Oliver The Cat Who Saved Christmas

CHAPTER EIGHT

The next day was a Saturday. You’ll learn to tell the difference with these human-invented days, little kitten, when you’re a grown-up cat like me. Saturdays and Sundays are when the children don’t go to school and most of the adults don’t go to work, not to be confused with holidays and special days like Christmas and Easter. Yes, I know it’s very muddling but humans don’t seem to be able to manage like we do, with every day being whatever we want it to be. Anyway, on this particular Saturday, I was sitting on Sarah’s windowsill when I saw something coming along the road that made me sit up straight and meow with excitement. At first I thought I might be seeing things, but as it came closer and finally stopped outside the house, I knew I was right. It was the same big old blue car I’d known for nearly my whole life, and there, getting out of it, was my very own human, George.

I jumped down from the windowsill and rushed for the front door, walking round and round in frantic circles and meowing my head off. Sarah came out of the kitchen wiping her hands on a tea-towel, and the children came tumbling downstairs from playing in their bedroom.

‘What on earth’s all the fuss about, Ollie?’ Sarah said, as the children stood there giggling at my excitement. ‘Do you want to go out? What’s wrong with using the cat flap?’

And then the doorbell rang, and I almost climbed up the door, I was so beside myself.

‘Who can that be?’ Sarah said as she went to open it. And then: ‘Oh! Hello!’

I feel a little embarrassed now, telling you this, but the fact is, I went slightly loopy. I was so overcome with joy when George bent down to stroke me, I leapt straight into his arms, nearly knocking him over. I was climbing all round his neck, licking his face, purring fit to bust. I just couldn’t contain myself. Everyone was laughing, George included.

‘What a welcome,’ he said. ‘Whoa, calm down, boy, you’ll have me over.’

By now, Martin, who’d been outside in the shed doing what he described as his Saturday pottering (I have no idea what it was, and I suspected Sarah didn’t either), had heard the commotion and come back indoors.

‘George!’ he said, trying to shake his hand, but having difficulty because I was clinging to him like a limpet. ‘Great to see you, mate. Are you back in the village?’

‘No, sadly not. Just visiting.’

‘Well, Ollie’s pleased to see you, at any rate. Stay and have some lunch with us if you’ve got time.’

‘Thanks, I will, if you’re sure.’

So we all went through to the kitchen, and George sat at the table with me on his lap, snuggling up to him and purring contentedly.

‘So how has he been?’ George asked, nodding down at me.

‘Brilliant,’ Sarah said at once. ‘We’ve loved having him here, haven’t we, children?’

‘Yes,’ they both chorused, and Rose added quietly, ‘I want to keep him forever.’

‘No, remember what I told you?’ Martin said gently. ‘Oliver is George’s cat, and he’s only staying with us until George can come back and look after him again.’

‘But that won’t be for quite a long time. And I’m sure he’ll still come and visit you, and play with you, when he’s back with me,’ George added.

‘Of course I will,’ I meowed, but needless to say, nobody understood me. Sometimes it’s very frustrating that humans don’t learn Cat. They think they’re so much cleverer than us, it wouldn’t hurt them to try.

Well, they sat around the table drinking tea and eating toasted sandwiches, and Sarah finally lured me off George’s lap by putting some bits of cheese down for me. Then afterwards the children went off to play but I stayed with the adults, wanting to enjoy every minute of George’s company before he went away again.

‘I’m so grateful to you for taking care of Oliver for me,’ he was saying to Sarah and Martin. ‘I couldn’t possibly have had him with me at my sister’s place, and besides, it’s better for him to be here in the village where he knows his way around.’

‘Of course it is. And he’s been no trouble at all,’ Sarah said. ‘But he’s not with us all the time. He goes next door to Nicky and Daniel a lot, too.’

‘So: tell me who I should make this cheque out to,’ George said, pulling his wallet out of his pocket. ‘I was going to post it, but I really wasn’t sure about the arrangements. Daniel told me on the phone the other day that you were buying all the cat food.’

‘Well, it’s probably fifty-fifty,’ Martin said, giving Sarah a quick glance. ‘Don’t worry about us, but I daresay he’s eating Nicky and Daniel out of house and home – you know what cats are like.’

I was a bit puzzled by this, as I knew perfectly well what the arrangement was, and so did Martin. He’d agreed that he and Sarah would be the ones feeding me. Although Nicky did occasionally give me a saucer of milk or a few scraps, I had a feeling Martin was just trying to be kind to them.

‘OK, look, I’ll make the cheque out to you, Martin, if you don’t mind, and leave you to divvy it up between you. And … jump down a minute, will you, Ollie? I’ve got a few things in the car to bring in.’

