’t think I would ever recover. But I had Margaret, who loved me very much, and we clung together in our grief. We had both adored Agnes and we missed her with every ounce of our beings, united in our suffering.

However, I recently learnt how incredibly cruel life could be. One day, a couple of weeks ago, Margaret didn’t get up from her bed. I had no idea what was wrong or what to do, being a cat, so I lay next to her and yowled as loudly as I could. Luckily, a nurse who came to see Margaret once a week was due, and when I heard the doorbell I reluctantly left Margaret’s side and leapt out of the cat flap.

‘Oh my, what’s wrong?’ the nurse asked, as I wailed for all I was worth. When she pushed the doorbell again, I pawed at her, gently but insistently trying to convey that something was wrong. She used the spare key and found Margaret’s lifeless body. I stayed with Margaret, knowing she was lost to me, as the nurse made some phone calls. After a while, some men came to take her away and I couldn’t stop yowling. They wouldn’t let me go with Margaret, and that was when I realised that my life, as I knew it, was over. Margaret’s family were called and I yowled some more. I yowled myself hoarse.

As Jeremy and Linda continued talking, I quietly jumped off the chair and left the house. I prowled around looking for some of the other cats to ask advice from, but it was pretty much tea time so I struggled to find anyone. However, I knew a nice elderly cat called Mavis who lived down the street, so I went to seek her out. I sat outside her cat flap and miaowed loudly. She knew that Margaret had died; she’d seen her being taken away and had found me shortly afterwards pining after her. She was a maternal cat, a bit like Agnes, and she had taken care of me, letting me yowl until I could yowl no more. She had stayed with me, sharing her food and milk with me, until Linda and Jeremy arrived.

Hearing my call, she came out of the cat flap, and I explained the situation to her.

‘They can’t take you?’ she asked, looking at me with sad eyes.

‘No, they say they have dogs and, well, I don’t want to live with dogs anyway.’ We both shivered at the thought.

‘Who would?’ she said.

‘I don’t know what to do,’ I lamented, trying not to cry again. Mavis nestled her body into me. We hadn’t been close until recently, but she was a very caring cat, and I was grateful for her friendship.

‘Alfie, don’t let them take you to the shelter,’ she said. ‘I’d take care of you but I don’t think I can. I’m old and tired now and my owner isn’t much younger than Margaret was. You have to be a brave little cat and find yourself a new family.’ She rubbed her neck into mine affectionately.

‘But how do I do that?’ I asked. I had never felt so lost or scared.

‘I wish I had the answers, but think what you have learnt lately about how fragile life is, and be strong.’

We rubbed noses, and I knew that I had to leave. I went back to Margaret’s house one last time so I could remember it before I left. I wanted a picture to lock in my memory and take on my journey with me. I hoped it might give me strength. I looked at Margaret’s trinkets, her ‘treasures’ she called them. I looked at the pictures on the wall that had been so familiar to me. I looked at the carpet, worn where I had scratched at it when I was too young to know better. This house was me, and I was it. And now I had no idea what was to become of me.

I had little appetite but I forced myself to eat the food that Linda had given me (after all I wasn’t sure when I would get to eat next), and then I took one final, lingering look around the home that had been mine; that had always kept me warm and safe. I thought about the lessons I’d learnt. In my four years in this house I had grasped a lot about love, and about loss. I had once been taken care of, but not any longer. I remembered the time I arrived as a tiny kitten. How Agnes hadn’t liked me and had treated me as a threat. How I had won her round, and how Margaret had always treated us as if we were the most important cats in the world. I thought about how lucky I had been; but now my luck had run out. As I mourned the only life that I had known, I felt instinctively that I had to survive, but I had no idea how. I prepared to take a leap into the unknown.

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Chapter Two

With my broken heart, and fearing no reasonable alternative, I set out from the only home I’d ever known. I had no idea where I was going, or how I was going to manage, but I knew that relying on myself, and my limited abilities, would be better than relying on a shelter. And I also knew that a cat like me needed to have a home and love. As I crept off into the dark night, my little body shaking with fear, I tried to find a way to be brave. I knew little but I was certain that I didn’t ever want to be alone again. This cat desperately needed to find a lap, or even a number of laps, to sit on. With a sense of purpose, I tried to muster my courage. I hoped, prayed, that it wouldn’t fail me.

I started walking, letting my senses guide me. I wasn’t used to prowling the streets in the dark, unwelcoming night, but I could see and I could hear well and kept telling myself that it would be all right. I tried to hear Margaret and Agnes’ voices as I walked the streets, to drive me on.

The first night was hard– frightening and long. At some point, as the moon shone down, I found a shed at the bottom of someone’s back garden, which was lucky because my legs were hurting and I was exhausted. The door was open, and although it was dusty and full of cobwebs, I was too tired to care. I curled up in a corner on the hard, dirty floor, but somehow I managed to fall fast asleep.

I was awoken during the night by a loud yowl, and a large black cat loomed over me. I jumped into the air in fright. He stared at me angrily, and although my legs were shaking, I tried to stand my ground.

‘What are you doing here?’ he hissed, spitting at me aggressively.

‘I just needed to sleep,’ I replied, trying and failing to sound confident. There was no way I could get past him easily, so, trembling, I stood up and tried to look menacing. The cat grinned, an evil grin, and I nearly buckled. He reached out and swiped my head with his claws. I yelped and felt the pain from where he’d scratched me and I wanted to curl into a ball but knew that I had to get away from this vicious cat. He came at me again, claws glinting, brandished at my face, but luckily I was more agile than him. I launched myself towards the door and ran past him, brushing his wiry fur but managing to get outside. He turned and hissed at me again. I spat back then ran as fast as my little legs would take me. At some point, I stopped and breathlessly looked back to find I was alone. I had had my first taste of danger and I knew that I needed to develop a thicker fur if I was going to make it. I used my paw to smooth my coat and tried to ignore the scratch, which still smarted. I realised that I could be fast when I needed to be, and that was something I could use to get myself out of danger. I yelped some more as I walked on, fear flooding through me, but also driving me.I looked into the night sky, at the stars, and wondered, yet again, if Agnes and Margaret could see me, wherever they were. I hoped so, but I didn’t know. I knew very little.

I was so hungry by the time I felt able to stop again and it was very cold. Used to sitting by Margaret’s fire day after day, this was an alien life to me. I knew that if I needed food I would have to hunt; something I hadn’t had to do very much of in my past and something I wasn’t adept at. I followed my nose and found some mice skulking around the bins outside a big house. Despite my distaste – I usually ate food from a tin, except on special occasions when Margaret gave me fish – I chased one into a corner and went in for the kill. Because I hadn’t been used to hunger like this, it tasted almost delicious to me and it gave me the energy that I needed to continue.

I wandered on through the night until the day began to dawn, trying to remember that I was still me, Alfie, the playful cat, as I chased my tail and practised my bounding. I hunted a fat fly, but then I remembered I needed to conserve my energy; I didn’t know where my next meal would come from or when I’d get it.

Still with no idea where I was heading, I came to a big road and realised I would need to cross it. I wasn’t used to roads and traffic; Margaret had lectured me about not going near roads when I was a kitten. It was noisy and scary as cars and vans zoomed past me. I stood on the pavement, my heart pounding, until I saw a gap. I almost closed my eyes and ran, but managed to steady my shaking legs before I did anything stupid. Fearfully, I put one little paw down onto the road, feeling the rumble of traffic as it grew nearer. A horn blared and as I turned to my left I saw an enormous pair of lights bearing down on me. I bolted, running faster than I ever had in my life, and to my horror I felt something brush my tail. I yelped and leapt as far as I could, landing on the pavement. Heart beating, I turned around and saw a car speed past, knowing I had nearly ended up under it. I wondered if I had used up one of my nine lives – I was pretty sure I had. Eventually I caught my breath, again fear was becoming my driving force, and legs like jelly, I walked for a few minutes away from the road, before I collapsed by someone’s front gate.

After a few minutes, a door opened and a lady came out. She had a dog with her, on a lead. The dog lurched at me, barking wildly, and once again I had to dodge out of harm’s way. The lady yanked the lead and shouted at the dog, who snarled at me. I hissed back.

I was learning very quickly that the world was a dangerous and hostile place, a million miles away from my home, Agnes and Margaret. I began to wonder if a shelter wouldn’t have been safer after all.

However, there was no going back. By now I had no idea where I was. When I first set out, I didn’t know exactly where I was going or what would happen to me but I had my hopes. I thought I would have to travel a bit but in the back of my mind, a kind family, perhaps a sweet little girl, would find me and take me to my new home. As I faced daily terrors, sometimes running for my life, and often feeling like I was ready to collapse from hunger, this was the picture I kept in my head.

By now, I was disorientated, thirsty and tired. The adrenaline that had kept me going was deserting me and being replaced by a heaviness in my limbs.

I found my way to a back alley, where, if I jumped on fences and balanced like a ballerina, I could make my way along, looking down from high enough to feel safe. I tapped into my energy reserves in order to do so. I spotted a garden with a big bowl of water on a post; Margaret had had one in her garden for birds to drink from. I jumped down and managed to climb up it, so desperate for a drink that I would have climbed the highest mountain. I drank greedily, grateful for the immediate relief it gave me. I swiped some birds away; this was my water now. When I had all but emptied it, I returned to the fences and made my way further and further away from my old life.

I spent a thankfully uneventful night. I met some other cats but they ignored me, too concerned with their cat calling and mating to pay much heed.

Most of what I knew about other cats, I had learnt from Agnes, who could hardly move by the time I met her, and the other cats on our street, who were generally friendly, especially Mavis, who had shown me such kindness. I wanted to approach the cats to ask for help, but they looked too busy and I was scared after the black cat incident, so I trotted on carefully.

The next morning, I felt as if I had come quite a distance. Yet again I was hungry, so I decided that I would try to look my most appealing in the hope that some kindly cat would help me out with food. I happened upon a cat who was basking in the sunshine outside a house with a shiny red door. I tentatively approached and purred.

‘Goodness,’ said the cat, who was a rather large lady tabby. ‘You look dreadful.’ I was about to take offence but I remembered that I hadn’t really groomed myself properly since leaving Margaret’s due to the fact I was more concerned with staying alive and out of trouble.

‘I’m homeless and hungry,’ I miaowed.

‘Come on, I’ll share some of my breakfast with you,’ she offered. ‘But then you’ll have to go. My owner will be home soon and won’t like to find a stray in her house.’ It suddenly struck me that I really was a stray. I had no home, no family, no protection. I was among the unfortunatecats that had to fend for themselves; living in fear, always feeling hungry and tired. Never feeling quite their best; never looking anything near their best. I had now joined their ranks and it felt horrible.

I gratefully ate and drank and then went on my way, thanking and bidding farewell to the kindly cat. I didn’t even know her name.

My state of mind reflected my physical being. Grief was such a part of me; causing me physical pain in my heart as I missed Margaret with every fibre of my fur. But I had known love; the love of my owner and my cat sister, and I owed it to them, to their love, to carry on. Now, with food in my tummy, I felt renewed energy as I prepared to do just that.

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Chapter Three

A few days passed, increasing the distance between my old home and wherever I was heading. I met some kind cats, some angry ones, and many mean dogs that delighted in barking at me but thankfully couldn’t get me. I was kept on my toes, literally, as I danced and jumped and ran away, and I could feel my energy depleting all the time. I learnt to fight back when I needed to; although aggression didn’t come naturally to me, it seemed survival did. As I dodged cars, cats and dogs, I was slowly developing a more streetwise persona.

However I was getting thinner by the day; my once gleaming fur was patchy and I was cold and tired. I barely knew how I was surviving and I had never imagined that life could ever be like this. I was sadder than I had ever been and more lonely than I thought possible. When I slept, I had nightmares, and when I woke, I remembered my predicament and cried. It was a horrible time and sometimes I just wanted it all to be over. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could carry on.

I was learning that the streets could be mean and unforgiving. Physically and mentally it was taking its toll on me and I was beginning to feel so downhearted that it was a struggle to put one paw in front of the other.

The weather reflected my mood. It was cold and raining, and I felt a chill in my bones as my fur never seemed to be fully dry. In the time that I had been homeless– searching for my future, the kind family – the sweet little girl hadn’t materialised. No one had come to my rescue so far and I was beginning to think that no one would. To say I was feeling sorry for myself was an understatement.

Once again, I came to a main road. Roads still filled me with fear; I’d got better at crossing them, but I still felt as if I was taking my life in my paws every time I stepped off a kerb. I had learnt to take my time when crossing, even if I had to wait for a very long time. So I sat, head moving side to side until there was a break in the traffic that made it safe enough. Despite this I still ran as fast as I could and ended up breathless on the other side. Unfortunately, I had been so busy concentrating on getting across the road that I hadn’t noticed the small fat dog standing on the other side of the road. He squared up to me, snarling, showing his sharp teeth and dribbling saliva. Unfortunately there was no lead or owner in sight.

‘Hisssss,’ I replied, trying to deter him, although I was terrified. He was so close to me I could smell him. He barked at me and suddenly lunged forward. Despite my fatigue I leapt back and started running, but I could feel his breath on my tail. Increasing my speed I dared to look back and could see him coming after me, snapping at my heels. For such a fat dog he was quick and I could hear him barking furiously as I ran. I rounded a corner and came upon an alleyway. I swerved and sprinted down it as fast as my legs would take me. After what felt like miles I slowed and hearing only silence I looked back; thankfully the dog was nowhere to be seen. I’d managed to escape.

Heart pounding, I slowed my pace, and made my way down the alley which led to some allotments where people grew vegetables. As it was still pouring with rain there were only a couple of people about, so despite my dampness and fatigue, I strode confidently to find shelter. One of the allotments had a shed with a door that was slightly ajar. I was too tired to worry about what might lie in wait inside, and gently nudged the door open with my nose. I was so cold and insecure, I feared that if I didn’t find somewhere dry to rest soon I would become very sick.

I slunk into the shed and was grateful to see a blanket at one end. It was musty and a bit rough; it certainly wasn’t the luxury I had been used to in my old life but at that moment in time it was like a palace to me. I curled up and tried to rub my fur dry as best I could, and despite being half-starved, I couldn’t face going to find any food.

I could hear the rain hitting the shed as I cried, silently to myself. I had always been a very spoilt cat, I saw that now. If I thought of all the things I took for granted when I lived with Margaret, it was a very long list. I knew I would be fed, loved, warm and cared for. I spent cold days sitting by a warm fire in Margaret’s living room. I spent cold days sunning myself by the window. I was mollycoddled and my life was one of pure luxury. It was funny how it was only now it was gone that I realised how lucky I had been.

And now what was to become of me? When Mavis had told me to leave I really didn’t foresee what would happen. I didn’t think I would be here, wondering if I could carry on. I really wasn’t sure that I could continue. Was my journey going to end here in this shed, on a smelly blanket? Was that my fate? I hoped not, yet I didn’t know what the alternative was. I knew thatfeeling sorry for yourself was wrong but I couldn’t help it. I missed my old life so badly and I just didn’t know what would become of me.

I must have fallen asleep because I was awoken by a pair of eyes staring at me; I blinked. There was a cat stood in front of me, as black as night, eyes shining like torches.

‘I don’t mean any harm,’ I said immediately, thinking that if she wanted to fight I would let her finish me off.

‘I thought I smelt a cat. What are you doing here?’ she asked, although not aggressively.

‘I wanted to rest. A dog chased me and I just ended up here. It was warm and dry and so …’

‘Are you a street cat?’ she asked.

‘I’m not supposed to be but I guess I am at the moment,’ I replied sadly. She arched her back.

‘Look, this is my hunting ground. I’m a street cat and I like it that way. I get the rich pickings of the creatures that come here looking for food - mice, birds you know, anyway, I kind of call this my patch. I just wanted to check that you didn’t think you could take it over.’

‘Of course not!’ I was indignant. ‘I just needed shelter from the rain.’

‘You get used to the rain eventually,’ she said. I wanted to say, ‘perish the thought,’ but I didn’t want to upset my new comrade. I slowly stood up and moved toward her.

‘Does it get easier?’ I asked, wondering if this really was my future.

‘I don’t know, but you get accustomed to it.’ Her eyes darkened. ‘Anyway, come with me I’ll let you hunt with me and I’ll show you where to get a drink but then, in the morning you move on OK?’ I agreed her terms.

I ate and drank but I didn’t feel better. As I curled up on the blanket again, and my new friend left me, I prayed for a miracle because as things stood I didn’t think I would come out of this journey alive.

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Chapter Four

I set off again the next morning as promised, but I felt despondent. As a few more days passed I experienced a mass of contradictions. One day I would feel I couldn’t carry on; the weather, the hunger and the loneliness would get to the core of me. But then the next I would push myself further, telling myself I owed it to Margaret and Agnes not to give up. I would see-saw between feeling hopeless in my quest or determined not to fail.

I got by with food and drink, and learnt to be more self-sufficient. I even began to get used to the weather although I still hated the rain. I hunted slightly more effectively, although I didn’t enjoy it, but I had discovered how to be a little bit tougher. I was just not convinced I really could be as resilient as I needed to be. Not yet.

One night, feeling in a more positive frame of mind, I came across a group of humans. They were all huddled around a large doorway; there was lots of cardboard and it smelt very bad. They all had bottles in their hands and some of them had almost as much fur on their faces as me.

‘It’s a cat,’ one of the furry men slurred, taking a drink. He waved his bottle towards me; the stench sent me reeling back. They laughed as I started slowly moving backwards, not sure what danger I was facing, if any. The man who laughed then threw a bottle at me, I dodged it but only just as it smashed to pieces next to me.

‘It’d make a nice hat to keep me warm,’ another laughed, slightly menacingly, I thought. I crept further back.

‘We ain’t got no food, bugger off,’ a third said, unkindly.

‘We could skin ’im for a hat then eat ’im,’ another said, laughing. I widened my eyes in horror and backed away. Then, from nowhere, a cat appeared.

‘Follow me,’ he hissed, and I ran after him down the street. Thankfully, just as I thought I couldn’t run any more, we stopped.

‘Who were they?’ I asked, breathlessly.

‘Neighbourhood drunks. They don’t have homes. You should keep away from them.’

‘But I don’t have a home either,’ I cried, and I felt like yowling again.

‘I’m sorry to hear that. But you should still keep out of their way. They aren’t exactly friendly.’

‘What’s drunk?’ I asked, feeling very much like a little cat with no idea about the world yet again.

‘It’s something humans do. They drink stuff and it changes them. Not milk or water. Look, come with me. I can sneak you some food and milk tonight and find you somewhere safe to sleep.’

‘You’re very kind,’ I purred.

‘I’ve been where you are; I was homeless for a while,’ the cat said, and then stalked off, gesturing with his paw for me to follow him.

His name was Button, which he said was a silly name for a cat but he had a young owner who said he was‘cute as a button’, whatever that means. The house we went to was in darkness and I was so happy to be inside, somewhere warm and safe. It reminded me that I desperately needed to find a home before long. I told Button my story.

