Читать книгу Alfie the Holiday Cat - Rachel Wells - Страница 7

I was dreaming about pilchards when I felt a tail tickling my fur. I opened one eye to see George, my kitten, hopping around my bed excitedly. I opened the other eye.

‘Wake up, Dad, it’s Christmas,’ he purred in my ear. I raised my whiskers. It felt far too early to be awake.

‘Wake up, everyone!’ Summer’s voice shouted, shattering any peace and quiet. ‘It’s Chrissssmass.’ She had joined George and they were both jumping around, making me feel quite dizzy.

‘Meow,’ I replied. I saw shadowy darkness poking through the landing window, but I knew no one would be getting back to sleep. When Summer made up her mind, no one stood a chance, and George was turning out to be the same way. The door opened and Claire, wrapping her dressing gown around her, emerged with a sleepy, tousled Jonathan on her heels.

‘Goodness, it’s only five,’ Claire complained.

‘But Santa’s been, I know he has,’ Summer shouted. ‘So, it must be Christmas time right now!’ She stamped her little foot. George tried to stamp his paw but he hadn’t mastered that.

‘Where’s Toby?’ Jonathan said, picking Summer up and giving her a hug. ‘Happy Christmas, my little princess.’ She snuggled into him.

‘Meow,’ I replied. He was still in bed. Toby was the only sensible member of the family, it seemed.

It was George’s first Christmas ever and Toby’s first with us, which meant it was one of the most special Christmases ever in Edgar Road. We had all been full of excitement and expectation, although Summer had been the most excited, with George a close second. Toby had been a little hesitant. Claire and Jonathan said it was because he hadn’t had a good life up until now. Toby had been adopted by us. He was five years old and, although Claire and Jonathan hadn’t shared details of his life so far, I knew he had been taken away from his parents and had lived in foster care before he came to us. That meant he had had more than one home up until now. Claire said to him, to Summer, and to me and George that we were his forever family and he had a forever home with us now. I understood that better than most. I had had a life before here too, although that did seem so long ago now.

When I first came to live on Edgar Road, I had also had a home before. My home had been happy, full of love, but my old owner died leaving me homeless. Instead of being put in a shelter I had taken matters into my own paws and I’d taken a treacherous journey to Edgar Road where I learnt many things along the way, and then I became, as I am today, a doorstep cat. This means I have more than one home and more than one family to love me and love in return. It so happens that I mainly live with Claire and Jonathan now – this is my forever home too. But they used to live separately, and I lived with them both until I brought them together and they got married. I also have two other houses I visit and we’re all great friends, more like family even. Claire and Jonathan, with Summer and Toby; Polly and Matt who have two children, Henry and Martha; and Tomasz and Franceska, my Polish family who have two sons, Aleksy and little Tomasz. They are my families, and since George came to live with us as a tiny kitten – I adopted him – they are his families too.

But back to Toby; he had obviously had a traumatic beginning in life and although he was loved and safe now, it was a big adjustment for him. When he first came to live with us he cried every night. Claire would go and cuddle him, Jonathan would read him stories and in the end George took to sleeping in his bed, right beside him. He does that every night now. Toby sleeps really well with George beside him, it’s the only way he will sleep I think. I worried at first that Summer might mind, she is a madam and she thinks that George is her kitten, but actually she’s been very lovely about sharing. Although she tried to demand a goldfish, which is a terrible idea. A fish where two cats live, whoever heard of such a thing?

So Toby and George have a very special bond, which I like to think is down to me a bit. They were both the newest members of the family, which helped to bind them, but of course we all love them both very much. It is clear, though, that George has been instrumental in helping Toby to feel at home – he’s a chip off the old block it seems – and now he’s settled in it feels as if Toby has always been with us.

Before Christmas, when Claire and Jonathan tried to get him to write to Santa and ask for presents, he was reluctant. In the end Jonathan got a catalogue with lots of toys in it and they went through it together; it was a slow process as Toby didn’t want to ask for anything. And this is the heartbreaking part: he told George, when they were in bed one night, that it was because he thought if he asked for things he might get sent away. When George told me this I felt my heart shatter, and trying to convey that to the humans wasn’t easy but in the end they seemed to get it. I did have to work quite hard, and George shredded the catalogue in the process, but I think they began to understand.