‘This is far too much,’ Martin was protesting, looking at the cheque.

‘No it’s not. It’s for the month, all right? I’ll try to get down here roughly once a month to settle up with you, or if it’s easier, I could just buy a month’s supply of food and bring it with me.’

‘No, look, there’s no need…’

‘But I thought a cheque might be better, so that if I can’t get down here, I can just post it.’

‘But, listen, George, I don’t want to be personal, but are you all right for money? I mean, with the pub being out of action?’

‘Oh yes, I’m fine, mate – don’t worry about me. The brewery’s looking after me. I’m only a tenant landlord, you know. Straight after the fire, when I told them I’d got to move to London for the duration of the rebuilding work, they found me a temporary job in a local pub close by, that’s just reopened after refurbishment. I’m doing shifts there at the moment, but luckily everywhere is busy, with Christmas coming up, so I should have full-time work soon. They’ve got the chef from the Forester’s a job too, in Great Broomford. I couldn’t do anything for the barmaids, unfortunately – they were just employed on a casual basis. But I’ve heard on the grapevine that they’ve both managed to get some work here and there in town.’

‘So, in some ways,’ Sarah said, ‘it’s fortunate that it’s the busy season.’

‘Yes.’ He frowned and sighed. ‘But not for the people here who had bookings for meals and parties in the Forester’s, and even rooms booked for family over Christmas.’

‘I know.’ Sarah looked sad too. ‘But it’s not your fault, George, and everyone will just have to make other arrangements, if they can. It’s not the end of the world, and the most important thing is that you weren’t hurt in the fire.’

‘Thanks to Ollie,’ George said, giving me another stroke now even though he’d made me get off his lap. ‘If he hadn’t woken me up, that night, I hate to think what would’ve happened.’

Everyone went quiet then, even me, not wanting to think about it. They’d been talking earlier about what might have started the fire, and apparently the ‘investigators’ – whoever they were – believed it was an electrical fault, something to do with some wiring. I didn’t know what that meant, but I was glad nobody thought it was George’s fault. Or mine.

George went out to the car, then, and came back carrying two big bags.

‘Just a little token of my thanks,’ he said, putting them on the table.

‘But you’ve given us the money, George,’ Sarah said, staring open-mouthed at the bags.

‘These are just some things for Ollie, and some little bits for the kids – so you can’t say no,’ he said with a smile. ‘Now, it’s been great seeing you, and thanks for the lunch, but I’m going to have to get back as I’m working tonight.’

‘Good to see you too, mate,’ Martin said, shaking his hand. ‘Thanks for the cheque – and for all this, but you didn’t have to.’

‘I miss my boy,’ George said by way of a reply. He picked me up and gave me another quick cuddle, and I purred into his ear, wishing frantically that he didn’t have to go. ‘I’ll see you again soon, Ollie. Be good. It’ll probably be nearly Christmas before I can get back again,’ he added to Sarah and Martin as he walked to the door.

I meowed to myself sadly for ages after he’d gone. But when Sarah started unpacking the bags, she found so many exciting things for me, I almost forgot to be upset. There was a new blanket – soft and fluffy with a pattern of paw prints all over it – a toy mouse stuffed with catnip, just the right size for throwing in the air and catching with my claws, some sparkly little balls to play with, a bag of my favourite cat-treats and, best of all, a little hammock made of furry material that hooked over a radiator, for me to lie in. Sarah was laughing as she watched Martin fix it over the radiator in the lounge.

‘Look at that, Ollie,’ she said. ‘What a lovely warm, cosy bed for you, for the winter.’

I jumped straight into it, turned around a couple of times (although there wasn’t much room and I nearly fell out on the first attempt), did a bit of scraping at the furry surface the way we cats like to, and finally snuggled down, purring myself to sleep as I thought fondly of George choosing my presents. I was beginning to realise what a lucky little cat I was, after all.

When I woke up, there was another surprise. It was dark, the curtains had been drawn, the children must have gone to bed – and sitting on the sofa holding glasses of drink, like the ones people had in the pub, were Nicky and Daniel from next door. Normally I’d have had my dinner by now, and then gone in to see them, but I must have had a much deeper and longer nap than usual, in my new hammock.

‘It’s really nice of you both to ask us round,’ Nicky was saying.

‘Well,’ Sarah said, ‘we just thought that if you weren’t doing anything tonight, it’d make a change to get together for a chat. Would you like some crisps?’ She passed them a little bowl, and watching them crunching away, I realised how hungry I was. I jumped out of my hammock, yawning and stretching my legs.