‘That’s sad,’ he said. ‘But you have learnt, like me, that one owner isn’t always enough. I visit another house on my street sometimes.’

‘Really?’ I said, intrigued.

‘I think of myself as being a doorstep cat,’ he said.

‘What’s that?’ I was curious.

‘Well, you live somewhere most of the time, but you go to other doorsteps until they let you in. They don’t always, but I have another house, and although I don’t stay there, if anything happens I feel I have options.’ As I questioned him he went on to explain that a doorstep cat got fed multiple times, by multiple families, they got petted and fussed over and enjoyed a high level of security.

Like me he had hated being homeless; and unlike me the young child had come to his rescue although he said that he’d engineered it. When he found his new family he’d looked as helpless as possible, ensuring they took pity and adopted him.

‘So you just looked like you needed feeding and grooming?’ I asked, ears pricked in interest.

‘Well I really did look like that. But you know, I got lucky, I pleaded for help and someone took me in. I’ll help you if you like.’

‘Oh I would love that,’ I replied.

He let me curl up with him in his basket, talking late into the night. And although I wouldn’t get much sleep, because I needed to leave early the next morning before Button’s owners woke, I felt safe for the first time since leaving Margaret’s. I also had a plan forming in my mind: I would make an excellent doorstep cat.

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Chapter Five

I left Button’s house the next morning. I felt sad about going, after the safety of the night, but at least he’d advised me where to go, pointing me in the direction of the nicer streets in the area. He suggested I head west, towards the area that was popular with families, until I found the street that felt right to me. I had to trust my instincts and he seemed to think I would know when I had arrived. With a good sleep and a full belly I headed off in the direction he’d suggested, dodging danger and following my nose.

I was more optimistic but life after Button didn’t suddenly change overnight. There were still days where I had to keep my wits about me and more still where I felt hungry and tired, having to keep going when my legs shook with exhaustion and my fur stuck to my body with the rain. I survived but it was a long, hard journey. I just kept tellingmyself it would be worth it in the end.

And, finally I arrived at a lovely street and as Button had suggested, I knew immediately it would give me what I needed. I didn’t know how exactly, but I knew; I just knew, that I belonged here. I sat by a sign that said ‘Edgar Road’ and I licked my lips. For the first time since leaving Margaret’s, I felt that everything was going to be all right.

I immediately liked Edgar Road. It was a long street with many different types of houses; Victorian terraced houses, modern boxes, larger houses and some buildings divided into flats. What I especially liked was that there were a number of‘For Sale’ and ‘To Let’ signs. Button had explained that these signs meant that new people would soon be arriving. And, I strongly believed, what new people needed most of all, was a cat like me.

In the next few days, I met some of the neighbourhood cats. When I told them what I was up to, they insisted on helping me. I soon discovered that, on the whole, the Edgar Road cats were a pretty nice bunch. After all, it was important to me to live in a neighbourhood with good cat neighbours. There were a couple of‘Alpha Toms’ and one pretty girl cat who was particularly unkind to everyone, but apart from that they were friendly, and they shared their food and drink with me when I was at my most needy.

During the day I spent my time speaking to the other cats, getting as much information as I could out of them, and casing out the empty houses, searching for my potential homes. At night, I would go hunting, just to keep myself fed.

One evening, after I’d been at Edgar Road for just under a week, a particularly mean Tom found me sitting outside one of the empty houses that I was keeping an eye on.

‘You don’t live here. Maybe it’s time you left,’ he hissed at me.

‘I’m staying,’ I hissed back, trying to be brave as I faced him. He was bigger than me and of course, I was still not at my best. After all I’d been through, I felt as if I had no more fight inside me but I couldn’t give up. I was suddenly distracted by a noise, and I looked up to see a bird swooping quite low overhead. The Tom took his chance and swiped at me with his paw, scratching me just above my eye.

I yowled. It really hurt and I quickly felt blood. I spat at the Tom as he loomed in, looking as if he was going to bite me. I vowed to always keep my eye on him in future.

A brightly striped cat called Tiger lived next door to this empty house, and she and I had become friendly. She suddenly appeared, and stood between me and the Tom.

‘Get lost, Bandit,’ she hissed. Bandit looked as though he might fight, but after a while, he turned on his heel and stalked off. ‘You’re bleeding,’ she said.

‘He caught me unawares, I was distracted,’ I said, haughtily. ‘I could have taken him easily.’ Tiger grinned.

‘Look Alfie, I am sure you could, but you’re still delicate. Anyway, come with me and I’ll sneak you some food.’

As I followed her, I knew she would be my best cat friend on the street.

‘You don’t look very good,’ Tiger commented as I was gratefully eating. I tried not to feel affronted.

‘I know,’ I replied, sadly. It was true. By the time I arrived in Edgar Road I was thinner than I had ever been. My fur was certainly no longer shiny and I was tired from living outside and from malnourishment. I had no idea how long it had taken me to get there, but it felt like a long time. The weather had changed; it was getting warmer and the nights were lighter. It felt as if the sun was getting ready to come out.

As I became friends with Tiger, I was also becoming accustomed to my new road. I had prowled extensively, so I knew the street as well as the back of my paw. I knew where every cat lived and if they were nice or not. I knew where the mean dogs were, and after a fair few escapes from such dogs, I knew which houses to avoid at all costs. I had balanced on every fence and wall in Edgar Road. I knew it as my new home, or homes, to be more accurate.

[Êàðòèíêà: i_007.jpg]

Chapter Six

I sat and watched as two burly men unloaded the last of the furniture from the removal van. I was, so far, pleased with what I had seen: a comfortable looking blue sofa; large floor cushions; a fancy upholstered armchair which looked as if it might be an antique, not that I was an expert. I had seen lots more being taken off the van; wardrobes, chests of drawers and lots of sealed boxes, but I was mostly interested in soft furnishings.

Flicking my tail in satisfaction, I felt my whiskers rising as I grinned. It looked as if I had found my first potential new home; 78 Edgar Road.

While the removals men took a break and were drinking out of plastic flask cups, I seized the opportunity to sneak into the house. Despite my curiosity, I first made my way straight through to check out the back door. Although I had been in all of the gardens in the street, and felt confident that this house did, in fact, possess a cat flap, I still needed to be sure. It did. I purred with pleasure at my cleverness and slid through it, deciding to hide out in the garden.

After chasing my shadow around in the tiny garden, and looking for flies to torment, I shivered with excitement and decided to groom myself thoroughly one last time. I was brimming with expectation as I made my way back into the house and anticipated how nice it would be to be a domestic cat again. How I yearned for a lap to sit on, milk to be given to me and food aplenty. Simple needs but, as I had learnt, not needs to be taken for granted. Nothing could ever be taken for granted again.

I wasn’t a silly cat. My journey, and those I’d met along the way, had taught me many things. There was no way I was going to put all my whiskers in one basket ever again. It was a lesson I’d learnt the hard way. The worst way. Some of my peers were either too trusting or too lazy, but I had discovered that I couldn’t afford to be either. As much as I wanted to be a loyal cat with a loyal owner, it was just too precarious. I couldn’t ever be in the situation I was in before. I couldn’t bear to be alone ever again.

I felt my fur stand on end as I pushed the terror of the past weeks out of my head and instead turned my attention to my new owner. I hoped that they would be as nice as their soft furnishings.

As I padded around the house I noticed the sky begin to turn dusky and I sensed the temperature drop. I wondered why someone would move their furniture into the house, but not themselves; it didn’t make sense. I started to feel a little panicked for the owner I hadn’t yet met. But then I told myself to relax and gave my whiskers a lick to calm myself down. I needed to look my best for when the people arrived at their new home; I was getting far too anxious.

The problem was that I had spent too long as a homeless cat, and I couldn’t face it any more. Just as I felt as if I might start fretting again, I heard the front door open. I immediately pricked up my ears and stretched out my body. It was time to go and meet my first new family. I plastered my most charming smile on my face.

‘I know Mum, but I couldn’t help it,’ I heard a female voice say. There was a pause. ‘I couldn’t be here because the blasted car broke down just two hours into the journey and I have just spent the last three hours with a very talkative RAC man, who, quite frankly, nearly sent me mad.’ Another pause. Her voice sounded nice although she was clearly exasperated, I thought, as I crept nearer. ‘They did. It looks like all the furniture is here, and, as I asked, the keys were posted through the front door.’ Pause. ‘Edgar Road isn’t the ghetto, Mum, I think it’ll be fine. Anyway, I’ve just walked through the door to my new home after the day from hell, so I’ll call you tomorrow.’

I rounded the corner and came face to face with a woman. She looked fairly young, although I wasn’t very good at judging age; all I could say was that her face wasn’t full of wrinkles, like Margaret’s. She was quite tall, very thin and had untidy dark-blonde hair and sad blue eyes. My first impression of her was that she gave me a nice feeling, and her sad eyes drew me to her strongly. My cat’s instinct told me that she needed me as much as I needed her. I, like most cats, didn’t judge humans on appearance; we read personality, and normally cats have a special talent for knowing who is good and who is bad. ‘She’ll do nicely,’ I immediately thought feeling pleased.

‘Who are you?’ she said, her voice suddenly soft; the type of voice so many people reserve for pets and babies as if we are stupid. I would have given her a disdainful look, but I needed to be charming. So instead I gave her one of my best grins. She knelt down beside me and I purred, moving slowly towards her, gently brushing her leg. Oh yes, I knew how to flirt when I needed to.

‘You poor thing, you look half starved. And your fur, it’s all patchy, as if you’ve been fighting. Have you been fighting?’ She sounded very tender and I purred in agreement. I had only seen my reflection in water lately but I knew from Tiger that I didn’t look my best. I just hoped that it didn’t put her off as I nestled into her legs again.

‘Oh, you are sweet. What’s your name?’ She looked at the silver disc hanging from my neck. ‘Alfie. Well, hello, Alfie.’ She gently picked me up and stroked my ‘patchy’ fur. It felt heavenly after all this time. I felt as if I was bonding with the lady, learning her smell, transferringmine and reminding me of my past, my kittenhood. I felt myself relax in a way I had only dreamt of recently.

Once again I purred my best purr and snuggled into her.‘Well, Alfie, I’m Claire and although I’m pretty sure a cat didn’t come with the house, let’s find you something to eat. I’ll call your owner in a bit.’ I grinned again. She could try all she wanted, but the number on the disc wouldn’t work. I triumphantly strode next to her, tail upright, my way of saying a proper ‘hello’ to my new friend, as she went back to the front door, picked up two carrier bags and carried them into the kitchen.

As she unpacked her shopping, I looked properly at my new feeding area. The kitchen was small but modern. It had white shiny units and wooden work surfaces. It was clean and uncluttered. Mind you, I reminded myself, no one lived here properly yet. In my old house, which it still pained me to think of, the kitchen had been very old fashioned and cluttered. It was dominated by a huge sideboard and there were decorative plates everywhere. I accidentally broke one when I was very young. Margaret had been so upset that I didn’t go near them again. However, I doubted that Claire had any decorative plates. She didn’t look the type.

‘Here you go,’ she said triumphantly, laying down a bowl that she had unpacked and poured some milk into. She then opened a packet and laid some smoked salmon on a plate. ‘Oh, what a glorious welcome,’ I thought. Obviously I hadn’t expected her to have cat food, but at the same time I hadn’t imagined getting such a treat. I would have been happy with anything today, even just milk. I decided there and then that I liked Claire. As I ate, she picked a glass out of the same box that had contained the bowl and pulled a bottle of wine out of the carrier bag. She poured a glass, drank it greedily and then poured another. I raised my eyes in surprise. She must have been very thirsty.

I finished eating, and rubbed against Claire’s legs in thanks. She seemed a bit lost but then she looked at me.

‘Oh dear, I need to call your owners,’ she said, as if she’d forgotten. I miaowed to tell her I didn’t have any, but she didn’t seem to understand. She crouched down and looked at my silver disc. She punched the numbers into her phone and waited. Although I knew no one would answer, I still felt nervous. ‘That’s odd,’ she said. ‘The phone line is dead; there must be a fault. Don’t worry, I’m not going to kick you out. Stay here tonight and I’ll try again tomorrow.’

I purred very loudly in thanks, and felt immensely relieved.

‘But, if you’re going to stay for the night, you need a bath,’ she said, picking me up. I pricked up my ears in horror. A bath? I was a cat, I bathed myself. I cried, as if to object. ‘Sorry, Alfie, but you smell terrible,’ she added. ‘Now, I’ll just go and unpack some towels and thenwe’ll sort you out.’

I resisted the urge to jump out of her arms and run away again. I hated water and I knew what a bath meant, having had one at Margaret’s a long time ago when I came home covered in mud. It was an awful experience, although, I reasoned, not as bad as being homeless, so I decided to once again be a brave cat.

She put me in front of a big mirror in her bedroom while she went to find the towels. I looked and I yelped in surprise. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought that I was looking at another animal; I looked even worse than I had initially felt. My fur was patchy, I looked so thin that I could see my bones poking through and despite my best efforts at cleaning myself, Claire was right, I looked dirty. I felt suddenly sad; it seemed that since Margaret’s death I had changed both inside and out.

Claire fetched me and took me to the bathroom where she ran the water and then put me gently in the bath. I screeched and wriggled a bit.

‘Sorry, Alfie, but you need a good wash.’ She looked a bit confused as she held a bottle in one of her hands. ‘It’s natural shampoo so it should be OK. Oh God, I don’t know, I’ve never had a cat before.’ She looked a bit upset. ‘And you’re not my cat. I hope your owner isn’t tooworried.’ I saw a tear escape out of her eye. ‘This isn’t what was supposed to happen.’ I wanted to comfort her; she clearly needed it, but I couldn’t because I was still in the bath and I felt like I resembled a giant soap sud.

After the bath, which seemed to go on forever, she wrapped me in a towel and dried me off.

When I finally felt dry again, I followed Claire to the living room, where she slumped onto the newly delivered sofa and I jumped up next to her. It was every bit as comfortable as I had hoped, and she didn’t tell me off or try to push me down. Like polite strangers, I sat on one side, she on the other. She picked up her glass, took a smaller sip, and sighed. I studied her as she looked around the room as if seeing it for the first time. There were boxes that needed unpacking, a television that satin the middle of the room and a small dining table and chairs tucked into a corner. Apart from the sofa, it wasn’t organised and it wasn’t really home yet. As if Claire had read my thoughts, she took another sip of her drink and then she burst into tears.

‘What the hell have I done?’ she said, crying noisily.

Despite the noise, I was upset at how distraught she had suddenly become, but I knew what I had to do. It was as if there was a reason I was here now; I felt a sense of purpose. Perhaps I could help Claire as much as she could help me? I moved across the sofa and nestled into her, laying my little head gently on her lap. She automatically stroked me, and although she was still crying, I was offering her the comfort that I somehow knew she needed and she was doing the same for me. You see, I understood, because at that moment I knew with certainty in my heart that we were kindred spirits.

I had come home again.

[Êàðòèíêà: i_008.jpg]

Chapter Seven

It had been a week since I’d been living with Claire and we had settled into quite a comfortable routine, although not an entirely healthy one. She cried a lot and I snuggled a lot, which suited me just fine. I loved to cuddle, and I had a lot of lost time to make up for. I just wished I could do something to stop Claire from crying so much. It was clear that she needed my help and I vowed I would give it in any way I could.

Claire had tried to phone the number on my disc again, then she’d phoned the telephone company and discovered it had been disconnected. She assumed I’d been abandoned, and that seemed to make her like me even more. She cried over it and said that she couldn’t understand how anyone could do that to me. She also said that she totally understood, as it had happened to her, although I was yet to discover the details. But I knew that I had a home with her. She started buying me cat food and special milk. She got me a litter tray, not that I really liked using them, and she was talking, luckily only talking, about taking me to the vet. Vets tended to poke around where they were not wanted, but she hadn’t called them so far, so paws crossed she’d forget about that.

Despite the almost constant crying, Claire was very efficient. She managed to get all her furniture arranged and her boxes unpacked in only a couple of days. She organised the house and it quickly looked like a home. Pictures were hung on the walls, cushions scattered literally everywhere, and suddenly warmth flooded into every room; I had chosen well.

However, as I said, it wasn’t a happy home. Claire had been unpacking and I had watched her, trying my best to work out her story. She arranged lots of photographs in the front room, telling me who was in them; her mum and dad, pictures of herself as a child, her younger brother, friends and extended family. For a while she was animated and happy, and I rewarded her positivity by brushing up against her legs the way she told me she liked. I did this a lot for her; after all, I needed her to love me so I wouldn’t have to go back to the streets again. I needed to love her, too, although I was finding this increasingly easy to do.

One evening, she unpacked a photo which she didn’t tell me about. It was a picture of her in a white dress, holding hands with a man who looked very smart. I’d learnt enough about humans to know that this was what they called a ‘wedding photo’, when two people joined together and said they would only mate with each other – something this cat certainly didn’t understand. She sank into the sofa, clutching the photo against her chest, and started sobbing loudly. I sat next to her, giving her my equivalent of a cry, which was a loud yowl, but she didn’t seem to take any notice of me. But then I started yowling in earnest; like Claire, I couldn’t stop, as my loss flooded my memory. Although I didn’t know if the man in the suit had left her, or died the way my Margaret had, I knew then that she really was on her own. Just as I had been. We sat side by side, her crying, me yowling, at the top of our voices.

After a couple more days, Claire left early in the morning, saying that she had to go to work. She looked a bit better, as she put on a smart outfit and brushed her hair. She even had some colour to her face, although I wasn’t sure it was exactly natural. I was also beginning to look better, even in a few short days. My fur was beginning to even out a bit and I was putting on weight again, now that I was eating so much and exercising so little. As we stood side by side, looking in Claire’s big mirror, I thought wemade a very cute couple. Or we had the potential to be, at the very least.

But although Claire left food for me, I missed her company when she was at work and felt sad to be alone again. I had Tiger of course and we spent time together, our friendship growing as we chased flies, went for short strolls and basked in the sun in her back garden, but that was my cat friendship; I knew that more than anything now I needed humans I could rely on.

When Claire was out at work, it brought back unwelcome memories and made me think that it was time to carry on with my plan. If I was going to ensure that I was never on my own again, I would need more than one home. That was the sad fact of life.

I’d seen a ‘Sold’ sign go up outside number 46, at about the same time that one had been erected outside Claire’s house and I’d been scoping both, but of course Claire had arrived first. However, I’d noticed that 46 was now also occupied. This house was just far enough apart from Claire’s to give me a short walk. It was on the part of the road that had the larger houses – the ‘posh’ bit, as I had been told by the cats that lived here and who seemed very proud and a little bit boastful of the fact. It looked like it would be a good place to live too, for at least part of the time.

Edgar Road was an unusual road; because of the different types of houses, there was a real difference in the types of people who lived there. The house I had lived in with Margaret, the only house I had ever known, was a small house on a very tiny street– completely different to some of the huge houses that lined the far end of the road.

