Oliver The Cat Who Saved Christmas

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

With all the humans so busy and caught up in their own worries and plans for Christmas, and making rotas and notices for their meetings, and Tabby being such a pain showing off to his girlfriend, I just carried on with my solitary visits to the Big House. For a couple more days I sat outside the big windows and talked to the girl called Caroline through the glass. I knew instinctively that there was something wrong, because she didn’t run around and play like Grace and Rose. She was as quiet as Rose used to be when I first met her, but there wasn’t any sign of a damaged paw to explain it. I knew she was always pleased to see me, and the woman called Laura seemed pleased too because it was cheering Caroline up.

‘I wish we could let him in,’ Caroline would say, but Laura shook her head and reminded her that her father would be cross.

I still hadn’t seen any sign of the father, despite Martin and Sarah saying he was the only person who lived there. Obviously they didn’t know as much as I did about who lived where in the village. Or perhaps the father was just a made-up person, like this Father Christmas they all talked about.

And then came the day when it was so cold my fur was almost growing icicles. As I stood outside the glass doors meowing to Caroline, something very unusual happened. Laura went out of the room, and for a few minutes Caroline stayed where she was on the sofa, watching me. Then suddenly she pushed her blanket off and got up. Very slowly and unsteadily, holding onto the furniture, she made her way over to the big doors, turned a key and opened one of them – just wide enough for a little cat like me to squeeze through. All this time she was looking over her shoulder, making sure Laura wasn’t coming back. Well, I have to admit I hesitated for a moment. Wouldn’t anyone, in the circumstances? But I was so cold, and the fire in that room looked lovely and warm, and Caroline was whispering urgently to me:

‘Come on, little cat, quick! Come in while she’s not looking.’

And I did. I ran in as fast as my little legs would carry me, dived onto that sofa and huddled under the pink blanket. Despite the fact that my heart was pounding with anxiety, I couldn’t help purring at the same time because the blanket was so soft and warm. Caroline took longer to return to the sofa herself. She was breathing hard as if she’d been chasing birds round the garden for hours, and when she sat down and pulled the blanket back over her, I climbed onto her legs and I could feel them trembling. I found her hand and gave it a little lick, and she giggled.

‘What are you laughing about?’ Laura said as she came back into the room.

I stopped licking, my ears up, on full alert. Was I about to be thrown out?

‘Nothing,’ Caroline said, giving another little giggle.

‘Well, it’s good to see you happy. I know you’ve been bored, but perhaps later this week I’ll start putting up the Christmas decorations, and you can watch me.’ She stopped, then asked sharply, ‘What’s that noise?’

Oh dear. I’d started purring again without even realising it. It was hard not to, the warmth and comfort was so lovely after being outside in that icy cold.

‘Just my tummy rumbling. Sorry,’ Caroline said, giggling again.

‘Are you hungry? Well, that’s a good sign. Shall I just finish reading you this story, and then get you some soup?’

‘Yes please.’

There was a rustle of pages, and Laura started to read. It was a story about some Dalmatian puppies. It was quite exciting and I was just starting to get into it when she suddenly broke off and said, ‘The little cat went away again, then?’

‘Yes,’ Caroline said, giving me a little nudge with her arm. I snuggled up closer to her and licked her hand again, and I could feel her trying not to laugh.

‘What are you grinning about now?’ Laura said, with a smile in her voice.

And then I made my big mistake. I was so enjoying my cuddle with Caroline, I climbed right on top of her tummy and started doing the turning-around-and-pawing thing. And I was purring again. I knew it, I just couldn’t help it.

‘What’s that?’ Laura said more sharply.

And of course, the next thing I knew, the blanket was being pulled off us both and Caroline was saying, ‘Sorry, Laura. He just looked so cold, and he’s so cute.’

Needless to say, I’d jumped off the sofa as soon as I felt the blanket being lifted. I ran to the big window and stood by it, yowling my head off. If there’d been another door open, I’d have run out of it by now, without even thinking about where I might end up. I think I’d even have run up the chimney if there wasn’t a fire in the grate.

But suddenly, in between my frantic yells of fear, I realised I could hear Laura laughing.

‘All right, all right, little cat,’ she said, coming over to me and bending down. ‘I’m not going to hurt you.’ She gave me a stroke and looked at the disc on my collar. ‘Oliver,’ she said. ‘What a nice name.’

I stopped yelling and glanced over at Caroline. She was smiling back at us.

‘I thought you’d be cross,’ she said to Laura.

‘And I certainly should be. But between you and me, I can’t see the harm in it. He’s a lovely friendly little thing. He obviously likes you, doesn’t he – coming back every day like this. Well, you’d better not breathe a word of this to your father, all right? Or I’ll be in big trouble. And you really shouldn’t have got up and walked across the room without me helping you. You’re still very weak. You could have fallen over.’

‘I was careful.’

‘Good. Well, perhaps I should be pleased that you managed to find the strength in your legs to do it. Now, I’m going to heat up your soup, and if you want me to keep Oliver’s visits our little secret, you’d better promise me you’ll try to eat it all up.’

