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‘I can’t believe it,’ Debbie whispered hoarsely. ‘I can’t … I didn’t … Linda, what just happened?’ she wailed, with a stricken look.

‘From what I heard, Debs,’ said Linda earnestly, ‘you stood up for yourself admirably. David was trying to bully and humiliate you, the self-righteous little pr—’

‘But, Linda,’ Debbie cut in, ‘that’s beside the point! His mother’s just died, and I refused to sign his letter. And now he thinks I’m a gold-digger, who only visited Margery because I wanted her money, and he’s going to take me to court and …’ As the gravity of the situation hit her afresh, Debbie’s eyes filled with tears and she let out a moan.

Linda placed a supportive hand on her sister’s arm. ‘Don’t worry, Debs, he’ll calm down,’ she soothed. ‘I’m not surprised you didn’t sign his letter, given the way he spoke to you. In fact, I would have thought far less of you if you had signed it.’

Debbie looked tearfully at Linda.‘Really?’ she asked meekly.

‘Absolutely!’ Linda insisted. ‘How dare he turn up here and demand that you sign something on the spot. Dead mother or no dead mother, he’s got a bloody nerve, the smug little w—’

‘But, Linda,’ Debbie interjected, ‘he was only asking me to do something I had said I would do. I told him I would renounce the legacy and then, when it came to it, I refused! Oh my God, he must think I’m crazy.’ She pulled a tissue out of her apron pocket and blew her nose noisily. Then she began to rock back and forth, her eyes glassy and unfocused, muttering, ‘What have I done?’ under her breath.

Linda appraised her sister.‘Debbie,’ she said briskly, ‘you need to pull yourself together.’ Debbie appeared not to hear her and continued to rock silently. ‘What happened just now was very unpleasant,’ Linda conceded, ‘but it can all be sorted out. Nobody is going to take anybody to court.’

At the mention of court, Debbie’s eyes darted fearfully to Linda and her rocking redoubled in intensity.

‘Oh, for goodness’ sake,’ Linda tutted. She leant back against the sofa, looking thoughtful. ‘You know, there is another way of looking at this,’ she said.

‘Oh, really, what’s that?’ replied Debbie wanly.

‘Well, what just happened with David has given you time to think, at least. The way I see it, David just showed you who he really is, which is a thoroughly unpleasant bully.’

Debbie gave an acquiescent shrug.‘So?’

‘Well,’ Linda went on, ‘I’m starting to wonder if there was a reason why Margery didn’t want him to inherit …’ She trailed off, directing a significant look at her sister.

Debbie’s brow furrowed. ‘What are you saying, Linda? That he bullied his mother? That he …’

Linda hunched forward, clasping her hands tightly together in her lap.‘I don’t know that for sure, Debbie. How could I? All I’m saying is, maybe it would be wrong to dismiss Margery’s wishes out of hand.’ Her face was full of fervour, and two spots of pink had appeared in her cheeks. ‘There might have been more going on in that family than you realize. Margery may have had good reason for not wanting to leave her estate to David.’ Linda raised her eyebrows and gave a slow, emphatic nod.

A look of panic started to spread across Debbie’s face. ‘Oh, God,’ she cried pitifully. ‘Oh, Linda, why did you have to say that? Now Ireally don’t know what to do!’

Linda sat back again and glanced down at Beau, who had been staring longingly at her lap since being dislodged from the sofa cushion. Taking her look as a tacit invitation, he bounded onto the sofa, making a nest for himself in the space between the sisters. Debbie had stopped rocking and was staring blankly into the middle distance as if in a trance, while Linda picked at her chipped nail varnish. Between them, Beau seemed blissfully unaware of the drama unfolding around him; he cocked one leg sideways and began licking his genitals noisily.

In the shoebox, my tail twitched with frustration. It should have been me sitting on the sofa beside Debbie, not Beau, and I should have been comforting her, rather than Linda. My calm, purring presence would have soothed her far more than Linda’s glib reassurances and dark speculations. Admittedly, I could not tell Debbie how proud I had been of the dignified way she had handled David, or that I knew that what she felt about Margery had nothing to do with money. But I was confident that, without saying a word, I could have done more to help her than Linda.

It was only Sophie’s unexpected appearance at the top of the stairs, and her blas? announcement that she would be home for dinner, that seemed to lift Debbie out of her trance. She disappeared into the hallway to greet her daughter and was soon ensconced in the kitchen, preparing a meal for the three of them.

For several days after David’s visit the atmosphere in the flat was stiff with tension. Debbie seemed preoccupied, as if she were present in body, but not in spirit. She didn’t mention Margery, David or the legacy at all, and steadfastly ignored Linda when she attempted, with varying degrees of subtlety, to talk to her about it. Linda found numerous ways to ask the same question, always in the same casual voice – ‘Have you heard anything more from David?’, ‘Has the solicitor been in touch?’, ‘Have you thought any more about what I said?’ – and ‘Nope,’ Debbie answered flatly each time, before standing up to leave the room.

Linda’s frustration at her sister’s stonewalling grew more apparent over time; her silent eye-rolls gave way to tuts of annoyance, until on one occasion she called pompously, ‘You can’t bury your head in the sand forever!’ at Debbie’s retreating back. To no avail. With Debbie stubbornly refusing to talk about it, Linda had no choice but to let the issue of the inheritance drop, and Margery’s legacy became a taboo subject around the flat.

It occurred to me one morning, as I watched them eating breakfast in silence, that there were now so many issues being avoided by the sisters that it was a miracle they found anything to say to each other at all. Like Margery’s legacy, the question of when Linda would move out also remained out-of-bounds; Debbie had either forgotten the promise she’d made to Jo, or was simply too taken up with Margery’s legacy to contemplate revisiting the subject. Sophie continued to spend no more than the bare minimum of her time in the flat, but this too was something that Debbie seemed reluctant to address openly.

Eddie had been missing for over a month, but his and Jasper’s continuing absence was similarly never mentioned, although I heard Debbie call their names into the alleyway every morning, and I knew she missed them keenly. As if that weren’t enough, my fear that John would decide he’d had enough of us seemed to have been proved right. Almost a week had passed since Debbie and John’s last date-night, when things had turned sour over the issue of the legacy. As far as I was aware, they had not spoken since.

All of which meant that conversation in the flat consisted of little more than discussing the day-to-day concerns of the caf?, and deciding what to have for dinner. Linda tried to cheer Debbie up one evening by suggesting that they buy a Christmas tree for the caf?.

‘Mmm, not just yet, Lind, it’s still a bit early,’ Debbie replied apathetically.

‘Come on, Debs, it’s only a few weeks away. Show a bit of festive spirit! It’ll be good for business,’ Linda urged, but Debbie was not to be persuaded. The fact that Christmas was looming ever closer was something that she, like me, seemed unwilling to acknowledge.

Her plans for a tree may have been thwarted, but that did not stop Linda doing her best to impose a festive mood on the caf? by stealth. She filled the table vases with sprigs of holly and, one morning, I discovered she had pinned a string of fairy lights around the window frame overnight.

‘Don’t worry Debs, they’re very tasteful,’ she reassured her sister, as I sniffed disapprovingly at the plastic stars looped around my cushion.

A couple of days later, Linda returned from the market brandishing a large bunch of green foliage.

‘Look, Debs,’ she said excitedly, ‘some mistletoe to go above the cat tree. I’m going to hang a photo of Ming from it – we can call itMing-istletoe!’

‘Whatever you say, Linda,’ Debbie replied wearily. She watched with folded arms as Linda clambered onto a chair and attempted to fasten the mistletoe to one of the ceiling beams. She had been fiddling around with string and drawing pins for a few moments, craning her neck awkwardly, when Debbie said with a mischievous smile, ‘If we’re going to haveMing-istletoe, Linda, surely we should also deck the halls withboughs of Molly?’ There was a moment’s silence, during which Debbie bit her lip to conceal a smile.

‘Hmm, I suppose we could,’ Linda replied vaguely. ‘Why don’t you take charge of that, Debs?’

‘Maybe I will,’ Debbie replied primly, heading back into the kitchen.

The following day, Linda came bustling through the door just after closing time.‘Guess what I just found in the pet shop?’ She grinned, swinging a plastic carrier bag onto the counter.

Debbie wandered closer as Linda pulled the bag open and rooted around inside.

‘A Santa hat – for a cat!’ she exclaimed, pulling out a miniature Christmas hat from the bag. ‘Isn’t it just the cutest thing you’ve ever seen?’ The red, pointed hat was fringed with white fur, with a fluffy bobble at the tip. ‘Look, there are slits for the ears – isn’t it justhilarious?’ she preened, holding the hat up for Debbie’s approval.

Debbie sighed.‘Yes, Linda, it’s very cute, but do you really think any of the cats will wear it?’

Taking this as a challenge, Linda spun around in search of a cat to model her purchase. Purdy happened to be striding across the caf? on her way to the cat flap, and was shocked and distinctly unamused to find herself scooped under the belly by Linda and carried across the room.This should be interesting, I thought, when Purdy was plonked ignominiously on the counter. She had begun to growl before Linda had even removed the item from its cardboard packaging and, when she lowered the hat towards Purdy’s head, her growl turned into high-pitched shriek of warning. ‘Come on now, Purdy, be a good girl,’ coaxed Linda. Purdy’s ears were pressed flat against her head and the whites of her eyes were showing.

‘Linda, I really don’t think—’ Debbie warned, but it was too late.

Linda, smiling rigidly, placed one hand around Purdy’s shoulder blades to steady her, and began to lower the hat over Purdy’s flattened ears with the other hand. There was a furious explosion of hissing and spitting, then Linda swore loudly, dropped the hat and yanked her hands away from Purdy. ‘Ow!’ she shouted, sucking her bleeding knuckles. Purdy leapt down from the counter and streaked across the caf? to the door. ‘That cat’s vicious,’ Linda complained, glaring at the swinging cat flap through which Purdy had fled.

‘No, Linda, she’s not vicious,’ Debbie explained patiently. ‘She’s just a cat. There’s a reason why you don’t tend to see cats wearing hats. They’re not big fans of hats, as a rule.’

‘Huh,’ Linda grunted, picking up the rejected item from the counter. ‘Well, maybe that’s true of some cats. But I bet Ming would wear it,’ she said ruefully. She glanced across the room at Ming, who was curled up sound asleep on her platform. ‘Although Ming’s ears are so big, I’m not sure they’d fit through the holes,’ Linda said disappointedly, waggling her bloodied fingers through the slits in the felt.

The corners of Debbie’s mouth began to curl upwards. ‘Maybe, when it comes to pet costumes, Beau might be a little more … compliant?’ she suggested.

Linda said nothing, but returned her clenched fist to her mouth, sucking her knuckles solemnly. Debbie stood opposite her at the counter, struggling to supress a smile. Linda looked at her reproachfully.‘’S’not funny,’ she said, her words muffled by the fistful of knuckles in her mouth.

Debbie’s shoulders started to shake and she bit hard on her lip. ‘Sorry, Lind, it’s just – you should have seen your face!’

Linda removed her hand from her mouth.‘Debbie, don’t laugh. It really hurts!’

Debbie’s upper body was now shuddering with laughter and a sudden snort escaped from the back of her throat. ‘Santa hats for cats! You really don’t know very much about cats at all, do you?’ she squeaked, while Linda glared at her. Debbie placed one hand over her mouth and stared fiercely at the till, doing everything she could to bring her fit of giggles under control.

Still sucking her injured hand, and with a look of hurt disappointment, Linda turned away from the counter and stomped upstairs.

Wiping tears of laughter from her eyes, Debbie picked up the discarded hat and dropped it into the bin.

I blinked at her approvingly, and not just because she had thrown the wretched hat away. For the first time in a long while, Debbie had found something to laugh about. The fact that her laughter had been at Linda’s expense made my pleasure all the sweeter.

20

[Êàðòèíêà: _9.jpg]

‘Deb, there’s another letter here from the solicitor,’ said Linda, picking up the morning’s post from the doormat. Placing the envelope bearing the solicitor’s insignia uppermost on the pile, she handed the mail to Debbie.

Debbie regarded the letter warily, as if it were a grenade at risk of exploding in her hand.‘I’ll deal with that later,’ she muttered, tucking it on the shelf beneath the till.

Linda moved between the tables, ostensibly refilling the sugar bowls, but watching her sister keenly out of the corner of her eye.

Later on, upstairs in the flat, Debbie was in the kitchen when Linda slipped in after her.‘What did that letter from the solicitor say?’ she asked, gathering cutlery from the drawer.

‘I don’t know, I haven’t opened it yet,’ Debbie admitted, then added morosely, ‘It’s probably a court summons.’

‘Of course it’s not a court summons, Debs. Don’t be ridiculous,’ Linda tutted. ‘You can’t put off dealing with it forever, you know,’ she chided.

From my vantage point in the hallway, Linda’s legs blocked much of my view, but when Linda shoved the cutlery drawer shut with her hip, I glimpsed Debbie twitchily brushing away her fringe – a nervous habit that I had begun to notice in her with increasing frequency of late.

‘Have you thought about what I said, Debs, that maybe Margery—’ Linda continued, but Debbie stopped her before she could finish.

‘Yes of course I’ve thought about it, Linda,’ she snapped. ‘I’ve thought about very little else for the last week or so.’ Although her face had disappeared behind her sister’s body, there was no mistaking Debbie’s defensive tone.

Linda produced the unopened solicitor’s letter from her back pocket. ‘Well, come on then – there’s no point prolonging the agony,’ she said decisively, holding the letter out.

I heard Debbie sigh, followed by the sound of ripping paper as she tore the envelope open.

‘Well?’ Linda sounded impatient.

‘It’s not a court summons,’ Debbie answered, sounding relieved. ‘They’re just asking me if I’ve made a decision about the legacy. Impressing upon me theurgency of having the matter resolved quickly.’

Linda tapped the cutlery against the side of her thigh.‘Hmm, I bet David’s behind that,’ she said shrewdly. ‘He must be all over the solicitor like a rash.’

‘Well, I guess he just wants to know what’s going on,’ said Debbie meekly. ‘Which is fair enough, I suppose …’

Linda snorted dismissively. Turning on her heels, she strode past me, gripping the knives and forks tightly, like a weapon.

No sooner had Debbie brought their food through and sat down at the table than Linda turned to face her.‘Now, Debbie, there’s something I’d like to put to you,’ she said, with an ingratiating smile.

‘Sounds ominous,’ Debbie remarked.

‘Well, it’s a business proposition, actually,’ Linda explained.

Debbie assumed an expression of polite curiosity while, in my shoebox, I wondered what new item of Ming-based merchandise Linda was about to suggest.

‘I’ve been working in the caf? for a while now,’ Linda began, somewhat pompously, ‘and, as you know, I’ve been trying to bring the benefit of my marketing expertise to the role.’ The merest flicker of a sardonic smile passed across Debbie’s face as she inclined her head in acknowledgement. ‘I’ve been thinking hard about Molly’s – its strengths and weaknesses – and where it can go from here.’ Again, Debbie gave a single nod. ‘Now, don’t get me wrong,’ Linda went on, ‘the caf? isfantastic. It’s popular, the cats are great and, most importantly, it’s making money.’

At this, Debbie raised an eyebrow in a way that communicated– to me, at least – a wish for Linda to get to the point.

‘But the problem with your current business model, Debs, is that it’s just not scalable,’ Linda intoned gravely.

‘Scalable?’ Debbie frowned.

‘That’s right,’ said Linda. ‘It’s all well and good having a little caf?, Debs, but you really need to be planning ahead. These are tough times for small businesses, and you’ve got a lot of competition here in Stourton.’

‘What competition?’ asked Debbie, perplexed. ‘There aren’t any other cat caf?s in Stourton – or anywhere else in the Cotswolds, for that matter.’

‘Not yet there aren’t,’ shot back Linda. ‘But how long do you think that will remain the case, once people start to get wind of Molly’s success? Do you really think you’re going to have a captive market of crazy cat ladies forever?’

‘I … I don’t …’ Debbie stammered, the wind taken out of her sails.

Linda shook her head sadly, with the air of someone being the reluctant bearer of bad news.‘It’s a jungle out there, Debs, and if your business isn’t growing, it’s dying.’

Debbie’s composed neutrality had been replaced by a look of confusion, mingled with alarm. ‘But how can Molly’s be scalable? There’s only one Molly, and only one caf?. I don’t—’

‘Debs,’ Linda interrupted sternly. ‘Let me spell it out for you.’ Suddenly she spun round in her chair and looked straight at me. ‘What do you see over there in that shoebox?’ she asked, fixing me with a cold stare.