Claire’s house was medium sized, and this house – number 46 – was among the best. It was bigger than Claire’s house; taller and wider, and the windows were large and imposing. I could imagine myself sitting on a windowsill looking out of one of them quite happily. As it was a big house, I assumedthat a family would be living there and I quite liked the idea of being a family cat too. Now, don’t get me wrong, I liked Claire very much and had grown extremely fond of her. I had no intention of abandoning her, but I needed to have more than one home – just to make sure I didn’t end up alone again.

It was dawn when I turned my attention to number 46. A very slick car with only two seats was parked outside, which worried me, as that didn’t seem to be appropriate for a family. But still, I had already made my decision, so I wanted to investigate further. I made my way round to the back of the house where I found, to my delight, that there was a cat flap waiting for me.

I found myself in a very smart room with a washing machine, dryer and huge fridge freezer. It loomed over me, like a giant, making a loud humming noise that hurt my ears. I pushed through an open door and walked into an enormous kitchen, which was dominated by a large dining table. I felt as if I’d struck gold; a table that big would definitely need lots of children around it, and everyone knew that children loved cats. I’d be spoilt. I felt my excitement grow; I really wanted to be spoilt.

Just as I was dreaming of all the food, games and cuddles I’d get, a woman and a man entered the room.

‘I didn’t know you had a cat,’ she said, screeching slightly. The pitch of her voice was quite high, a bit like a mouse. I was disappointed to see that she didn’t look at all motherly; she wore a very tight dress with shoes that were almost higher than me. I wondered how on earth she managed to breathe or walk. She also looked like she hadn’t seen any grooming in a while. Now, I’m not a judgemental cat as a general rule, but I pride myself on always taking care of my appearance. I started to clean my paws and lick down my fur in the hope that she’d take the hint.

Her voice was like the woman in one of the soap operas I used to watch with Margaret.EastEnders, I think it was called.

I blinked at the man to say‘hello’ but he didn’t blink back.

‘I don’t,’ he replied in a cold voice. I looked at him. He was tall with dark hair and quite a handsome face, but he didn’t look very friendly and as he looked me over, he began to seem a bit cross.

‘I moved in a couple of days ago and only just noticed that there’s a bloody cat flap which I’ll have to block up before all the scraggy neighbourhood cats take up residence here.’ He glared at me, as if to convey that he was talking about me. I shrank into myself defensively.

I couldn’t believe my ears. This man was horrible and it was a huge disappointment that there were no children around. There were no toys in the kitchen anyway, and these two didn’t seem to be capable of looking after a cat or a child. It looked as if I had got it very wrong. So much for a cat’s intuition.

‘Oh, Jonathan,’ the lady said. ‘Don’t be so mean. He’s a cute little thing. And he might be hungry.’ I instantly regretted my unkind thoughts; this lady might look like a mess but she was kind. My hope began to rise.

‘I know very little about cats and I don’t care to know more,’ he replied, sounding haughty. ‘But I do know that if you give them food they’ll come back, so let’s not go there. Anyway, I have work to do. I’ll show you out.’

The woman looked as upset as I felt, as Jonathan led her to the door. I curled myself up, trying to look my youngest and cutest for his return. But instead of melting, as I expected, he picked me up and threw– literally, threw – me out of the front door. I landed on my feet, so luckily I was unhurt.

‘New house, new start, not a new bloody cat,’ he said, as he slammed the door in my face.

I shook myself off, mortally offended. How dare that man treat me like that? I also felt sorry for the woman he threw out. I hoped he hadn’t manhandled her in the same way.

I suppose that should have been the end of my attempt to make a home out of number 46, but then, I’m not a cat to give up easily. I couldn’t believe that the man, Jonathan, was as horrible as he seemed. Using my cat senses, I got the feeling that he was more miserable than mean. After all, when the lady left, he was clearly alone, and I knew all about how hideous that could be.

I rushed back to Claire’s to see her before she went to work. I could tell she’d been crying, because she was putting lots of stuff on her face to hide it. When she’d finished making herself look nice (which took her much longer than it took me), she fed and petted me, before grabbing her bag and leaving the house again. I walked her to the door, rubbing myself against her legs, purring and trying to convey that I was there for her.

And wishing that there was more I could do to make her feel better.

‘Alfie, what would I do without you?’ she rewarded me by saying, before she left. I preened myself. After being horribly rejected by Jonathan, it was nice to be appreciated. I was falling in love with this sad young lady that I somehow knew I needed to help. People accuse us cats of being self-centred and egotistical but that is often far from the case. I was a cat who wanted to aid those in need. I was a kind, loving type of cat with a very special new mission to help people.

I should have left Jonathan and number 46 alone, but something drew me back. My Margaret used to say that angry people were really just unhappy people, and she was the wisest person I’d ever met. When I first moved in with her, Agnes was very angry and Margaret said that it was because she was worried I would take her place. Agnes confirmed this, when she thawed towards me. I learnt then that anger and unhappiness were fine basket mates.

So I returned to number 46. The car was absent from the front so the coast was clear. Feeling brave, I went through the cat flap and took a look around. I’d been right, the house was big and looked as if it should contain a family but, on closer inspection, it was a manly space. There were no soft touches, no floral patterns, no pink. It was all gleaming surfaces, glass and chrome. His sofa was the sort that I’d seen in some of the smart lookingfurniture shop windows I’d passed on my travels; metal and cream, which would never suit children – or cats, for that matter. I walked across the sofa, back and forth a few times, feeling satisfied. My paws were clean though, so I wasn’t being that naughty – I just wanted to test it out. I made my way upstairs, where I found four bedrooms; two had beds, one was an office, and the last was full of boxes. This house had no personal touches. No happy photos, nothing to suggest that anyone lived there apart from the furniture. It seemed as cold as the big, scary fridge freezer.

I decided that this Jonathan man would be something of a challenge. After fending for myself for so long, I knew what I was capable of. This man clearly didn’t like me, or any cat for that matter, but that wasn’t a new experience for me. As I thought of Agnes again, her near-black face popped into my head and made me smile. I missed her so much, it was like there was a part of me missing.

Agnes was the opposite to me in every way; a very gentle old cat. She would spend most of her time sitting in the window on a special cushion watching the world go by.

When I arrived, a playful bundle of fluff, she immediately took umbrage.

‘If you think you’re staying in my house, you can think again,’ she hissed at me when we first met. She tried to attack me a couple of times but I was too fast for her, and Margaret would chastise her before making even more of a fuss of me, giving me treats and buying me toys. After a while,Agnes decided that she would reluctantly accept me as long as I didn’t bother her, and slowly, I charmed her and won her round. By the time the vet said that she had to go to cat heaven, we were family and we loved each other. I felt a physical pain as I remembered how Agnes would groom me, just as my mother had done when I was born.

If I could get around the intimidating Agnes, then surely Jonathan would be cat’s play?

After stalking round his house wondering what he would do with all that space, I decided that I would go out and get him a gift. Despite the fact that hunting wasn’t my favourite pastime, I wanted to make friends with him and this was the only way I knew how.

My cat comrades from my time on the streets had given me mixed messages. Some of them took their gifts in constantly, despite the fact that at times, it made their owners angry. Others, like me, were smarter about when it was appropriate. It was, after all, our way of showing we cared. And I presumed that Jonathan was a man who liked to hunt, he seemed quite like an Alpha Tom, so I was pretty sure he would appreciate a gift. It would show him that we had something in common.

I called for Tiger and asked if she wanted to join me.

‘I was sleeping. Why can’t you be a normal cat and hunt at night?’ she sighed, although she reluctantly agreed to come with me.

She was right, cats normally hunted at night, but in my time on the streets I had learnt that it was also possible to find prey during the day which was my preference. I started prowling, and it didn’t take long for me to locate a juicy mouse. I crouched down low ready to pounce and then I quickly went in for the kill. The mouse ran one way then the other so I had difficulty trapping it with my paw. I flicked this way and that as it continued to elude me.

‘You are such a terrible hunter,’ Tiger laughed as she stood back watching.

‘You could help me,’ I hissed but she laughed again. Finally, just before I ran out of patience the mouse ran out of energy. I pounced again and at last I had it in my paws.

‘Do you want to come with me to take it to Jonathan’s?’ I asked.

‘Yes, I want to see your second home,’ Tiger replied.

I decided that as I wanted Jonathan to like me, I wouldn’t decapitate the mouse, and so I carefully carried it in my mouth through the cat flap. I deposited it by the front door, so there was no way that he could miss it. I briefly wished that I could write, because if I could, I’d leave a note saying, ‘Welcome to your new home,’ but instead I could only hope he would get my lovely message.

[Êàðòèíêà: i_009.jpg]

Chapter Eight

I was late getting back to number 78, because Tiger and I had been lurking in the bushes, playing with falling leaves and waiting for Jonathan to get back. But as it got later, the sky began to darken and I started to get hungry. Due to my sacrifice of the mouse, I hadn’t eaten since breakfast so, reluctantly, I made my way back to Claire.

I let myself in through the cat flap and found her in the kitchen.

‘Hello, Alfie,’ she said, bending down to give me a stroke. ‘Where have you been today? she asked. I replied with a purr. She reached into the cupboard and brought down a tin of cat food. She opened a carton of special cat milk.

‘Don’t mind if I do,’ I thought, as I tucked in. When I’d eaten, I cleaned my whiskers thoroughly, while I watched Claire tidy up. I was learning more about Claire every day. Despite the fact that she seemed depressed, she was also very clean and tidy – that explained my horrible bath. She wouldn’t even leave an empty glass on the side in the kitchen. Everything was washed up, and put away. She was the same with her clothes. The house was immaculate, and she cleaned all surfaces frequently. More than was necessary, I thought. She had bought me special bowls to eat from and she’dplace them on the floor for me, but when I’d finished dining, she would scoop them up and clean them immediately, and then she would spray and clean the floor. I was a pretty fastidious cat when it came to personal hygiene, but being with Claire made me clean myself more than usual; I didn’t want her to think I wasn’t worthy of her spotless house. And I especially didn’t want another bath.

Every day when she got back from work, which she had told me was in a big office, doing something called‘Marketing’, she would shower – she was always moaning about the dirt in London – then she would change into pyjamas, pour herself something to drink, and go and sit on the sofa. She would then normally start to cry. It had become a set routine in the short time that I’d been here.

She did eat, but very little, and I couldn’t help but notice that she was really quite bony, the way I had been when I’d first arrived here. I knew I needed to try to get her to eat more food but I had no idea how. She seemed to drink quite a lot from a fancy glass, though. She always kept a bottle of wine in the fridge and she would empty it almost nightly. It made me think of the homeless people who had threatened to eat me. I know she wasn’t like them, but Button had explained the human concept of being drunk and I think Claire spent most nights a little bit so. After all, it was usually after a couple of these drinks that she would start crying. And although I would always comfort her when she did this, whatever I did, I couldn’t get her to stop. It made me sad, because all I wanted to do was to make her smile or at least put a stop to her tears.

So far, I had tried playing‘hiding behind the curtains’, to make her laugh, but she had acted as if I was invisible. I even fell off the windowsill once in my attempt to cheer her up and she didn’t notice that either, despite the fact that I yelped in pain. I tried crying with her; purring, nuzzling into her with my little warm head, giving her my precious tail to play with, but to no end. When she got very sad she would shut everything out, including me.

At night, when she went to bed, I would go and sleep on an armchair next to her. She put a blanket on it for me, so it was perfectly comfortable, and it meant I could keep an eye on her. I would doze a bit but for most of the night I would watch her sleep, trying to make her feel that she wasn’t on her own. When her alarm went off in the morning, I would gently jump on her and lick her nose. I wanted her to feel loved when she opened her eyes every day, just as I did.

But still, I felt sad myself, sometimes. Worrying about Claire was emotionally tiring, but I hoped that if I just stuck to my plan to help her, somehow I would know what to do; the answers had to be there somewhere.

We had just gone into the sitting room that evening; her with her glass, me with my catnip toy that she had kindly bought me, when the doorbell rang. She looked a bit surprised as she went to open the door. I followed her protectively, touching her legs as she walked. A man stood on her doorstep. At first, I wondered if it was the man from the photo, but on closer inspection it wasn’t, although I did recognise him from some of the pictures. It was Tim, Claire’s brother. She didn’t look very happy to see him, though.

‘Didn’t take long for you to embrace the clich?,’ he said.

‘What are you talking about?’ she snapped.

‘Single women and cats. Sorry Claire, only joking.’ He smiled, but she did not and neither did I; we both stood aside and let him in. We followed him into the living room.

‘What are you doing here, Tim?’ she asked, as she gestured for him to sit down. I stayed by her side.

‘Can’t I visit my sister?’ he replied. He tried to stroke me but I arched myself away from him; I wasn’t sure if he was friend or foe. ‘Who’s this?’ he asked.

‘Alfie, he came with the house. Anyway, why didn’t you tell me you were coming? It’s not as if you could have been just passing.’

‘I’m only an hour and a half away, Claire, and it was a spur of the moment thing.’

Claire seemed to be scrutinising him as she sat down in an armchair. I jumped onto her lap, trying to give Tim a haughty look, although I’m not sure I pulled it off. Sometimes it’s hard being as cute as me; people and cats don’t take me seriously.

‘Why didn’t you call me, at least?’ she pushed.

‘OK, let’s cut to the chase. I’m guessing you’re not going to offer me a drink?’ he asked. She shook her head resolutely.

‘Mum asked me to come. She’s worried about you. You know, it’s only been six months since Steve left you. You sell up and move a four-hour drive away from your home and Mum and Dad; from your friends and your job, to London – not exactly a friendly city – where you’ve never lived, and don’t know anyone. Of course we’re worried. Worried sick. And Mum is beside herself.’

‘Well you can stop worrying. Look at me, I’m fine.’ She looked and sounded angry.

‘Claire, Iam looking at you, and you seem anything but fine.’

Claire sighed.‘Tim, I needed to get away, can’t you try to understand? Steve left me for another woman and they live down the road from my old house, not to mention near Mum and Dad. I couldn’t bear to see them every day, which I would have done if I’d stayed. I think you should all be proud of me. I gave him the quick divorce he wanted. I didn’t make a fuss. I sold our home, got myself a really good job, and bought this house. I did all that while my heart was broken into a thousand pieces.’ She stopped and wiped the tears from her cheek. I nestled into her as much as I could.

‘And that is great, Claire,’ Tim sounded softer too. ‘But we’re worried about how you really are. You’ve done amazingly, but you’re unhappy and Mum feels that you’re too far away. Can you just do me a favour and go home for the weekend soon, just to reassure her?’

I thought that it might be a good idea; Claire would see her family and it would give me a chance to explore further, without having to worry about her. Was I being selfish? I hoped not.

‘Listen, Tim, I’ll make a deal. I’ll go home one weekend if you promise to tell Mum that I seem all right to you.’

‘OK Sis, I’ll do that, but you know what? Can you at least make me a cup of tea before I start the long drive back?’

I decided to make friends with Tim when I realised he was an ally for Claire. We played with some of my toys together and I liked the way he got down on his hands and knees to fuss me, not minding that he looked daft. I rolled on my back, with my legs in the air and let him tickle my tummy; one of my favourite things ever. And while we played, he asked me to look after his sister and I tried to convey to him that I definitely would. I felt the weight of responsibility but I was ready for it. After we waved him off, I wondered if I could sneak out and go and see if Jonathan was home, but instead, Claire picked me up and carried me up to bed.

[Êàðòèíêà: i_010.jpg]

Chapter Nine

I arrived again at number 46 when it was barely light. Claire had told me that she had an early start at work and although she took the time to leave me some food, she rushed out of the door without giving me any affection. I tried not to be offended; humans were like that, they had a lot more stuff going on than we cats did. But still, it reinforced my view that I needed more people to look after me.

I let myself in through the cat flap. The house was so quiet, almost eerie. It was also in darkness all the curtains were drawn and the blinds down. Being largely nocturnal animals, we cats are very good at seeing in the dark and using our other senses to negotiate our way around. I was quite an expert at dodging both indoor dangers, like furniture, and outdoor ones, like trees and other animals.

I wondered for a moment what it would be like, being Jonathan. Having this big space, but being in it alone. That made no sense to me. In my cat basket in my old house, I would curl into the side, making myself as cosy as possible. If I’d had a basket that was any bigger, it wouldn’t have felt like home. Actually, my favourite times were after Agnes thawed towards me and we shared a basket. The warmth and the comfort that I got from her was wonderful. I missed it every day of my life. I wondered if Jonathan felt the same, andwhether that was why the woman had been in his house yesterday. Did they snuggle like Agnes and I did? I thought they probably did. Although, if he wasn’t nicer to her, I doubted she would come back.

I sat in the hallway at the bottom of the staircase. One of the many things wrong with Jonathan’s house was his lack of carpet. Every floor was wooden, which could be quite a lot of fun for a cat – I had already discovered the joy of sliding along the floor on my bottom – but it was cold, and I loved a carpet to scratch at. And instead of curtains to play with, he had these rigid things which weren’t any fun. I realised, yet again, that this wasn’t really a house meant for a cat, but I still couldn’t help but be drawn to it.

After what seemed like ages, a dishevelled Jonathan appeared on the stairs, still wearing his pyjamas. He looked tired and scruffy; a bit like I did before a good groom. He stopped and stared straight at me, but he didn’t exactly look pleased to see me.

‘Please tell me you didn’t leave the dead mouse on my mat?’ he said crossly.

I gave him my best purr, as if to say,‘You’re welcome.’

‘You bloody cat. I thought I told you that you weren’t wanted here.’ He looked and sounded angry as he pushed past me into the kitchen. He took a mug out of the cupboard and started pressing buttons on a machine. I watched as coffee poured into the cup. He went to the fridge, which looked like a spaceship, and pulled out some milk. As he poured some into his mug I licked my lips hopefully. He ignored me, so I let out my loudest miaow.

‘If you think I’m giving you milk, you’ve got another think coming,’ he snapped.

Honestly, he really was playing hard to get. I miaowed again to convey my disapproval.

‘I don’t need a pet,’ he continued, as he sipped his drink. ‘I need peace and quiet, to try to get my life here sorted out.’ I pricked my ears to show I was interested. ‘I don’t need dead mice on my doorstep, thank you very much, and I don’t need anyone disrupting my peace.’

I purred again, this time in an effort to win him round a bit.

‘It’s bad enough being in this bloody cold country again.’ He looked at me as if he was speaking to a human. If I could have, I would have told him that it wasn’t that cold, after all, it was summer. He continued. ‘I miss Singapore. I miss the heat and I miss the lifestyle. I made one mistake and that was that. Back here. No job, no girlfriend.’ He paused to take another sip of his drink. My eyes narrowed as he began to open up. ‘Oh yes, she left me soon enough when I lost my job. Three years of paying for everything for her and she couldn’t even console me for one day before she buggered off. And yes, I was lucky that I had enough money to buy this house, but let’s face it, it’s hardly bloody Chelsea, is it?’ I didn’t exactly know what ‘Chelsea’ was, but I tried to look as if I agreed with him.