‘I promise. Thank you, Laura,’ Caroline said. ‘Can Oliver come back on my lap?’

‘After you’ve had the soup. I’m not being responsible for you spilling it and scalding yourself, on top of everything else.’

With that, she gave me another little stroke before she went back out of the room. Some humans just can’t help themselves – they just love us cats, even if they pretend not to. I lay down on the rug in front of that lovely warm fire, and Caroline talked to me in her quiet gentle voice, telling me how much she wished she could have a little cat of her own. Laura brought in a bowl of something steamy for Caroline, on a tray, and to my surprise, a bowl of milk for me, which I lapped up enthusiastically. And when we’d both finished, she picked me up and put me on the blanket with Caroline, who was having a nap. I turned around a few times, settled myself down, and was so contented I dozed off almost immediately, all thoughts of angry cat-hating fathers banished from my mind.

After that, whenever I arrived at the big window, Laura let me in, and together we’d entertain Caroline with one of the usual games so irresistible to us cats – balls being rolled across the floor (and under the sofa) for me to chase, feathers being used to tickle me and get me rolling on my back with my paws in the air, strings dangled to make me jump up on my back legs – all giving me some good exercise and getting Caroline laughing her head off at the same time. Then we’d have our refreshments, and finally I’d be allowed to snuggle down with Caroline while we both had our naps. When she woke up, Laura would let me out of the door again and I’d scamper back to my foster home.

The second time, on my way back I ran into Tabby. For once, he was on his own – no sign of Suki anywhere – so I stopped to say hello.

‘You’ll never guess where I’ve been,’ I said, desperate to show off my news.

‘Go on. Where?’ He didn’t sound overly interested.

‘The Big House. I go there every day now.’

‘You’re more of a fool than I thought you were, then,’ he snapped. ‘I warned you to stay away from there, didn’t I? You’ll end up being beaten with a stick by the angry man, and then you’ll be sorry.’

‘No, listen, it’s not like that at all,’ I insisted. ‘There isn’t any angry man. He must be a myth, like Father Christmas.’

Even as I was saying this, there was a little voice in the back of my head reminding me of the things Laura had said about Caroline’s father. But I ignored the little voice. I didn’t want to believe it.

‘Father Christmas isn’t a myth,’ Tabby retorted. ‘Who told you that?’

‘The human kittens at my foster home. They say he isn’t real, but they pretend to believe in him, so they can still have presents.’

‘That’s rubbish. You’ll believe anything, Ollie. You’re so naïve.’

‘No I’m not! I’m telling you, I’ve been to the Big House loads of times now, and there’s no angry man there. There’s just a woman called Laura and a girl with no fur on her head who lies on a sofa.’

‘Oh, for mewing out loud, Ollie. Have you been at the catnip again? You’re either seeing things, or you’ve got a very active imagination.’

‘I’ve been inside now,’ I shouted at him. ‘They play with me and give me milk, and I snuggle up with the girl on the sofa. Laura says I’m cheering her up.’

‘Yeah, right. Pull the other paw,’ he said disdainfully. ‘If you’ve got any sense, you’ll stop going there, and that’s all I’m saying on the subject.’

I was furious with him for not believing me. What was the matter with him, anyway? He looked like he’d just been told he had an appointment at the vet’s.

‘You’re in a bad mood, aren’t you?’ I said. ‘Where’s Suki? Has she dumped you?’

There was a long silence. He was looking the other way, making little growly noises in the back of his throat. I wasn’t sure if he was about to snap my head off, or burst into mews.

‘What?’ I demanded again. ‘Has she dumped you, then?’

I mean, fair enough, I’d try to be sympathetic if he was really upset. I’d never had relationships with females myself, but it seemed to matter enormously to Tabby. And although he’d been mean to me recently, we had been friends for a long time.

There was another silence. I was just about to give up and walk away, when he said, in a strangled kind of voice:

‘I wish she had dumped me, Ollie. If only she had, before we got so – you know – carried away with each other.’

I didn’t know, to be honest. I counted myself lucky that George had taken me to the vet when I was a kitten and got me done, as they called it. From what I’d seen, having relationships with females only ever led to trouble, to say nothing of the kind of stupid showing-off behaviour I’d seen in Tabby recently. Why would I want to bother with it? But I gave him a little head-rub of sympathy, even though I had no idea what he was on about.

‘You really don’t get it, do you, Ollie?’ he said. ‘You’re not a victim of your hormones like I am.’

Well, thank goodness for that. It sounded most uncomfortable.

‘She hasn’t dumped me,’ he went on, looking like all his nine lives were over. ‘She’s pregnant. She’s going to have kittens. She’s saying it’s my fault, and now she keeps on moaning and complaining about it. It’s putting me right off her, to be honest. I mean, she’s a nice-looking cat, but I can’t stand all this bad-tempered yowling – I have to turn tail and run away from her when she starts. Know what I mean, Ollie?’

I didn’t. But as I did my best to comfort him, I’m ashamed to say all I could think about was that maybe now he’d stop being such a pain in the neck and be my friend again.