Jonathan and Claire sat Toby down and told him he was their son now and that nothing he could do would change that. They also showed him Summer’s list – although she couldn’t yet write, she managed to draw pages of toys she wanted (it was pretty much an entire toyshop), and in the end they managed to coax a letter to Santa out of Toby. Jonathan explained that Santa would bring him a special present but Mummy and Daddy would buy him some as well. This seemed like an alien concept for Toby but he seemed to understand a little.

Claire went to Toby’s room, where he was waking up, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

‘Is it Christmas?’ he asked.

‘It is, darling,’ Claire replied. ‘Now shall we go and see if Santa’s been?’ She kissed him and engulfed him in a hug.

‘But what if he hasn’t?’ Toby asked.

‘I know he has, and do you know how I know that?’ Claire asked. Toby shook his head. ‘Because I have it on good authority that you were on his good boy list,’ she said gently. She was such a good parent, to all of us.

‘Really?’

She nodded, then picked him up and carried him downstairs.

Summer had already bounded ahead with Jonathan trying to hold her back as she rushed to open the living room door. George had almost flown down after them and I trotted behind Claire and Toby.

I was trying and failing to restrain George. The run-up to Christmas was exhausting for parents, I had heard that before, but this year I experienced it first-hand. George, as well as being full of excitement, loved the shiny baubles on the Christmas tree. He liked to look at his reflection in them – no idea where he gets his vanity from – trying to use his paw to get them off the tree, and on occasion he succeeded. He had been told off many times by Claire, Jonathan and me for playing with them, and there had been breakages. He also liked to try to hide under the tree, jumping out to surprise us, which had meant that the tree had been relieved of a few of its branches and quite a lot of pine needles. (By the way, having to get the pine needles out of George’s fur had been pretty much a festive full-time job.) Jonathan moaned about the mess, Claire complained about the broken baubles, and I had possibly lost enough of my lives with the shock of having him jump out at me on numerous occasions. There was nothing we could do to stop it, however, except keep a close eye on him, keep the living room door closed and Claire had moved his favourite mirrored baubles higher up the tree.

Jonathan stood at the door. We all crowded around.

‘I should check that Santa really has been,’ he said. He opened the door a crack and George skirted through – honestly there was no keeping him back once he saw the tree. I noticed that Jonathan switched the Christmas tree lights on before fully opening the door and, as they winked and twinkled, we all made our way into the living room where a mountain of presents waited.

Before the children could dive in we all stopped.

‘George!’ Claire shouted. George, it seemed, had spotted the mirrored baubles straight away and launched himself at the tree, jumping about half way up. It seemed to play out in slow motion as he yowled, having not thought it out, and ended up clinging to some of the branches. He had got his paw tangled in the lights and the bauble that he had been after fell to the floor with a thump, eliciting another cry. As the tree began to lean to the left, it looked as if it might fall. I didn’t know what to do as I stared on in horror.

‘Yowl!’ George shouted.

‘Daddy, do something,’ Summer cried. Jonathan sprang into action, grabbing the tree and pushing it back upright. Claire batted her way through the piles of presents to secure it again, emerging looking a little dishevelled with pine needles in her hair. And as I meowed anxiously for George to let go, he did, managing to disentangle his paws from the lights and falling into Toby’s arms. Toby appeared surprised as he caught him, and then as George nuzzled him to say thank you he smiled.

‘Oh George,’ he said.

We’d been hearing that a lot since the kitten had become part of the family.

I looked at Jonathan. I was ready for him unleash his anger, using words unsuitable for children or cats, but instead he grinned.

‘It wouldn’t be Christmas without a near disaster,’ he said. ‘Nice catch Tobe.’ Claire hugged him. Relief flooded me, from my paws to the tips of my whiskers.

‘Right, kids, presents.’

Summer instantly dived into her pile. Toby hung back a bit, but Jonathan took his hand.

‘Shall we go and see what Santa got you?’ he asked. Toby nodded. Shock graced his face, as if he’d never seen anything like it before. He probably hadn’t. Neither had George, who was now playing with the wrapping paper that Summer discarded as if it was the best present in the world and as if he hadn’t just nearly ruined our beautiful tree. I turned my head to Claire. She had tears in her eyes as she pulled out her phone and took pictures of the children, my kitten and Jonathan by the Christmas tree. I felt emotional as well as I went and rubbed against her legs.

‘Oh, Alfie, this is the best Christmas ever,’ Claire said as she picked me up. I blinked at her and purred my agreement.

