Читать книгу Alfie the Doorstep Cat - Rachel Wells - Страница 17

I sat and watched as two burly men unloaded the last of the furniture from the removal van. I was, so far, pleased with what I had seen: a comfortable looking blue sofa; large floor cushions; a fancy upholstered armchair which looked as if it might be an antique, not that I was an expert. I had seen lots more being taken off the van; wardrobes, chests of drawers and lots of sealed boxes, but I was mostly interested in soft furnishings.

Flicking my tail in satisfaction, I felt my whiskers rising as I grinned. It looked as if I had found my first potential new home; 78 Edgar Road.

While the removals men took a break and were drinking out of plastic flask cups, I seized the opportunity to sneak into the house. Despite my curiosity, I first made my way straight through to check out the back door. Although I had been in all of the gardens in the street, and felt confident that this house did, in fact, possess a cat flap, I still needed to be sure. It did. I purred with pleasure at my cleverness and slid through it, deciding to hide out in the garden.

After chasing my shadow around in the tiny garden, and looking for flies to torment, I shivered with excitement and decided to groom myself thoroughly one last time. I was brimming with expectation as I made my way back into the house and anticipated how nice it would be to be a domestic cat again. How I yearned for a lap to sit on, milk to be given to me and food aplenty. Simple needs but, as I had learnt, not needs to be taken for granted. Nothing could ever be taken for granted again.

I wasn’t a silly cat. My journey, and those I’d met along the way, had taught me many things. There was no way I was going to put all my whiskers in one basket ever again. It was a lesson I’d learnt the hard way. The worst way. Some of my peers were either too trusting or too lazy, but I had discovered that I couldn’t afford to be either. As much as I wanted to be a loyal cat with a loyal owner, it was just too precarious. I couldn’t ever be in the situation I was in before. I couldn’t bear to be alone ever again.

I felt my fur stand on end as I pushed the terror of the past weeks out of my head and instead turned my attention to my new owner. I hoped that they would be as nice as their soft furnishings.

As I padded around the house I noticed the sky begin to turn dusky and I sensed the temperature drop. I wondered why someone would move their furniture into the house, but not themselves; it didn’t make sense. I started to feel a little panicked for the owner I hadn’t yet met. But then I told myself to relax and gave my whiskers a lick to calm myself down. I needed to look my best for when the people arrived at their new home; I was getting far too anxious.

The problem was that I had spent too long as a homeless cat, and I couldn’t face it any more. Just as I felt as if I might start fretting again, I heard the front door open. I immediately pricked up my ears and stretched out my body. It was time to go and meet my first new family. I plastered my most charming smile on my face.

‘I know Mum, but I couldn’t help it,’ I heard a female voice say. There was a pause. ‘I couldn’t be here because the blasted car broke down just two hours into the journey and I have just spent the last three hours with a very talkative RAC man, who, quite frankly, nearly sent me mad.’ Another pause. Her voice sounded nice although she was clearly exasperated, I thought, as I crept nearer. ‘They did. It looks like all the furniture is here, and, as I asked, the keys were posted through the front door.’ Pause. ‘Edgar Road isn’t the ghetto, Mum, I think it’ll be fine. Anyway, I’ve just walked through the door to my new home after the day from hell, so I’ll call you tomorrow.’

I rounded the corner and came face to face with a woman. She looked fairly young, although I wasn’t very good at judging age; all I could say was that her face wasn’t full of wrinkles, like Margaret’s. She was quite tall, very thin and had untidy dark-blonde hair and sad blue eyes. My first impression of her was that she gave me a nice feeling, and her sad eyes drew me to her strongly. My cat’s instinct told me that she needed me as much as I needed her. I, like most cats, didn’t judge humans on appearance; we read personality, and normally cats have a special talent for knowing who is good and who is bad. ‘She’ll do nicely,’ I immediately thought feeling pleased.

‘Who are you?’ she said, her voice suddenly soft; the type of voice so many people reserve for pets and babies as if we are stupid. I would have given her a disdainful look, but I needed to be charming. So instead I gave her one of my best grins. She knelt down beside me and I purred, moving slowly towards her, gently brushing her leg. Oh yes, I knew how to flirt when I needed to.

‘You poor thing, you look half starved. And your fur, it’s all patchy, as if you’ve been fighting. Have you been fighting?’ She sounded very tender and I purred in agreement. I had only seen my reflection in water lately but I knew from Tiger that I didn’t look my best. I just hoped that it didn’t put her off as I nestled into her legs again.

‘Oh, you are sweet. What’s your name?’ She looked at the silver disc hanging from my neck. ‘Alfie. Well, hello, Alfie.’ She gently picked me up and stroked my ‘patchy’ fur. It felt heavenly after all this time. I felt as if I was bonding with the lady, learning her smell, transferring mine and reminding me of my past, my kittenhood. I felt myself relax in a way I had only dreamt of recently.