Mirroring her sister, Debbie turned to face me.‘I see … Molly,’ she answered dubiously.

‘And what is Molly?’ Linda smiled.

Debbie paused. She wore the expression of someone who suspected she was walking into a carefully laid trap.‘A cat?’ she asked.

Linda grinned; Debbie had given exactly the answer she was expecting.‘She might be a cat to you, Debs,’ Linda observed loftily, ‘but to me, she’s a brand.’

Debbie and I stared at Linda with matching looks of utter incomprehension.

Linda flung one arm out, pointing at me with a chipped pink talon.‘That cat, sitting over there in that shoebox, has brand potential.’ She was almost glowing with the fervour of her conviction. ‘Or, rather, her name does. Personally, I’ve always felt Ming would be a better brand-ambassador than Molly, but it’s too late to change the name now.’ At this, Linda gave a disappointed sigh as she contemplated the commercial glory that might have been, had the caf? been named after Ming rather than me.

Debbie looked dumbstruck, and my head was reeling. Very little that had come out of Linda’s mouth since she had uttered the words ‘business proposition’ had made sense to me. I didn’t understand about business models, captive markets or scalability. The only thing I was certain of, as I sat in the relentless glare of Linda’s professional scrutiny, was that I had absolutely no desire to become a ‘brand’. It was quite enough of a challenge just being a cat.

‘Think about it, Debs. Do you really want to still be clearing tables, and cashing up tills and … changing litter trays, in your sixties?’ Linda wheedled.

‘The cats don’t use litter trays,’ Debbie objected meekly.

‘You know what I mean,’ Linda retorted with a dismissive flutter of her beringed fingers. ‘Wouldn’t it be nice to delegate some of the more … hands-on aspects of the job?’ She cast a sly glance in my direction, and I bristled at the implication that I was one such hands-on aspect.

Debbie opened and closed her mouth a few times, but no words came out.

‘Look, I know it’s a lot to take in,’ Linda said coolly. ‘There’s no rush to make a decision, but I think it wouldn’t hurt for you to start thinking about the future a bit more. After all, you’re no spring chicken, are you? You’ll be fifty in a couple of years, and your knees are already suffering from being on your feet all day, aren’t they?’

Debbie gave a reluctant nod.

‘Do you think you can carry on waiting tables until you retire?’ Linda pressed, with a tight-lipped smile.

Debbie shrugged submissively.

‘Nobody wants to think about growing old, but you’ve really got to start planning ahead, Debs. You know I’m right.’

Linda sat back triumphantly in her chair. Opposite her, Debbie’s head was bowed and she wore the hangdog expression of a chastised child.

‘With my help, Debs, we could build the brand together,’ Linda bore on. ‘Within five years there could be branches of Molly’s all over the Cotswolds.’

Debbie fiddled with her hair, gazing at the floor by her feet.‘But, Linda,’ she said finally, ‘what if I don’t want to be responsible for a chain of caf?s? It’s enough responsibility just keeping this one going.’

‘That’sexactly my point, Debs,’ Linda riposted brightly. ‘With me as your business partner, and a management team in place, you wouldn’t need to bother yourself with all the day-to-day responsibilities any more – you could delegate all of that.’

Debbie looked blank, as if she had run out of objections in the face of Linda’s relentless sales pitch. She sat in silence for a few moments, trying to gather her thoughts. Eventually she said, ‘But how would I pay for thisbrand expansion? Molly’s is doing well at the moment, but to think about taking on new premises … I haven’t got the money for … Oh!’ A look of horror spread across her face, as Linda broke into a broad grin.

‘But you could afford it, couldn’t you, Debs, if you used Margery’s legacy to pay for it?’

Debbie held up her hands, palms outwards, fingers spread.‘No way, Linda – that’s out of the question!’ she exclaimed, her eyes round with horror.

‘Is it, Debs? Says who?’ Linda was hunched forward earnestly. ‘Margery left that money to Molly, remember, to make sure she would always be looked after. And what better way to look after Molly’s interests than to make sure that her future – and the caf?’s, and yours – is secure?’

Debbie lowered her hands to her lap and her head drooped. She looked defeated.

‘Just promise me you’ll think about it, Debs,’ Linda pleaded. ‘It’s what Margery would have wanted.’

21

[Êàðòèíêà: _4.jpg]

The following day brought ominous grey clouds scudding low across the sky, and by lunchtime the rain had arrived, driving down on the parade in icy sheets. The thought of Eddie enduring the wintry conditions alone, outdoors and without shelter, consumed me. In spite of the weather, I slipped out and made straight for the alleyway, to curl up beneath the fire escape. Hearing the relentless pounding of raindrops on the iron steps above me, and feeling the winter chill seep into my bones, was a kind of penance, as if I was sharing, at least to some degree, Eddie’s suffering.

As I made my way back from the alleyway that evening, I rounded the corner to see Jo on the cobbles in front of the caf?. She was battling to steady her umbrella against the lashing rain, clutching a bag from the Indian takeaway close to her body with her free hand. I broke into a run and slipped in behind her when she opened the door and a blast of cold air rushed into the caf? with us, causing the paper napkins to flutter in their holders and the window blinds to tap against the glass.

‘Hiya, Debs, food’s here,’ Jo shouted, shaking out her umbrella on the doorstep. She walked across the flagstones, pausing by the cat tree to deliver an amused double-take at the photo of Ming suspended from the bunch of mistletoe.

‘It’sMing-istletoe. Linda’s idea,’ Debbie explained, deadpan, as she emerged from the kitchen carrying a bottle of wine and two glasses.

‘Of course,’ Jo murmured, stifling a smile.

She deposited the bag of food on the counter and walked over to the fireplace. Purdy, who had been spread out on the flagstones, jumped up and wrapped herself around Jo’s ankles, scent-marking her jeans enthusiastically with the sides of her mouth.

‘Hello, Purdy,’ Jo cooed, bending over to rub her briskly around the whiskers. I could hear Purdy’s purr from the windowsill. ‘So, how’re things with you, Debs?’ Jo asked, drying the backs of her rain-soaked legs in the warmth from the stove.

Debbie made a face that was half-grimace, half-smile, then pulled something out of her back pocket.‘Have a read of that,’ she said despondently, handing the folded envelope to Jo. The letter had arrived in the post that morning; I had recognized the solicitor’s insignia, and noticed how Debbie had swiftly plucked the envelope off the mat and stuffed it in her apron, looking around furtively to make sure Linda hadn’t seen.

‘Hmm, they’re turning up the pressure, aren’t they?’ Jo said, casting her eyes over the letter’s contents while Debbie gathered plates and cutlery.

‘I can hardly blame them,’ replied Debbie. ‘They need to know what I plan to do, but …’ Her posture slumped and she stared at the crockery in front of her.

‘But, what?’ Jo asked. ‘I thought you’d already decided to decline the legacy.’

‘I had, Jo!’ said Debbie fervently. ‘But that was before Linda started going on about how Margery might not have wanted David to inherit. She thinks David’s trying to bully me and that I should respect Margery’s wishes and … Oh, I just don’t know any more,’ she wailed.

Jo pulled a stool towards the counter and sat down, hungrily ripping open a paper bag of poppadoms.

‘She’s making me doubt myself, Jo,’ Debbie continued, looking dejected. ‘Am I being naive for thinking the money should go to David, regardless of Margery’s will? I know how much Molly meant to Margery, and David certainly isn’t the easiest of people—’

‘That sounds like an understatement, Debs,’ Jo interjected, taking a bite of crispy poppadum.

Debbie’s head dropped. ‘He was awful, Jo, I’ve never felt so belittled by anyone in my life,’ she admitted. ‘But that doesn’t make it right to disinherit him, does it?’ she asked, her eyes round with worry.

‘There’s no easy answer,’ Jo agreed. ‘But Linda is right about one thing. A bit of financial security for you and Sophie wouldn’t go amiss, would it?’

Debbie winced.‘You think I don’t know that?’ she asked. ‘That’s what’s so horrible about this whole situation. Linda knows I’ve got no pension, and no one to depend on financially. She knows that thinking about the future terrifies me, and she’s using it to justify taking the money.’

Jo did her best to convey sympathy whilst simultaneously shovelling a handful of poppadum shards into her mouth.

‘If it makes you feel any better, Debs,’ she said, as they moved their meal over to a table and sat down, ‘I know exactly what you mean about financial security, or lack thereof.’

Debbie pulled herself out of her torpor and looked at her friend with concern.‘Business still slow?’ she asked kindly.

‘Stourton’s changed, Debs,’ Jo complained. ‘My humble hardware shop isn’t in keeping with the place any more. We don’t fit in with all the beauty salons and designer boutiques and … cat caf?s all over the place.’

Debbie poured out two large glasses of wine.‘On behalf of the cat caf?s, I apologize,’ she said sincerely, handing a glass to Jo. ‘But people will always need Hoover bags, surely?’ she asked hopefully.

‘That’s true, Debs, but they can get them from the market, can’t they? Just like they can get most of what I stock from the market.’

Debbie gave her friend a sympathetic look and there followed a sisterly silence while the two of them ate and drank.

‘I’ve got to be honest, Debs,’ Jo said gloomily. ‘If someone left Bernard money in their will, I’d think very seriously before turning it down.’ She managed a half-smile and took a gulp of wine.

‘Well, it could happen,’ Debbie replied, determinedly upbeat. ‘I’m sure there must be a rich benefactor out there somewhere, with a soft spot for arthritic Labradors.’

‘Arthritic Labradors who are slightly incontinent and a bit smelly,’ Jo clarified.

Debbie chuckled.‘How is Bernard, anyway?’ she enquired.

Just as Jo had always taken an interest in me and the kittens, Debbie also felt an affectionate fondness for Jo’s dog.

‘Oh, he’s plodding on, bless him,’ answered Jo. ‘I took him to see my dad last weekend on the farm. They were like two peas in a pod, wheezing and limping around the yard together.’ She was smiling, but her eyes looked damp.

There was a sudden rattle and tinkle, followed by a gust of night air as the caf? door opened. Debbie and Jo both looked up, surprised by the unexpected interruption.

‘Oh, hi, sweetheart,’ Debbie said, twisting in her chair to see Sophie standing on the doormat. ‘You’re home early.’

Sophie shrugged.‘My plans changed. What’re you eating?’ she asked, drawn towards their table by the spicy aroma of their food.

‘Indian. There’s plenty left. Why don’t you join us?’

Sophie stood beside them, considering the offer.‘Okay,’ she said, and disappeared into the kitchen to fetch a plate.

‘So how are you?’ Jo asked, when Sophie had pulled up a chair alongside them and set about heaping her plate with lukewarm curry. ‘I’ve hardly seen you recently.’

‘That’s because she’s hardly ever here!’ Debbie chipped in, with a pointed look at her daughter.

‘And why do you think that is, Mum?’ Sophie riposted drily.

There was a pause, during which Jo glanced from mother to daughter.‘I guess it must be a bit … crowded … in the flat at the moment?’ Jo said diplomatically.

‘You could say that,’ replied Sophie, a distinct edge of bitterness to her voice. She tore off a chunk of doughy naan bread and dipped it into the sauce on her plate.

Next to her, Debbie had assumed a miserable expression and seemed to have sunk lower in her chair. Jo carried on eating, eyeing the pair of them surreptitiously.

‘So,’ Jo said, in a ‘changing the subject’ voice. ‘What do you think about Margery’s legacy, Soph? What do you think your mum should do?’ At this, Debbie’s body visibly tensed.

‘I dunno, really,’ Sophie shrugged. ‘I think it’s a bit of a weird thing to do, leave all your money to a cat. But then I also think David sounds like a bit of a d—’

‘Sophie!’ Debbie warned.

Sophie rolled her eyes, continuing to muse on the dilemma as she chewed.‘I think,’ she said at last, ‘that even if you’re not going to keep the money, you should string it out for as long as possible. Make David sweat over it. At the very least, that might teach him not to go around treating people like sh—’

‘All right, thank you Sophie,’ Debbie said sternly, sitting up straight to address her daughter.

‘She’s got a point though, Debs.’ Jo laughed. ‘It might not be such a bad idea to sit tight till New Year. Give yourself time to think about it, before you decide one way or the other.’

‘And prolong the agony even further?’ Debbie grimaced. ‘No, thanks. I don’t want to receive a court summons on Christmas Eve, if it’s all the same to you.’ She heaved a sigh and slumped back down in her chair with an air of self-pity.

‘I suppose,’ Jo replied, glancing at Sophie, who responded with an eye-roll. ‘What’s John got to say about it?’ Jo asked, hopefully. But the mention of John merely made Debbie’s shoulders sag still further.

‘Not much,’ she said in a long-suffering voice. ‘I haven’t heard from him for a couple of weeks. I expect he’s had enough of me.’

A gloomy hush settled on the table. It seemed that the more Jo tried to raise Debbie’s spirits, the more determined she was to see the worst in her situation. No one spoke for several minutes until, eventually, Sophie broke the silence.

‘Oh, for God’s sake, Mum,’ she hissed irritably. ‘Enough with the pity-party.’

‘Pardon?’ Debbie replied, looking stung.

‘Well, are you surprised you haven’t heard from John?’ Sophie snapped. ‘The last time you saw him, you practically bit his head off about the legacy.’

Debbie’s brow furrowed indignantly, and she looked at Jo for backup. But Jo was staring hard at her wine glass, keen not to get involved.

In spite of Jo’s presence, Sophie made no attempt to soften her accusatory tone. ‘Honestly, Mum, you don’t get it, do you? First, you were so wrapped up in the whole Linda saga, and now in the whole legacy saga, that you seem to have forgotten that other people have feelings and might have stuff going onin their lives, too. You’re not the only one with problems, you know.’

Debbie stared at Sophie with a hurt look.‘But I didn’t … I’m just trying to do the right thing by everyone, Soph. I didn’t ask for any of this—’

‘I know you didn’t ask for any of it, Mum,’ Sophie interrupted impatiently. ‘We all know that. But instead of letting Linda and David ruin your life, why don’t you just get off your backside and do something about it?’ Anger flashed in her eyes, and Debbie’s mouth had opened, but nowords came out. Across the table, Jo was looking increasingly uncomfortable. ‘Honestly, Mum,’ Sophie continued authoritatively, ‘you need to start taking a bit of responsibility for your life. If you think you should decline the legacy, then do it. And if Linda’s interference is gettingyou down, why don’t you just tell her to f—’

‘Okay, thank you, Soph,’ Jo cut in with a tense smile. ‘I think you’ve made your point beautifully.’

Sophie sat back in her chair. Next to her, Debbie looked stunned.‘You’re right, Soph,’ she said. ‘I guess I have been a little … self-absorbed recently.’ Sophie did not meet her mother’s gaze, but a grunt indicated assent. ‘And you’re absolutely right: I need to make up my own mind about what to do.’

Another grunt.

Debbie placed a hand on Sophie’s arm, and her eyes rested on her daughter with an expression of shrewd concern. ‘So … I guess I’ve also forgotten to ask what’s been going on in your life, haven’t I?’ she asked.

Sophie was staring at the piece of naan bread in her hands, breaking it into smaller and smaller pieces, until it disintegrated into crumbs on the table.

Jo drained her glass and tilted the empty wine bottle, looking at it with fierce concentration.‘I think I’ll just pop out for another bottle,’ she murmured, standing up and grabbing her jacket from the counter. Within seconds she was gone from the caf?, leaving mother and daughter alone. Two spots of pink had appeared in Sophie’s cheeks and she looked like she was fighting back tears.

‘Well?’ Debbie prompted gently.

‘Well, since you ask, Matt and I have split up,’ answered Sophie, her bottom lip trembling.

‘Oh, sweetheart,’ Debbie replied, draping her arm around Sophie’s shoulders. ‘I’m so sorry. When did that happen?’

‘Tonight,’ Sophie whispered.

As Debbie leant in, Sophie’s restraint suddenly dissolved and she took a deep, shuddering breath. Debbie pulled her daughter towards her, resting Sophie’s head against her neck and stroking her hair. As Sophie sobbed, Debbie murmured soothingly into her ear. ‘It’ll be okay, sweetheart, I promise. Everything’s going to be okay.’

22

[Êàðòèíêà: _9.jpg]

When Linda emerged from the bathroom the following morning, Debbie was waiting in the hallway for her.

‘John’s coming round for dinner tonight, Linda, so could you make yourself scarce this evening?’