‘I really need coffee,’ Jonathan said, as the children took a break from present-opening.

‘Mummy, Daddy, I love Peppa Pig,’ Summer announced as she played with her Peppa Pig playhouse. Toby was playing with a remote control car, exclaiming that it was the best present in the whole world. Jonathan went and put his arm around Claire.

‘This is such a whirl, I’m exhausted. But I’ll make us coffee and then I’ll give you your gift.’ He kissed her.

‘What about George and Alfie? Can we give them their presents first?’ Claire said.

‘Oh yes, come on, boys, we’ve got a special Christmas breakfast for you.’

I really hoped it was pilchards.

As George and I tucked into our pilchards – they were big juicy ones from the fishmonger – we enjoyed a bit of peace and quiet.

‘This Christmas business is quite overwhelming,’ George said. ‘All that stuff everywhere. Although I really like the paper and the boxes.’

‘I know, and we are the lucky ones, George, look at us, fish for breakfast, a stocking full of toys and cat treats for us to enjoy later, a loving family and not to mention that after a big lunch we will get some yummy turkey. Honestly, you will see what a lucky kitten you are this Christmas.’

‘Of course I’m lucky, I’ve got you.’ George nuzzled me and I grinned. I was the lucky one actually.

I had an idea. ‘George, would you like to give me a Christmas present?’ I asked.

‘Course I would. Dad,’ he replied, sweetly.

‘Please, no more climbing the Christmas tree.’ I had my paws crossed.

‘Oh, I can do that. I promise I won’t climb it ever again. It was too scary when I thought I might fall down.’

Breakfast was a distant but lovely memory by the time we went outside for a breath of air and also in the hope that we would see Tiger, my cat girlfriend, who George thought of as his mum. It was becoming parents to George that had brought us together, and we were very happy in our roles and our relationship. I had been madly in love once, with a cat called Snowball who lived next door. At that time Tiger and I were only friends. But when Snowball moved away, leaving me heartbroken, Tiger did all she could to help me and when George was adopted as my kitten, she took on a motherly role, which made me see her in a different light. I was an older and, I liked to think, wiser cat by then, and so a relationship with Tiger was what I needed. We had been friends for a long time, she kept my paws firmly on the ground and I made her more adventurous. We complemented each other and being parents to George, who liked to get himself into scrapes, was definitely a bonding experience. He kept us both on our paws.

The cold nipped at us as soon as we entered the garden, but we kept going. The sky was thick and grey, it was early still. I could tell that it was going to be a crisp winter’s day, there was a little frost sticking on the grass, which made walking quite uncomfortable, cold and wet. We didn’t hang around, as we ran to Tiger’s.

We lurked at her back door, under a bush, out of sight of her humans in case they came out. They didn’t mind George but they didn’t like me being around. I couldn’t think why; most people seemed to think I was quite a charming cat. Before long I heard the clang of the cat flap and Tiger emerged.

‘Tiger mum!’ George bounded up to her and they nose-kissed. It always melted my heart to see the love between them, I was a softy when it came to those I loved, humans and cats alike.

‘Happy Christmas,’ I said, trying to keep my emotions in check.

‘To you both too,’ Tiger replied. ‘Gosh, you are early though, I had barely woken up. Anyway, George, how is your first Christmas so far?’ she asked with a swish of her tail.

‘Well, Santa brought me wrapping paper and we got pilchards for breakfast so so far it’s the best day ever!’ George’s enthusiasm was so refreshing; I know it taught me a lot. I loved the way that he made me see things through his eyes, as if I was seeing them for the first time. That was the joy of kittens and children if you paid enough attention to them.

‘And he jumped on the Christmas tree and nearly sent it flying,’ I added. George conveniently left that out.

‘Oh, George,’ Tiger said, but she didn’t sound cross, she was amused. I was the disciplinarian in this parenting duo.

‘How is your day so far, Tiger?’ I asked.

‘It’s barely started! But you know, my family have a very quiet Christmas. We haven’t exchanged gifts yet, although I get one of those cat stockings every year so, surprise! Thankfully they are cooking a proper Christmas dinner but really Christmas is for the kids, isn’t it?’ She nuzzled George.

‘It is, you should see Toby, he’s so happy now. I think he was so scared by the whole thing, I don’t think he’d had very good Christmases before, which is really upsetting, but he’s playing with his toys and he’s having a lovely time now.’