‘Oh, look who’s finally woken up,’ Martin laughed. ‘I suppose you want some dinner, Ollie.’

Of course I did! I followed him out to the kitchen, purring with anticipation, and did a few circuits of the place where they normally put my dish, while I waited for him to open the tin. When I’d finally finished eating, been outside for a call of nature and then had a good wash, there seemed to be a serious conversation going on, back in the lounge.

‘We absolutely can’t accept it,’ Nicky was saying, looking a bit pink in the face. ‘We haven’t been feeding Ollie at all – only a spot of milk occasionally. It’s your money.’

‘Seriously, guys,’ Martin said, ‘George wanted you to have it. He wanted to show his appreciation to all of us for taking care of Ollie – making him comfortable and stopping him from being lonely. It’s not just about the food.’

‘Oh.’ Nicky gave Daniel an anxious look. ‘Well, I don’t know what to say. I mean, it’s very nice of him, but we love having Ollie popping in for visits anyway.’

‘If we accept the money,’ Daniel said firmly, ‘we’ll take over feeding him his evening meals. It’s not fair, otherwise.’

Martin shrugged. ‘Shall we just say that whoever’s house he’s in at the time can feed him?’

I pricked up my ears. If I was a crafty cat, I could do well out of this. I could have dinner in one house, and then nip next door and get a second helping. But then I remembered how worried Daniel and Nicky were about money. No, that wouldn’t be right. Maybe I’d let them feed me occasionally, so they didn’t feel unhappy about George’s money, but I wasn’t going to take advantage, tempting though it was.

‘OK, we’ll stock up on cat food with the money,’ Nicky said.

‘Only a few tins,’ Sarah suggested with a smile. ‘We don’t want Ollie getting greedy and cadging extra meals, do we?’

They all laughed then, and I felt so embarrassed I had to turn away and pretend to wash my face again. How had they guessed what I’d been thinking?

‘George has been far too generous with his cheque,’ Martin said. ‘We won’t need all our share either, to say nothing of the presents.’

‘Oh yes, I noticed the new bed on the radiator,’ Nicky said.

‘He loves it already. It must be so warm and cosy for him. But there were presents for the children, too – books, and games, and jigsaws – they thought Christmas had come early! So you see, we’ve had more than our fair share of George’s gratitude.’ She smiled at Nicky and added quietly, ‘Please don’t feel bad about accepting your share.’

That settled, the talk turned to Christmas.

‘To be honest,’ Nicky said, taking tiny sips of her drink, and finally putting the glass down as if she’d decided she didn’t like it, ‘I’m not looking forward to it.’

‘Oh, why not?’ Sarah asked.

Next thing I knew, the whole story was pouring out, about Nicky’s parents, and the arguments, and the Christmas visit that was supposed to be their opportunity to make up with them, until the fire in the pub put paid to their stay.

‘We’re going to have to cancel them,’ Daniel explained. ‘We haven’t got any room to put them up. Nicky’s two younger brothers would be coming too, as they’re only twelve and fourteen.’

I saw Sarah and Martin giving each other a look.

‘Well, there must be a way round it,’ Sarah said. ‘Let us have a think.’

‘I can’t see any way, other than cancelling the visit. There’s nowhere else in the village they can stay, and everywhere in Great Broomford and the other villages is fully booked.’ Nicky shrugged. ‘Dan says it’s pointless having them come for Christmas anyway while we can’t afford any luxuries.’

‘It’s going to be a disappointing Christmas for a lot of people here,’ Martin said. ‘Nowhere to hold the pensioners’ party or the children’s parties. No Christmas nights out at the pub…’

‘Not even for poor Ollie,’ Sarah said, smiling at me. They all laughed then, and I was glad really, because the conversation had been getting a bit sad.

‘Actually it might not have been all fun and games for Ollie at the pub at Christmas time,’ Martin said. ‘It always got so busy, with a lot of people coming into the pub who didn’t know him, and didn’t realise he didn’t like being stroked or petted by strangers – especially strange men.’

‘He seems to have got used to both of us now, though, doesn’t he,’ Daniel said.

‘Yes. We should be honoured.’

‘Do you know if there’s any reason for it? I mean, sometimes animals are scared of strangers if they’ve been ill-treated or something like that.’ Daniel was holding his hand out towards me as he spoke, and I walked towards him, purring, and let him stroke my head, to show him I trusted him now. ‘Has George had him ever since he was a kitten?’

‘Yes.’ Martin nodded. ‘But you’re right, he came with a history. George told me about it once. It’s very sad.’

When I realised he was going to tell the others about my horrible start in life, I decided it was time to go to bed. I didn’t want to hear it. It was bad enough having lived through it.