Molly And The Cat Cafe

15

Debbie placed the bowl in front of me on the kitchen floor, so I ate a few mouthfuls out of courtesy, although my appetite had vanished in my excitement at being allowed in. When I felt I had eaten enough not to appear ungrateful, I padded through to the front of the café while Debbie finished her chores in the kitchen.

The café was lit only by the glow of the street lights outside, but even in the dark I knew that my initial impression of a rundown establishment had been well founded. Much of the floor area was taken up with an ugly glass-and-metal serving counter, its plastic shelves yellowing with age. I tiptoed between wobbly aluminium tables and sniffed at the musty linoleum underfoot. There was a black stove in the stone fireplace, but it was cold to the touch and, judging by the dust that coated it, looked like it had not been used for a long time.

It felt strange to be inside again after so long outdoors. The atmosphere seemed enclosed, the background soundtrack of birds in distant treetops replaced by the electrical hum of kitchen appliances. I turned and walked towards the curved bay window at the front of the café, jumping onto the windowsill to look out through the square panes of glass. The street outside was deserted, and raindrops bounced silently on the wet cobbles.

Debbie switched off the kitchen lights and walked through to the café. I hopped down from the window and approached her with my tail up in greeting. She sat down at a little table and held a hand out towards me, smiling. I trotted over and leapt up onto her lap, purring my gratitude that she had finally taken me in. The sound of sniffing made me look up, and I was dismayed to see that tears were sliding down Debbie’s cheeks as she stroked me. I blinked slowly at her, trying to communicate that she might feel better if she talked to me. She sighed and rubbed me behind the ears.

‘You know, puss, you’re the first one to show me any affection in a long time,’ she whispered. I licked her hand to reassure her that, if it was my affection she wanted, she had come to the right cat. She nuzzled her face against the back of my head while I kneaded her lap with my paws and we remained that way, sitting in the dark, silent café until eventually I dozed off. I was only vaguely aware of Debbie standing up underneath me, then carefully placing me back on the chair while I remained curled in a ball. I rearranged myself on the seat, which was still warm from her body. She whispered, ‘Night-night, puss’, before climbing the flight of stairs that led from the café to the flat above.

The next thing I knew, sunlight was streaming through the bay window and I could hear footsteps and voices through the ceiling. Startled momentarily to find that I was not under the fire escape in the alley, I sat up and looked around me. The drab greyness of the floor and dirty walls was even more apparent in the bright morning light. The woodwork, which had once been white, was yellow and peeling in places, and the metal tables were scratched. I heard a footfall and voices on the stairs.

Sophie was the first to appear in the café, glowering suspiciously at me. ‘How do you know it hasn’t got fleas, or worse?’ she scowled.

‘I’m sure she’s perfectly healthy,’ Debbie reassured her daughter from the stairwell. ‘I just need you to keep an eye on the café for a couple of hours.’

‘Well, she looks dirty to me,’ Sophie replied in a surly tone, not taking her eyes off me.

I observed Sophie quizzically. She was a little taller than Debbie and her long blonde hair was streaked with pink. It was a Saturday, and she was wearing a floral summer dress – somewhat incongruously, given the weather outside – over thick black tights and clumpy boots. I had seen her in the alley on many occasions, but never at such close quarters. She was a pretty girl, but her attractiveness was somwhat tempered by a permanent frown. Her blue eyes reminded me of Debbie’s, but rather than kindness, they conveyed irritation and hostility. I was in no doubt that she was going to prove more of a challenge to win over than her mother.

A couple of moments later Debbie appeared behind Sophie at the foot of the stairs. Her face was obscured behind a large plastic box, which I immediately recognized as a cat carrier. My reflexes kicked in and I leapt from the chair with such force that it almost toppled over behind me. Sophie shrieked as I shot past her. Desperate to find somewhere to hide, I squeezed under the metal serving counter, pressed between its base and the dusty floor. The appearance of the cat carrier could mean only one thing: I was to be taken away, just as I had been from Margery. I cursed myself for being so naive.

I heard Debbie groan. She placed the carrier on a table, then knelt down next to my hiding place. One side of her face appeared, sideways, in the gap between the floor and the edge of the counter. ‘It’s all right, puss, please don’t be scared,’ she pleaded. I remained stony-faced.

‘What if it bites you and gives you rabies?’ Sophie asked scathingly.