Once again I purred my best purr and snuggled into her. ‘Well, Alfie, I’m Claire and although I’m pretty sure a cat didn’t come with the house, let’s find you something to eat. I’ll call your owner in a bit.’ I grinned again. She could try all she wanted, but the number on the disc wouldn’t work. I triumphantly strode next to her, tail upright, my way of saying a proper ‘hello’ to my new friend, as she went back to the front door, picked up two carrier bags and carried them into the kitchen.

As she unpacked her shopping, I looked properly at my new feeding area. The kitchen was small but modern. It had white shiny units and wooden work surfaces. It was clean and uncluttered. Mind you, I reminded myself, no one lived here properly yet. In my old house, which it still pained me to think of, the kitchen had been very old fashioned and cluttered. It was dominated by a huge sideboard and there were decorative plates everywhere. I accidentally broke one when I was very young. Margaret had been so upset that I didn’t go near them again. However, I doubted that Claire had any decorative plates. She didn’t look the type.

‘Here you go,’ she said triumphantly, laying down a bowl that she had unpacked and poured some milk into. She then opened a packet and laid some smoked salmon on a plate. ‘Oh, what a glorious welcome,’ I thought. Obviously I hadn’t expected her to have cat food, but at the same time I hadn’t imagined getting such a treat. I would have been happy with anything today, even just milk. I decided there and then that I liked Claire. As I ate, she picked a glass out of the same box that had contained the bowl and pulled a bottle of wine out of the carrier bag. She poured a glass, drank it greedily and then poured another. I raised my eyes in surprise. She must have been very thirsty.

I finished eating, and rubbed against Claire’s legs in thanks. She seemed a bit lost but then she looked at me.

‘Oh dear, I need to call your owners,’ she said, as if she’d forgotten. I miaowed to tell her I didn’t have any, but she didn’t seem to understand. She crouched down and looked at my silver disc. She punched the numbers into her phone and waited. Although I knew no one would answer, I still felt nervous. ‘That’s odd,’ she said. ‘The phone line is dead; there must be a fault. Don’t worry, I’m not going to kick you out. Stay here tonight and I’ll try again tomorrow.’

I purred very loudly in thanks, and felt immensely relieved.

‘But, if you’re going to stay for the night, you need a bath,’ she said, picking me up. I pricked up my ears in horror. A bath? I was a cat, I bathed myself. I cried, as if to object. ‘Sorry, Alfie, but you smell terrible,’ she added. ‘Now, I’ll just go and unpack some towels and then we’ll sort you out.’

I resisted the urge to jump out of her arms and run away again. I hated water and I knew what a bath meant, having had one at Margaret’s a long time ago when I came home covered in mud. It was an awful experience, although, I reasoned, not as bad as being homeless, so I decided to once again be a brave cat.

She put me in front of a big mirror in her bedroom while she went to find the towels. I looked and I yelped in surprise. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought that I was looking at another animal; I looked even worse than I had initially felt. My fur was patchy, I looked so thin that I could see my bones poking through and despite my best efforts at cleaning myself, Claire was right, I looked dirty. I felt suddenly sad; it seemed that since Margaret’s death I had changed both inside and out.

Claire fetched me and took me to the bathroom where she ran the water and then put me gently in the bath. I screeched and wriggled a bit.

‘Sorry, Alfie, but you need a good wash.’ She looked a bit confused as she held a bottle in one of her hands. ‘It’s natural shampoo so it should be OK. Oh God, I don’t know, I’ve never had a cat before.’ She looked a bit upset. ‘And you’re not my cat. I hope your owner isn’t too worried.’ I saw a tear escape out of her eye. ‘This isn’t what was supposed to happen.’ I wanted to comfort her; she clearly needed it, but I couldn’t because I was still in the bath and I felt like I resembled a giant soap sud.

After the bath, which seemed to go on forever, she wrapped me in a towel and dried me off.

When I finally felt dry again, I followed Claire to the living room, where she slumped onto the newly delivered sofa and I jumped up next to her. It was every bit as comfortable as I had hoped, and she didn’t tell me off or try to push me down. Like polite strangers, I sat on one side, she on the other. She picked up her glass, took a smaller sip, and sighed. I studied her as she looked around the room as if seeing it for the first time. There were boxes that needed unpacking, a television that sat in the middle of the room and a small dining table and chairs tucked into a corner. Apart from the sofa, it wasn’t organised and it wasn’t really home yet. As if Claire had read my thoughts, she took another sip of her drink and then she burst into tears.

‘What the hell have I done?’ she said, crying noisily.

Despite the noise, I was upset at how distraught she had suddenly become, but I knew what I had to do. It was as if there was a reason I was here now; I felt a sense of purpose. Perhaps I could help Claire as much as she could help me? I moved across the sofa and nestled into her, laying my little head gently on her lap. She automatically stroked me, and although she was still crying, I was offering her the comfort that I somehow knew she needed and she was doing the same for me. You see, I understood, because at that moment I knew with certainty in my heart that we were kindred spirits.

I had come home again.