I felt happy as I flicked my tail up in triumph. I was right; he was sad and lonely and not just a grumpy man, although hewas undoubtedly grumpy. But I saw an opportunity; a small one, but one all the same. Jonathan needed a friend, and this cat made an excellent friend.

‘And why am I talking to a bloody cat? It’s not as if you even understand.’ How little he knew, I thought, as he drank the rest of his coffee. To show that I did indeed understand, I rubbed up against his legs, giving him the affection that I knew he craved. He looked surprised but he didn’t immediately pull away. I decided to push my luck, so I jumped up onto his lap. He looked surprised. However, just as he looked like he would soften, he bristled.

‘Right, I am going to phone your owner and tell them that you need collecting,’ he said, angrily. He gently took hold of my disc and then he did what Claire had done and dialled the number. When the number didn’t work, he tutted and looked annoyed.

‘Where the hell do you live?’ I tilted my head at him. ‘Look, you need to go home. I can’t stand around all day dealing with you. I’ve got a job to find and a cat flap to get removed.’ He looked at me with mean eyes before walking away.

I felt happier, though. Firstly, he had started talking to me, which was a very good sign, and secondly, he hadn’t thrown me out. He had walked away knowing I was still in his house. Maybe he was growing to like me. I really thought this man might have a bark worse than his bite.

I tentatively followed him upstairs, but kept out of the way as I looked around. I wanted to learn more about him, so I thought observing him would be a good idea.

He was a tall man, and not fat at all. I prided myself on my appearance and, by the looks of it, Jonathan did, too. We definitely had something in common there. He took a very long shower in a room which was attached to his bedroom, and when he came out, he opened a long built-in wardrobe and picked out a suit. When dressed, he looked smart, like one of those men in the old black and white films my Margaret used to love. She said they were‘suave and handsome, just as men should be’, and I have to say, I think she would have approved of Jonathan’s looks.

Quietly I made my way downstairs, careful that he hadn’t seen me watching him, and I waited again, at the bottom of the stairs.

‘You still here, Alfie?’ he said, but he didn’t sound quite as hostile as before.

I miaowed in reply. He shook his head but I felt warm inside; he had used my name!

He went to the cupboard under the stairs, where there was a row of black shiny shoes, and picked out a pair. He sat on the stairs to put them on. Then he pulled a jacket off the coat rack and took his keys from the console table in the hall.

‘Right, Alfie, I guess you can show yourself out this time, and please don’t let me find you here when I get back. Or any more dead things.’ As he shut the door behind me, I stretched my legs in pleasure. I knew now that I could help Jonathan. He was sad, angry and lonely and, like Claire, hereally needed me. He just might not have realised it yet.

He was softening, and so quickly. I thought about what I could do to win him over, and I realised that despite what he said, he needed another present. But not a mouse this time, something a bit prettier. A bird! That was it, I would bring him a bird. After all, nothing says‘let’s be friends’ like a dead bird.

Later that afternoon, I deposited the bird on the doormat as I had done with the mouse. Surely now Jonathan would understand that I wanted to be his friend. I felt quite happy, so I decided to take a walk to the end of the street, basking in the sunshine. It wasn’t exactly hot, but it was a nice day and if you found the right spot, you could sunbathe. I found a lovely sunny area in front of one of the uglier modern houses that had been split into two flats. The front doors sat side by side; 22A and 22B, and they looked identical.

They both had‘Letting Agreed’ signs standing outside, with a logo I had seen many times in this street. I enjoyed sitting in the sun for a while. There was no sign of anyone at either house yet, but I made a note to myself to come back – I knew that people would be coming soon. And after all, life was still a bit precarious. Claire loved me but wasn’t at home during the day, and she was going away at the weekend. Jonathan, well, that could still go either way, despite my determination. I needed more options.

I had discovered that I could rely on myself, but that didn’t suit a cat like me. I didn’t want to be feral, and fighting. I wanted to be on someone’s lap, or a warm blanket, being fed out of tins and given milk and affection. That was the kind of cat I was; I couldn’t change that, and I really didn’t want to.

The cold, lonely nights of the past few months were still fresh in my mind: the fear that had lived with me every minute; the hunger; the exhaustion. It wasn’t something I would ever be able to face again, and it wasn’t something I would ever forget. I needed a family, I needed love and I needed security. It was all I wanted, yearned for, and I would never ask for anything more than that.

As the sun began to disappear, I strolled back. I thought about how funny life could be. I was so lonely when Agnes died, it made me ill. I pined for her terribly and my owner took me to the dreaded vet. I had stopped eating and relieving myself, and Kathy, the vet, said that I’d given myself a bladder infection. She said it was due to grief, as she prodded and poked around. Margaret had seemed surprised; she hadn’t thought that cats felt emotions like humans. Maybe it wasn’t exactly the same, but it was pretty bad. I was mourning Agnes, and it had made me ill. AndClaire was mourning Steve, the man in the suit, and Jonathan was mourning something called ‘Singapore’. I saw the grief in them as I had felt it myself. So I decided I would be there for them, as any decent cat would be.

[Êàðòèíêà: i_011.jpg]

Chapter Ten

I called for Tiger at about lunchtime, as I wanted to show her the flats at number 22. We took a leisurely stroll up there– Tiger wasn’t one for rushing around when she didn’t need to – and we stopped only to tease a big ugly dog, who was shut in his front garden. The game was to go right up to the gate, and poke a paw through, making him lunge forward. Tiger and I would then jump back, which made us very happy. The dog got so angry; he was barking wildly, and flashing his snarling teeth at us. It was most fun. The dog tried to jump up, but everyone knows that cats can jump higher than dogs. I didn’t think we would ever tire of this game but eventually, Tiger wanted to stop.

‘I think we’ve embarrassed him enough,’ she said. I flashed him my best cat grin as we stalked off. If he had been free he wouldn’t have thought twice about chasing us and frightening us half to death. That was the way of the world.

The flats at number 22 were still empty when we got there, but as we went to the small front lawn, Tiger gave me her approval. We decided to take the back way home, so we could jump up and balance on fences, to make a change. We chased the odd bird, too, for added entertainment. It was a lovely afternoon.

I had a short cat nap and was waiting for Claire when she got home, which seemed to please her. She gave me a big, bright smile.

‘Alfie, we have a guest for dinner tonight,’ she said, sounding excited. She went off to shower. When she came back downstairs she was wearing a pair of jeans and a jumper, not pyjamas. She started cooking and although she poured a glass of wine as she did this, for once she wasn’t crying. She fed and petted me, as she pulled things out of the fridge and put them in a pan. She was happier than I had ever seen her as she hummed to herself, and I wondered if the man in the picture was coming round. I felt afraid for her as well as optimistic.

The doorbell went and she rushed to open the door. When she did, I saw a woman who looked around the same age as Claire standing there, holding out some flowers and wine.

‘Hi Tasha, come in,’ Claire smiled.

‘Hi Claire, what a gorgeous house,’ Tasha exclaimed, cheerily, as she entered.

I watched them as Tasha took her coat off and Claire asked her if she wanted a glass of wine, before they sat down at the small dining table.

‘You’re my first proper visitor,’ Claire said. I felt a little bit put out; I was her first proper visitor, surely?

‘Well, cheers to that and welcome to London! It’s good to see you out of the office.’

‘Is it always that crazy at work?’ Claire asked.

‘Yes, or even crazier!’ Tasha laughed and I immediately liked her. I settled myself under the table and brushed against her leg. She rewarded me by stroking my tail in a very lovely way – something I really enjoyed. I wanted Claire and Tasha to be friends, so I could be friends with her too.

I was right, it seemed Tasha’s visit was doing her good as Claire did eat properly and I hoped that perhaps she was turning a corner. When I began to stop pining for Agnes my appetite came back, perhaps hers was too.

‘So, tell me what brought you to London?’ Tasha asked.

‘It’s a long story,’ Claire replied, and she poured them both more wine before she started talking.

I stayed still under the table, huddled in the warmth of Tasha’s leg, and listened as Claire filled in the blanks of her recent life. As she spoke, I could hear her voice change but I knew she wasn’t crying; she went from sad, to angry, and back to sad again.

‘I married Steve, after we’d been together for three years. We lived together for a year and he proposed as soon as we moved in.’

‘When did you get married?’ Tasha asked.

‘Just over a year ago. I hadn’t had much luck in love, to be honest. My mum always said I was a late starter. I didn’t really have a relationship until I went to university! I was studious, I guess. But then I met Steve. I was living in Exeter, in Devon, working for a marketing consultancy, and I met him at a party. He was handsome and lovely. I fell for him straight away.’

‘Right,’ Tasha said, draining her glass and pouring more drinks.

‘I thought he was the perfect man; funny, kind and charming. And when he proposed I thought I’d burst with happiness. I was about to turn thirty-five, I wanted children really badly, and he agreed. We said that we’d get married and enjoy a bit of a honeymoon, then try for a baby.’ Claire wiped a tear from her eye. She was being stronger than I’d ever seen her, but her sadness was all around us.

‘Are you sure you want to tell me?’ Tasha asked, softly. Claire nodded and took a sip of her drink before continuing.

‘Sorry, but I haven’t spoken about it to many people.’

‘Please, don’t apologise.’ Tasha was definitely a woman after my own heart.

‘But then about three months after the wedding, he changed. He became moody and short-tempered and whenever I asked what was wrong, he just snapped at me. It got to the point that I was almost too scared to speak in my own home.’

I felt many emotions listening to Claire’s story; sadness, anger, and real affection for the woman who took care of me. If I ever saw this awful man, I’d scratch him across the face. And I’m not even a violent cat.

‘About eight months after the wedding he told me that he’d made a terrible mistake. He had fallen in love with someone else and he left me and moved in with her. I knew who she was, she worked in his gym. What a clich?, eh?’

‘What a jerk, more like,’ Tasha said.

‘I know, but I feel like such a fool. I really thought that he was the one, and I had no idea that he was probably cheating on me for ages. And that’s why I moved. They lived in the same area as me. Exeter is a small city and I knew that I’d probably see them all the time. I couldn’t bear that.’ I finally understood why Claire was here and why she cried so much. It just made me love her more – I wanted to take care of her as much as she took care of me.

‘Sometimes I think that you never truly know another person,’ Tasha said, sounding sad.

‘Sorry,’ Claire said, suddenly sitting up straight and pulling herself together, ‘I haven’t asked about you. You say your husband’s called Dave?’

‘Boyfriend, or “partner”, if we’re being PC. We’ve been together for ten years, neither of us wants to get married but that’s more about marriage than our relationship, I hope. We’re happy. We don’t have children, but it’s in the plans for the next year or so. Dave plays football too much and is messy and I drive him crazy in other ways, but we work.’ Tasha almost looked apologetic.

‘I’m glad, because then there’s always hope,’ Claire smiled. I realised that although I was sure she was crying because of Steve, she was also lonely in other ways and Tasha might help her with that. I knew she had me but I wasn’t so vain that I didn’t know she also needed human friends.

‘Look, I have a book group. It’s a bit lame, because we drink wine and gossip more than we talk about the books, but why don’t you join us? It’d be a really good way for you to meet people and they are a really lovely bunch, even if I do say so myself.’

‘I’d love to. I need to rebuild my life now, that’s why I came here.’

‘Let’s drink to that,’ she raised her glass. ‘New beginnings.’

I couldn’t resist it; I jumped onto the table, knowing full well that humans didn’t really like that, and I raised my paw to touch the glass, which was my way of joining in. They both looked at me and laughed.

‘That’s an incredible cat you’ve got there,’ Tasha said, giving me a very big fuss.

‘I know, he came with the house. Although, Alfie, you shouldn’t be on the table.’ But Claire wasn’t cross; she laughed. I grinned my cat grin and jumped down.

They both seemed happy, so I thought it might be a good time to check on my other friend, Jonathan, and see if he had received my latest present yet. They didn’t seem to notice me leave via the cat flap, as they were still laughing. It seemed that Tasha made Claire happy and I was very glad of it.

It was dark and the temperature had dropped as I made my way through the back gardens to number 46. The big fat Tom who had bullied me before tried to scare me, but I just yelled as loudly as I could at him and he backed off. He was too fat to chase me anyway. I went through the cat flap and into Jonathan’s immaculate kitchen. It was in darkness but I soon found him sitting on the sofa in his living room. In front of him was a computer and there was a man’s face on the screen, which seemed to be talking.

‘Thanks mate, I appreciate it,’ Jonathan said.

‘No worries.’ The man on the screen spoke English but with a funny-sounding accent. He looked about the same age as Jonathan, but not so handsome.

‘I’m just grateful that I’ve got a job, I can’t cope with having nothing to do.’

‘It’s not quite the same as SSV, but it’s a good company and it should suit you.’

‘If you’re ever in the UK, I’ll buy you dinner,’ Jonathan said.

‘Same if you come to Sydney. Anyway, see you mate.’

Jonathan closed the lid on the computer and it was time for me to make my entrance. Standing as tall as I could, I lifted my tail magnificently in the air. I strode, with my best cat walk, one foot crossing over the other, and moved slowly, but purposefully, to where Jonathan was sitting.

He sighed deeply.

‘You again. And I’m guessing you left me the dead bird this time?’ He didn’t sound as cross as he had done; I knew he would be pleased. I tilted my head and miaowed at him. I was sure he really liked the bird.

‘Why do cats not understand that humans don’t want dead animals in their houses?’ I looked at him curiously. I understood this with some people but I knew that Jonathan was like most cats; he liked the chase and the kill, I could tell. He wouldn’t admit it but I was pretty sure he was beginning to enjoy my presents. He stood up.

‘Let’s make a deal. If I feed you, will you leave me alone?’ I tilted my head again. Once more, I knew he didn’t mean it. ‘It might work; after all, it seems that if I don’t feed you, you come back, so maybe you’re the sort of cat that prefers reverse psychology.’

I had no idea what he was talking about, but he went to the fridge, took out some prawns and dropped them in a bowl for me. He then poured me a saucer of milk.

‘I’m only doing this because I’m in a good mood. I’ve got a job, you see,’ he said, as I concentrated on the feast laid out before me; I was overjoyed. He went back to the fridge, took out a bottle, opened it and started drinking. ‘I’m so relieved, I was beginning to think that I’d never get another job.’ He shuddered and I kept eating.

‘What on earth is wrong with me?’ he asked. ‘I’m talking to a bloody cat. Surely that’s the second sign of madness.’ I fleetingly wondered what the first sign was.

When I had finished eating, I licked my paws clean, noticing that he was watching me as he nursed a beer. When I’d finished, I went to rub his legs in thanks and then, as quickly as I had arrived, I left.

I knew how to play this man; I didn’t want him to think that I was a needy cat. Alpha males didn’t like needy, I had learnt that from the soap operas as well. And anyway, look how far I had come already. From being a terrified, broken-hearted, lonely little cat, to one who had survived the streets and now had two new friends to care for. I hoped Margaret and Agnes could see me from wherever they were, and that they would be proud of me.

Thinking about my old life made me sad, but despite that, I smiled to myself all the way back to Claire’s. Not only had I had two dinners tonight, but now I knew for sure that Jonathan liked me and it would only be a matter of time before I could call his big house home, too.

I thought to the weekend ahead; Claire had told me she would be going to see her parents, but I knew she would leave me food. As much as I would miss her, I was quite glad she was going away, as it would give me the chance to bond properly with Jonathan. I was pretty certain that after spending more time with me he would find me irresistible. After all, it had only taken me a few days to get Agnes on side and she was far more moody and stubborn a cat than Jonathan was a man.

[Êàðòèíêà: i_012.jpg]

Chapter Eleven

As Claire packed her things, I realised that she was nervous. She kept biting her lip and stopping to sit down, as if her legs didn’t work properly. I prided myself on being a perceptive cat; I assumed that she was scared of bumping into that awful man, Steve, and his girlfriend. But despite this setback, Claire had been doing quite well. She and Tasha were obviously becoming friends, as Claire had decided to go along to this book club thing the following week. She was reading a book, something about a woman who planned to kill her husband. Claire said it would probably have given her ideas had she still been married; it was cheaper than a divorce, apparently. I hoped she would make more friends at the book club. I wanted Claire to be happy again more than anything. I almost felt that my happiness was irrevocably tied up with hers, now.

After a couple of weeks with Claire, I already loved her. I knew because of the way I had loved Agnes and Margaret. Margaret was a beautiful person. She was always smiling, even when she was struggling, and she wanted to help others although she could have done with a lot of help herself. She was a huge inspiration to me and she made me the cat I was.

Claire needed my love and it was my duty to give it. I stayed close to Claire as she packed, giving her extra rubs and making sure she knew I was there. As she took her bag downstairs, she turned to me and picked me up.

‘Are you sure you’re going to be OK when I’m away?’ she asked, her eyes full of concern.

I tipped my head as if to say‘Of course.’

‘There’s plenty of food; just take care. I’ll miss you.’ She kissed me on the tip of my nose, something she’d never done before. I purred in thanks.

A car honked its horn and she gave me a last stroke before she left the house, locking the door behind her. I hoped that she would be all right and the horrible Steve wouldn’t upset her this weekend, and then I went out.

I greeted a couple of younger cats that were playing in the street and carried on walking to the end of the road to have another look at the house split into two. I wondered if anyone had moved in to the flats yet. I stopped short when I saw a man and a woman by the closed front door of 22A. The woman had something tied to her chest which, on closer inspection, seemed to be a noisily crying baby. The man had his arm around her. She was very beautiful; tall with long blonde hair and green eyes that any cat would be envious of, to be frank. I stayed back so I could observe them for a bit as they locked the door of their new home. Inside, I was jumping for joy; there were three of them, and despite the fact that one of them was smaller than me, it meant a household with three more people to take care of me, rather than one.

I edged closer so I could hear what they were saying.

‘Don’t worry, Pol, it’s going to be lovely when we get the furniture in.’ The man was taller than the woman, and he was kind looking, although lacking in hair.

‘I don’t know, Matt, it’s such a long way from Manchester, and so much smaller than our old house.’

‘Think of it as just a temporary step, it’s a rental and as soon as we’re settled, we’ll get somewhere better. Darling, you do know that I couldn’t turn this job down, it’s for our future; ours and little Henry’s.’ He leant over and kissed the top of the head, which had stopped crying.

‘I know, but I’m scared. I’m terrified.’ She looked as frightened as I had felt when I first started my journey to Edgar Road.

‘Honestly, we’ll be fine, Polly. We can move in tomorrow when the furniture arrives, out of the cramped hotel room into our first home in London, so that’s something positive. This is a new start for us; for us as a family.’

I immediately liked Matt as he took Polly into his arms and enveloped his wife and child the way a proper man should. Yes, I instinctively knew that this would be a good household for me to be part of. They walked away together, and I decided that I would visit them again once they’d moved in. That would be a better time to introduce myself.