Debbie’s right cheek was pressed against the floor, and I saw her eye roll. ‘Of course she hasn’t got rabies, Sophie, don’t be ridiculous. This is the Cotswolds.’ She stretched her arm out awkwardly, wiggling her fingers at me in an effort to coax me towards her. ‘Come on, puss, please come out,’ she implored, but I stayed put. I knew that, if called upon, I could maintain my position much longer than she could, with her bottom in the air and her face wedged under the counter.

‘I guess you won’t be needing me to watch the café after all,’ Sophie sneered. ‘Doesn’t look like you’re going anywhere this morning.’

I heard her heavy boots stomp upstairs to the flat.

Debbie sighed and looked me in the eye. ‘Please, puss. I just want to take you to the vet to get you checked over. I’m not going to hurt you, I promise.’ I stared back impassively. She sighed and, with a few noises of discomfort, got to her feet. Dropping onto a nearby chair, she stretched out her legs and began to rub her knees.

Relieved to have some privacy, I took a moment to consider my options. I could make a dash for freedom as soon as the café door was opened, but where would I go? Would I have to start all over again – find a different alleyway, or another potential owner to charm? Or could I trust that what Debbie had said was true, that she was not planning to have me rehomed, but was simply taking me to the vet? Margery had done the same on a regular basis. It had never been the highlight of my year, involving needles being stuck between my shoulder blades and fingers prising my mouth open. But it was an ordeal to which I had become accustomed, and I appreciated that Margery did it with my best interests at heart.

I squirmed forward on my belly to the front edge of the counter. Debbie was still massaging her knees, gazing idly out of the bay window. I took a deep breath and sidled out from my hiding place. The cramped space had left my joints stiff, so I stretched out from nose to tail on the café floor, before padding over to Debbie and patting her shin with my paw.

‘Oh!’ she exclaimed, shocked to see that I had come out of my own accord. ‘Oh, puss, look at the state of you!’ she added, wiping the cobwebs and dust from my fur. ‘Okay, puss, shall we get you to the vet?’ she asked, looking me calmly in the eyes. I blinked at her.

Debbie called Sophie back downstairs, then lifted me gently into the carrier and walked me to her car. Talking to me in a low, soothing voice, she placed me on the passenger seat, before starting the engine. Being inside her car brought back memories of driving to Rob’s house, and I was unable to stop myself from yowling in distress. Debbie responded to each yowl patiently. ‘There, there, it’ll be all right, puss.’

At the vets, Debbie explained that she had found me in the alleyway and wanted to keep me. The vet checked me over and pronounced me ‘in remarkably good health for a stray’. She then ran a device that looked like a television remote control across my body to scan for a microchip. When the device started bleeping, Debbie’s face fell. She shot a questioning look at the vet, who began to tap at her computer keyboard. ‘According to the chip, her name’s Molly,’ she said.

‘Oh, what a lovely name,’ Debbie replied, a smile lighting up her eyes. ‘I suppose she must be lost. Her owner’s probably looking for her,’ she continued. The smile had faded and she looked as if she was about to burst into tears.

‘Let’s call the number and find out, shall we?’ the vet asked gently, and Debbie nodded.

The vet left the room and we waited, Debbie drumming her fingers on the black examination table while I tried to ignore the unpleasant smell of disinfectant. I wanted to reassure Debbie that I knew Margery wouldn’t be able to look for me, and I very much doubted that Rob would have made any effort to. But we were both at the mercy of the vet and her phone call. There was nothing we could do except wait.

After what felt like an eternity, the vet came back into the room. ‘The number’s no longer in use, and without a current contact, there’s not much we can do.’ A grin began to spread across Debbie’s face. ‘Molly is officially a stray, and yours to rehome if you want to.’ I’d never felt so happy to hear myself described as a stray, and there was no mistaking Debbie’s elation as she burst into tears of relief and hugged me. I was given an injection before being returned to the cat carrier where I waited patiently while the vet typed Debbie’s details into her computer. Once the registration process was complete, Debbie thanked the vet, picked up the handful of leaflets she had been given, and we were free to go.

‘What do you think about that, Molly – you’re officially my cat!’ Debbie said cheerily as she placed me on the passenger seat of her car.

There was not much I could do to communicate my delight through the plastic of the carrier, but the happiness that rushed through my body made me feel like I was floating. I was so ecstatic that I didn’t even mind when Debbie cranked up the volume on the car radio and sang along loudly for the entire duration of the journey home.