Molly And The Cat Cafe

25

‘But who would have reported us? All the customers love Molly.’ Debbie’s toast lay uneaten on her plate as the letter’s meaning began to sink in.

She stood up and began to pace across the room, clutching the letter in her hand. Eddie crouched on the rug, wiggling his bottom from side to side as he prepared to pounce on her feet. Oblivious to his presence Debbie dropped onto the sofa, her face a picture of consternation. Within seconds, Eddie had scampered across the rug and started to climb up her trouser leg.

‘I think I can guess who did it,’ Sophie said glumly.

Debbie looked up, confused.

‘There’s an old lady who walks past the café every day,’ Sophie continued, sitting down on the sofa next to Debbie. ‘Dyed hair, face like she’s sucking a lemon.’

‘With the shopping trolley?’ Debbie interjected. Sophie nodded. ‘I know the one.’ A puzzled frown was beginning to form on Debbie’s brow. ‘But she’s never said a word to me. What’s the café to her?’

‘Well, she has spoken to me. Lots of times,’ Sophie replied, lowering her eyes.

Debbie stared at Sophie, confused. ‘When? What’s she said?’

‘She’s usually at the bus stop when I get back from school,’ Sophie said quietly. ‘At first she just gave me dirty looks, then she started muttering about how people like us are ruining the town – that we’re not welcome here and never will be.’

‘People like us?’ Debbie repeated, the colour rising in her cheeks. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Sophie shrugged. Debbie’s face was flushed with anger and indignation. She looked like she was about to speak, but she bit her lip and told Sophie to carry on.

‘It just kind of grew from there. Every time she passed she would make some comment, usually about you. Stupid stuff, like “She’ll run that business into the ground” or “No one in their right mind would eat food that she’s prepared.” I just ignored her, I thought she was crazy.’

Debbie’s mouth fell open. ‘What the . . . ? How dare she, the miserable old—’ She stopped in mid-sentence as a thought struck her. ‘But, Sophie, why haven’t you told me any of this before?’

Sophie looked down, avoiding her mother’s gaze. Purdy had crawled onto her lap and was washing herself proudly, showing off the grooming techniques that I had taught her.

‘I figured she was just a mad old woman. And I didn’t want to worry you, Mum. You were so down about the business already. I thought it would be the last straw.’

‘So you kept it to yourself? Oh, Soph, you shouldn’t have done that.’ Debbie’s eyes were brimming with tears, and when I looked across at Sophie, I noticed that hers were the same.

‘I was really scared, Mum. You kept saying how the café was your new start, and I knew you were worried about the locals not accepting you. I thought if you knew what she was saying, you’d decide to have another fresh start somewhere else.’

‘Oh, Soph, I would never do that,’ Debbie protested.

‘But you’d already done it once, Mum. You made the decision to come here, didn’t you? You took me out of school, made me leave all my friends. I never asked to come here, did I? How was I to know you wouldn’t do the same thing again?’

Debbie’s head dropped and I saw tears falling onto Eddie, who was rolling in her lap, batting the tassels on the hem of her jumper. Debbie wiped her eyes and turned to face Sophie. ‘I promise you, Soph, I will never make a decision like that again without talking to you first. And I’m so sorry you’ve been dealing with all of this on your own. I should have known something was going on.’ She put her hand on Sophie’s leg, where it was immediately pounced on by Purdy.

Sophie nodded and smiled tearfully, gently trying to prise Purdy off her mother’s hand. Purdy immediately twisted round to attack Sophie’s fingers, biting her thumb as ferociously as she could with her tiny teeth. ‘I don’t know why, Mum, but for some reason that woman’s had it in for you from the start. I guess seeing Molly in the window just gave her the excuse she needed.’

By now, all five kittens had joined Debbie and Sophie on the sofa. Bella and Abby were walking along the cushions behind them, their tails veering from side to side as they tried to maintain their balance; Purdy and Eddie were playing on Sophie and Debbie’s laps, and Maisie was washing on the sofa arm by Debbie’s elbow.

‘And now look at us!’ Debbie said, wiping her eyes and gesturing towards the kittens surrounding them. ‘The old battleaxe would have a field day. She thought one cat was bad. What would she do if she knew there were six?’