I had a spring in my step as I jumped through Jonathan’s cat flap. You see, I knew he liked me, as he hadn’t followed through with his threat to get rid of it. I found him sitting in the living room on the computer again. I managed to look at the screen; there wasn’t a person there, but photographs of shiny cars. I jumped up next to him.

‘Oh, it’s you again? I guess you didn’t understand my deal last night.’ I wanted to tell him that I understood it but I just didn’t agree with it, so I miaowed loudly, hoping that would do.

‘I guess I should at least be thankful that you haven’t brought me anything dead today.’ My heart dropped; I felt terrible to be turning up empty handed. I lay down and put my head on the keyboard. I thought he might be cross, but luckily he laughed.

‘Come on, you can have the rest of the prawns. They’d only be thrown away.’ I licked my lips and followed him to the kitchen. He tipped the prawns into a bowl and I ate them greedily. I wasn’t hungry, but fresh prawns were a huge treat. When I finished eating, I noticed he was dressed nicely tonight; not a suit, but not scruffy. I looked at him with my eyes slightly closed, suspiciously.

‘Right, Alfie the Unwanted, I’m going out on the town tonight. If I were you, I wouldn’t wait up.’ He laughed and, before I knew it, he’d slunk out the front door.

I had two homes but I was still alone. In my old house, I had rarely been on my own. If Margaret went out, then Agnes would be there, and after Agnes died, Margaret would only leave the house for such a short time that I barely even noticed that she was gone.

I couldn’t wait for the new family at 22A to move in. This cat had needs; food, water, warm shelter, laps and love. That was all I required but after what I had been through in my short life, I wasn’t taking any chances. I decided to go to sleep on Jonathan’s expensive looking sofa for now, and despite what he had said, I would wait up for him, because without Claire here he was the only family I had.

[Êàðòèíêà: i_013.jpg]

Chapter Twelve

I was daydreaming about the past. About living in my old house with Margaret and Agnes. The day was cold, and Agnes was in a lot of pain. Margaret had phoned the vet, who had said the end was imminent. If Margaret wanted to take her in she would give Agnes something to help the pain; it was either that, or put her to sleep.

Margaret sobbed, a bit like Claire had been doing, tears filled with grief ran down her sunken cheeks. I wanted to join in, but Agnes was trying so hard to be brave that I suppressed my own emotion and I snuggled into her, hoping that I wasn’t adding to her pain. Margaret was getting ready to take her to the vet, which wasn’t very easy as Margaret was old and didn’t have a car – she could barely lift the cat carrier any more. She phoned her neighbour, a nice man called Don, who wasn’t much younger than Margaret and he said that he would take her. He was always happy to help Margaret. Agnes said that she thought at one stage they might end up together, after Don’s wife died a few years back, but Margaret was far too fond of her own company, as she was often heard to say.

‘All I need is myself and my cats,’ she used to say, laughing. I could almost hear her voice now.

Back then, I had to stay at home while they took Agnes to the vet. Left in the house alone, I yowled louder than I ever had before. I was so scared about losing Agnes. Even if she came home, I knew there wasn’t much longer in her, I’d heard Margaret talking about that.

Agnes did come home, and I was so excited. I was so thankful, I licked her. I had thought I would never see her face again, and although she was quiet, she was there, by my side, where she should have been. I was euphoric. But by the morning she was gone. I knew because I slept with her and at some point when I woke I noticed her heart had stopped beating. I had gone from feeling so happy to completely wretched in the space of a few hours.

At that point in time, it was the worst day of my life.

My sad thoughts were interrupted by a key in the door, followed by howls of laughter and a clacking of heels. The house remained in darkness as I heard footsteps enter the room and then, just as I was about to stretch, someone fell on me.

I yelped as loudly as I could. A woman’s voice screamed. Jonathan put on the light and looked a bit cross.

‘What are you doing on my sofa?’ he asked, sounding angry. I would have liked to have asked him the same thing; after all, I was there first. Instead I jumped off and stood in the room surveying the situation.

The woman wasn’t the woman from before. She was tall and thin and had a very short skirt which showed off very long legs.

‘Is that your cat?’ the woman asked, slurring her words slightly. What was it with humans getting drunk?

‘No, it’s my bloody squatter,’ Jonathan replied glaring at me. I didn’t know what a squatter was, but it didn’t sound good. The woman approached him again and flung her arms around him. As they started kissing, I decided that it was time for me to leave. After all, I had often heard it said that three was a crowd.

It was light outside as I awoke on Claire’s bed. Skipping downstairs, I stopped to eat one of the bowls of food that Claire had left for me and drink some water, before taking an early morning walk. It wasn’t exactly Jonathan’s prawns, but at least I was well fed. I decided to give him a wide berth until later, when perhaps his guest had left. So instead I went to check on the progress of the number 22 flats.

Although it was early, the tall woman and the baby were there in the front garden and the man was unloading furniture from a white van. The woman, despite her beauty, looked very worried. She was constantly biting her lip and sighing. Yet again, it seemed I was drawn to a human in need. Although I didn’t know what her need was yet.

‘I’ve got to go and feed Henry,’ she said, as the sound of a baby’s wail started up from inside.

‘OK, Polly, I’ll carry on here.’

I followed the woman inside; it was a house without stairs, all on one level. It was a fairly small space that looked as if it was almost ready to be lived in. There was a serious amount of unpacking to do, but there was a large grey sofa and a matching chair, which Polly went to sit on, with her baby. She stuck him to her chest and he stopped crying immediately. I was incredibly curious; I’d seen this on television but not in real life. It brought back very vague and unreliable memories of how my mother used to nurse me before we were weaned and I went to live with Margaret. It made me feel even more nostalgic about my past. Suddenly the woman looked at me. I blinked in greeting but as I prepared to introduce myself, she screamed loudly. The baby started crying and the man ran into the room.

‘What’s wrong?’ he asked, his voice full of concern.

‘There’s a cat here!’ she shrieked, as she tried to resettle the baby back on her. I was a little offended; I hadn’t had quite that reaction before. Not even from Jonathan.

‘Polly, it’s a cat, I’m not sure you need to be quite so upset.’ Matt spoke gently, as if he was speaking to a child. Her baby was quiet again but now it was Polly’s turn to start crying. I realised I might have made a huge mistake; this woman clearly had an extreme phobia of cats. I wasn’t sure that such a thing existed but she certainly seemed scared of me.

‘But I’ve read that cats kill babies.’ I yelped as if I’d been hit. I’d been accused of many things in my life; killing birds and mice and even, if needs must, the occasional rabbit, but I’d never killed a baby. Perish the thought.

‘Pol,’ the man went and knelt down next to her. ‘Cats don’t kill babies. They just say to make sure they are not in the room when the baby is in their cot, in case they go and sleep on them and accidentally smother them. This cat is awake, and you’ve got Henry.’ I liked him even more than I had at first; his voice was gentle and full of patience.

‘Are you sure?’ She seemed more than a little neurotic to me. I could tell that there was something wrong with this woman. Not in the way there was with Claire, but there was definitely something that wasn’t right.

‘How on earth can the cat kill Henry while you’re here?’ He came over and picked me up. He was a nice man, I decided; he held me firmly but gently. You can tell a lot from a man from the way they hold you. Jonathan was a little too rough, but this man was just right.

‘Matt, I just …’ Polly looked upset still.

‘His name is Alfie,’ he said, reading my tag. ‘Hello, Alfie,’ he added, giving me a stroke. He had nice hands and I rubbed my head against him. ‘Anyway, he doesn’t live here, Polly, so you’ve got nothing to worry about. He must have just crept in while the front door was open. Where do you live?’ he asked me, and I gave him my most charming miaow.

‘How can you be sure that he doesn’t live here?’

‘He’s got a name tag. There’s a number on it. I’ll call it if it’ll make you feel better.’

‘No, no, I’m sure you’re right. Just make sure you put him out.’

Polly still looked unsure. The baby seemed to be asleep on her and I felt that although this man was nice, there was definitely sadness in the small, square room.

‘Right, well, I’ll go and finish unloading. Come on Alfie, time for you to go home.’ He carried me outside and gently put me on the doorstep. I hadn’t had a chance to look round the rest of the flat, but I didn’t want to risk upsetting Polly again.

I had a few hours to fill before dinner time so I thought that perhaps it was time to find Jonathan another present. After all, now I was winning him over, I needed to step up my charm offensive. It would be useful to have him onside because I definitely had my work cut out with Polly.

[Êàðòèíêà: i_014.jpg]

Chapter Thirteen

I left number 22A, having made the decision to get a present for Jonathan, but was distracted by the bright sunlight. I had been told many times that cats should hunt at night; that this was meant to be our favourite nocturnal activity, but I’d never been much of a going-out-at-night cat and nowadays, I only went out at night if I absolutely had to, after my terrifying journey.

There were plenty of birds flying overhead but as I sat on a grassy verge by the local park, I saw some butterflies fluttering around. I made a few unsuccessful attempts to leap at them, but they managed to get away. Then I spotted some resting on a nearby bush. Unable to resist, I started chasing them. It had been one of my favourite games back when I lived with Margaret. I pounced this way and that, and the butterfly escaped my paws every time. Getting slightly out of breath, I made one last attempt and leapt for it into a large leafed bush, but I misread the distance and instead fell and landed on my bottom. A passing bird laughed at me. Although I was bruised, and a little embarrassed, it had been fun. I mustered my dignity, hauled myself up and decided to abandon hunting or chasing for another day.

I found a sunny spot to rest, where I accidentally fell asleep. I must have slept for a long time, because when I was awoken by two of the neighbourhood cats having a screeching row over who was the best looking, it was getting dark. The argument wasn’t that unusual, cats can be vain. They asked me to choose, but I knew the dangers of getting involved, so I told them they were both fine looking cats and diplomatically slid off.

With Claire still away, I went back to Jonathan’s. I let myself in through the cat flap, finding the house in darkness. I padded through the empty kitchen and into the living room. I was surprised to find Jonathan lying on the sofa. He was resting his head on a cushion as if he was asleep, but his eyes were open. There was no sign of the woman from last night; he was alone, once again. He looked at me as I walked in, and I felt bad that I’d come empty handed. He looked as if he really needed a present.

‘You’re back,’ he said, dryly. ‘I’d almost say I’m pleased to see you. At least the house isn’t so damn empty any more.’ I miaowed a ‘thank you’ although I wasn’t sure how much of a compliment it was. Despite that, I decided to chance my luck and I jumped up on the sofa and sat next to him. He looked at me but he didn’t tell me to get off, which was progress of sorts.

‘Where do you go when you’re not here?’ he asked, suddenly. I miaowed. ‘Do you just roam the streets? Because I get the feeling that you actually live with me.’ He looked confused and I purred my assent. ‘It’s funny, Alfie, but it’s hit me that this is my life now. I live in this empty house which is too big for me, and I have barely any friends.’ I wondered about the two women I’d met here so far. ‘And we can’t count my one night stands. I don’t know how I got to the age of forty-three, with nothing meaningful to show for my life,’ he continued, sounding self-pitying. ‘No wife, no family, and only a handful of friends, most of whom are in different countries.’ I moved closer to him and tried to purr compassionately.

‘It’s just me and you, Alfie. All I have for my forty-three years is a bloody cat to talk to, and I don’t even know if you’re mine.’

I looked at him, head tilted to one side, trying to be reassuring.

‘I guess you’re hungry?’ he said, and I miaowed as loudly as I could. This was more like it. I was famished. I followed him into the kitchen where he took some smoked salmon out of the fridge. As much as I loved Claire, dinner with Jonathan was really special. He put some on a plate on the floor for me and he stroked me as I started eating, in a tender way that he’d never done before. We were indulging in some male bonding.

Although I was surprised, I concentrated on eating. I could be a bit of an emotional cat and I definitely felt my heart warming; I was touched. I had been determined that I would crack Jonathan, otherwise I wouldn’t have kept coming back, but I hadn’t imagined I would do so quite as quickly as this. If I hadn’t been so busy eating, I would have been jumping for joy.

After we had both had dinner, we went back to the living room. We were a bit of an odd couple; a big man and a little cat. My heart swelled with happiness as we sat on the sofa together. Jonathan turned on a huge TV and started watching something which involved a lot of violence and men with guns. I could hardly believe I was allowed to sit with him, snuggled up on the sofa. Distractedly, he stroked me as he watched his programme, and although I didn’t like what was on the TV, I really liked the comfort he was giving me so I didn’t move an inch. It strengthened my resolve to make sure I gave Jonathan the help that I knew in my heart he needed.

[Êàðòèíêà: i_015.jpg]

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 andmade 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.

[Êàðòèíêà: i_016.jpg]

Chapter Fifteen

I was curled up in the special cat bed Claire had bought me, when I heard her key in the lock. My new bed was blue and white striped, and although it was not as comfortable as my old cat basket, it was pretty nice. Claire made a bee-line straight for me and gave me a huge fuss, which I really appreciated. I was also relieved. I had been worried she might come back crying; I had even fretted that she might not come back at all.‘I’ve missed you Alfie,’ she said, and I felt my heart warming, ‘I hope you missed me.’ She was smiling and she looked better. She was still too thin, of course, reminding me of how I was when she first met me. But her hair was glossy and her cheeks had some colour in them. It looked as if the weekend away had done her good.

For a moment, I panicked that it might mean that she would move back there, where she came from, but then I tried to calm myself. She was here, wasn’t she? She had come back; I had to focus on that. I knew I worried far too much for a cat, but that was the consequence of my past. I was learning that I was drawn to helping people who mirrored the feelings I had experienced. The attraction seemed so strong that I knew it was important for me to do whatever I could for them.

She went to the kitchen to feed me and she put the kettle on and made a cup of tea.

After I’d eaten, she went to get a bag and came back with various toys for me. There was a thing that slightly resembled a mouse on a bit of string, a ball, some more catnip, and something that jangled. I rubbed up against her legs, in thanks; but in reality, I would have been just as happy with a shoelace. I’d never been much of a toy cat, not even as a kitten, but that was mainly because Agnes was so disdainful of that sort of thing. I wanted to impress her, so I too would act as if the toys were beneath me. I made an effort to play with them to please Claire, though. I wouldn’t want her to think me ungrateful.

I chased the ball under the sofa, and then almost got stuck trying to retrieve it. I batted it with my paw and it rolled back out. As I emerged, I saw Claire laughing. She clapped her hands in delight. So then I tried to pick up the jangly thing with my paws but it slipped out and across the floor. I chased it again; it made a very strange tinkling noise. Every time I thought I’d got the toy, it slipped from my grasp, so I ended up going backwards and forwards across the room, which was infuriating. Claire seemed to find this delightful, although I couldn’t for the life of me understand why.

She went upstairs, saying something about unpacking, and I decided to have another rest; playing was hard work. Also, the meal I had just wolfed down had made me sleepy– it was time for a cat nap. I awoke to laughter; a fairly alien sound in Claire’s household, so I was immediately alert. Tasha appeared and picked me up, making a huge fuss of me as she nestled into my neck.

‘Hello, gorgeous,’ she said. She was definitely a cat person and I wondered why she didn’t have her own cat as she seemed to like me so much. I knew she didn’t, as I would have detected the smell on her.

Claire reappeared, carrying two glasses.

‘He’ll want to live with you, if you carry on like that,’ she said, laughing. Oh, where had the miserable Claire gone? She seemed like a different person. I couldn’t wait to hear what had caused this change.

‘I wish I could take him home, but unfortunately my other half is allergic to cats, so I just have to enjoy him here.’

‘Oh how awful, really allergic?’

‘Yes, I need to shower when I get home from here and wash my clothes, that’s how bad he is. Of course, if he’s been an idiot, I might just forget …’ They both laughed. I felt a bit affronted. I wasn’t sure that being allergic to me should be a laughing matter. What kind of person was allergic to cats?

Claire left the room again and reappeared with some plates of food. She put them on the dining table, and they both sat down. To my amazement and delight, Claire ate. She ate more than I had ever seen her eat. I wanted to jump for joy, my Claire was definitely getting better, but I decided not to startle her by making a fuss.

‘So, do tell,’ Tasha said. ‘Something good obviously happened this weekend.’

‘Oh God, I feel so much better. Like I’ve completed the first quest in a mission, or something. I confronted my demons and survived them! You know, going home and risking bumping into them. And I did!’ Claire sounded almost gleeful and I tried to understand, but at the moment, it was beyond my limited comprehension.

‘Where?’ Tasha asked, her eyes wide.

‘Mum and I went to the supermarket. She still treats me like I’m five and she insisted on stocking up on food for me to bring home. Honestly, she acts like there are no supermarkets in London.’

‘Claire, get to the point,’ Tasha pushed, with a giggle.

‘Sorry, anyway, so we’re in the vegetable aisle and suddenly they both appear. Him pushing a trolley, and her moaning about something. I saw them before they saw me and neither of them looked happy.’ Claire, however, looked very happy.

‘What was she saying?’ Tasha and I were riveted.

‘No idea, but anyway, she was fat. I mean fatter than she ever was before they got together, and first I worried she was pregnant,’ Claire said.

‘Was she?’

‘No, but I’ll get to that. Mum was grabbing my arm for dear life, and then we came face to face. He didn’t look great, if I’m honest. But maybe that was because I was seeing him properly for the first time.’

‘Without your rose-tinted glasses?’

‘Exactly. Anyway, he said “hello” and I said “hello”. She stood with her mouth wide open, and I was relieved I’d put on nice clothes and done my hair and make-up.’

‘I told you to look your best at all times, just in case you saw the bastard.’

‘Yes, thank goodness I listened to you!’ She laughed and I wanted to give her a kiss, which I did, but on her arm, as she was still talking. I was proud of my Claire, although I wasn’t sure exactly why. ‘So, then I asked how they were, and they mumbled that they were fine, but I’m not sure they were. I mean I know I’m too thin, I do see that now, but how on earth can she have put on about three stone in a couple of months? She looked nothing like the woman he left me for. Anyway the worst bit is that, while I was civil, my mother stood beside me, quiet as a mouse, and then suddenly, from nowhere, she asked when the baby was due!’

‘Nooo, she didn’t?’

‘She did. I should have felt a bit smug, as she stormed off and Steve mumbled that there wasn’t a baby, but I almost felt sorry for them. I don’t know why. I mean, she knew he was married when she slept with him, and they nearly destroyed me with their behaviour, but I actually felt sorry forthem. Which is brilliant!’ Claire and Tasha hugged, and giggled like school children.

I miaowed my approval. I might not know much but I’ve seen on the TV how relationships can ruin humans’ lives, to the point where I wonder if it wouldn’t be a better world if people were like cats? Of course we know love, but when it comes to romance, we are too wise to the way of the cat world to put all our kittens in one basket; we are necessarily pragmatic. I do find some female cats attractive, actually most of them, but I am not naive enough to think that we will be monogamous for life. Cats may be together for only a few days, or weeks, or months if we’re lucky, but then we either have kittens or we move on. Perhaps if humans fixated less on having to be with one person for the rest of their lives, they might actually find that life works a bit better for them?