I peered around the kitchen doorway to watch them. Adjusting her makeshift towel turban, Linda looked taken aback.‘No problem,’ she replied compliantly.

‘Great, thanks,’ said Debbie, heading briskly into the bathroom and locking the door behind her.

Later, when Sophie finally wandered down from her bedroom, puffy-eyed and pale-faced in her pyjamas, Debbie patted a dining chair and beckoned for her to sit down. She disappeared into the kitchen and emerged moments later with a plate of sticky pastries and a mug of hot chocolate, topped with whipped cream and marshmallows.

‘There you go, Soph. Sugar and carbohydrate. The best-known cure for a broken heart,’ she said, lowering them onto the table.

‘Thanks, Mum,’ Sophie said, breaking into a smile. ‘Did I hear you say John’s coming over tonight?’ she asked, licking icing off her fingertips.

‘Yep,’ Debbie said decisively. ‘I took the advice of my ever-so-mature seventeen-year-old daughter’ – Sophie smiled bashfully – ‘and texted him this morning to invite him round, to say sorry for how I’ve been behaving recently.’

Sophie looked quietly impressed.‘Good on you, Mum,’ she said approvingly, taking a noisy slurp of hot chocolate through the swirls of whipped cream.

After breakfast, Sophie retreated to her bedroom, Linda took Beau out for a walk, and Debbie set about tidying the flat with a look of resolute industriousness. I watched from the sofa as she ruthlessly disposed of piles of newspapers, emptied wastepaper baskets and cleared the dining table of its accumulated clutter. Eyeing the mound of Linda’s belongings, she marched over to the alcove and shoved as many of her sister’s clothes as possible inside the suitcase. When it was full to bursting, she forced it shut and pushed it roughly against the wall next to the pet carrier. Then she dusted the surfaces, and pushed the Hoover around with a look of grim determination. Finally satisfied, she fell heavily onto the sofa next to me. ‘That’s better, isn’t it, Molls?’ she panted.

The evening started well. Following her sister’s instructions, Linda had gone out and – an added bonus – had taken Beau with her. I padded around the pristine flat, enjoying the change in atmosphere occasioned by their absence. In the living room the lights were dimmed, candles flickered on the table and music played softly on the stereo. Debbie had done a thorough job with the air freshener, and any lingering trace of Beau’s musky odour was masked by the artificial scent of freesias. Stalking from room to room, I felt a glimmer of territorial pride; for the first time in ages, the flat felt like our home again.

Debbie and Sophie were in the kitchen when John appeared at the top of the stairs, freshly shaved and smelling of aftershave. He handed a bunch of flowers to Debbie in the hallway, which she accepted with a modest blush.

‘Hi, Sophie,’ John said through the kitchen doorway, surprised to find Sophie microwaving a meal for herself. ‘It’s not like you to be home on a Saturday night.’

Debbie, who was filling a vase with water at the sink, glared urgently at him, shaking her head in warning.

‘I … er, sorry …’ John stammered, nonplussed.

‘It’s all right,’ Sophie said, sounding sanguine. ‘I split up with Matt yesterday is what Mum’s oh-so-tactfully trying to tell you,’ she explained.

‘Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,’ John said sincerely, watching Sophie tip her microwaved dinner onto a plate. ‘Tell you what, Sophie,’ he said, ‘I’ve done a few plumbing jobs for Matt’s mum, so I know where he lives. If you want me to go round and break his legs, just give me the nod.’ John tapped the side of his nose conspiratorially.

‘Thanks, but I don’t think any leg-breaking is called for,’ Sophie answered drily.

‘Or, at the very least, I could tamper with his central heating. Make sure he’s freezing cold over Christmas,’ John suggested.

‘Thanks, I’ll think about it,’ Sophie replied with a coy smile, filling a glass of water at the tap and placing it next to her plate on a tray. ‘Have fun,’ she said to them both, heading out of the kitchen and up to her room.

I followed Debbie and John across the hall to the living room and jumped onto the sofa while they began to eat. I closed my eyes, soothed by the sound of their voices and the clink of cutlery. The ambience in the clean, candlelit room was so calm that in no time I had dozed off, and had just drifted into a dream when I was startled awake by the sound of Linda’s voice.

‘It’s only me, Debs, I’m just dropping Beau off,’ she called up the stairs.

The tranquil atmosphere was shattered when, seconds later, Beau came skittering into the living room, leapt onto the sofa cushion opposite me and began to scratch furiously. I glowered at him, but he was too busy scratching even to notice my look of disgust.

When Linda appeared at the living-room door, John stood up courteously, but Debbie remained seated, pointedly ignoring her sister, while continuing to eat her dinner.

‘Don’t mind me, I’m not staying. I just wanted to drop Beau off before I meet my friends,’ Linda explained, with an anxious glance at Debbie. ‘How are you, John?’ she said warmly, accepting John’s polite kiss on the cheek.

‘Good, thanks,’ John murmured in reply.

Linda hovered in the doorway, taking in the romantic intimacy of the scene. John stood next to her, smiling awkwardly, while Debbie continued to glower at the table. The silence was broken only by the sound of Beau’s teeth knocking together, as he scratched at his cheek with his hind paw.

‘Well, I’ll be off then. Nice to see you again, John,’ Linda said cheerily, determined not to acknowledge the tension in the air. She zipped up her quilted jacket and fished in her pocket for her car keys. Turning to leave, she said casually to John, ‘Maybe you can talk some sense into Debbie about this legacy business.’

There was a loud clatter as Debbie let her fork fall against her plate.‘I beg your pardon?’ she said, her eyes seeming to darken as she turned to look at her sister for the first time. ‘What does that mean, Linda – “talk some sense into me”?’ she asked, with a steely coldness.

‘I just meant I thought it might be helpful for you to talk it over with John, to see what he thinks,’ Linda blustered defensively.

Debbie glared at Linda with unmistakable anger.‘No, Linda, what you meant was: maybe John could convince me to keep the money.’ It was a statement rather than a question, but Linda shook her head vehemently. Debbie’s eyes shifted to John. ‘My sister finds the idea of turning money down difficult to comprehend. She always has.’

John, who was standing just inside the living-room door, equidistant between the sisters, looked at his shoes in embarrassment.

‘Deborah! How dare you!’ Linda gasped, a flush of outrage rising in her orange-tinged face.

‘Oh, for God’s sake, Linda. Please, just be honest,’ Debbie’s voice was strident now. ‘You want me to accept the legacy, and you’re hoping John will persuade me to do so.’

Linda looked hurt, but she instinctively drew herself up straighter.‘I do think you should accept the legacy, Debbie, but only because I think you should honour Margery’s wishes,’ she said piously.

‘Pah!’ Debbie snorted. ‘That’s rubbish, and you know it. The only reason you’re so keen for me to take the money is becauseyou want to build a business empire with it. You can’t bear the fact that I’ve made a success of Molly’s without your help. Now you want to muscle in on my business to launch yourbrand’ – she lingered mockingly over the word – ‘and you want to use Margery’s money to pay for it.’ Debbie’s face was rigid with anger.

Linda’s mouth had formed an ‘O’ of scandalized outrage. John looked as if he would rather be anywhere else than caught in the sisters’ crossfire.

‘I don’t know why I’m surprised,’ Debbie continued bitterly. ‘All you’ve ever cared about is money.’

‘Oh, well, that’s just charming,’ retorted Linda sharply, rallying now that her initial shock had subsided. ‘I’ve been working in the caf? – unpaid, I might add – for weeks now. I never heard you complain when I was scraping dirty plates and loading dishwashers for you. I never asked for a penny in wages, did I? If I’d known this was how you felt, then quite frankly I wouldn’t have bothered.’

‘That’s not fair, Linda! We agreed you would work downstairs in exchange for staying here,’ Debbie countered.

‘Yes, and I’ve been working my backside off, haven’t I?’ riposted Linda fiercely. ‘Not just being your skivvy and waitress, but doing everything in my power to help market and promote the caf?. I’ve got you press coverage, I’ve devised marketing campaigns, merchandising …’ Atthis, Debbie let out a derisory snort and I knew she was thinking aboutMing’s Mugs.

Linda’s eyes narrowed. ‘You’re not going to deny, I hope, that since I launched the Ming marketing campaign, the caf?’s taken more money?’ she said reprovingly.

Debbie groaned.‘That’s exactly my point, Linda,’ she answered shrilly, banging her hand on the table with sufficient force to make Beau stop scratching and look at her. ‘You just don’t get it, do you? Ming is a cat, not amarketing opportunity. And, whether you like it or not, Molly is a cat too, not abrand.’ Debbie’s eyes were blazing with conviction. ‘Everything’s about money for you, isn’t it?’ she went on fervently. ‘You turn up here, expecting me to take you and Beau in indefinitely, and I’m not allowed to challenge it becausesome of your ideas have brought in a few extra quid to the caf?.’

When the telephone rang, John looked visibly relieved. He darted across the room to pick up the receiver, placing a hand over his other ear.

Still standing in the doorway, listening to her sister give voice to her pent-up frustration, Linda’s eyes had become glassy. ‘Well, if I’d known that was how you feel, Debs, I would never have come here. My marriage had broken down, in case you’d forgotten, and I had no one else to turn to. It’s all right for you, with your lovely caf? and cosy flat. Life’s not all cupcakes andkittens for everyone, you know. Some of us have real problems to deal with.’

If Linda had hoped this would elicit sympathy from her sister, she was mistaken.‘Real problems?’ Debbie repeated sarcastically. ‘Linda, the only problem you’ve ever had to deal with is how to spend your husband’s money. My God, you’re still doing it now! Do you think I haven’t seen the stash of shopping in Beau’s carrier?’ At this, Linda blushed deeply, but Debbie wasn’t done yet. ‘If you want to know about real problems, you should have tried walking inmy shoes for the last few years. My ex-husband left me bankrupt, with a teenager to bring up on my own, remember?’

Linda looked close to tears, but Debbie showed no sign of relenting; the resentment that had been simmering for weeks had erupted in an unstoppable tide of bitterness and recrimination.‘You’ve been the same, Linda, ever since we were little. You’ve always had a knack for getting other people to bail you out. First it was Mum and Dad, then it was Ray. Now that well is running dry, you can’t wait to think of ways to spend my money instead!’

While she was in full flow, John slipped wordlessly past Linda to the hallway, leaving the sisters alone. As the argument had gone on, I had braced myself for histrionics from Linda, of the kind I had witnessed when she first moved in, but in fact she assumed a look of stoic forbearance.

When she finally spoke, her voice was eerily calm and her face expressionless.‘So it’syour money now, is it, Debs? I thought you said it belonged to Margery’s family.’ There was a pause, during which Debbie blushed a deep pink. ‘Maybe we’re not so different after all, Sis,’ Linda said coldly.

‘I didn’t mean … I know it’s not …’ I could tell Debbie was horrified by her slip of the tongue.

The tension between them was palpable, although apparently not to Beau, who, his itch satiated, had fallen asleep and begun to snore on the sofa cushion.

‘Fine,’ said Linda suddenly. ‘If that’s the way you feel, then I won’t impose on your generosity any longer.’ She strode across the room and grabbed her suitcase from the alcove. ‘Come on, Beau!’ she shouted.

Waking with a groggy bark, Beau stared wildly around him, as Linda scooped him up. Dragging the suitcase clumsily behind her, with the bewildered dog tucked under her arm, she walked, with as much dignity as she could, across the room.

In the doorway, she looked back over her shoulder.‘Of course, legally, the money isn’t yours or Margery’s. It’s Molly’s,’ she sneered, shooting a spiteful glance at me. ‘Maybe you could save yourself a lot of heartache by asking Molly what she’d like done with it.’

Before Debbie could answer, Linda was gone. Debbie could do nothing but stare at the empty doorway, listening as Linda’s suitcase thudded heavily down the stairs behind her.

I felt my heart thumping in my chest. I was furious that Linda had spoiled Debbie’s chance to make amends with John, and livid that she had used me as a weapon in their argument. But, underneath my anger, what stung most was the sickening realization that Linda was right. Whether I liked it or not, Margery had left her money to me. All the upheaval of recent weeks – from the encounter in the caf? with David, to the argument with John, and this evening’s showdown with Linda – had come about because it had fallen to Debbie to decide what to do about it. There was no denying that Margery’s legacy to me was the primary cause of Debbie’s anguish. The way I saw it, if anyone was to blame for Debbie’s suffering, it was me.

23

[Êàðòèíêà: _3.jpg]

As soon as the caf? door slammed shut, Debbie burst into tears. She staggered to the sofa and dropped down next to me.

‘Oh, Molly, what a complete and utter mess,’ she cried.

Outside, the wind had picked up and the windowpanes rattled ominously in their frames. I climbed onto her lap and began to knead at her legs with my front paws, gazing up into her face and purring. I was desperate to do whatever I could to comfort her, although in truth I knew I was powerless to help.

After a couple of minutes I heard Sophie’s soft tread in the hallway. ‘Mum?’ she said, peering anxiously around the living-room door. Her long blonde hair was loose and she was wearing her pyjamas and slippers. With a look of tender concern, she shuffled onto the sofa next to us. ‘What just happened?’ she asked.

‘Linda just happened,’ replied Debbie wanly. ‘When she started talking about Margery’s legacy, something snapped inside me. I told her exactly what I thought, as you said I should, Soph. You should be proud of me.’

‘I am proud of you, Mum.’ Sophie laughed. ‘But couldn’t you have picked a better time to tell her? This was meant to be your romantic night with John, remember?’

Debbie had covered her face with both hands.‘Iknow,’ she groaned through her fingers. ‘I didn’t plan for it to happen like this! Linda promised to stay out for the evening.’

Sophie looked around the room, taking in the plates of half-eaten dinner lying on the table.‘Where’s John?’ she asked, sounding troubled.

‘He left,’ Debbie answered listlessly.

‘What do you mean he left? Did you have a fight with him, too?’

Debbie shook her head.‘I’m not sure what happened. One minute he was standing between me and Linda, looking like he wished the ground would swallow him up, and the next minute he’d vanished. He must have gone while we were arguing,’ she said in a flat, expressionless voice.

Sophie leant back against the sofa arm, frowning.‘Have you tried to call him?’ she asked with an air of no-nonsense practicality.

Looking faintly surprised, as though the thought hadn’t occurred to her, Debbie craned forward, reaching over me to fish her phone out of her handbag. She tapped at the screen, then held it to her ear, biting her lip nervously. ‘It’s just going to voicemail,’ she said, before leaving a brief message: ‘Hi, John, it’s me, could you give me a call when you get this?’

‘I’m sure he’ll be fine, Mum,’ Sophie reassured her, as Debbie tossed the phone back into her bag.

‘He might have thought he was getting in the way and wanted to give you some privacy.’

‘Hmm, I’m not so sure, sweetheart,’ Debbie smiled thinly. ‘I think he’s probably had enough of me and my sister. And who could blame him?’ She tried to muster a watery smile.

Sophie was beginning to look pained, as though she had exhausted all the avenues of reassurance she could think of and was struggling to come up with something else to say.‘Shall I make a cup of tea?’ she asked at last.

Debbie smiled appreciatively.‘Thanks, Soph, that would be lovely.’

When Sophie had placed the two mugs of tea on the coffee table, she grabbed the remote control and curled up alongside Debbie. Leaning back against the sofa arm, with her feet pressing against Debbie’s thigh and her toes touching my fur, Sophie flicked through the television channels. I stretched out lengthways on Debbie’s lap and rested my chin on her knees, purring steadily as she absent-mindedly stroked my back. I closed my eyes and indulged in the blissful fantasy that Linda was gonefor good and I would never see her again. I lost track of time, as I hovered deliciously between consciousness and sleep for what might have been a few minutes or a few hours, until the sudden slam of the caf? door reverberated through the flat.

I jerked awake and instinctively sank my claws into Debbie’s legs in alarm. ‘Ow, Molly!’ she exclaimed, sucking air between her teeth as she gently unhooked my embedded claws, one by one, from her knees. ‘Hello?’ she called in a pained voice, shifting forward on the sofa under me.

Disorientated, I looked around, noticing that the candles had burnt down considerably since I had last noticed them.

‘Debbie, it’s me. You might want to come down.’ It was John. Something in the tone of his voice made my heart lurch.

Debbie and Sophie exchanged surprised looks above my head and we all scrambled to our feet and made for the stairs, Debbie in front, followed by Sophie, with me at the rear. I was still in the stairwell when I heard Debbie gasp,‘Who is it?’ Feeling my pulse start to race, I ran down the remaining steps and onto the flagstones.