George was playing with a leaf which was wet as the frost had melted and drops kept falling onto his head. We laughed as he tried to brush the water away, indignantly, with his paws.

‘And Summer?’

‘Summer is Summer. She’s obsessed with this pig called Peppa, and she’s got toys, games and all sorts. She’s still our little ray of sunshine. They’re all happy, which makes me happy.’ I snuggled into Tiger and grinned. Life was good right now, and Christmas was just the icing on the (fish) cake. I was always conscious of the fact that me and all my families had been through tough and challenging times, so when things were good I had learnt to appreciate them. I was an optimistic cat but even I knew the good times didn’t always last. In fact they rarely did.

‘Well, long may it last,’ Tiger said, echoing my thoughts. ‘Are you seeing your other families today?’ I swished my tail; I had told Tiger, but she had a terrible memory.

I had three families altogether. Claire and Jonathan’s was my main home, but also on Edgar Road lived Polly and Matt, Henry and Martha. Franceska, big Tomasz, Aleksy and little Tomasz (who now insisted on being called Tommy) lived a few streets away but I had met them on Edgar Road when I first moved here and they moved from Poland. Aleksy, being the oldest of the children, was my first child friend – he and I are still best friends actually.

‘Well Polly and Matt have gone to Manchester to spend Christmas with their parents and Tomasz and Franceska have gone to Poland. It’s very exciting for them; their first Christmas back there since they moved to England. I miss them but they’ll all be back before New Year. We’re all going to be together on New Year’s Eve in fact.’

‘Does that mean you get turkey again?’ Tiger’s eyes were wide with envy.

‘I hope so!’ I grinned. I hadn’t thought of that.

‘And have you heard from Tasha?’

‘We Skyped her yesterday.’ I was a cat of the computer age after all. Although it was Claire who’d actually called her on the computer, I’d sat on her lap so I could see her and Elijah.

Tasha was Claire’s best friend and one of mine. Her son Elijah was almost the same age as Summer. She had gone through a bad break-up with Elijah’s dad and lived on Edgar Road for a while, becoming another family for us. Then Claire did something called match-making with a friend of Jonathan’s called Max, which worked out a bit too well as she moved to somewhere called Dubai with him. He got a very good job there and she said she and Elijah needed a fresh start. I was happy for her, but sad for me. We missed them very much – Claire and me especially – so every week she calls them on the computer and we chat. They are all very happy, so although I miss them, I am pleased at the same time.

Saying goodbye is a fact of life. I have had to do so more than your average cat, so I should know. It doesn’t get any easier but you learn to accept that it’s necessary sometimes, I guess. It always hurts but there is nothing to be done. Life is like that, it moves all the time, it rarely stands still and so we have to move along with it. I am trying to teach George that, but it’s not an easy lesson to learn.

‘Right, well I better get this little one inside. Fancy a stroll later?’ I asked Tiger as I tried to get George’s attention. He was chasing his tail and totally ignoring me.

‘Yes, call round after lunch and we can go and see if anyone else is hanging out.’

‘You’re on.’ I nuzzled her goodbye and finally managed to get George to stand still long enough to tell him we were going home.

I was exhausted as I lay curled up on the armchair, resting. Claire and Jonathan were clearing up, and then I expected they would snuggle up on the sofa to watch a film or something. The children were in bed, exhausted after a day when their excitement levels knew no bounds and George was the same. He was sleeping with Toby, of course. I checked on them earlier and he was lying next to Toby on the pillow – they looked so cute together, I felt choked with emotion again. I looked in on Summer who was clutching one of her new toys to her as she slept. She looked angelic.

I was so full of lovely food, so I felt sleepy too. This really had been the best Christmas I’d ever had. I gave a thought for all of those I loved in my life: Margaret my first owner, Agnes my sister cat, all my cat friends, Snowball of course, and I also gave thanks for all I had now. I was the luckiest cat in London if not the world.

‘So, what’s this last surprise?’ I heard Jonathan ask. I opened one eye and saw that he and Claire had entered the room. Intrigued, I woke up properly, stretched out and went to join them on the sofa.

‘Here,’ Claire said, handing him a photograph. I peered at it over his shoulder. It was a picture of a house, a shabby-looking house. It was quite big though, I thought as I looked at the windows. In front of a large wooden front door stretched a lawn, which was overgrown, and the house was cream with peeling paint.