‘So going home was a good thing after all, despite your reluctance?’

‘Not only because I saw them, and actually it didn’t upset me the way I was sure it would, but it made me feel that moving here wasn’t just running away any more. I want to be in London; with a good job and prospects, my lovely little home, Alfie, and of course my new friends. I actually enjoyed being home but I wanted to come back. I’m not completely fine, I know that, but I’ll admit some of the fear has gone.’

‘Well, this calls for a celebration. End of this week, I’ll organise a girls’ night out. We’ll hit the town and go to some of the best bars in London. Plenty of cocktails and cute men.’

‘You know what, I think I’m ready.’

‘Had she really put on three stone?’ Tasha asked.

‘I don’t know exactly, but she had definitely put ona lot. And unlike me, she didn’t really need to.’

I was now under the table, and I snuggled into Claire’s legs, trying to convey to her that I was proud of her transformation. It was similar, of course, to my own, but now she needed to eat properly and drink less wine, and well, she might be as good as me. It seemed clear that Claire was now ready for her new beginning.

‘To new beginnings,’ she said, as she raised her glass. I wondered if she could read my mind as I jumped on the table and tried to join in with the toast.

By the time that Claire and Tasha had nearly finished a second bottle, and were talking nonsense, I decided to sneak out to check on Jonathan. Now Claire was happier, I thought it might be time to concentrate a bit more on finding Jonathan’s smile. I had recognised a need in Claire that I knew, because I had been in her position, in my own way, and I felt as if I had been able to comfort and calm her. Now I had to do the same with Jonathan. We had made progress but there was still a way to go. I had my work cut out for me; that was for sure.

I entered through the cat flap and found him in the living room, lying on the sofa again. He looked at me but didn’t even say anything, which wasn’t like him. There was no insult or greeting; he almost looked through me. He went back to staring at the TV, but he looked bad. His hair was a mess and he was wearing his pyjamas. He looked as if he had been there for a long time.

I didn’t know what to do, but I went and sat next to him and miaowed gently.

‘If you’re hungry, you’re out of luck. I’m not moving,’ he said, sounding cross. Then he leant over and he stroked me as if to say he wasn’t cross. Mixed messages again. I wanted to tell him that I had just had a lovely meal and I had only come to be kind, but I wasn’t sure that my miaows conveyed that, exactly. I gave it a try. Jonathan wasn’t the sort of human that I found easy to figure out, but then perhaps I wasn’t an easy cat to figure out either. All I knew was that underneath his tough exterior, he was lonely and scared. I saw the fear in him as I had felt it in myself.

I cocked my head to one side and tried again to tell him I wasn’t hungry – I was just worried about him. I snuggled into him, rubbing my head against him, trying to convey that I was there for him, and when I saw him looking at me with tears brimming in his eyes, I was pretty sure he understood.

‘Why do I feel like you’re looking into my bloody soul?’ he said, sounding irritated again. I didn’t know how to respond. ‘Well, if you do, you’ll see a black hole. Or maybe nothing at all. There’s nothing there. Anyway, I’ve got to work tomorrow; my shitty new job.’ He sighed. ‘But at least it’s a job. Better than withering away here. Anyway, come on, if you’re staying, you can come up to bed with me.’ To my total surprise he picked me up and carried me upstairs, plonking me down on a chair in his bedroom which was covered with the softest blanket I had ever felt.

‘I must be mad, that’s my best cashmere blanket,’ he sighed, as he put me down. He got into bed and almost immediately started snoring really loudly.

[Êàðòèíêà: i_017.jpg]

Chapter Sixteen

The following morning was busy and a little exhausting. I woke up at Jonathan’s; it was dark as he rushed around getting ready for his new job. He was muttering as he went to shower. Still wet and glistening but with a towel tied around him, he made a coffee. He didn’t eat anything, but quickly laid down a saucer of milk for me. He rushed back upstairs and came down looking very smart, but mumbling under his breath as he struggled to tie his tie. I left the house with him, trying to show my support as I followed him down the street. He was swearing and huffing and puffing which I knew was his way of masking his nerves.

‘Right, Alfie,’ he said. ‘I best go and face the first day back in the real world. Wish me luck.’ I rubbed up against his legs in order to do so. ‘Great, you’d better not have covered me in your bloody hair,’ he muttered, but then he leant down and patted my head before running off down the street. It was obvious that Jonathan loved me, but he certainly didn’t like to show his softer side.

I followed him and tried very hard to keep up with my little legs; I wanted him to see the support I was giving him. He shook his head and laughed as he increased his pace. Breathlessly, we made it to the end of the street and as he went to cross the road, I knew I had to leave him there. I didn’t want to risk going further from Edgar Road than I felt comfortable with.

Still a bit fatigued from my run, I rushed back to Claire’s, where she had just emerged from the shower.

‘Ah, there you are,’ she picked me up and kissed me. ‘Where on earth have you been? I was worried.’ I snuggled into her, to try to ensure she wasn’t upset with me. ‘Maybe you do the cat thing of prowling through the night?’ She did look a bit confused as she said this, but luckily shedidn’t seem cross. ‘But if you do, make sure you’re careful,’ she finished.

She put me down and I sat on the chair next to her bed as she got ready. Humans were funny, using a contraption to wash– we have our own inbuilt shower – and then wrapping themselves in towels and clothes. Being a cat was so much easier. We kept our fur on all the time, cleaning ourselves wherever we wanted. In actual fact, we washed ourselves and combed our fur simultaneously; cats were much better designed than humans. And we certainly didn’t need to go to work – something they all seemed to spend a lot of time obsessing over. Although, I was finding that keeping my new families happy was quite hard work, so perhaps I did understand that a bit more now. Claire needed sympathy, Jonathan needed my patience, they both needed my love and help, and at the same time I was also beginning to court the attention of the families in the flats at number 22. Speaking of which, it was time for me to find out what was happening down there.

Lack of exercise was no longer a problem for me as I bounded down the street towards 22A and 22B, feeling in a good cat mood. It was another sunny morning and I could almost smell the warmth as it began to permeate the air. It would be a hot day, I could tell, and for me, with my lovely fur coat, that would mean finding a spot that was sunny but not too hot and not too cool. I liked the sun, but no cat liked getting overheated. Sleeping in a nicely shaded spot was one of my favourite things in the world.

I was very excited to see the door to number 22B open, and two children playing on the small lawn at the front of the building. Although it was shared with 22A, there was no sign of Polly or her crying baby, although I swear I could hear him, as I joined the two boys on the lawn. That wailing sound he made was almost louder than any crying I could do, even in my most heartbroken moments.

The two boys were different sizes, but they were both quite small, and I could hear one of them chatting away to himself, using words I couldn’t quite make out. Suddenly, he spotted me and came up.

‘Cat,’ he said, very clearly, and laughed. I went to make friends with him, rubbing my head on his legs, which made him giggle. The younger boy, who had sat down to play with a toy car, laughed too. The woman I’d met before, Franceska, appeared at the door.

‘Hello, Alfie cat,’ she said. The boy said something to her. ‘Speaking English, Aleksy,’ she said gently, and yet again I wondered where they were from.

‘Mamma, is cat,’ he repeated, and she went up to him and gave him a kiss.

‘You are clever boy,’ she said, before she scooped up the smaller child. ‘We give him food?’

‘Yes, Mamma.’ Aleksy ran ahead into the house and Franceska hung back.

‘Come, Alfie,’ she commanded, and I felt touched at both the invitation and that she had remembered my name. Her accent was quite hard-sounding but I liked her. She had a lovely, gentle way about her; a quality that Jonathan certainly didn’t possess.

We climbed the stairs to their flat, Franceska carrying the smaller boy, and I wondered at how strange it was to cut a house in two. It was something that I found quite puzzling. The flat itself was nice enough, it was bright and modern, but it was also square and small. The stairs led to a small hallway and as I explored, I walked into the living room where there were two small, soft looking sofas which took up most of the space; a spattering of toys and a wooden coffee table. At the end of the room was a dining table and past that, an opening which led to a small kitchen. Unlike Claire’s house, there were things scattered which made it a bit messy and lived-in. And unlike Jonathan’s, it was very short on space.

I thought about how strange humans were. Jonathan had this big house just for him and yet here were four people (despite the fact two of them were quite small), in a space that was so compact. I didn’t understand how that worked, but it didn’t seem very fair. While Franceska busied herself with the boys, I went to snoop. There was a small corridor leading away from the stairs and I found two bedrooms, one which had a cot and a bed in it, the other a double bed. Outside the bedroom was a small, very white bathroom. The bedroom with the cot and bed was quite messy; there were toys scattered all over the floor. The other bedroom was neater and quite plain. There was nothing wrong with the place but I worried that it was too small for a growing family.

After I finished snooping, I joined them. The boys were sat on one of the sofas, side by side. The younger one was clutching a soggy biscuit. Aleksy was pleased to see me and started stroking me, and tickling my neck. It felt nice. Many of my cat friends and acquaintances sang the praises of children, and with Aleksy’s little hands, and his warm smile, I was beginning to understand why.

Franceska returned to the room.

‘We can give him fish, when we have the lunch,’ she said. My ears pricked up excitedly. ‘And then maybe you can practise your English on him. Me too,’ she laughed. ‘And I should phone the number on the tag to make sure he’s not lost.’ I narrowed my eyes. Claire and Jonathan hadn’t changed my tag, so luckily the number was Margaret’s old one. My plan was safe for now.

‘Can he live here?’ Aleksy asked.

‘No,kochanie. We live in flat. We no allowed pets.’ Goodness, I was taken aback. Imagine, being banned from anywhere! That was so unfair.

‘It is not easy,’ he said to me, sadly, as she returned to the kitchen. ‘I speaking Polish in my old house. I learn English before I come here, but hard.’ I snuggled into him, as he looked like he might cry, and he cuddled me, holding on so tightly that I struggled to breathe. I let him squeeze me, though, for as long as I could bear it before I had to wriggle out of his clutches. Yet again, I had found people who needed me. They were far away from home, maybe even further than I had come, and they possessed a sadness that I seemed to have a cat’s sense for these days.

Bringing me back to the present, the smaller child started pawing at me then, with his grubby hands, and although I didn’t mind, I made a note that I would need a good wash when I finally got out of there.

I hadn’t had much contact with small children. When I lived with Margaret, there was a young girl who visited from time to time and she was fun, always wanting to play with me and feed me food from her plate, but that was my only experience. Then when I started my nomadic existence and I met other cats, one of the suggestions was that I should find a family with children. They suggested that it was the most fun, like having friends – but friends who fed you and loved you and looked after you and played with you. In this flat, I felt I was getting that.

Although I was fond of Claire and Jonathan, I couldn’t pretend that they gave me all I wanted. Yes I was fed and fussed sometimes, but I was also left on my own. It had vaguely occurred to me at this point that it might seem my doorstep antics could lead me into a bit of a pickle, but you see, I did, to a point, have a plan.

I couldn’t rely just on Claire. I didn’t know that she was on her own when I had chosen her house – I had been expecting at least two people. And when I went into Jonathan’s house, I had been expecting a family, not a grumpy single man, so that didn’t turn out as I’d planned either. I was worried that my home life was still too precarious and that had led me here. It all made perfect sense in my head. It was like the number 22 flats could be my daytime homes, and the other houses my evening abodes. I was sure I could make it work and I was determined to do so.

So I rolled onto my back to let Aleksy tickle my tummy, and I flipped my tail up in delight when I was on all fours again. Afterwards, Aleksy wanted me to hide under the chair and jump out at him. I wasn’t sure why this made him and Thomasz so happy, but I was pleased to do it. I then pretended I was chasing an invisible bird which seemed to make both boys shriek with laughter.

After playing for a bit, Franceska returned and picked up the younger boy.

‘The phone number no work. Maybe they change it without changing the tag.’ She looked thoughtful. ‘Thomasz, sleeping time.’ She took him down the corridor, and returned a little later without him. I heard him crying a bit, before going quiet. Aleksy was drawing something at the coffee tableand I sat on the sofa, not sure of my next move but feeling quite comfortable.

‘So, Aleksy, Thomasz sleeping, we do our English,’ she said.

‘OK, Mamma.’

‘How old are you?’ she asked. I watched them both as they began their conversation, my head going back and forth between them.

‘Six. And Thomasz is two.’

‘Very good. Where you live?’

‘London. We from Poland but it is far away now.’ He looked a bit sad, and I saw Franceska’s eyes darken.

‘We go home some time,’ she said, quietly.

‘Pappa say this is our home,’ Aleksy replied.

‘Yes, maybe we have two homes,’ she said, trying to sound bright. I wanted to tell him what a good idea that was, like me, so I miaowed.

‘Ha, the cat makes loud noises.’

‘The cat called Alfie.’

‘Alfie?’ Aleksy repeated it slowly, as if he was trying the sounds out. I wondered at how hard it must be, to have to come and learn a different language, when he can’t have been speaking at all for long.

‘Yes and maybe he visit a lot?’ She looked at me questioningly, and I put my head to one side to try to tell her that, yes, I would visit a lot.

‘Mama, what if I don’t like school?’ Aleksy’s big brown eyes filled with tears.

‘You will, and it might feel hard at first but you will be OK.’

‘OK.’

‘We all have to be brave now, Pappa has good job here, and he can make things good for us if we all try hard to it.’

‘OK. I miss Pappa.’

‘He has to work very much but soon we will see him more. He is doing this for us.’

She went over and sat down next to Aleksy. He had drawn a picture of a house. It wasn’t the house that we were in, though. It was a funny looking building, with many windows.

‘I miss our old place too,’ Franceska said, softly, as she stroked his hair. ‘But we will love it here. We just need to be very brave.’ And I wondered who she was trying to convince; him or herself.

I was unable to move; watching the mother and son together, I felt like crying myself. I was seeing people trying so hard, learning that life could be really difficult and upsetting for humans as well as cats.

Suddenly, Franceska got up.‘Right, we make some food. Aleksy, come help and you can give to Alfie.’

He cheered up at this idea, and followed his mum into the kitchen. I went, too, and watched as she got some sardines out of the fridge and put them on a plate.

‘Yum,’ I thought to myself, this was a treat. Salmon, prawns and now sardines. I really had chosen the perfect street to live in.

[Êàðòèíêà: i_018.jpg]

Chapter Seventeen

I hadn’t considered the logistics of the flat. There was no cat flap, and only one entrance. There was a small back garden but that was accessed from the side of the house and again was shared with next door. The only way to get out of 22B was to go back through the front door, the way I’d come in. Which wasn’t that easy, as the door was shut. I had to figure it out. In the meantime, I ate lots of sardines, drank water and played with Aleksy, who seemed a bit happier now. Although most of his toys weren’t exactly designed for cats, we chased a small ball around, which seemed to make him happy. More and more, I understood all the fuss about small children; when they laughed, they made you want to laugh, and their happiness was the most infectious thing I’d encountered. Although, on the flip side, he was quite demanding; not letting me have any time to rest, so I was getting pretty tired. This was a new experience to me, and as much as I was enjoying it, it was exhausting at the same time.

Thomasz, the little one, soon woke up and cried; Franceska went to get him and then brought him back into the living room, where she gave him a bottle filled with milk and sat on the sofa with him. I realised that I really needed to get back to my other homes so I could check on both Claire and Jonathan, and that in order to do so, I would have to make them understand that I needed to leave. After Thomasz finished his drink, I miaowed loudly and then walked down the stairs and stood by the front door.

‘Oh goodness, you need getting out,’ Franceska said, as she carried Thomasz downstairs after me. Aleksy followed too. She opened the front door and I turned to face them, to say goodbye properly. I tried to convey with my eyes that I would return, and I purred as well, to tell them I’d had a lovely time. Aleksy leant down and kissed my head. I licked his nose, which made him giggle. Thomasz, who I hadn’t heard speak, shouted, ‘Cat,’ and the other two laughed.

‘We must tell Pappa that this his first proper English word,’ Franceska said. ‘Alfie, you are clever, you gave Thomasz his first English word.’ She looked delighted, and I felt very proud. They all stepped outside with me. The sun was still shining brightly and the front lawn was invitinglyhot. Just as we all started walking towards the shared gate, the door to 22A opened and Polly emerged. She looked flustered, as she tried to yank a pram out of the small door. I could hear the baby crying from inside.

‘Here, I help.’ Franceska put Thomasz down and he immediately stood up and walked over to his brother. Franceska pulled the folded pram, which was still far too big, out of the door and put it up in one swift move.

‘Thank you,’ Polly said. ‘I find it hard to manoeuvre it here.’ She smiled, a little sadly. ‘It’s awfully big.’

‘Is big. Franceska.’ She held out her hand. Polly took it uncertainly. I noticed that she barely touched Franceska’s hand before moving hers quickly away.

‘Polly. I must just go and get …’ She disappeared back inside and came out carrying Henry and an oversized bag. She laid him in the pram and he started howling again. She rocked the pram a bit as Franceska peered in, and stroked his cheek. Polly looked terrified; the way she’d looked when she first saw me. Maybe she thought Franceska was going to kill the baby too.

‘Hello, baby. His name?’ Franceska looked at Polly and smiled.

‘Henry. Sorry, I’ve got an appointment with the health visitor and I’m late. Hopefully see you soon, bye.’ She turned to shut her front door, but not before I’d sneaked in.

I woke up with no idea where I was. Gradually, I realised I was still in Polly’s flat. I padded around, there was no one here still. I was on their large grey sofa, which I must have fallen asleep on – exhausted after all those sardines and playing. I had looked round the flat when Polly shut the door behind me. It was the same size as upstairs, but it wasn’t as cosy or comfortable. In addition to the sofa and one armchair, there was a wooden trunk used as a coffee table, a mat thing on the floor with bits dangling from it, which I thought must be Henry’s, and a very big TV on the wall. Apart from that, the walls were bare and I wondered whether they didn’t have any pictures or just hadn’t got round to putting them up.

The biggest bedroom had a big bed, and two small bedside tables but not much else and it was all very white. The smaller bedroom was, however, decorated for a child. There were brightly coloured pictures of animals all over it, and the cot had animals dangling above it. There was a multi-coloured rug on the floor and an abundance of soft toys. It felt as if it was the only colour in an otherwise colourless home. I thought it was quite strange; and had a sense that there was something else going on here, I just didn’t know what.

I wondered what time it was– time for me to make a move. But as I looked for a way out, I realised, with a feeling of sudden panic, that I was trapped again, with no obvious escape. There was no one here to help me, so how was I supposed to get out? If only the living room window had been left open a crack, I could have squeezed through it. However, no one in this street ever left their windows open if they weren’t home. Panic began to mount; what if they’d gone away? No one knew I was here – was I going to die here? After such a long and treacherous journey, was it really going to come to this? I felt my breathing increase with fear.