John was standing on the doormat, unwinding a scarf from his neck. In a split second I noticed the cat carrier on the floor by his feet. Debbie ran forward and crouched in front of the carrier, fumbling to unlock its door. I felt strangely detached, as if I was watching the scene unfold from a distance, or in a dream. When Debbie flung open the door, there was a faint rustle of newspaper and a glimpse of black fur inside. Then, slowly, nervously, Eddie crept out.

He looked around warily, glancing first at Debbie, then at Sophie. Then, at last, his eyes found mine. In an instant, I saw a succession of emotions flash across Eddie’s face: relief, shame and happiness – all conveyed in the look he gave me across the flagstones.

I felt a wonderful soaring sensation in my stomach. As Eddie began to walk gingerly towards me, I devoured him with my eyes. What struck me most was his height– I had forgotten how large and grown-up he was. During his disappearance, whenever I had pictured him in my mind, it had been as a gangly kitten. Seeing him in front of me, I was reminded that, outwardly at least, there was nothing kittenish about the rangy tomcat coming towards me.

His bulk was another surprise. I had convinced myself that Eddie would be half-starved after so long on the streets, and yet I saw no hollow cheeks, no protruding hip-bones or concave flanks. Wherever he had spent the past few weeks, I realized with a rush of relief that he had found food. One of his ears bore a fight scar, and his fur looked a little dull and scantily groomed. Other than that, he seemed unhurt; his gait was strong and his eyes as bright as ever.

He stepped closer and his wary expression softened, as if my proximity was bringing out his vulnerability. When Eddie sat down in front of me, he lowered his head and looked up submissively, just as he had when he was a kitten expecting a telling-off.‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered.

Feeling my throat tighten and my eyes tingle, I leant towards him, allowing our noses to touch, before nuzzling my face into the fur of his neck. I closed my eyes, the better to allow my sense of smell to glean all it could about where Eddie had been. He smelt of hedgerows and damp earth, but also of furniture polish and log fires and people.

‘Molly, look.’

I opened my eyes, fleetingly annoyed by the interruption. Across the caf?, Debbie was beaming at me, one arm extended, her finger pointing across the floor. I followed her arm and saw that, sitting in front of the open carrier, with a look of paternal satisfaction, was Jasper. I stared at him in stunned disbelief and, when he blinked slowly, his amber eyes twinkling, I thought for a moment that my heart might burst with happiness.

Eddie’s deep purr filled the living room as I drew my tongue in long, sweeping movements over his fur, determined to lick away the tangles and make him smell like home again. We were in the shoebox and Purdy was watching us from the sofa arm, her face alert and curious, while Abby and Bella huddled together in the alcove, taking it in turns to peek out from behind Beau’s pet carrier. Jasper was sitting proprietorially on the rug in front of the fireplace, where Maisie had sidled up beside him, washing diligently in a manner that I knew was designed to elicit his approval.

On the other side of the room, Debbie and John were at the table, picking at the cold leftovers of their dinner. The candles had burnt down almost to stumps, the long flames dancing vigorously in the draught from the window.

‘Someone called while Linda was here,’ John explained. ‘Said she thought she had your cats. I didn’t want to get your hopes up, until I knew for sure. Besides, you were a bit busy at the time, so I just slipped out.’

Debbie smiled ruefully.‘So, where were they?’ she asked, popping a piece of cold potato into her mouth.

‘A village a few miles south of here. The woman said Eddie had been visiting her house for a while. She’d assumed he belonged to one of the neighbours, till she asked around and realized no one owned him. Jasper had been hanging around too, but she thought he and Eddie were the same cat, until she saw them both in the garden together. It took her a few days to round them up and get them to vet to be scanned. She thought the vet was joking when he told her both cats were registered to the same owner.’ Debbie chuckled.

‘But what a coincidence that they ended up together,’ Debbie said incredulously. ‘They disappeared a good few days apart.’ She looked towards the shoebox, baffled.

‘I’ve given up trying to make sense of what these cats of yours get up to,’ John shrugged. ‘I’ve always suspected they’re playing us for fools.’

Licking the top of Eddie’s head, I glanced towards John, but he had already turned back to face Debbie.

When I had finished grooming him, Eddie quickly fell asleep, his warm body pressed up against me, his legs entwined with mine. Debbie and John had taken their drinks to the sofa, and the conversation had moved onto Linda.

‘I know I probably got a bit carried away,’ Debbie said regretfully, ‘but, to be honest, I’m relieved that she’s gone. This business with Margery’s legacy, on top of everything else … it was just the last straw.’ She trailed off, a familiar weary expression flickering across herface.

‘I think it was probably long overdue,’ John said tactfully. ‘Whatever you said to her, it needed to be said.’

Debbie yawned and stretched her legs out across John’s lap. ‘When I realized you’d disappeared tonight, I thought I’d blown it,’ she said with a sleepy smile.

‘It would take more than a row with Linda to scare me off,’ John reassured her, rubbing her feet.

‘You looked as if you wished the ground would open up beneath you,’ she teased him. ‘But, after the last couple of weeks, when I hadn’t heard from you …’ she persisted, biting her lip anxiously.

‘I didn’t want you to think I was getting ideas about the legacy – that I wanted you to keep it and was only hanging around for the money. I guess maybe I went a bit too far the other way, backed off too much,’ John said apologetically.

‘Perhaps just a little,’ Debbie replied. Her eyelids were heavy and I could see her chin begin to sink closer to her chest. ‘What a day,’ she mumbled drowsily. Then her eyes closed and her head lolled sideways onto the cushion.

John stayed on the sofa, watching her sleep for a few minutes, before carefully extricating himself out from under her legs. He lifted the fluffy throw off the arm of the sofa, where Debbie had diligently folded it earlier in the day, shook it and lowered it over her slumbering body. Then he kissed her softly on the head, blew out the candles and left.

24

[Êàðòèíêà: _8.jpg]

I awoke the following morning to find the living room bathed in pale, wintry light. It was now the middle of December and, outside the window, the first fluffy snowflakes of the season were twirling in the air, landing softly against the glass. Clearing my head with a vigorous shake, I jumped off the sofa and padded past the shoebox, where Eddie was still fast asleep, his long limbs spilling over the cardboard sides. I leapt onto the windowsill and peered at the alleyway below, where the grey-brown hues of stone and tarmac were rapidly being erased by a blanket of white.

There was no sign of Jasper downstairs, so I nosed through the cat flap and, head bowed against the swirling flakes, hurried around to the passageway. As I walked, my paws left shallow dips in the deepening snow, and soon my paw-pads were soaked and freezing. I found Jasper in the churchyard, sheltering beneath the low branches of the rhododendron.

‘I didn’t have a chance yesterday to say thank you, for finding Eddie,’ I said, squeezing in alongside him, savouring his familiar scent and the warmth of his body.

‘You’re welcome,’ he replied contentedly.

We sat side by side, watching the snow fall silently in front of us.

‘Do you think Eddie’s okay, after everything that’s happened?’ I asked, trying not to betray my maternal anxiety.

‘I think Eddie is absolutely fine,’ Jasper replied levelly. ‘He had to grow up, fast. Learning to fend for himself came as a bit of a shock after such a pampered upbringing.’

I turned away, stung by the implied criticism; Jasper had always let it be known that he thought the kittens were over-indulged, and that they lacked the skills required to lead independent lives.

‘But he seems to have worked things out for himself,’ Jasper added hastily, sensing my hurt feelings. ‘What he lacks in street-smarts, he more than makes up for in charm.’ I turned and looked at him, waiting for him to elaborate. ‘By the time I found him, he had the whole neighbourhood queuing up to look after him. He could take his pick of at least half a dozen houses. There was never any danger he would go hungry,’ he said, in a tone of grudging admiration.

I felt a wave of relief mingled with pride. In retrospect, it seemed obvious that my friendly, loving boy would have no trouble finding people to take care of him.

‘That’s not to say he didn’t want to come home, of course,’ Jasper added, giving me an affectionate nuzzle behind the ear, as a delighted purr began to rumble in my chest.

Beyond the shrubbery, the sky had lightened to a milky white and the snowfall was beginning to ease. I edged forward and peered out from under the canopy of leaves. The honey-stoned church looked as though it had been glazed in white icing, and a single, determined robin fluttered from one snow-capped headstone to the next in search of insects.

‘Are you coming in for breakfast?’ I asked brightly, feeling my stomach start to growl.

Back inside the caf?, I stood on the doormat and shook the slushy ice crystals from my fur. Eddie had come downstairs and was pacing around the room, methodically scent-marking the table legs with his cheeks. Maisie followed a few steps behind.

‘What happened to your ear?’ she enquired, a note of sisterly concern in her voice.

Eddie puffed out his chest proudly.‘Got into a fight with an alley-cat,’ he said offhandedly. ‘It was no big deal.’

Maisie’s eyes widened in alarm and, when Eddie set off towards the armchairs, she trotted keenly after him. ‘And what did you do for food in the wild?’ she asked eagerly.

Eddie paused and his gaze drifted to a point in the middle distance.‘Hunting, mostly. It’s not easy, but you do what you have to, to survive,’ he said grandly.

On the doormat, I stifled an inward smile. Eddie’s account of his time ‘in the wild’ differed somewhat from Jasper’s version. I wondered whether Maisie would be quite so awestruck if she knew the truth: that Eddie had been doted on by a streetful of surrogate owners for most of his time away. Regardless of his bravado, however, I couldnot begrudge Eddie the opportunity to bask in his sister’s adoring admiration. I knew his blas? demeanour belied the terror he must have felt at finding himself homeless and alone. Let him enjoy his moment of glory, I thought, as I shook myself dry on the warm flagstones.

In the afternoon Debbie appeared at the bottom of the stairs carrying a large cardboard box full of Christmas decorations. She placed it on an empty chair and shouted up the stairwell,‘C’mon, Soph, I need your help.’ When Sophie shuffled downstairs a few minutes later, she found Debbie rummaging inside the box. ‘Untangle these, will you, love?’ Debbie asked, handing Sophie a twisted coil of fairy lights.

With a sigh, Sophie tied her hair back in a messy ponytail and set about unthreading the tangled wires.

Once the decorations had been sorted into messy piles on the table, they started adorning the caf?. Debbie sang along to Christmas carols on the radio, ignoring Sophie’s cringes and eye-rolling, while the kittens did their best to hamper proceedings, jumping in and out of the cardboard box, or leaping up from the floor to swipe at the rustling fronds of tinsel dangling enticingly over the table edge. Ming observed the scene from her platform, with her customary air of curious detachment.

John arrived a little later, hauling a Christmas tree by the trunk. He carefully manoeuvred the tree into position next to the fireplace and snipped away at the netting that encased it. The tree’s branches instantly sprang outwards, filling the caf? with the scent of fresh air and pine forests.

When Jo passed the caf? window with Bernard plodding along by her side, she tapped on the glass, waving cheerily.

‘What do you think of the tree, Jo?’ asked Debbie, opening the door to let her in.

‘About time too, Debs!’ Jo teased, brushing the snowflakes off her jacket with the back of her hand. Her nose was pink with cold and her knitted bobble hat struggled to stay on over her unruly hair. Bernard waddled into the room after her and, as soon as he was inside, sank down gratefully onthe doormat.

‘Hello, Bernard, you lovely old boy,’ murmured Debbie, bending down to rub his tummy. Bernard’s tail flopped up and down on the coir mat, and within minutes he had fallen wheezily asleep.

Debbie passed around tumblers of warm mulled wine and, as the afternoon sky darkened outside, all four of them set about dressing the tree with ornaments and lights. The kittens gamely did their best to bat the baubles off the branches as quickly as they were hung until, worn out by their exertions, they retired to their usual places for a recuperative nap. When the tree was finally finished, Debbie stepped back and looked at it approvingly.‘Ready, everyone?’ she asked, with a look of child-like excitement.

She nodded to Sophie to switch off the overhead lights, and a hush descended on the dark room. Even Bernard drowsily raised his head from the floor, sensing anticipation in the air. Debbie flicked a switch and, suddenly, the caf? was transformed. Everywhere I looked, lights twinkled and glowed. The tree was enrobed in tiny berry-like bulbs that blinked mesmerizingly. A string of white lights wove its way across the mantelpiece, and a wreath of flashing stars framed the serving counter. In the semi-darkness the kittens’ and Ming’s eyes flashed a luminous green, and I had to look twice to be sure which were cats’ eyes and which fairy lights.

‘Oh, Debs, it looks beautiful,’ Jo exclaimed.

‘It does, doesn’t it,’ Debbie smiled proudly. ‘I’m sure Linda would approve,’ she added, looking suddenly wistful.

She flicked the overhead lights back on, and the room was flooded with yellow light once more. Bernard emitted a low groan of protest and repositioned himself on the doormat.

‘Have you heard from Linda since yesterday?’ Jo asked tentatively, as Debbie straightened the row of red stockings hanging from the fireplace.

Debbie shook her head.‘I know what she’s like – she’ll need some time to cool off before she’ll speak to me,’ she replied. ‘I’ll give it a few days, then I’ll call her. Besides, I need to let Linda know that I’ve decided what to do about the legacy.’

The others exchanged surprised looks behind Debbie’s back.

‘Sounds fair enough,’ Jo replied carefully. ‘So, if it’s not rude to ask, Debs … what have you decided?’

Snow still covered the ground on Monday morning and, with logs crackling in the stove and the festooned tree by the fireplace, there was a definite buzz of Christmas in the air. Debbie had put a sign in the caf? window –The boys are back! Welcome home, Eddie and Jasper!– which lent a frisson of excitement to the festive mood; and before long, Debbie and her waitresses were rushed off their feet. Caf? regulars and Christmas shoppers streamed through the door, and Eddie was showered with attention, while Debbie dutifully repeated, ad infinitum, the story of how he and Jasper had been found.

It was almost seven o’clock when the staff hung up their aprons and went home. Debbie collapsed onto one of the caf? chairs, puffing out her cheeks with relief. She had only been there a few seconds when the door tinkled open.

My stomach jolted unpleasantly on seeing David standing on the doormat. His sour demeanour seemed more jarring than ever, now that the caf? was bedecked for Christmas.

‘Oh, hello, David,’ Debbie said, turning to look at him over her shoulder. She smiled politely, but I sensed a guardedness in her manner.

David nodded curtly and wiped his wet shoes on the mat, eyeing Debbie suspiciously as she went over to the counter and retrieved a sheet of paper from behind the till. Clutching the piece of paper, she sat down at the nearest table, motioning for David to join her. I couldn’t help noticing that, this time, there were no cups of tea or plate of cookies. David sat down opposite her and there followed an awkward silence, during which neither of them seemed to want to be the first to speak.

‘So, thanks for coming, David,’ Debbie began at last, fingering the sheet of paper nervously. ‘You can probably guess why I asked you here: to sort out this business of your mum’s legacy.’ David inclined his head fractionally, but said nothing. Debbie swallowed, she looked as if she wassteeling herself to continue. ‘What happened last time we met – all the talk about going to court – I’m sure neither of us wants it to come to that,’ she went on, glancing apprehensively across the table.

David blinked at her, but his pinched expression gave nothing away.

Debbie ploughed on bravely.‘Anyway, I’ve been thinking a lot about Margery, and why she might have wanted to make Molly a beneficiary.’ At this, David’s lips parted, but Debbie carried on talking before he could speak. ‘But I’ve also been thinking about you, and the fact that you’d only just lost your mum when you found out about this legacy. It can’t have been nice to discover that you’d been … overlooked, in favour of a cat …’ She trailed off, glancing nervously at David’s hard-set face …

‘You could say that,’ he concurred.

‘I think, if it happened to me, I’d be furious,’ Debbie prompted.

David frowned at the place mat on the table.‘It was a bit of a shock,’ he admitted at last. ‘She’d never mentioned anything about it. Not to me, at least,’ he said, looking at Debbie warily.

‘She never mentioned it to me, either,’ Debbie insisted. ‘I promise you, David, I had no idea what was in Margery’s will. This legacy was as much a shock to me as it was to you.’

David continued to stare sulkily at the place mat.

‘Look,’ Debbie persisted, ‘I said it right from the start: I feel it would be wrong for me to accept your mum’s money on Molly’s behalf. But I can’t ignore the fact that Margery wanted to make sure Molly would be taken care of.’