‘Please don’t tell me you’ve bought a house?’ Jonathan said, holding the picture, blinking at it in confusion.

‘No, of course not. I’ve been desperate to tell you but I got the idea that today, Christmas Day, would be the best time to surprise you.’

‘Surprise me with what exactly?’ Jonathan was suspicious but then I couldn’t blame him. Claire tended to spring things on him. And when he objected she would normally wear him down. It was the same with the adoption. She wanted to adopt so badly but Jonathan was reluctant, but she persuaded him, and of course he’s delighted she did as he loves having Toby, but you get the idea.

‘So you know we went to the funeral of my Great Aunt Claire, the woman I’m named after?’

‘Yes, Claire, that was about three months ago.’

‘I know, but it takes time, you know probate, but recently her estate was sorted out and it turns out she left me this cottage in Devon.’

‘She left that to you? A house?’ Jonathan looked again at the photo.

‘I had no idea she still owned it.’ Claire’s eyes gleamed with excitement. ‘You see we used to go there when I was a child for holidays but when Aunt Claire got dementia she went into a home, and I assumed that the house had been sold. But no, it was there, empty all this time. She probably forgot she owned it.’

‘How can someone forget they own a house?’ Jonathan frowned. I guess it was a big thing to forget.

‘Well she did have dementia remember, and her accountant took over her affairs, or whatever you call them … Anyway Dad told me that she wanted me to have the house because I loved it so much when I was young. It’s called Seabreeze Cottage and it’s right opposite the beach.’ Claire had a wistful look. ‘I remember the best holidays there as a child, spending days on the beach, playing on that lawn, eating jam sandwiches in the big old kitchen …’

‘So why didn’t you tell me?’ Jonathan narrowed his eyes.

‘Jon, we’ve been given a house, it doesn’t happen every day!’ Claire pushed and I knew there was a but.

‘But?’ he echoed my thoughts.

‘OK, so the reason I didn’t tell you was that we don’t know what state it is in. Mum and Dad went down there for me and they said it’s been neglected and is in need of a bit of work. They took these photos.’

‘So how much work are we talking?’ Jonathan flicked through the photos.

‘We don’t know exactly yet. When all the paperwork is done, I can get quotes, we can even go there, but at the moment I’m not sure if I’m honest.’ She chewed her lip as she did when she was nervous. I went and sat on her lap.

‘And what do you want to do?’ he asked.

‘Well, obviously it depends on the cost and everything, but ideally I want to keep it. I just felt as if I’d been taken back to my wonderful holidays as a child and I want that for Summer and Toby, more than anything. Imagine, Jon, weekends away, summer holidays by the sea, it would be wonderful for us all.’

‘Darling,’ Jonathan turned to his wife, ‘I know this cottage means a lot to you and it would be lovely for us to have a house by the sea but you know how feasible it is. You’re not working at the moment and yes I have a good job but with the kids’ education, and everything … My guess is that the kind of money we probably need to put into this cottage might be a step too far for us right now.’

‘I know and I thought you’d say that. I just dreamt of my children having holidays like I did as a child.’ She looked wistful. Jonathan softened and put his arm around her.

‘If there was any way … Listen, honey, has it been valued?’ I saw tears in Claire’s eyes. Christmas wasn’t ending quite as planned after all.

‘Jonathan, I’m not sure I could bring myself to sell it. It feels like selling my childhood.’ Claire was nothing if not dramatic. I think she got it from me … or vice versa.

‘Well, listen, let’s have a think, find out what exactly is involved, but you know unless we get a large mortgage, one which would make me feel very uncomfortable, I don’t know how we can do it.’

‘Oh, we’ll find a way. I’m sure.’ Claire didn’t appear as confident as she sounded but as they settled down to watch a film I could almost see her mind whirring. I looked at the picture again. A cottage by the sea. I had been to the seaside once, it hadn’t exactly gone according to plan but I did have a lovely time. I could picture us all, sitting on the lawn, George chasing butterflies, Toby and Summer playing, Claire lounging in a deckchair with a book, and Jonathan lying on a picnic blanket. It was like a perfect idea, and one which suddenly I wanted for us more than anything. I looked at Claire, who still seemed to be deep in thought, as was Jonathan, and I said a silent prayer that they would find a way to make this work.

After all I quite fancied being Alfie the holiday cat.