Just as I was imagining being left here forever, with no food, water or company, I heard the door open and Matt, Polly and the pram entered. The pram was almost as big as the flat, so Polly had to walk in, followed by Matt, followed by the pram.

‘This pram is too big, I can’t manoeuvre it,’ Polly snapped, almost crying.

‘We’ll go at the weekend and get something more manageable, babe, it’s fine.’ Henry was sleeping and they left him in the pram in the hallway and went into the kitchen. The door had slammed shut too quickly for me to get out, plus my interest was pricked now, so I followed them.

‘Oh God, how did you get in?’ Polly said, looking upset.

‘Hi, again,’ Matt bent down to stroke me. ‘Would you like a drink?’ I licked my lips and he laughed as he poured me a saucer of milk.

‘Matt, should you be encouraging him?’ she asked. ‘I don’t want him to think he can come here all the time.’

‘It’s just milk, and anyway, he obviously visits here, so we might as well make him welcome.’

‘OK, if you’re sure,’ Polly sounded unconvinced but she didn’t argue. ‘What about his owners?’

‘Polly, he’s only been here twice, so don’t worry. He must go back home after he leaves us. Anyway, how was the health visitor?’ Matt asked.

‘Not like our old one. She was really unfriendly, obviously far too busy to listen to me, and she got rid of me as soon as she could. She knew that Henry was premature, and therefore very delicate, but she just dismissed me.’

‘But he is fine now, Polly, you know that don’t you?’ Matt’s voice was gentle; comforting.

‘I really couldn’t cope. Which is why I sat in the park with Henry until you’d finished work. I didn’t know what to do.’ Her beautiful face clouded and she burst into tears. Matt looked stricken too.

‘It’ll get better, Pol, honestly. I’m sorry, but you know I can introduce you to some of the wives of the guys from work and maybe we’ll research some baby groups.’

‘I don’t know if I can. I can’tbreathe, Matt, sometimes I think I can’t breathe.’ Polly’s breathing sounded heavy, as if to illustrate the point. Her eyes were laden with tears; she was clearly shaken. I looked at her and realised that this was serious, there was something wrong with this woman and I could see it, but it seemed Matt couldn’t. Or perhaps he just wouldn’t. I wasn’t sure exactly what was upsetting Polly but instinctively I knew it was something to do with Henry. You hear about it in the cat world, sometimes cats give birth and then have problems bonding with their offspring. I wasn’t sure but I felt that maybe that was what I was seeing here. Even if I was wrong, I knew, deep down, that Polly needed help. ‘It’s just the upheaval, we’ll get things sorted.’ Just then, a loud wail came from the hallway. Polly looked at her watch.

‘It’s time for his feed.’ She walked towards the pram and I scrambled between her legs, hoping to get to the front door. She looked at me and leant over the pram and awkwardly opened it. I tried to give her my warmest look, but she didn’t seem to notice. She was already wearily lifting Henry out of the pram, and then, without a glance in my direction, she shut the door on me. At least I was outside the flat now though.

[Êàðòèíêà: i_019.jpg]

Chapter Eighteen

As I made my way down the street, I wondered who I should go to first. I didn’t know what the time was; it was still light, but as Matt had returned from work, I expected the others to be home. I thought I should really check on Jonathan, as he had been in a bit of a state when he left today, and it was his first day in his new job. I felt awful turning up yet again without a present – after all, the dead mouse and bird had helped us to bond, so I decided that I would go out later and get him a little something, just to acknowledge his new job. I found him in the kitchen when I entered through the cat flap (how I wished every house had one).

‘Hey, Alfie,’ he said, unexpectedly warmly.

I purred.

‘Right, well, today wasn’t as hideous as I thought it would be. In fact, the shitty job isn’t that shitty, and the company was nice. So, to celebrate, I bought us both sushi. I mean, I’m not sure cats eat rice, but I got you some sashimi.’ I had no idea what he was talking about but he took some trays out of a brown paper bag and I saw it was fish. Uncooked fish. He laid some out on a plate for me, and put the rest in the fridge. I looked at him questioningly.

‘I’m going to the gym, so I’ll eat when I get back.’ I miaowed in thanks and started to tuck in. I loved this sashimi and I hoped that Jonathan would get it for me again. I felt that being with Jonathan was becoming a fine dining experience and I hoped that he wouldn’t suddenly stop and give me the same tinned stuff that Claire did.

‘Don’t get too used to it,’ he said. ‘It’s only for special occasions.’ Hmmm, he really did have a knack of reading my mind.

As I was eating, Jonathan got changed and went to the gym, so I rushed over to see Claire.

Claire was in the living room watching television when I arrived. She didn’t look sad any more – maybe this was the new her.

‘Hi Alfie, I was just wondering where you were yet again.’ She fussed me. I purred with joy. Claire and I had developed our relationship in a way that was harmonious and beneficial to us both. Claire’s was still my number one home, not just because it was my first, but also because she and I had established our connection very strongly and quickly. I still didn’t always know where I was with Jonathan, although I sensed, secretly, that deep down he liked me. And the number 22 flats were still early days. But Claire and I were family, and I loved her for it.

‘Right Alfie, I am going to get changed.’ I looked at her questioningly. Where was she going? ‘I’m off to the local gym, I’ve decided that it’s time I started taking better care of myself.’ She smiled to herself as she made her way upstairs.

What was it with these humans and this gym thing? I wondered if she would go to the same place that Jonathan sometimes went to, and part of me hoped that she wouldn’t bump into him. Not yet, anyway, while they both thought I was their cat. That could be awkward.

Instead of worrying about that, I realised that I needed to go for a bit of a walk myself if I was going to work off the day’s food. On my way out, I saw Tiger.

‘Fancy coming for a walk?’ I asked her.

‘I was going to have a lazy evening, then maybe go out later,’ she said.

‘Come on, please. I need to get a present for Jonathan.’ In the end, I persuaded her to come with me by promising her first choice of any prey we caught. Women!

We took the scenic route to the local park, meeting some nice cats on the way, and some not so nice dogs. One large dog, probably twice the size of me, wasn’t on his lead. He started barking loudly and ran over to me, snarling aggressively and baring his sharp teeth. Tiger, who was more feisty than me, hissed at him, but I tried not to antagonise him. I still felt afraid but now I was better at dealing with danger, so I turned, calling Tiger, ran asfast as my little legs would take me, and shot up the nearest tree. Luckily Tiger was as quick as me and she followed me up. The dog stood at the bottom of the tree, barking furiously until his owner pulled him away. We were exhausted as we caught our breath.

‘Alfie, I told you we should have stayed home,’ Tiger admonished.

‘Yes, but then the running away is actually very good exercise for us,’ I retorted.

On the way back, I remembered that I was supposed to be getting a gift for Jonathan. As luck would have it, two nice juicy mice were hanging out by the bins of one of the houses as we made our way back. It was lucky that I wasn’t remotely hungry, otherwise I would have been tempted to munch them myself; I saw Tiger polish one of them off almost in one go.

I left the mouse by the front door for him, and then I wandered around aimlessly. I passed some relaxing time with Tiger in her garden, before deciding to go back to Claire’s.

Claire was all red and glistening when she got in. It wasn’t her best look, and she certainly didn’t smell very good, but she seemed happy.

‘Goodness me, Alfie, I’m exhausted. But then, I feel better now, doing exercise. They say it’s all about endorphins, and I have to say there must be something in it.’ As she said this, she picked me up and spun me round, giggling all the time. I tried not to mind, because I knew she was being loving, but she really did need a wash.

‘OK, time for me to take a shower.’ I felt relieved. I decided that this was a good time for me to give myself a thorough wash too.

[Êàðòèíêà: i_020.jpg]

Chapter Nineteen

The next morning I breakfasted with Claire, and then, while she was getting ready for work, I went to see Jonathan.

My morning routine was hectic but I wanted them both to see me before they went to work, so I ate quickly and didn’t even have time to clean my whiskers before popping to my next house. It was important to me to give enough attention to both Claire and Jonathan. I wanted them both to think of me as ‘their’ cat. Jonathan was just about to walk out of the door as I walked in.

‘Oh, I wondered where you were. Thanks for the present, but you really shouldn’t have. I mean,really. I’m sure there are many of us who would be happy to have you rid the street of all mice, but I’d rather they didn’t end up on my door mat.’ Although he chastised me, I still decided that deep down – perhaps very deep down – he appreciated my gifts. After all, he hadn’t thrown me out again, had he? I am a cat and I couldn’t bring presents like humans did; Margaret liked to give flowers to her friends, so I was doing the best I could, and perhaps Jonathan understood that better than he let on. I looked at him, licked my lips and miaowed.

‘I’ve left you a bowl with leftovers in from last night. I have to get to work but I’ll see you when I get home. Hopefully.’ He reached down and tickled me under my chin, which I loved. I let out my loudest purr and he smiled in satisfaction. When he’d left I ignored the food, then gave myself another proper clean and set off to go and see the number 22 flats, reminding myself not to get stuck inside today. After all, there would be delicious food waiting for me on my return here, which I didn’t want to go to waste.

I was in luck. It was still early, but Franceska was in the front garden with the boys. The man was there with them too. They looked as if they were about to go out.

‘Alfie,’ Aleksy shrieked, and ran over to me. I rolled onto my back so he could tickle my tummy.

‘Oh, he likes the cat,’ the man, Thomasz, said.

‘Yes, he like Alfie very much.’

‘I have to go to work now,kochanie. I’ll try to get back before tonight’s shift.’

‘I love you. I wish it not such a long day for you.’

‘I know but that’s restaurants for you. Long hours and lots of food.’ He laughed as he patted his tummy.

‘I’m just miss home, Thomasz.’

‘I know, but it gets better.’

‘You promise?’ she asked.

‘Yeskochanie. But for now I need to go earn money.’

‘English. Is darling.’

‘It don’t sound right, you are mykochanie, no darling.’ He laughed, kissed his wife and then both children before he left. Franceska looked tired as she sat on the step and watched the boys playing. I sat next to her.

‘At least is sunny. Before I move to England I think it rains always.’ I snuggled into her. We sat in companionable silence for a short while. Aleksy was making Thomasz laugh about something and it was such a lovely scene. I felt there was a sadness here too. It seemed that in very different ways, the homes I’d chosen – Claire’s, Jonathan’s, Polly’s, and here – all had this one thing in common; loneliness. And I think that was why I had been so drawn to them. I knew that these people needed my love and kindness; my support and affection. With each passing day my confidence in this increased.

I looked at Polly and Matt’s door and realised that the answer was right in front of me. Franceska needed a friend, as did Polly. After all, Claire had been so much happier when she met Tasha. Goodness, it was so simple. I just had to figure out how to do it.

Franceska stood up and rallied the children.

‘Come, boys, we go get our shoes and then we go to park.’

They went into the flat. I wondered what I could do, knowing I had to act quickly. I scratched at Polly’s door and miaowed very loudly. I yelped, and then I yowled. I’d lose my voice if I didn’t get her attention soon.

After a while, she opened the door and looked at me in surprise.

‘What’s wrong?’ she asked, her eyes full of concern. I kept yowling. She bent down. ‘Are you hurt?’ I carried on, willing Franceska to hurry up. Polly clearly didn’t know what to do with me and I felt a little bit guilty for distressing her, but it was for a good cause. ‘Oh God, I can’t bear it. I don’t know what to do. Please, cat, please be quiet.’ Polly looked so desperate I almost stopped, but I had to keep going.

Just as I was about to run out of steam, the door opened and Franceska and the boys came out.

‘What is this noise?’ Franceska asked.

‘I don’t know what’s wrong with him,’ Polly replied. I fell silent. I had to have a bit of a lie down to recover my breath. Aleksy came over and tickled me and I snuggled gratefully into him.

‘He seems OK now?’ Franceska said, looking uncertain.

‘But he was making such an awful noise. You’d have thought he was being tortured.’ I wanted to say ‘thank you’. I was clearly as good as any actor on TV.

‘Is he your cat?’ Polly asked.

‘No, he visits us. I tried to call the number on him collar but it doesn’t work.’

‘I don’t want a cat. I mean, I’ve got enough to cope with.’ Polly suddenly burst into tears. Then a wail started up from inside. ‘Oh God, Henry’s asleep in his pram. Or he was.’ She went inside and came back trying to pull the oversized pram out of the house. Franceska went to help her. When they were both outside, Polly resumed her tears.

‘Is OK. Sit down a minute.’ Franceska pulled her down to the front step. ‘Aleksy, push the pram a bit for baby.’ Aleksy did as he was asked, and suddenly the baby stopped crying.

‘Mamma, I made him shush,’ Aleksy said, gleefully, and even Polly managed to laugh.

‘I’m sorry,’ she repeated.

‘You no sleep?’ Franceska asked.

‘No. God, never. He – Henry – doesn’t sleep. Not through the night, only naps in the day, then he cries. And cries and cries.’

‘Is Polly, yes?’ Polly nodded. ‘Is OK, I know how it is; I have two. Aleksy he never sleep. Thomasz is better.’

‘Where are you from?’

‘Poland.’

‘We’re from Manchester.’ Franceska looked blank. ‘It’s in the north of England. My husband, Matt, got a job here and said it was too good not to take. It is a good job, but I miss home.’

‘Me too. My husband, same. He is chef and here in London he gets job in very good restaurant. Building better life for us, sure, but is scary and lonely.’

‘Yes, it’s very lonely. Matt, well, he works long hours even though we’ve only been here a week. I’ve taken Henry out to the park, and to see the health visitor – which is nothing like it was at home. I haven’t met anyone else.’

‘What is a health visitor?’

‘Oh, here, when you have a baby, it’s someone you visit if you have concerns. In Manchester they were lovely, but here they didn’t have time for me. She seemed so busy and when I told her about him not sleeping, she just said that some babies don’t sleep.’

‘They don’t, maybe. But it doesn’t sound helpful. Aleksy no sleep, but you know in the end, he was very hungry. He feed all the time. So I buy this night time milk for babies and he drink that and sleep a bit more.’

‘Henry’s always hungry but I didn’t want to give him formula until he was one. I wanted to feed exclusively.’

‘What is this?’

‘You know, breast only.’

‘Oh, me too, but I was going, how do you say it, round the corner.’

‘Round the bend. I know. That’s exactly how I feel.’

‘Someone tells me that the best thing you can do for your child is be capable to looking after them properly. And that means you sleep. So I feed Aleksy in the day and then I give him this at night.’

I was listening intently to their exchange. These two women were fragile in their own ways, Franceska, because she was in a strange country and didn’t know anyone, and Polly because she had also moved, and hadn’t been sleeping. I could feel that a friendship would begin to form here, and I felt as if I was responsible for it, if I did say so myself. Even if it meant I had to scare Polly half to death in order to do it. These women, both with boys, both lonely, and lost, were perfect for each other. I thought it was about time I reminded them of my presence, so I miaowed.

‘Oh Alfie, you still here,’ Franceska said. Polly reached out and stroked me half-heartedly. It was a very limp stroke. ‘He was in our flat the other day. I was worried, I heard that cats can kill babies.’ I blanched again; I really didn’t appreciate her telling people that she thought I was a killer.

‘Oh, I never hear that. I like the cats. This one very smart too.’

‘How can you tell?’

‘He kind of introduced us, yes? I say we all go to the shop now to buy some milk for baby and then maybe we walk to the park and Henry he will sleep, yes?’

‘Oh, that would be so nice. Thank you, really, I’d love some female company. And you’re right, we’ll try the formula. I almost feel I have nothing left to lose.’

‘Good. I need the company too. My boys are lovely but I need the grown up. Sorry my English is bad.’

‘Not at all, it’s great! Blimey, I can’t speak any other languages.’ And as they chatted on, I could sense a friendship had been sealed.

I watched them all get ready to go off. Thomasz had been reluctantly strapped into a pushchair, Aleksy walked next to it, Polly pushed her giant pram, and Henry was still not crying. Polly was so tall, thin and blonde and Franceska was what I would call sturdy. She wasn’t fat but whereas Polly looked as if she would fall over if I so much as brushed her legs, Franceska looked like she could withstand any storm. But she was very lovely with her dark, short gleaming hair, and brown eyes, which lit up when she smiled. She had one of the nicest smiles I had ever seen.

Before they left the garden, they stopped and said goodbye to me. Aleksy asked me to come back soon, and I purred, because I would come and see the lovely boy; I felt that he would be my friend.

They definitely looked like opposites as they started down the road together; one so fair, one so dark, one tall, one short, but I knew instinctively that they would fit together, and I did feel that, however unwittingly, I had helped with this. I didn’t mean to boast but I did feel that credit should be given to me.

I was intrigued by these women’s stories and I really hoped to spend more time with them, together. I liked the idea of us all hanging out on the front lawn, I would never be bored with that. And my friendship with Aleksy and Thomasz would grow because every little boy deserved a cat. It was a good day all round. Friendships had begun, and who knew where they would take us?

[Êàðòèíêà: i_021.jpg]

Chapter Twenty

Being a doorstep cat was not for the faint-hearted.

As the weeks passed, I was very busy as I tried to juggle my four homes. I was beginning to learn that being a cat with four families wasn’t as easy as I had first thought it would be. It was rewarding, but hard work. I was starting to devise a schedule, but it was proving tricky.

Claire was becoming more relaxed with every passing day and I knew this was the healing process, because of course, I’d been through it myself. I could see in her what I felt in me.

Not that you ever become completely healed, you understand. There will always be a part of you that is still healing, still hurting, but that becomes a part of your character and you learn to live with it. That’s what I think happens, anyway, because that’s how it feels to me. But I loved to see Claire smiling and looking so much better. She was putting on a bit of weight too, she didn’t look so much like a scrawny sparrow any more. She had more colour in her cheeks and she was getting better looking by the day.

There had been a lot of women at Jonathan’s house. Although they were not appearing quite as frequently any more, there was still an alarming number, it seemed to me. But to his credit, now that he was working, he was more sensible with his time; going to bed early and either working in the evenings, or going to the gym. He was looking better for it too; he was quite handsome to start with, but he was even more so now he didn’t scowl quite so much.

I had been splitting my evenings between Claire and Jonathan so far. So long as I saw them both at some point, they seemed happy. On the whole, Claire would arrive home from work earlier than Jonathan, so we would dine together, and we would hang out for a bit. We cuddled while she read a book, watched TV, or chatted on the phone with a glass of wine, and then I’d take that as my cue to visit Jonathan.

I would head off to greet him on his return from work. He often worked in the evenings, which wasn’t much fun for me, so I had a new routine at night time. I’d go out for a long walk or run to get some exercise. I had put on weight, what with all the extra meals, but I was still far from being as fat as the ginger cat a few doors down, who could barely move and would easily be outmanoeuvredby any mouse.