David had fixed Debbie with an intent look and seemed to be hanging on her every word. On the window cushion, I was also on tenterhooks. Debbie had not confided her plans to anyone, insisting that she needed to speak to David first, so I was as much in the dark as he was. Her agitated demeanour suggested that there was more to be said, that her willingness to decline the legacy would have conditions attached, and that she didn’t expect David to like them.

‘Things have been … tricky in the caf? recently,’ Debbie explained evenly. ‘We’ve been tripping over ourselves – the flat’s too small. Put simply, cats need space, and there just isn’t enough room for us all here. I’ve got to consider the welfare of all the cats, not just Molly.’

I felt a flutter of panic in my chest as I listened. I had never heard Debbie talk about us in such starkly practical terms. I had always believed that, when it came to cats, if she could make room for us in her heart, she would find room for us in her home. Why else would she have taken on not just me and the kittens, but Jasper and Ming as well? And yet here she was, talking about us as though we were a mere logistical consideration, and implying that the number of cats currently living in the caf? exceeded the available space.

‘Margery was devoted to Molly. She wanted Molly to live somewhere she would be looked after properly. The way things have been recently, that just hasn’t been possible.’

A sickening feeling of dread spread through me. Was I to be the sacrificial victim, the one to be removed from the caf? environment, so that the other cats would have more space? Did Debbie think that was what Margery would have wanted? Panicking, my eyes flicked towards David. He looked as horrified as I felt, and I wondered if, like me, he thought Debbie was about to ask him to take me in.

Debbie paused, and I could see the sheet of paper quiver in her trembling hands.‘I’ve written a letter to the solicitor, setting out what I would like to happen. I wanted to show it to you before sending it,’ she said steadily.

David took the letter and read it with rapt concentration. I tried to glean something– anything – about the letter’s contents from his expression, but his face was infuriatingly blank.

‘That’s not quite what I was expecting,’ he said at last, a wrinkle forming between his brows.

‘I thought long and hard about it, David. Margery wanted Molly to be taken care of, and I think my solution will make that possible.’

David grunted, and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. For the first time in my life I found myself in the position of depending on David to be my ally. I wanted him to challenge Debbie, to tell her that it was out of the question for him to look after me– that neither of us would be happy with such an arrangement. But he looked deep in thought.

‘On balance … I think it’s fair,’ he said finally.

‘Good, then I’ll get the letter in the post first thing tomorrow,’ replied Debbie, breaking into a relieved smile.

Debbie walked with David to the door. As he was about to leave, he turned to face her.‘My mother was very fond of you, and of Molly,’ he said, his eyes darting self-consciously across the floor by Debbie’s feet. ‘I’m grateful that you took the time to visit her. It meant a lot to her.’

Debbie looked stunned for a moment, and then her composure crumbled.‘Oh, David, come here,’ she said, flinging her arms around him in a bear hug.

David’s discomfort was evident, but he tolerated the hug, and even lifted one hand to pat Debbie’s back.

With a final curt nod, he was gone. Debbie locked the door behind him, puffed her fringe out of her eyes and heaved a huge sigh of relief. As she wearily climbed the stairs, I stared after her in dismay, wondering what on earth it was that David had just agreed to.

25

[Êàðòèíêà: _10.jpg]

During our walk that evening, I recounted to Jasper the conversation I had overhead. The moon drifted in and out of sight behind the shifting clouds above us, as Jasper loped along the slush-covered pavement beside me, one ear cocked attentively.

‘So, did Debbie say anythingspecifically about rehoming you?’ he asked when I had finished.

‘No, not specifically,’ I admitted. ‘But she said there hasn’t been enough room for us all recently, and that it’s not what Margery would have wanted for me. What else could she have meant?’

We slowed to a halt underneath the elm tree in the square and paused to contemplate the town’s festive decorations. Lengths of coloured bulbs were strung between the lamp posts, and the handsome Christmas tree by the town hall glittered with lights. After a few moments’ silent deliberation, Jasper glanced at me sideways and said, ‘Well, if Debbie thinks there isn’t enough roomfor all the cats, maybe she’s planning to rehome Ming.’

‘No, it wouldn’t be that,’ I replied disconsolately. ‘If Debbie decided to rehome Ming, she wouldn’t need to tell David first. Ming has nothing to do with Margery’s legacy.’

‘Hmm,’ he mused, unconvinced.

A knot of frustration formed in my stomach, as the conviction grew that Jasper thought I was overreacting. Jasper’s equability was one of the things I loved about him – it anchored me, when my natural inclination was to worry – but at times his implacability infuriated me. He had never been a pet, and had never experienced the intense attachment to an owner that I had felt for Margery, and that I now felt for Debbie. As an alley-cat, how could Jasper possibly understand how it felt to lose your home and owner, or how terrifying it was to think it might happen again?

I stood up and wandered off dispiritedly, unable to bear his measured attempts to reason away my anxiety. A burst of raucous laughter issued from inside a pub to my left and I instinctively swerved away from the noise, skidding on an invisible patch of ice. As I rounded the corner of the square, I broke into a run, fleeing not only Jasper’s scepticism but also my own disappointment that, once again, I was alone in recognizing the threat our family faced. I ran back to the parade, paying scant regard to the cars that rushed past me.

Ming was fast asleep on the cat tree, but Abby and Bella raised their heads drowsily as I pushed through the cat flap into the dark caf?. Upstairs, Debbie and Sophie had gone to bed and the flat was silent and still. In the living room Eddie was fast asleep in the shoebox, with his tail draped over the cardboard rim. I jumped onto the sofa and settled my gaze on the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest, taking comfort in the fact that, although I did not know what our future held, at least all my kittens were safe. As I succumbed to the irresistible pull towards sleep, I was aware of a feeling of relief as my worries scattered and my mind drifted into darkness.

I was eating breakfast with the kittens the following morning when I heard Debbie on the phone.‘Hi, Lind, it’s me. How are you?’

I swallowed my mouthful and stepped away from the food bowl, allowing Eddie and Maisie to devour greedily the last few biscuits in the bowl.

In the living room Debbie was standing at the window, the telephone pressed to her ear.‘Look, Linda, I think we need to talk. If you’re free this evening, why don’t you come for dinner?’ She wrapped the spiral telephone cord nervously around her finger.

I could picture Linda’s face as she considered the invitation, lips pursed, jaw set, still smarting from the humiliation of their last encounter. After a short silence, however, a tinny chirp down the line indicated assent.

My stomach gave a strange jolt. I was certain Debbie was planning to tell Linda about her meeting with David, but I would have to wait until the evening to hear what she had decided to do.

With a whole day to fill before Linda’s arrival, I crept downstairs and headed out onto the parade. Christmas was now only a week away, and as I trotted along the cobbled streets I was jostled on all sides by harassed-looking shoppers laden with carrier bags. I hadn’t even reached the end of the parade when a sudden hailstorm struck, and my body was pelted with icy pellets that stung, even through my thick fur.

I ran back to the caf? and rushed through the cat flap. Inside, the kittens had picked up on the excited air of festivity and were more skittish and boisterous than usual, chasing each other up and down the zigzag walkway, and making the customers shriek with laughter. But in my fretful state I couldn’t face the ebullient atmosphere, so I kept my head down and slunk between the tables to the stairs. Finally finding some peace and quiet on the living-room sofa, I spent the day dozing and washing, watching the light levels change outside the window as the hours dragged by.

It had been dark for some time when Debbie finally came upstairs at the end of the day. She allowed herself a few minutes to recover, slumped on one of the dining chairs rubbing her knees, before busying herself in the kitchen. I paced the living-room floor agitatedly, both dreading and longing for Linda’s arrival.

About twenty minutes later, the tinkle of the bell and the opening and shutting of a door downstairs made my heart lurch.

‘Hi, Debs, it’s me,’ Linda called from below.

I smelt Linda before I saw her, my nose tingling at the cloying scent of her perfume, which preceded her up the stairs. My body tensed as Beau came bounding into view around the banisters, with his pink tongue hanging out. He darted past Linda’s legs with a slightly deranged look, skidded into the living room and gleefully began to smear his damp snout along the edge of the sofa cushions. Firing a withering look at him, I prowled out of the room, keen to keep within earshot of the sisters’ conversation.

Debbie emerged from the kitchen with a look of determined good cheer.‘I’m just dishing up,’ she said brightly, taking Linda’s coat and hanging it on the rack.

‘Great,’ Linda replied, mirroring her sister’s rictus smile.

When they carried their meals through to the dining table, I followed at a discreet distance, glancing sideways at Beau, who was proprietorially ensconced on the sofa cushion. His beady eyes tracked my progress across the rug, and I read some sort of victory in his look, but did my best to ignore him as I climbed into the shoebox. My attention was focused on the other side of the room, where the sisters had sat down on either side of the dining table and started to eat.

They didn’t seem to know what to say to each other at first, and when they did at last speak, they made awkward small talk.

‘The caf?’s looking lovely. Very Christmassy,’ Linda began politely.

‘Thanks,’ Debbie replied.

A pause, then,‘Where’s Sophie this evening?’

‘She went Christmas shopping with friends. They’ve probably gone for a burger.’

I was acutely aware of the clink of their cutlery, and the rattle of Linda’s bracelets every time she lifted her glass.

‘So, where’ve you been staying?’ Debbie asked, with the slightly tense air of someone who knew she was straying onto dangerous territory.

‘With friends,’ Linda replied airily.

‘Anyone I know?’ Debbie persisted.

Linda kept a closed face, but I saw her jaw tightening as she answered,‘Just an old college friend.’ She took a sip of wine, hesitated, then said, ‘Although, with Christmas so close, I think I’m in danger of overstaying my welcome.’ She kept her eyes firmly on her wine glass as she returned it to the table. ‘I seem to be making a habit of that, at the moment,’ she added wryly.

This comment seemed to be the cue Debbie had been waiting for. She lowered her fork and looked attentively across the table.‘Linda, I don’t mean to pry, but … what’s going on? Have you spoken to Ray?’

Linda pushed her food unenthusiastically around her plate.‘I’ve heard from his solicitor,’ she replied, her voice brittle.

‘Has it got to that stage already?’

Linda reached for her glass.‘Yup. Looks like I’ll be spending Christmas as a homeless divorcee,’ she said, taking a long gulp of wine.

Debbie hunched forward.‘Look, Linda. I met David a few days ago, to talk about Margery’s legacy.’

Linda winced.‘Debs, let’s not go over that again,’ she pleaded. ‘You were right – it’s none of my business what you do with that money. I don’t want to talk about it any more.’

Debbie smiled patiently.‘Linda, hear me out. I wanted to tell you that I’ve written to the solicitor to decline the legacy.’

If there was a flicker of disappointment in her sister’s face, it was so fleeting as to be almost imperceptible. Linda assumed a look of benign impartiality. ‘I’m sure you’ve made the right decision, Debs. You don’t need to explain anything to me.’ She set her cutlery down on her plate and took a deep, fortifying breath. ‘I’ve beenthinking about what you said on Saturday night and … you’re right. I got carried away with my ideas for the caf? and the brand and … I went too far. I can see that now.’

Debbie had opened her mouth to speak, but Linda ignored her, fixing her gaze on the space above Debbie’s shoulder.

‘It really hurt when you said I was envious of your success, but perhaps you were right. I think I was a bit … surprised to see how you’ve managed to turn things around, and what a great job you’ve done with Molly’s. I guess I thought that if I got involved in the business some of what you’ve achieved might rub off on me.’ She met Debbie’s eyes at last and her lips peeled back into a rueful smile. ‘It sounds pathetic, really.’

‘Oh, Linda. It doesn’t sound pathetic at all,’ Debbie said vehemently, leaning closer in. ‘I didn’t realize how serious things were for you, at first. I assumed you and Ray had just had a falling-out, and that you’d sort it out in time.’

At this, Linda’s head dropped.

‘Look, Linda,’ Debbie said hastily. ‘I didn’t ask you here because I wanted an apology. I’ve got a proposition for you.’

Her sister raised her eyes in a questioning glance and, as I sat in the shoebox, my ears flickered attentively.

‘When I said I’ve declined Margery’s legacy, that was only part of the story,’ Debbie explained. ‘I agreed to do so on one condition: that I can use Margery’s cottage in Oxford, for a year.’

Linda’s face wore a look of blank incomprehension. ‘But … I don’t understand, Debs,’ she stammered. ‘Why would you want to move to Oxford? What about the caf??’

I felt as though my heart had just dropped in my chest. The possibility that Debbie might move into Margery’s cottage, leaving Linda to take over the flat, was not something that had ever crossed my mind. The very thought horrified me. The prospect of cohabiting with Linda and Beau for a year was almost as bad as the idea of moving in with David.

Linda’s bewildered expression suggested that she shared my confusion, but Debbie reached across the table to place a hand on her sister’s wrist. ‘I’m not planning to live there myself, Linda.’ She laughed. ‘I was thinking of you!’

Linda’s mouth fell open.

‘It’s only for a year, and the cottage will still belong to David,’ Debbie explained quickly, ‘but he’s agreed to let me – us – be his tenants, for a peppercorn rent. It’s been empty for a while now, and I think he’s quite keen to have someone living there, to keep an eye on theplace.’ Linda’s stunned expression had faded but, as she listened to Debbie, her shoulders began to droop. ‘I thought it could give you a base of your own, while you’re sorting out your situation with Ray,’ Debbie went on, sensing that Linda needed reassuring. ‘That is, if you want to, of course?’

‘Debs, that’s really kind, but … it doesn’t feel right,’ Linda said heavily. ‘As you’ve pointed out to me before, Margery’s intention was for Molly and the kittens to be taken care of. My using her cottage as a bolthole while I sort out my divorce isn’t what she would have wanted.’

Debbie tilted her head and, with the patient look of someone explaining something to a small child, said,‘Linda, did you really think I was going to let you sleep on a friend’s sofa over Christmas? Of course you’ve got to come back here. But we both know that you moving back into the flat isn’t a long-term solution, either. We’d drive each other crazy, for one thing.’

Although her head was still bowed, Linda smiled.

‘But it wouldn’t be good for the cats, either,’ Debbie continued. ‘They’re territorial animals and, living in a caf?, they need somewhere quiet they can escape to, somewhere calm and …’ her eyes darted to Beau on the sofa, ‘dog-free. So, the way I see it, finding you and Beau somewhere else to live for the next few months is as much in the cats’ interest as it is in ours.’

Linda rubbed her forehead in consternation.

‘It’s all in the letter I sent the solicitor,’ Debbie said, with an encouraging smile. ‘I explained that I felt it would be in the spirit of what Margery wanted, and we would make sure that David isn’t out of pocket. David’s seen the letter and approved it.’

All of a sudden, Linda burst into tears, clamping her hand over her mouth to stifle her sobs. Debbie stood up and bent awkwardly over the table to hug her.

‘Thank you,’ Linda snivelled into her sister’s shoulder.

‘You’re very welcome,’ Debbie replied, rubbing her back. ‘Oh, and if you don’t mind the commute, I’d love you to carry on working in the caf?. Paid, of course – no more slave labour. You’re a natural with the customers, and they’ve all been asking after you.’

Linda pulled away to look at Debbie. There were trickles of black on her cheeks where her mascara had run.‘I’d love to, thank you,’ she replied, fresh tears springing into her eyes.

By the time Sophie returned home, Linda and Debbie had almost drained their second bottle of wine. They were on the sofa, giggling at some shared memory of their schooldays, with a sullen-looking Beau relegated to the floor by their feet.

‘Hi, Linda,’ said Sophie, coming warily into the living room.

‘C’m’ere, Soph,’ cried Linda, seizing her niece around the neck in a one-armed hug.

Sophie raised her eyebrows at Debbie over Linda’s shoulder, but her mother’s eyes wore the same glassy, unfocused look as Linda’s.

‘Auntie Linda and I have come to a desh … a desish …’ Debbie slurred. ‘We’ve sorted a few things out. She’ll be staying with us for Christmas, but—’

‘Your mum,’ Linda cut in, gripping Sophie’s upper arms and looking up into her face earnestly, if a little blearily, ‘is an angel!’

Sophie’s eyes widened and her lip curled up into a sardonic smile. ‘Okay, Auntie Linda,’ she murmured politely, ‘if you say so.’

26

[Êàðòèíêà: _2.jpg]

It was past midnight when Debbie and Linda finally agreed it was time to turn in for the night. Beau watched drowsily from the rug as Linda cleared away the wine glasses and Debbie prepared the sofa-bed.