Sophie laughed and stroked Purdy, who, worn out by playing, had curled up in a tight ball next to her leg. ‘But seriously, Mum, what are we going to do with them? Can we really keep them all in the flat?’

Hidden inside the cardboard box, I pricked up my ears.

‘For now we don’t have any other choice,’ Debbie answered. ‘The kittens aren’t even a month old yet – they’re too young to be separated from Molly. But beyond that . . . I’m not sure, Soph. It’s a small flat, and Molly’s not used to being solely an indoor cat. We’ll have to think of what’s best for her.’

Debbie’s response worried me. She had sidestepped the question and there was something in her tone that suggested resignation. The only certainty I could take from her words was that, as long as the kittens were dependent on me, we would remain in the flat. It wasn’t much comfort, but it was all I had.

The next time I stepped into the hall, I discovered that a large piece of plyboard had been placed across the top of the stairs, blocking my access to the café. Although I understood that Debbie had no alternative, I felt my throat constrict every time I looked at it. It was a stark reminder that I was now confined upstairs and, in effect, a prisoner in the flat.

Gazing at the skyline from the living-room window was a poor substitute for being able to come and go as I pleased. My loss of liberty was largely symbolic – since the kittens were born I had chosen to spend most of my waking hours with them in the flat – but I bitterly missed my short forays into the café and the outside world. They had been fleeting moments of independence for me, when I was – however briefly – free from the responsibilities of motherhood. Meeting customers in the café, or being out in the fresh air, reminded me that life outside the flat continued, and that I still had an identity beyond being a mother to my kittens.

Knowing there was nothing I could do about my confinement, I devoted all my energy and attention to the kittens. They were becoming more adventurous and sociable by the day, and I was constantly surprised by their physical and emotional development. Although Eddie had remained significantly larger than the others, he had a gentle, diffident nature and was easily cowed into submission by his sisters. Maisie was the most nervous of the five, springing into the air with her tail fluffed at any sudden noise or movement. Bella and Abby were a tight duo, always play-fighting together, and Purdy was by far the most mischievous and extroverted of the litter. She was always the first to explore new parts of the flat, prising open doors with her paw while the others watched intently from the sidelines.

Watching my kittens grow was a bittersweet experience. I found them endlessly fascinating and longed to see what changes their development would bring next. But with those changes came the certainty that, eventually, they would no longer be dependent on me. When that time came, I knew Debbie would have to decide what was going to happen to us. I tried to put thoughts of the future out of my mind but, when the kittens were asleep, I couldn’t help but wonder where they would end up and what my future would hold when they had gone.

While I had the kittens to look after, Debbie had other demands on her time. The café’s growing popularity presented her with a fresh set of concerns, about staffing levels, suppliers and wage bills. Having borrowed money to pay for the refurbishment and take on new staff, the stakes were higher than ever, if the café didn’t continue to thrive. Even when she was in the flat, Debbie was often preoccupied, attending to business matters on her laptop or making work calls on the phone.

It happened gradually and imperceptibly but, as time went on, I began to sense that Debbie and I were no longer as close we used to be. By the time she had finished dinner and dealt with the evening’s administrative jobs, she was exhausted and ready for bed. She had stopped confiding in me, the way she used to, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that she was hiding something from me, and that it was tied up with the future of the café. I could not be sure, but I suspected that the time might come when Debbie would have to choose between the café and me. Knowing that Sophie’s wellbeing and security depended on the café being a success, I was in no doubt that, if Debbie was forced to make a decision, she would choose the café.

At night, when everyone was asleep, I would jump onto the living-room windowsill. The amber glow of the street light illuminated the alleyway below and, if I pressed my head against the glass, I could just make out the dustbin beneath the window. To see the alley and not be able to step out into it, however, increased my feeling of isolation. Staring at the dark alley, I resolved that – if the worst were to happen – I would be prepared. If and when the time came, I would return to the alleyway rather than allow myself to be rehomed by a stranger. Sometimes the thought would rise, unbidden, that I wished the tomcat would come back, that being homeless would be less frightening if I had him by my side. But I knew that indulging in such daydreams would lead only to disappointment and I dismissed them from my mind. I had survived as an alley-cat before; if necessary, I could do so again.