I would go and see Tiger, and we would sometimes hang out with some of the neighbourhood cats; even the mean ones seemed to be used to me, now. After socialising, I would decide where to sleep. I alternated between Claire’s and Jonathan’s, but the problem was that both of them seemed to quite like to see me first thing in the morning. If I slept at Claire’s, I would wake at the same time as her and scoot over to go and see Jonathan before he left for work, and vice versa. It could be exhausting, but I tried my best to fit everyone in. Keeping them happy was far from an easy task though, and my life was incredibly complex.

During the day, when Claire and Jonathan were at work, I would go to the number 22 flats. This was perfect for me. I would often stand at Franceska’s door and miaow, and after a while, either she or Aleksy would let me in. They would give me fish, normally sardines, but the best thing was that Aleksy would play with me, and we would have so much fun. I would roll onto my back and he would tickle my tummy, which had become my new favourite game. The household was happy for the most part. Sometimes when Thomasz was napping and Aleksy was playing I would find Franceska in the kitchen, leaning against the counter and looking as if she was miles away. I knew she was missing her home still, although she was the most resilient of the adults I spent time with because she mainly hid it, and made sure her house was full of laughter. But I often thought her head was sometimes in Poland, even if her body was here; the way that when I had lived on the streets, my head and heart were far away, with Margaret and Agnes, even though I didn’t quite know where they were.

One weekend, I was over at Franceska’s flat. Claire had gone out for the day with Tasha, Jonathan had gone to meet friends for something he called ‘brunch’, so I went to Franceska’s house and her husband, the big Thomasz, let me in. They all made their usual fuss of me and he seemed like a very nice man. He played with the children, while Franceska cooked a big lunch for them all. He was very affectionate, both with her and the boys and I could see that although she found life hard sometimes, she was surrounded by love. It made me feel better because she deserved it very much. It was such a warm, loving family, it tickled my whiskers.

Sometimes I saw Polly and baby Henry with Franceska. As it was summer, they would often be on the front lawn. They had taken to having coffee together while the boys all sat on a blanket. Well, Henry would lie on the blanket, but he didn’t cry as much and he seemed to find the older boys’ presence calming. They would shake rattles at him, and they even managed to make him giggle quite a lot. Polly still seemed very uptight though, and I rarely saw her smile. There was something unnerving about the way she was.

Not only did the women look different from each other, but also as mothers they couldn’t be further apart. Franceska was so calm with her boys, and they were such happy children. Polly was wound up tightly and she held Henry as if he was made of glass. She seemed so awkward, even when she was feeding him, and she seemed to cry as much as Claire had in the early days. Franceska kept saying it was tiredness, and that was why she was so emotional, but I wondered if it really could be that. Since giving the baby the formula he was apparently sleeping more. Not a huge amount, but enough to make a difference, so surely she should be better?

Franceska would often take both of them into her flat where they would feed the boys, and she would try to get food into Henry. He seemed happier when he was there, as well. He didn’t cry as much and he smiled and laughed; I wondered sometimes if Polly noticed. She was so sad and I didn’t know if she even registered half of what was going on. I was more worried about her than I was about any of the others, but despite that, I had decided to stop going to her flat – it just wasn’t a good idea. Polly tolerated me, but she still treated me with suspicion, although I got the feeling that she needed me more than my other families. I just didn’t quite know why.

I watched these humans, who were all so different in many ways to my Margaret. Not only were they considerably younger, and less wrinkly, but they were unlike her in other ways too. Claire was blossoming, and had almost totally changed from the thin, shaggy, crying woman I first met. She still had moments of sadness, normally when it was just the two of us, but they were getting fewer and fewer. Jonathan was still complex, but he was also becoming happier; I think it wasn’t just the job, but the new friends he was making at work. Not just women with big boobs and shiny hair. However, I still thought he was too solitary. He didn’t have people round to the big, empty house apart from the women. He did go out a bit, about as much as Claire, but still, he had moments of looking as if he had lost something. It was how I’d looked when I woke up every day just after Agnes died. I would wake up and before I remembered what had happened I would look for her. It seemed that Jonathan was looking for someone who wasn’t there, too.

Franceska was more like Margaret than the others; she seemed so solid and sensible, and although she was obviously missing home, she seemed the most sorted out of everyone. Polly was the opposite. So fragile that she looked as if she would break at any time, although sometimes I wondered if she was already broken.

Each of them needed me in their own ways and I vowed every day that I would be there, and I would help them all.

I had survived, and now I had to help others survive, too.

The problem was that my lifestyle was so busy I couldn’t be in four places at once, but if my plan was to work I really had to be.

‘It’s hard work,’ I told Tiger.

‘Having four homes would be. Four sets of humans to keep happy.’ Tiger shuddered. ‘My one home is enough for me, although I understand.’

‘I can’t be alone again. I have to make sure that there will always be someone to take care of me, Tiger.’

‘I know. And anyway most cats think loyalty is overrated.’

‘But I’m fiercely loyal; just to four different families. I have to learn to spread myself thinly.’

‘Alfie, stop being dramatic. My owners are married, and although they don’t have children, if anything happens to them … Well, before meeting you, I hadn’t even thought about it.’

‘I hope what happened to me doesn’t happen to you, but you’re lucky because if it does, you’ll have me to take care of you.’

‘Thanks Alfie, you’re a good friend.’

‘Tiger, I wouldn’t want anyone, cat or human, to go through what I’ve been through. I’ve learnt the importance of compassion the hard way. I know what it’s like when there is none. And although I was lucky to find some along my journey and in my homes now, I know how incredibly crucial itis to our survival. For all of us.’

‘You’ll never be alone again now,’ Tiger pointed out, kindly.

It was true, compassion needed others. That was my lesson. It was through the compassion of other cats as well as other humans that I survived after Margaret died. It made me realise, life was a funny thing; as much as I would welcome being reunited with Agnes and Margaret, there was a part of me that wanted to survive, to carry on living, and I didn’t understand it.

[Êàðòèíêà: i_022.jpg]

Chapter Twenty-One

I was asleep at Claire’s, on her sofa in the living room. I wasn’t necessarily banned from sleeping on the sofa, but Claire did try, nicely, to encourage me to use my cat bed. However, the evening sun had been streaming through the window, making the spot I settled on deliciously warm and pretty irresistible – just what I needed after a difficult afternoon. I’d come home from Franceska’s house feeling hungry. I’d played with Aleksy for hours but there had been no sardines, no drink, nothing. Franceska hadn’t been as cheerful as normal; she seemed distracted, and although I tried to spend a bit of time with her on her own, she didn’t seem to notice me. I felt a little bit upset at being ignored. I knew that humans had problems, but that shouldn’t be an excuse for ignoring me – after all, I was there to help her when things were difficult! And there was no sign or sound of Polly and Henry. They returned home just as I was leaving, along with Matt. He was pushing the pram and she seemed a little bit more relaxed for once, but they were deep in conversation and they didn’t seem to notice me. It seemed I had become invisible to the adults of the number 22 flats.

And that was just the start of it. As afternoon turned into evening, things got worse.

Claire had been at home getting ready to go out, so although she had put some cat food and milk out for me, she didn’t have time for a chat, or any affection at all. She seemed very happy, and preoccupied with getting dressed up. She was wearing a very nice black dress and she put some high-heeled shoes by the front door. I’d never seen her wear heels that high, not even for work. She also spent ages on her hair, and putting lots of stuff on her face.

When she had finished, I didn’t think she looked like my Claire any more.

‘Alfie, don’t wait up, I’m going out with the girls,’ she said, smiling, but she didn’t pick me up or stroke me; she probably thought I would mess up her dress with my cat hair. As if I would! I felt a little hurt again, although I knew it was selfish as I wanted her to be happy, so I tried to be glad for her. But I didn’t purr or even raise my whiskers for her when she left; I really did feel very down in the mouth.

Bored and a bit lonely, I went to Jonathan’s but there was no sign of him. He hadn’t come back from work it seemed, and he hadn’t left me any food either. My empty breakfast dishes were still on the floor, just as I’d left them. Although I had still had enough to eat, I felt a bit disappointed, not just in the lack of food, but also the lack of attention.

It made me realise that cats always need to have their wits about them. Just because I was no longer a homeless cat didn’t mean that I could take anything for granted. People were far from stable and reliable. Of course I wasn’t trying to exaggerate, I knew they were still there to take care of me, but I also needed to be more self-reliant and also perhaps a little less sensitive. After all, I’d been a street cat for a while, so there was no reason for me to have reverted to being quite so soft.

But I still was. And I felt a little bit lost. I went for a walk, but I didn’t feel like making small talk with the other cats, not even Tiger. I was feeling sorry for myself. I wandered around Jonathan’s house, including the rooms that he never used, but that wasn’t much fun. I thought about hunting for a gift for him but I couldn’t be bothered; why reward him forhis neglect? I felt a little bit sad as I decided to go back to Claire’s, and that’s when I fell asleep on the warm spot on the sofa.

I was woken up by the sound of a key turning in the front door and giggling. I looked outside, where it was pitch black. Claire came into the living room, being held up by a man I’d never seen. I immediately stood up and raised my tail in suspicion, ready to rescue her, as a light flicked on.

‘Oh Alfie’s here, Alfie my lovely,’ Claire’s words sounded funny and slurry as I darted out of her way. I knew she was drunk. She wasn’t quite as bad, or mean, as the drunk people I had met on the street but she definitely shared common traits with them. If I let her pick me up, she wouldprobably drop me, knowing my luck.

‘Right, well, Claire, you’re home safe and sound, so I better go.’ The man shuffled a bit, looking as if he wasn’t quite sure what to do.

‘Nooo Joe, stay for coffee.’ She burst out laughing, as if this was the funniest thing she had ever said. I didn’t think it was, though.

‘Thanks, but I’d better go, Claire. Honestly, you’ll thank me in the morning.’ The man looked quite nice, but he had hair the same colour as the fat ginger cat down the road.

She flung herself at him, literally, and they both fell backwards onto the sofa. I bolted swiftly, only narrowly escaping getting squashed. Claire giggled again and Joe seemed to struggle a bit to free himself from her grip.

‘Claire, you’re a bit drunk,’ he persisted; he sounded a bit exasperated. It looked like that was an understatement. ‘I really ought to go but I promise I’ll call you.’

‘Please don’t go,’ she slurred, but he got up, kissed her on her cheek and let himself out. ‘Oh God, I’m such a loser,’ Claire cried as soon as the door closed. Alarmingly, she started sobbing like the old days. Then, instead of going to bed, she just curled up on the sofa and started snoring.

Although I had seen this behaviour, I had no idea what to do, and actually there was nothing I could do but curl up next to her and snore along with her.

She woke up the next morning, still on the sofa, and she really looked a mess.

‘Oh my God,’ she said, clutching her hair. ‘What on earth did I do?’ She looked at me. ‘Oh Alfie, I’m sorry, I hope you’re OK?’ She tried to get up. ‘My head is agony.’ She fell back again. ‘Oh God, oh God,’ she repeated, clutching her head as she moaned. I started miaowing,to let her know I was hungry.

‘Oh God, Alfie, can you keep it down, you sound like a fog horn.’ I didn’t know what that was, so I continued miaowing, and I didn’t understand why she was like this. If this was the result of being drunk, then why on earth did humans do it?

Eventually she got up again and went to the kitchen. She drank a glass of water and then another one straight away. She went to the fridge and got some food out for me, which made her turn a funny colour as she put it on a plate.

‘Oh no, I think I’m going to be sick,’ she said, as soon as she’d put it down. She rushed off. As I ate my breakfast, I didn’t really know what to think. It wasn’t a work day for Claire, which was probably lucky, as she looked dreadful. She returned looking pale, although she did have the remnants of the previous night’s make-up dotted around her face. She also smelt terrible (admittedly not as bad as the street drunks), although I accept that I have a heightened sense of smell, being a cat.

‘Oh Alfie, did that guy, Joe, come back here last night?’ I miaowed, hoping she would interpret that as a yes. ‘I just can’t remember. Oh no, he must hate me. I bet he can’t stand me now, and I quite liked him. Oh God, at my age I should know better. I am so embarrassed.’ I yelped really loudly. The last thing I ever wanted was to lose her now.

‘Not literally,’ she said, as if she understood me. ‘Sorry Alfie, but I’m going to bed and I think I’m going to stay there for the rest of the day.’ She left the room. I looked after her wistfully. My humans were complicated, that was for sure. I was beginning to feel as if I would never fully get to understand any of them.

I went to Jonathan’s, as Claire was clearly not going to be any fun at all today, but he still wasn’t home. I wondered if he’d come home and then gone out early but my breakfast dishes were still on the floor; he clearly hadn’t thought about feeding me at all. I fleetingly wondered if I should worry, but then Jonathan wasn’t the sort of man you worried about. If I could take care of myself then he certainly could. But I didn’t like the fact that he hadn’t been home at all since he left for work in the morning. And I particularly didn’t like the fact that he hadn’t given me a second thought, otherwise he wouldn’t have made me miss two meals. I wondered what I could do to convey my anger to him.

I was about to give up on him and leave. Obviously I couldn’t reward his behaviour with another gift, so I thought that if I walked out on him the way he walked out on me, then maybe he would understand what it felt like. But as I was about to head out, I heard the door open and in he walked, in his work clothes, but looking quite fresh regardless. Nothing like Claire, that was for sure.

‘Alfie, sorry,’ he said, petting me and smiling at me in a way I hadn’t quite seen him do before. ‘I hope you’re not too hungry – I didn’t expect to be gone so long.’ I miaowed angrily, in a way that said he certainly wasn’t forgiven, and yes, I was expecting him to be there for me; after all, he didn’t know I had already eaten.

‘Oh, Alfie, you’re a man of the world. You know how it is when you get lucky,’ he winked. I blinked, then looked at him through narrowed eyes. I didn’t know how it was. I certainly wasn’t that sort of cat. He laughed.

‘If I didn’t know better, I’d say you disapproved.’ He laughed again. His phone beeped. He read something and smiled. I wondered if he was still drunk like Claire had been last night, because he wasn’t himself. He definitely seemed happy, but maybe a little bit crazy. ‘Sorry, of course you’re hungry. I’ll get you some food.’ He looked a bit puzzled as he picked up my empty plates and then he fetched me some prawns. They might be one of my favourite things but I wasn’t going to be won over that easily.

All the while I ate, he played with his phone. He would type something, it would beep and he’d smile and type something else. I actually found it all irritating; in my mood I would have preferred to dine in peace.

‘Alfie,’ he said finally. ‘I like the woman I went out with last night. I’ve known her for a while, although not well, but I saw her again last week. Anyway, she’s attractive, funny, smart and has a good job. I actually think I may be a bit “in like” with her.’ I refused to look at him and concentrated on my dwindling prawns.

‘Oh come on, you can’t be mad at me forever. Surely you can be happy for me?’ I felt my fur prick up as I wanted to tell him that I surely couldn’t, if it meant I was going to be forgotten about. I could really, if it meant he wasn’t sad any more, although I wasn’t ready to let him knowthat! ‘Look, this is why I didn’t want a cat. I’m free and easy and if I want to stay out, I should be able to. I don’t mind when you stay out all night, for God’s sake. I’m a grown up, Alfie.’ Still I didn’t turn round. ‘Oh, Alfie, just get over it. Next time I’m going out I’ll bring her back here.’ I turned around, but I didn’t give him a smile. ‘And why the hell am I apologising to a bloody cat?’ Jonathan looked bemused.

I gave him an indignant look, then I stalked out of the cat flap. But as soon as I stood outside, I realised it was raining. I hadn’t thought about the weather, being too cross to do so, but what a predicament I’d put myself in. Claire was asleep, Jonathan was in the dog house, and so I had no alternative but to get wet, which I hated, and walk down the street to the flats at number 22.

Feeling extremely disapproving of both Claire and Jonathan– Margaret had certainly never got up to such antics – I thought that perhaps it was time to step up my charm offensive with both Franceska and Polly. Maybe they would be more reliable.

As luck would have it, I struck gold. Matt, Polly’s husband, was pushing the pram into the house as I arrived, allowing me to sneak in.

‘Oh, hello Alfie,’ he said, and I felt quite chuffed, both that he spoke to me and that I was in the dry. He took his shoes off and left the pram just inside the door. I purred.

‘Shush,’ he said, quietly. ‘I’ve just got Henry off to sleep. Polly is having a much-needed lie-in. Come in and I’ll get you a towel to dry you off and give you some milk.’ I followed him into their small, but very neat, kitchen. He grabbed a tea towel and rubbed me down which was very nice, before pulling some milk out of the fridge and filling the kettle. I felt companionship developing between us as he quietly put some milk in a bowl for me, giving me a gentle pat. I lapped the milk as quietly as I could while Matt made himself a drink. He took it through to the living room andI joined him. We sat, side by side, on the sofa. He picked up a book to read and I just sat, quietly, showing him that I was able to be a good cat. I curled up, and after a while I started dozing off. I was roused a short while later by Polly appearing.

‘How long did I sleep for? Where’s Henry?’ She sounded panicked.

‘It’s fine, darling. He’s asleep in the pram and you probably got a couple of hours’ kip.’

‘But doesn’t he need feeding?’

‘He had breakfast, and it’s not lunchtime yet. Pol, he’s over six months so he can probably start having more regular feeding times.’

‘That’s what the health visitor said. And Franceska.’

‘So they’re probably right, then. Can I make you a cup of tea?’

‘Thanks, that would be lovely.’ Matt got up and Polly sat down next to me.

‘Hello, cat,’ she said stiffly. I tried to raise my eyes; she knew my name. ‘Sorry, Alfie,’ she corrected. I was sure that I was getting quite good at communicating with these humans, but then I was getting a lot of practice. She reached over and lightly touched my fur. I stayed still. Polly seemed afraid of me, but then, she seemed afraid of everything. One observation I had made was that she was definitely afraid of her baby. She seemed terrified of tiny Henry.

Matt returned with the tea and put it on the coffee table in front of her. He picked me up and sat down, putting me on his lap.

‘I hope that Henry isn’t allergic to his fur,’ Polly said.

‘Of course he isn’t. Mum had a cat and we were round there all the time.’

‘Oh yes, I’d forgotten,’ Polly replied. She looked vague. Matt’s brow creased and he didn’t look happy.

‘Polly, are you OK? I mean really? I know this move has been a huge upheaval and I didn’t realise I’d be working so much straight away, but I’m worried about you.’

‘I’m fine.’ She looked around the room with an expression on her face that seemed to say she had no idea where she was. It was still quite bare, the same as when they moved in. Apart from the sofa, chair and trunk table, the room was quite sparse. Even with the baby mat and toys on the floor it still didn’t seem like a home, nothing like next door. ‘It’s just hard and I’m tired,’ she continued. ‘I’m tired and I’m homesick and although I have Franceska now, I do feel lonely. I miss my family.’ It was the most I’d heard her say, even to Franceska.

‘I’ll do anything to help you,’ Matt said. ‘Maybe we can go home soon, would you like that? Or if you really want to, you and Henry can go and see your mum for a week. I could drive you up on Sunday and pick you up the following weekend.’ He looked a bit pleased with himself.