Returning from the hall cupboard with an armful of pillows, Linda stumbled over a shoe and, flinging one arm sideways to regain her balance, dislodged a mound of jackets from the coat rack. Hearing her sister’s yelp of alarm, Debbie abandoned her attempt to wrestle the duvet into its cover and staggered over to the door. She leant against the doorframe, giggling at Linda’s clumsy efforts to reunite the coats with their pegs.

‘Just leave them, we’ll sort it out tomorrow,’ Debbie hissed in a theatrical whisper.

Once Linda’s bed had been messily assembled, I followed Debbie as she swayed upstairs. She peeled off her clothes, threw them across the bedroom in the general direction of the laundry basket and dropped, face-down, onto the bed. When I jumped up beside her, she mumbled something indistinct and ran her fingers through my fur, but her hand quickly fell still as she drifted off to sleep.

Through a gap in the curtains, the moon threw a strip of light across the quilt and I lay awake for some time staring at it, mulling over the evening’s revelations. Now that I knew it was Linda who was being rehomed, and not me, I felt a little foolish. With the benefit of hindsight, I knew it was ludicrous to think that Debbie would consider giving me away; we had been through far too much together. I pressed closer to Debbie’s side and lowered my chin onto her outstretched fingers, purring with sleepy contentment.

When her alarm went off the next morning, Debbie sat bolt upright and looked around wildly, before batting the clock into silence. I chirruped at her, but she sank back on the pillows with a weak moan, shielding her eyes from the morning light with her arms. She had just drifted into a light doze when the relentless beeping started up again and, with a furious thrashing of limbs, she reappeared from beneath the duvet.

‘I know!’ she shouted, as if in mid-argument with some invisible adversary. ‘I heard you the first time.’ She grabbed the clock roughly and switched it off, before heaving herself out of bed.

The kittens were pacing the hallway, waiting for breakfast with their tails expectantly aloft.

‘Oh, all right, cats,’ Debbie said, treading a careful path between them and the pile of coats still lying on the carpet. She was squeezing out a cat-food pouch with an expression of mild nausea when the living-room door opened.

‘Morning,’ Linda croaked groggily across the hall. The pristine baby-pink cashmere sweater she was wearing looked somewhat incongruous against her sallow skin smudged with make-up, and her scarecrow hair.

‘Lovely top, Lind. One from Beau’s carrier?’ Debbie asked huskily, registering the telltale crease marks where the sweater had lain folded for the past few weeks.

Linda picked up the kettle and edged past Debbie to the sink.‘Perhaps,’ she answered offhandedly, her cheeks flushing the same shade as her knitwear.

With the help of several strong coffees and a couple of paracetamol, the effects of the previous night’s drinking seemed to subside, and Linda was back at work in the caf? as soon as she had fetched her belongings from her friend’s house. The caf? was busy and Linda worked the room like a party hostess, asking customers about their plans for Christmas and chatting to them as if they were old friends. Her enthusiasm for Ming’s Fortune Cookies was as ardent as ever, and soon the tables were littered with the telltale red cellophane wrappers and paper mottoes.

‘You know what, Debs,’ she said proudly, as she rooted around inside the Tupperware box of paper slips behind the counter, ‘I’m going to have to print off a new batch of mottoes soon. We’re nearly out.’

In an effort to prove she had abandoned her favouritism towards Ming, however, Linda made an impromptu addition to the Specials board– the ‘Molly& Chandon Champagne Tea’ and persuaded several customers to order it on the basis that, ‘If you can’t treat yourself at Christmas, when can you?’

By closing time, both Linda and Debbie looked worn out. Blue shadows circled Linda’s eyes as she wiped down the tables, and the sound of Debbie’s yawns emanated from the kitchen at regular intervals. With her chores completed, Linda pulled up a stool to the serving counter, climbed wearily onto it and let her eyes settle on Ming, who was absorbed in a leisurely wash on her platform.

‘Do you ever wonder what Ming’s thinking?’ she mused when Debbie came through from the kitchen.

‘Can’t say I’ve had the time to give it too much thought,’ Debbie replied distractedly, searching for something on the shelf beneath the till. ‘Why?’

‘No reason,’ Linda said lightly, stifling a yawn. ‘It’s just that, compared to the other cats, Ming always seems to be … in a world of her own. But then I don’t really know much about cats, so it’s probably nothing,’ she added, self-deprecatingly.

Behind the counter, Debbie straightened up and looked over at Ming.‘Well, she hasn’t fully integrated into the colony yet,’ she said, but there was a note of concern in her voice.

Ming was cleaning her face with her eyes closed, licking the inside of her slender wrist, before using it to groom her whiskers punctiliously. She seemed oblivious, or indifferent, to their scrutiny. After a couple of moments of deliberation, Debbie peeled off her rubber gloves and stepped around the side of the counter.‘Ming?’ she called tentatively.

Ming continued to wash, unperturbed. Making sure to keep out of Ming’s eye-line, Debbie stepped nearer to the cat tree, held out her hand a few inches from the back of Ming’s head and clicked her fingers. There was no reaction: Ming didn’t startle and her ears didn’t flicker.

‘Oh my God,’ Debbie said, turning to face Linda with a dismayed look. ‘Linda, you’re right. I think Ming might be deaf!’

I felt a dip in my stomach, of shock mixed with incipient guilt. I spooled through my memories, desperately trying to recall an occasion when I had seen Ming react to something– anything – that she had heard. None came to mind. I vividly recalled our first meeting, when she had snubbed my attempt to introduce myself and Eddie in the caf?. She had looked down at us from the armchair, and I had read imperious disdain into her expression and had taken her silence for rudeness. It had never crossed my mind that there might be another explanation: that she hadn’t answered me because she hadn’t heard me.

The following morning Debbie phoned the vet first thing, and shortly after lunch she hung up her apron and fetched the cat carrier from upstairs. Ming reacted with her usual placidity as Debbie lifted her into the carrier, her deep-blue eyes remaining entirely impassive as she gazed out through the wire door.

I watched them leave with a feeling of apprehension. Seeing Ming in the carrier brought back a strange stab of memory, of the time I had been to visit Margery. I had returned to find Ming on the window cushion, seemingly having made herself at home in my absence. I cringed inwardly as I recalled how the sight of Ming and the other cats looking relaxed in the caf? had driven me into a jealous rage; I had been so sure – so utterly convinced – that Ming had been talking to Jasper and the kittens while I was away. How ludicrous and mean-spirited my suspicions would prove to have been if it turned out that she was deaf.

As I awaited Debbie and Ming’s return, my eye kept being drawn to the empty platform on the cat tree, and I found myself unable to settle. As the afternoon wore on, the chatter of customers began to grate on me, and the continuous chug and hiss of the coffee machine made my head ache. Craving fresh air, I slipped out outside and stood on the pavement, grateful for the chill breeze in my fur. The snowfall of the previous week had largely thawed, leaving only the occasional patch of grey slush on the pavements. A dustbin lorry turned the corner onto the parade and began its slow, growling progress up the street, so I ran along the pavement and darted into the recessed doorway of Jo’s hardware store. Waiting for the lorry to pass, I peered through the door. With the shifting reflections of passers-by in the glass, I found it difficult to be sure, but I thought I saw a glimpse of a tabby cat striding down one of the shop’s aisles.

The dustbin lorry pulled up outside the hardware shop and two men in luminous yellow jackets made their way towards the wheelie bins by the kerb. Keen to escape the lorry’s ear-splitting hydraulics, I nudged at the shop’s door. It swung open with very little resistance and, relieved, I slunk inside.

I had never been into Jo’s shop before. I was struck by its musty smell and the fact that, although it was similar in size to the caf?, the piles of stock that cluttered every surface made it feel smaller. I took a few tentative steps on the faded linoleum, past the serving counter on my right, where Jo was on the phone, complaining about an unpaid invoice. I could hear Bernard’s snuffly snores as he slept by her feet. I padded slowly up the central aisle, past shelves lined with cardboard boxes full of screws and hooks. At the back of the shop, next to a wire rack full of tea towels and dusters, I sensedmovement and spun round to find myself almost nose-to-nose with Purdy.

‘What are you doing in here?’ Purdy asked, her tone faintly accusatory.

‘I thought I saw a cat through the window,’ I said, somewhat pointlessly.

At that moment, the door swung open and a man leant in.‘Got any WD-40?’ he said gruffly. Jo nodded and gestured towards the back of the shop. The man began to head in our direction, his face set in a stern grimace. Purdy and I instinctively darted away from him, dashing down the outer aisle and through the door, before it could swing shut.

In the parade, spots of rain had started to fall, adding to the urgency with which people strode past us. I stood facing Purdy on the cobbles outside Jo’s shop.

‘Do you come here a lot?’ I asked.

‘A fair bit. Why?’

For some reason I couldn’t quite articulate, it stung to think of Purdy spending time in the hardware shop rather than at home. But there was something about her manner that made me want to proceed warily; she seemed to be avoiding my gaze, and her face wore a mask of impatient defiance.

‘I know it’s been difficult lately, with Ming, and Linda and Beau,’ I prompted, feeling that she needed encouragement.

‘It’s got nothing to do with them,’ Purdy replied evasively. ‘This is just somewhere I can come to get away from … things.’

‘Oh?’ I said and, in the silence that fell between us, I felt the first tremors of misgiving in my stomach.

Her alert green eyes held mine for a moment and then she said,‘I just don’t really like being in the caf?. I’m not sure I ever have.’

‘I had no idea …’ I replied, stalling for time while I digested her words.

Perhaps Purdy sensed my inner turmoil, because she began to explain.‘I don’t like being on display, with strangers fussing over me all day. It’s not really my thing. And sometimes there are just too many …’ She trailed off, looking at the ground, uncertain whether to continue.

‘Go on,’ I urged.

‘Too many … cats,’ she said, glancing up at my face anxiously.

The rain was falling with increasing force and, all around us, people were shaking open umbrellas and quickening their pace.

‘I’m sorry,’ I said, feeling a sudden surge of remorse. ‘I had no idea you were unhappy.’

‘I’m not unhappy,’ she corrected me, droplets of moisture glistening on her whiskers like crystals. ‘I’m just … not as happy as I could be, I suppose.’

I knew our conversation would soon be curtailed by the weather, but I desperately wanted to say something to show that, although I was saddened by what Purdy had said, I was grateful for her honesty. But, instead, I heard myself say,‘Please, don’t run away.’

The disappointed look in her eyes let me know that I had catastrophically misjudged my response. Purdy had found the courage to tell me how she felt, but rather than listen to her, I had panicked. Instead of reassuring her, I had put my own anxiety first, and sought reassurance from her.

‘Of course I won’t run away,’ she replied breezily. Her tail had started to twitch and she glanced back over her shoulder, making no effort to hide her desire to be on her way.

I opened my mouth, wanting to undo the damage caused by my clunky, ill-chosen comment, but it was too late. A car had passed too close to the kerb, splashing passers-by with murky water; and, in the ensuing commotion, Purdy turned and trotted away. Within seconds she had disappeared over a wall and I was left standing on the cobbles, with cold rain beating down on my back, and Christmas shoppers rushing past me.

27

[Êàðòèíêà: _6.jpg]

I returned to the caf? and, ignoring the customers’ good-natured overtures, headed straight for my window cushion. I turned my back on the room and stared out of the glass, castigating myself for the way I had handled the encounter. In my fretful state, Purdy’s and Ming’s suffering became conflated in my mind.I was convinced I was to blame for both, and that my self-absorption had blinded me to what they had been going through. If life in the caf? had been making Purdy unhappy, then surely, as her mother, I should have noticed? Similarly, as the colony’s matriarch, I should have been less quick to judge Ming’s odd behaviour. With both Purdy and Ming out of the caf?, however, I could do nothing except stare watchfully out over the damp street and wait for their return.

The rest of the day seemed to drag on inexorably, and it was not until after closing time that Debbie finally brought Ming home.

‘I’m back,’ Debbie called, crouching down on the flagstones to unlock the cat carrier.

Ming crept out cautiously, glanced in both directions, sniffed the air uncertainly, then dashed towards the cat tree.

Linda came out of the kitchen with a querying look.

‘We had to go to the animal hospital for tests,’ Debbie explained as she made for the nearest chair and sat down.

‘And?’ Linda asked, pulling off her apron and hanging it on the peg.

‘She’s deaf,’ Debbie replied sadly. ‘Almost certainly since birth. A congenital defect, probably.’

I felt my breath catch in my chest.

‘Poor Ming.’ Linda sighed, pouting with concern.

Looking relieved to be back on her platform, Ming had started to wash, unaffected by the melancholy mood in the room.

‘Do you think it’s okay for her to stay in the caf?? I mean, is it cruel, if she can’t hear anything?’ Linda asked, looking sorrowfully at Ming.

‘It’s something to think about,’ Debbie agreed. ‘Perhaps she would be happier somewhere less … busy.’

Linda walked over to the cat tree and reached out her hand to touch Ming’s back. Startled, Ming turned towards her and, when Linda gently caressed her spine from her shoulders to her tail, blinked in pleasure.

‘You know, if you think it would be for the best, I’d be happy to take Ming with me to Margery’s cottage,’ Linda said diffidently, as the room began to fill with Ming’s rumbling purr. ‘I should be the one to take responsibility for her, since it was me who brought her here in the first place.’

From her chair near the door, Debbie watched her sister closely.‘Thanks, Linda, I’ll bear that in mind,’ she said appreciatively.

Later, when Debbie and Linda had gone upstairs, I stared across the dimly lit caf? at Ming. She lay in a neat circle, the perfect arc of her body disrupted only by the single, angular protuberance of her left ear. I was struck anew by her effortless elegance, and the uncomfortable realization that Ming’s beauty had been a major factor in my distrust of her. The adulationshe had received in the caf? had stoked the flames of my envy, and I had never stopped to consider what coming to the caf? must have felt like for her. She had been an outsider, unexpectedly introduced to a colony of cats in an environment where privacy and solitude had not been an option. Any cat would have struggled in such circumstances, let alone one who couldn’t hear. I felt a wave of pity rise up inside me. I had been determined from the outset to read disdain into Ming’s reserved demeanour. Now I had to accept that, though there had been disdain, it had been on my side, notMing’s.

Sporadic twitches seized Ming’s paws and whiskers as she dreamt, then she awoke with a sudden jerk. Her enormous eyes sprang open and she looked around in alarm, catching sight of me watching her from the window. Her dream had left her with a disorientated look, but I held her gaze for a few moments. Then, for the first time since meeting Ming, I blinked at her, slowly, in a sign of friendship. She tilted her head quizzically to one side before responding with a blink of her own, her azure eyes disappearing momentarily behind chocolate-brown eyelids.

I was overcome by a bittersweet elation. There was something so mundane, and yet so momentous, in that silent communication– the simple gesture of nonaggression that had passed between us. But my happiness was tinged with regret that it had taken me so long to attempt this most basic of feline signals, that I had wasted so much time looking for evidence to confirm my prejudices, rather than give Ming the benefit of the doubt.

Ming continued to look at me for a few moments, her cerulean gaze as steady and intense as ever and yet, this time, I saw it for what it was: curiosity about a baffling, soundless world, rather than an expression of her superiority. With a look of serene contentment, she lowered her head and licked the tip of her tail a few times, before tucking it neatly under her chin. Then she closed her eyes and swiftly fell back to sleep, to return to the world inside her head, perhaps the only world she would ever fully understand.

Sleep proved more elusive for me and when, after an hour of half-hearted washing and repositioning myself on my cushion, I did eventually doze off, I fell almost immediately into a dream. I was back on the rain-soaked street outside the hardware shop, watching Purdy disappear over the wall. I tried to call after her, but my voice was drowned out by growling lorries, and when I turned to run back to the caf?, I saw Ming cowering on the doorstep, staring at me dolefully through the rushing legs of pedestrians.

By the time the weak December sun rose over the rooftops, I had been awake for several hours, mulling over my situation and the way I had failed both Ming and Purdy. But I had come to a resolution: I was determined to make amends for my mistakes. Linda might have set her heart on taking Ming to the cottage, but I would do everything in my power to make Ming feel welcome, in the time she had left with us. As for Purdy, I would apologize for my reaction outside the hardware shop, and tell her that whatever she decided to do, I would support her.

Now I just had to wait for her to come home.

‘But we thought you didn’t like Ming,’ Abby said, with a look of puzzlement. I had intercepted the kittens at the bottom of the stairs later that morning. They stood around me on the flagstones, listening attentively.

‘We thought you didn’t want us to talk to her,’ Bella chipped in, trying to be helpful.

I looked from one inquisitive face to the next, acutely aware of the hypocrisy of asking the kittens to be friendlier to Ming when, in the past, I had sulked if they went anywhere near her.

‘I never said I didn’t like her,’ I protested unconvincingly. If cats had eyebrows, Bella’s would have shot up.

‘But you were the one who … ’ she began, but trailed off when she noticed my thrashing tail.

‘That was before I knew she was deaf,’ I replied sharply, aware that such a justification was feeble at best. ‘I didn’t realize that was why she was acting so … standoffish.’

I felt my cheeks burn beneath my fur as the kittens looked back at me with identical expressions of bemusement.

‘I just thought she was shy,’ Eddie remarked diffidently.

‘Me too,’ concurred Maisie.

Their guileless reaction compounded my guilt, confirming that I was the only one to have read superciliousness into Ming’s silence. But I was grateful for their sweet-natured willingness to do as I asked, and for the fact that, if they did judge me for my hypocrisy, they kept it to themselves.

‘Has anyone seen Purdy this morning?’ I asked as they filtered out across the caf? floor.

‘Not yet,’ Eddie replied, and the others didn’t disagree.

I left the kittens in the caf? and slipped through the cat flap. I felt a niggling suspicion that Purdy might have spent the night in Jo’s shop. It was a cold, blustery day and the low clouds threatened rain. I had taken a few steps along the pavement when the hardware-shop door swung open and Jo came out with Bernard.

I halted mid-step, momentarily baffled by what I saw: rather than walking side-by-side with Bernard on his lead, Jo was carrying the dog like a baby, cradling his bulky hindquarters in her arms, while he rested his chin on her shoulder. Locked in their awkward embrace, they made an ungainly, slightly comical pair, but Jo’s face was set in a look of tense concern. She hovered in the doorway, shifting Bernard’s weight sideways as she locked the shop door behind her. Then, staggering slightly under his weight, she lurched towards the van, clumsily opened its rear doors and lowered Bernard carefully inside. I caught a fleeting glimpse of the dog’s dejected expression, before Jo slammed the door shut and hurried round to the driver’s seat. Within seconds, the van had accelerated away and disappeared around the corner.

I ran over to the shop door and peered through the glass, but it was dark and empty inside. Fighting off a growing unease, I made my way back round the side of the caf? to find Jasper sitting at the alleyway’s entrance. After the events of the previous twenty-four hours, the wave of relief I felt at seeing him made my throat start to constrict. He seemed to sense my agitation, and our strides quickly fell into step as we walked together down the alleyway.

‘So … ?’ he prompted, as we pushed through the conifers into the churchyard. I took a deep breath; I had so much to tell him that I wasn’t sure where to start.

‘Well, you were right. Debbie wasn’t planning to rehome me. Linda’s going to be moving into Margery’s cottage – that’s all.’ I braced myself for a response of the ‘I told you so’ variety, but Jasper merely blinked in tacit approval. Heartened by his reaction, I said, ‘Also, Ming’s deaf. That’s why she never talked to any of us.’

At this, his eyes widened slightly. I waited for him to say something, but he maintained his diplomatic silence.

‘Go on then,’ I said, slowing to a halt among the headstones.

‘Go on then, what?’ Jasper replied.

‘Say “I told you so”,’ I said, through clenched jaws.

‘I never said I thought she was deaf,’ he pointed out, generously.

‘No, but you thought I had misjudged her, and you were right.’

Jasper looked away, apparently distracted by a pair of magpies cawing argumentatively in a nearby tree, but I suspected he was sparing me the embarrassment of having to look him in the eye while admitting that I was wrong.

‘Just like you were right about Debbie not planning to rehome me,’ I said sullenly.

‘What’s done is done,’ he said, returning his gaze to the muddy turf in front of us. ‘I’m sure Ming will forgive you.’

‘I’m not sure she’ll be around long enough to forgive me,’ I replied churlishly. ‘Linda wants to take her to the cottage when she moves out.’

At this, Jasper’s ear flickered and his eyes narrowed a little. I wasn’t sure whether his expression indicated surprise at Linda’s offer, or disappointment that Ming might be leaving us.

‘There’s one more thing,’ I said, glancing nervously at him. ‘I’m worried about Purdy.’ For a fleeting second I thought I saw a flicker of ‘What now?’ in his eyes.

‘Why’s that?’ he said guardedly.

‘She told me she doesn’t like living in the caf?. I’m worried she might run away,’ I explained. ‘In fact,’ I added, trying to fight my rising angst, ‘she hasn’t been home since yesterday.’

Jasper surveyed me calmly through his amber eyes. I knew what he must be thinking: no sooner had one of my anxieties been allayed, than another had rushed in to take its place.‘Purdy has an adventurous spirit. We’ve always known that,’ he said steadily.

‘I know,’ I snapped, resenting his unruffled tone. ‘But I think it’s more than that.’ I could feel my frustration suddenly rise up like bile in my throat. ‘Do we just wait till one day she decides she’d rather live on the street than in the cafe? That is, if she hasn’t already . ..’

I looked away. My eyes were tingling and I felt desperate as my conviction grew that it might already be too late to change Purdy’s mind, and that, just as I had with Margery, I had wasted my last chance to say goodbye to her.

‘She’s half alley-cat, remember,’ Jasper said, with a slight puffing-out of his chest.

‘So?’ I hissed, my tail twitching irritably.

‘So,’ Jasper replied with infuriating calmness, ‘she’s also a grown-up now. If she doesn’t want to live in the caf? any more, there might be nothing we can do about it.’

28

[Êàðòèíêà: _10.jpg]

I couldn’t have felt less festive as I nosed back through the cat flap to be greeted by the sound of Christmas music and the smell of mince pies. I picked my way forlornly between the customers’ coats and shopping bags, to take up my usual position in the window, and cast my eye around the caf?, on the off-chance that Purdy had returned during my absence.

It was the last working day before the holidays and the caf? was full. Debbie and Linda bustled between the tables with sprigs of tinsel pinned to their Molly’s aprons. Some of the customers had brought gifts for the cats, little gift-wrapped parcels that Debbie placed in a pile beneath the tree. They smelt tantalizingly of catnip and cat treats, and as I surveyed the room I spotted Eddie prowling around them, sniffing greedily. Opposite me, Ming was meditating on her platform, with Maisie asleep in the domed bed beneath, and at the fireplace Abby and Bella were being entertained by a young girl who was dangling a toy fishing rod over the back of the armchair. But there was no sign of Purdy.

It was only since speaking to Jasper that I had acknowledged the possibility that, in spite of her promise, Purdy might already have run away. Out of the blue, a memory popped into my mind of the time Eddie had disappeared. I had asked Purdy if she knew where he was, and she had said,‘Maybe it was just the right time for him to go.’ I had dismissed the idea as naive, certain that such a notion was out of character for Eddie. On that occasion, my instincts had been proved correct. But it hadn’t occurred to me, until now, that there might have been more to Purdy’s comment than I had realized. Had she, in fact, been trying to tell me that she felt it might soon be the right time for her to go?

Jasper was right, we had always known Purdy was more adventurous than her siblings, but I had never seriously considered what that would mean for Purdy as she entered adulthood. It hadn’t crossed my mind that any of the kittens might crave a different kind of existence from the one they had been brought up in, or might have ambitions that a life spent dozing in the cat caf? could never satisfy. Perhaps, I realized with a dull pang of self-awareness, I had finally hit upon the nub of the problem: I had continued to think of Purdy and her siblings as kittens, long after they had left their kittenish ways behind, and had given little thought to their changing needs as they moved into adulthood. I had never questioned my assumption that what made me happy would also make them happy, and that their greatest need was to stay together, and to stay with me.

My eyes were drawn to Maisie, who had climbed out of her bed on the cat tree and was now sitting on top of the highest point of the dome, peering gingerly over the edge of Ming’s platform above. When Ming looked across with her usual imperious gaze, Maisie responded by jumping up and cowering nervously at the edge of the platform. Maisie remained motionless with her head bowed, while Ming stepped closer and craned her neck downwards so that her nose was almost touching Maisie’s fur. Ming took a few delicate sniffs, before delivering the briefest of licks across the top of Maisie’s head. Maisie glanced up, their eyes met and Ming blinked at her benignly. Then, with a look of beneficent calm, she returned to the middle of the platform and resumed her meditative pose.

I felt myself succumbing to the overwhelming remorse that had been building since I had first learnt that Ming might be deaf. Witnessing Maisie’s sweet-natured overture and Ming’s affectionate response had brought a lump to my throat. There was no escaping the fact that my irrational dislike of Ming, and the kittens’ desire not to upset me, had been the main obstacle to Ming’s integration in the caf?. It was my resentment that had been the problem, not Ming’s aloofness. I felt exhausted and knew I was descending into self-pity, but did not have the energy to fight it. Trying my hardest to block out the chatter and laughter around me, I turned my back to the caf?, lay down and went to sleep.

I was woken by a rhythmic swishing sound. I blinked and lifted my head; it was dark outside and I could see the caf?’s bright interior reflected in the black glass. Behind me, Debbie was working her way across the empty caf? with a broom, sweeping crumbs into a dustpan, while Linda cashed up at the till. They were discussing the last-minute shopping that needed to be done for Christmas dinner.

‘I’ll go to the supermarket tomorrow, Debs,’ Linda offered. ‘I can pop in on my way back from Cotswold Organic.’

‘Thanks, Lind,’ Debbie replied gratefully, ‘Going anywhere near the supermarket on Christmas Eve would just about finish me off.’

As Debbie swept the floor around the armchairs, she paused and pulled the broom-handle towards her chest.‘Linda, I hope you won’t be disappointed,’ she began, ‘but I’ve decided to keep Ming in the caf?. She really does seem to be settling in here, and I don’t think the upheaval of another move would be good for her.’

Linda followed Debbie’s eye-line to the fireplace, where Ming was sitting on the flagstones, gazing beatifically at the glowing stove. Eddie was sprawled out on the tiles next to her, fast asleep with his jet-black belly exposed to the heat. ‘You know what, Debs? I’m glad you said that,’ she agreed. ‘I was thinking the same thing myself.’

She pulled off her apron and went upstairs, and Debbie was about to lock up when there was a tap at the window.

‘Hi, Jo,’ Debbie said, opening the door to find Jo in the doorway, pale-faced and trembling. ‘Is everything okay?’

‘It’s Bernard.’ There was something strained in Jo’s tone, and Debbie instinctively took a step closer.

‘What’s happened?’ she asked, in a manner that suggested she already knew the answer.

‘I had to take him to the vet this morning. He’s … gone,’ Jo replied in a shaky voice.

Debbie’s face puckered with concern. ‘Oh, poor Bernard. I’m so sorry,’ she murmured, moving forward to envelop Jo in a hug. ‘Come on, let me get you a cuppa,’ she insisted, leading Jo across the room to the fireplace.

Jo lowered herself into an armchair while Debbie stoked the embers in the stove, sending a burst of sparks flying into the grate. She left Jo staring with a dazed expression at the dancing flames while she went into the kitchen. Jo was startled out of her trance-like state by the swoosh of the cat flap, but her face broke into a smile– and my heart seemed to flip inside my chest – when Purdy stalked across the flagstones towards the stairs.

‘Hello, Purdy,’ Jo called fondly.

Upon hearing her voice, Purdy changed direction, veering towards Jo with her tail aloft. She cast a slightly shamefaced glance at me as she passed the window, but was soon pressed against Jo’s legs, purring loudly as Jo rubbed the base of her tail.

‘So, what happened?’ Debbie asked, setting down two mugs of tea and taking the armchair opposite Jo’s. Jo sat back and Purdy immediately jumped up and began to circle contentedly on her lap. The fire in the stove crackled and its orange glow lit their faces.

‘When he woke up this morning, Bernard was struggling to stand. It was obvious that something serious had happened. I took him straight to the vet, who said it was probably a stroke and there was nothing she could do …’ Jo took a deep, shuddering breath and dropped her head, allowing her curls to fall in front of her face.

‘I’m so sorry, Jo,’ Debbie said sincerely. ‘He was such a lovely old boy. And so close to Christmas, too.’

Jo nodded and her shoulders started to shake. Debbie sipped her tea in tactful silence.

Eventually, Jo finished wiping her eyes with a tissue and reached for her mug of tea.‘He was with me for fifteen years. That’s longer than my marriage lasted,’ she said, with a watery-eyed smile, caressing Purdy’s cheek with her free hand. They both sipped their tea, then Jo went on, ‘Actually, Debs, there’s something else I need to tell you.’ She leant sideways and shakily placed her mug on the table. ‘I’ve been meaning to tell you for a while,’ she said, and there was something heavy about her tone.

‘What is it, Jo? You’re worrying me,’ Debbie asked.

‘Well, the thing is … I’ve given up the lease on the shop.’

Cradling her mug of tea, Debbie blinked confusedly.‘The shop? From when?’

‘From next month,’ answered Jo. Debbie’s lips parted and her brow wrinkled but, before she could speak, Jo started talking again. ‘The writing’s been on the wall for a long time, Debs – the shop’s been losing money for months. I’m cutting my losses before I get any further into debt. It’s better to get out now, while I’ve still got my head above water.’ She talked fast, as if she had rehearsed her words and wanted to get them out as quickly as possible.

Listening to Jo gave Debbie time to compose her face and, by the time Jo paused for breath, her friend’s appalled expression had been replaced by a look of sympathetic understanding. ‘I get it, Jo, I really do,’ Debbie said quietly. ‘I had no idea things were so bad. I mean, I knew business was slow …’

‘You weren’t to know, Debs,’ Jo insisted vehemently. ‘I’ve been telling myself business will pick up for over a year now, but after a point I realized I was just kidding myself and …’ She trailed off helplessly.

They sat in reflective silence, the only sounds in the room the crackling fire and Purdy’s sleepy purr. Debbie stared at her friend with fierce concentration. ‘If you need a job to tide you over, I could find work for you here,’ she said, her eyes shining hopefully.

‘That’s really kind of you,’ Jo replied, ‘but, well, I’ll be letting the flat go, too. It’s part of the lease.’

Debbie let out an uncontrolled yelp of dismay.‘But where will you go? You can’t just give up your home and your business in one fell swoop.’

Jo took a long, fortifying breath.‘Don’t worry, Debs, it’s all sorted. I’m going to move back to the farm. Dad needs someone to take over running the place, and it’ll give my finances a chance to recover.’

Debbie looked listlessly at her cooling cup of tea.‘Why didn’t you tell me before? You must have been planning this for a while.’ She sounded hurt.

‘I’m sorry,’ answered Jo with a guilty look. ‘I didn’t want to say anything until I was sure. I knew that you’d try and talk me out of it. Besides, you’ve had enough on your plate recently, without worrying about my livelihood as well.’

At this, Debbie cringed.‘I’m sorry, Jo. I know I’ve been banging on about my problems incessantly—’

But Jo lifted a hand to placate her,‘Debbie, please don’t. This was just something I needed to work out for myself, that’s all.’

Debbie looked suddenly drained, as if she had only just realized there was nothing she could say to change her friend’s mind. ‘I can see it makes sense. But it’s strange to think of you … ’

‘Not being next door any more,’ Jo completed Debbie’s sentence for her.

Debbie’s eyes suddenly brimmed with tears and she turned away.

‘It’s less than an hour’s drive, Debs – I’ll be back here all the time,’ Jo said with a forced smile, although I could see her eyes were reddening, too.

‘But it won’t be the same, will it?’ Debbie whimpered, wiping her nose hastily on the back of her hand.

Jo shook her head.‘I know. It won’t.’

Their sniffing punctuated the unhappy silence and then, from behind a scrunched-up tissue, Debbie said,‘You know, it’s not too late to ask Linda to be your lodger.’ She glanced at Jo and gave a tiny shrug.

Jo sniggered and the room suddenly felt lighter, as if a weight had lifted from them both, and they knew the worst was over.

‘I’ll be back in Stourton all the time, Debs, just you wait and see,’ said Jo, blinking away her tears. ‘We can still have our weekend takeaways. Besides,’ she added, taking Purdy’s face gently between both hands, ‘I couldn’t last long without coming back to see the cats. With Bernard gone, I’ve got to get my cuddles from somewhere, haven’t I?’

That was when it struck me: an idea of such self-evident simplicity that I couldn’t believe it hadn’t occurred to me before. I sat up on the window cushion and fixed Debbie with a stare. She was looking at Jo intently over the rim of her mug and, in the dancing light from the fire, I thought I could make out the faintest trace of a smile around her lips.

I hoped and prayed she was thinking the same thing as me.

29

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I rose before dawn on Christmas morning and slipped outside before anyone else was awake. The sky turned incrementally paler as I made a solitary circuit of the churchyard and, by the time I reached the square, the orange sun had peeped over the skyline to reveal a glittering frost on the rooftops. I sat beneath the elm tree and took a moment to enjoy the peacefulness of the scene, in anticipation of what I knew would be a hectic day. Sure enough, when I returned home, I climbed the stairs to find that the household had come to life during my absence.

A glance into the kitchen revealed the kittens, Jasper and Ming, breakfasting greedily from the food bowls, while in the living room Debbie, Linda and Sophie had gathered in their pyjamas to exchange gifts. I strode towards them with my tail aloft, pausing to look twice at Beau on the rug by Linda’s feet. He was dressed in a lurid green elf costume, complete with jester’s collar, faux buckle-belt around his belly and pointed hat. His face was a picture of abject mortification and, when he saw me looking at him, he lowered his chin miserably onto his paws, causing the tiny bell at the tip of his hat to tinkle.

Sophie was sitting on the floor by the sofa, happily engrossed in the instruction booklet for some new electronic device Linda had given her. Full of smiles, Linda stood up from the sofa and reached for a luxurious-looking gift box.

‘Now, I know we said novelty gifts only, Debs,’ she intoned grandly, ‘but I saw this and … well, I just had to get it for you.’

Narrowing her eyes in a look of mild scepticism, Debbie took the box onto her lap and lifted the lid. She hooted with amusement as she unfolded a kitchen apron covered from top to bottom in a lurid montage of cats’ faces, with the wordsCrazy Cat Lady printed across the front.

‘Gosh, thanks, Linda,’ she said. ‘This makes me feel so much better about what I’ve got for you.’ Her eyes twinkled and she handed over a rather more modestly wrapped gift to her sister.

Linda ripped open the wrapping paper to reveal a sweatshirt emblazoned with a photo of Ming wearing a Santa hat.Have a Ming-ing Christmas! the garment exclaimed in shiny gold lettering.

‘I know how much you like Ming merchandise,’ said Debbie mischievously.

Linda pulled the sweater over her head and gave a little twirl on the rug.‘I love it,’ she gushed, striking a pose for Sophie, who had raised her phone to photograph her aunt. ‘See, I told you Ming would wear the Santa hat!’ she added with an air of vindication.

‘She didn’t,’ Sophie said drily from behind her phone screen. ‘It’s Photoshopped.’

When everyone had showered and dressed, we all moved downstairs to the caf?. Debbie and Linda went straight into the kitchen to start work on lunch, but Sophie headed for the fireplace, where the pile of gifts from customers sat beneath the tree. ‘Come on, cats,’ she called, and the kittens trotted eagerly after her. Soon there was a frenzy of pouncing and shredding, as Sophie began to unwrap a seemingly endless succession of catnip mice and bags of treats.

‘A laser-pointer – cool!’ Sophie said, opening the last gift in the pile. She tore the pen-like toy from its cardboard packaging and aimed it across the room, making a dot of red light dance on the opposite wall, seemingly of its own accord. ‘Maisie, look!’ she urged, but Maisie and hersiblings were more interested in the crinkling shreds of wrapping paper spread across the flagstones than in the dot of light on the far side of the room.

Ming, however, who until now had been observing the unwrapping process from her platform, appeared mesmerized. She jumped lightly down and prowled across the room, transfixed by the shimmering dot dancing across the wall. After a few stealthy wiggles of her hindquarters, she leapt upwards, her front legs outstretched and tail thrashing, trying to catch the wayward dot with her flexed claws.

‘Nice moves, Ming!’ Sophie giggled.

A few weeks earlier I would have delighted in seeing elegant, reserved Ming flinging herself around in such an ungainly fashion, but instead I felt touched that she had, finally, revealed her playful side. I took it as a sign of trust that she felt able, at last, to let down her guard with us.

As the morning wore on, a delicious aroma of roasting turkey began to drift out of the kitchen, drawing Eddie across the room to pace back and forth in front of the counter, sniffing the air hopefully. When John peered furtively through the window from the pavement, Sophie stood up to let him in, making sure to close the caf? door softly behind him. He placed a bag of gifts in an empty chair and immediately came over to sit beside my window cushion. ‘There you go, Molly,’ he whispered, adjusting my collar carefully with hands that smelt of soap.

John winked at me, then stood up and went over to the counter.

‘Happy Christmas, ladies,’ he shouted through the kitchen doorway. Debbie emerged from the steamy kitchen in herCrazy Cat Lady apron, wiping her forehead with the back of her arm.‘Nice apron,’ John murmured, stretching over the counter to give her a kiss.

‘Suits her, doesn’t it?’ Linda quipped, poking her head through the doorway from the kitchen. ‘Shall we have a cup of tea?’ she said cheerfully.

‘Already, Linda? We haven’t got the potatoes on yet,’ Debbie replied, glancing anxiously at her watch.

‘Yes, please,’ Sophie piped up from the armchair in front of the stove.

‘I’ll make it. You two take a break for five minutes,’ John said, pulling a stool over for Debbie.

Realizing she was outvoted, Debbie reluctantly sat down.

‘I’ll just get the Fortune Cookies,’ Linda said brightly, as John made his way around the counter.

‘Fortune Cookies?’ Debbie repeated, looking puzzled. ‘They’re not exactly festive, Lind. If you’re hungry, there are mince pies in the—’ But Linda had already followed John into the kitchen, and Debbie found herself addressing the empty doorway. She tutted and rolled her eyes, drumming her fingers on the counter while John and Linda assembled the tea things in the kitchen.

After a couple of minutes, they emerged with a tray full of mugs and the Tupperware box of Fortune Cookies.

‘I’ve got some new mottoes,’ Linda explained, rummaging around inside the box. ‘I’d like to know what you think.’

Debbie gave a defeated shrug and picked up a steaming mug, half-heartedly taking the cellophane-wrapped cookie Linda handed to her.

‘I’ll go first, shall I?’ John said, unwrapping his cookie. ‘Fortune favours the brave,’ he read.

Debbie nodded, albeit with a noticeable lack of enthusiasm.

‘Okay, how about mine,’ Linda said quickly. ‘Some pursue happiness, others create it.’

Debbie remained taciturn.

Sophie placed her mug on the counter and cleared her throat.‘Your heart knows the answer your head has been searching for.’

‘Um, I think—’ Debbie began.

‘You haven’t read yours yet,’ Linda remarked offhandedly, cutting her sister off mid-sentence.

Debbie sighed and unwrapped the twist of cellophane that she had absent-mindedly placed on the counter.‘If there is a day to act on the love in your soul, it is today.’ She looked around at their expectant faces and smiled vaguely, as if sensing that diplomacy was called for. ‘They’re good Linda. Although, if I’m honest, I think the last batch was funnier,’ she demurred.

The backhanded compliment seemed to glide off Linda, and she gave a nonchalant shrug.

‘Actually, Debs,’ John said quietly, ‘Linda didn’t write the mottoes. I did.’

Debbie looked at him, nonplussed.‘I, don’t, er …’ she stammered in confusion.

‘Molly’s got your Christmas present,’ John explained, taking her by the elbow and steering her across the room towards me.

Debbie looked utterly bewildered as she scanned the windowsill around my cushion.‘What do you mean, I don’t see any—’ Suddenly she gasped and one hand flew up to her mouth.

John knelt down in front of me and carefully untied the diamond ring he had attached to my collar with a ribbon.‘Good work, Molly,’ he said, rubbing my head. Then, still kneeling, he turned towards Debbie and fixed her with a look that was at once hopeful and terrified. ‘Molly’s dying to know, Debs. Will you marry me?’

Across the room, Linda was biting her fist, and Sophie had taken out her mobile phone to film them.

Debbie uncovered her mouth and let her trembling hand drop by her side. A suspenseful silence settled over the room.

‘Yes, I will,’ she whispered.

There was a shriek and a whoop from across the caf? and, beaming broadly, John stood up and slid the ring onto Debbie’s left hand.

‘I can’t believe I just got engaged, wearing aCrazy Cat Lady apron!’ Debbie wailed, smiling through her tears as John pulled her close and kissed her tenderly.

‘At least John knows what he’s letting himself in for,’ Linda remarked, with an air of pragmatism.

‘Don’t worry, I know my place in the pecking order,’ John said with a theatrical sigh, pulling Debbie towards him again and kissing her hair.

While Linda was in the kitchen fetching champagne there was a knock at the window, and I turned to see Jo waving feverishly through the glass.

‘So, I take it congratulations are in order?’ she asked excitedly when Sophie had let her in.

‘Were you in on this, too?’ Debbie replied in disbelief.

‘’Fraid so,’ answered Jo, taking a glass of champagne from Linda. ‘I’ve been waiting for Sophie’s text all morning. I couldn’t set off for Dad’s until I’d come to celebrate with you!’

‘I’m starting to feel like I’ve been set up!’ Debbie said, looking alternately amused and aggrieved as she surveyed the grinning faces all around her.

‘That’s because you have been, Debs,’ Linda replied matter-of-factly.

For twenty minutes they stood around, sipping champagne and laughing while Debbie repeatedly complained about being set up, bemoaned the fact that she looked ridiculous in her apron, and threatened Sophie with indefinite grounding if she so much as thought about posting online the footage of John’s proposal. I watched them all from the windowsill, feeling a glow of pride for the part I had played.

Jo’s glass was still half-full when she took Debbie’s arm. ‘I should be getting off,’ she said softly.

Debbie turned away from the others and said in a low voice,‘Actually, Jo, there’s something I want to ask you.’

They sat down at the little table nearest the window, just a few inches from my cushion. Debbie’s eyes were shining, whether from emotion or the effects of the two glasses of champagne she had downed in quick succession, I wasn’t sure.

She placed her fingertips on the table edge and said,‘Now I don’t want you to feel obliged, but I was wondering …’

Jo looked at her keenly, but Debbie seemed to have suffered a loss of nerve. Her eyes danced worriedly across the tablecloth.

‘I mean, I know it’s a bit of a strange thing to ask, what with this being a cat caf? and her being – well, a cat; and I know you’ve got a lot to think about at the moment, and that you’re more of a dog person really.’ Jo continued to stare at Debbie with an expression of patient bafflement. ‘But I just thought, with you losing Bernard and giving up the shop, and moving to the farm, and I know you’ve always had a soft spot for her – oh!’ A hiccup caught Debbie unawares. Looking faintly startled, she covered her mouth with the back of her hand and took a deep breath.

Jo smiled supportively.‘Debbie, I haven’t got a clue what you’re talking about,’ she said at last.

‘What I’m trying to say, Jo, is … how would you feel about, feel about … adopting Purdy?’

Confusion clouded Jo’s face. ‘Adopting Purdy? You mean, taking her to live with me?’

Debbie nodded.‘I just thought – after everything that’s happened – it might be nice for both of you to live on the farm. Together.’ She hiccupped again.

There was a pause as Jo absorbed Debbie’s words, then: ‘Debs, are you kidding? I’dlove to take Purdy!’ she said breathlessly. ‘But are you sure you want to let her go? I mean, this is her home. Her whole family’s here.’ Jo glanced sideways, and I was touched by the concerned look she gave me.

‘I’mquite sure,’ Debbie answered emphatically. ‘I think she’s outgrown the caf? – it doesn’t suit her any more. To be honest, she spends more time in your shop than she does here.’ Her eyes started to well up and her face had flooded with colour. ‘And I couldn’t think of a b— a better life for her than on the farm with you,’ she stammered, a tear sliding down her cheek.

Jo’s eyes were suddenly brimful of tears, too. ‘Well, if you think she’ll be happy, Debs, I’d love to. You know I’ve always adored her. It’ll be like taking part of Stourton with me,’ she said with a watery-eyed smile.

‘Exactly!’ Debbie agreed. ‘And of course it’ll mean I have to visit you, to make sure you’re looking after her properly.’ She reached across the table to squeeze Jo’s fingers.

Jo fished in her pocket for a packet of tissues and they each took one and dabbed their eyes. Then Jo glanced at her watch, gasped and stood up.

‘And there was I, thinking you were going to ask me to be your bridesmaid!’ she quipped, fastening her jacket.

Debbie’s eyes lit up. ‘Oh myGod !’ she shrieked, looking thunderstruck. ‘I almost forgot! I’m getting married! Ofcourse you’ll be my bridesmaid, won’t you?’ Debbie shrieked. ‘Along with Linda and Sophie of course,’ she added, with a worried look across the room at the others.

‘It would be an honour,’ Jo replied, leaning in for a hug.

‘I hope you both like taffeta,’ Linda said drolly, before draining her champagne glass.

On her way out, Jo walked over to the cat hammock where Purdy lay fast asleep, her feet draped languorously over the edges. Jo rose up on tiptoes and stretched her hand out to rub Purdy’s ears. ‘Bye, Purdy. I’ll see you again soon,’ she whispered. Purdy lifted her head and blinked at Jo sleepily.

Even though she had her back to me, I blinked at Jo, too.

Linda had pushed several caf? tables together to form a row that stretched from the cat tree in the middle of the room to the window. She threw a deep-red cloth over the tabletops and, with painstaking attention to detail, arranged a magnificent display involving candles, garlands, snow-dusted pine cones and table confetti. With Ming’s platform at one end and my cushion at the other, the layout had the unintended effect of looking as though Ming and I were joint heads of the table. I looked across the gilt candelabra at Ming, wondering what she thought of the lavish arrangement, but her eyes were closed. Looming sphinx-like and motionless above the red-and-gold tones of the table decor, she looked even more regal than usual. I had to admit, the grandeur suited her.

‘Right, everyone, dinner is served,’ Debbie shouted, negotiating her way through the caf? with an enormous turkey on a platter. John and Sophie followed with the side dishes, and Eddie brought up the rear, trotting after them hungrily with his tail aloft. With admiring noises, they all took their seats. Napkins were unfurled, crackers snapped and glasses topped up, while John set to work carving the turkey. When everyone was about to eat, Debbie tapped on the side of her wine glass with her knife and said, ‘I’d just like to raise a toast to Margery. Without her, I doubt we would all be here, celebrating Christmas together. To Margery.’

‘To Margery,’ the others repeated, clinking glasses gently, and a hush fell over the table. As they began to eat, I felt a wave of nostalgia spread through me. But the feeling was not only a longing for my past – for the time I had spent with Margery and the life we had shared – but also an appreciation of the present. It was beginning to dawn on me that this, our second Christmas in the cat caf?, would be our last as a whole family.

I let my eyes wander around the room in the knowledge that, one day, the scene before me would be no more than a fond memory. Jasper was sprawled out on the flagstones, the fire’s orange flames lighting up his glossy black pelt; Maisie was nearby, playing with the last shreds of wrapping paper under the Christmas tree; behind them Abby and Bella were curled up together on one of the armchairs, washing each other contentedly with their eyes closed.

Eddie padded between the table legs, determinedly scouring the floor for dropped morsels of turkey. It was hard to believe that, only a few weeks earlier, I had been utterly convinced he had run away, and that I might never see him again. The irony of my situation did not escape me: whilst I had been racked with guilt about Eddie’s disappearance, I had failed to notice that the kitten I was actually losing was Purdy.

I turned to the other side of the room and settled my gaze on Purdy, who was slumbering blissfully in the hammock. Her departure would break my heart, but I knew it was the right thing for her. The kittens’ upbringing in the caf? had been unconventional and, in many ways, privileged, but for a self-sufficient cat like Purdy, it had become stifling. Living in a colony, and being on view to the public, did not suit her independent nature, and I knew that farm life would maker her far happier thancaf? life. She would be free to roam as a solitary cat, and when she craved company, she would have Jo.

Although a part of me would always think of Purdy and her siblings as kittens, I had to accept that they had long outgrown their kittenhood. They were adults now, and their wellbeing could not be viewed collectively. My desire for them to be happy as individuals had to outweigh any sentimental notion of keeping my family together; and, as their mother, the best thing I could do was encourage each of them to follow the path that suited them best.

After all, I had followed my own path, a long time ago, when I had first lost Margery. I had found my way to Stourton, to Debbie and to Jasper. I was certain that my future would always lie with Debbie and the cat caf?, but the same might not be true for the kittens. Their future was an open book, a story waiting to be told, and it was my privilege to have come this far on their journey with them. Whatever happened, wherever they decided to go, I was confident that they had had the best start in life I couldhave given them; they had been safe, and loved, and happy.

Perhaps, when all was said and done, that had been my own legacy to them.