Читать книгу Alfie in the Snow - Rachel Wells - Страница 9

‘I fell asleep,’ Tiger said the next morning when George and I called on her. I hadn’t even opened my mouth.

‘I thought so.’

‘It was quite cold and I snuggled up with my human on the sofa, and the warmth from the fire, you know.’

‘Tiger, it’s OK, you don’t need to explain.’ Normally she didn’t offer explanations, but I didn’t say that.

‘Mum, Dad, can we go for a walk to the park?’ George asked. He had boundless energy this morning. I wished I did, but I was feeling the cold. I had an old injury which I had suffered when I first moved to Edgar Road. It was a long story involving saving Claire from a horrible relationship, and eventually bringing all of my families together, but it did leave me with a slightly bad leg which seemed to get worse and stiffen up in the cold or the rain. I mainly got on with things, I was pretty used to it by now. However, at the start of every winter I would be reminded of it.

‘Of course we can, George,’ Tiger said, nuzzling him. ‘It’s not raining, and hopefully it’ll stay dry.’

We set off and, as George hopped in front of us, I told Tiger about the new people.

‘So this cat is very pretty, is she?’ Tiger narrowed her eyes.

‘She’s unusual-looking but nearer George’s age than mine,’ I replied. Tiger did have a jealous streak, so I needed to tread carefully when talking about other cats.

‘What does George think?’ She immediately switched from sounding jealous to maternal.

‘He told me that after Chanel he’s sworn off girls for life.’ I grinned.

‘Good, because no one is good enough for my boy.’ I couldn’t have agreed more.

The park was pleasantly empty. We trailed around after George who bounded from one activity to the next. He stared for ages at his reflection in the small lake – I urged caution because when I was younger I’d done the same and nearly drowned. Then we made piles of leaves which were browning and a little soggy, but still quite fun to play with nonetheless. There were no butterflies to chase at this time of the year but George did manage to climb one of the smaller trees. By the time we headed back for lunch I was hungry, Tiger said she was tired – I swear she was getting lazier by the second – and George was still full of energy. He would only come home when I promised he would be allowed out later to the other end of Edgar Road, on his own.

It had been a hard decision to let George out alone, and I know that human parents had the same dilemma as Franceska had been through it with Aleksy and Tommy. Aleksy was a teenager now and wanted more freedom, a bit like George, but at the same time we, as parents, knew there were dangers out there. Letting go was possibly one of the hardest parenting lessons we had to face.

When George first went out alone, although he promised he wouldn’t go far, I was a bag of nerves until he came home. When he did come home I almost smothered the poor lad but I had never felt relief like it. Well, apart from the time he was catnapped and I found him, or the time he ran off after Chanel and we found him … But this was different, it was the first time he had gone out with permission.

Now he went out alone a fair bit, but never at night and never for too long. I tried to make him tell me where he was going as well, although to be fair he didn’t always seem to know. Sometimes he said he was going to the park, sometimes to see if any of the other cats were around. So far I had resisted the urge to follow him, but only just. Instead I would pace up and down or watch out of an upstairs window for his return. And thankfully he always came home and never stayed out too long. Otherwise the worry would probably have turned my fur even greyer than it already was.

So, this afternoon I thought I would catch up on some of my personal cat business. I enjoyed time alone to have a thorough grooming session – after all, when you’re a parent you always seem to be having to rush your ablutions, and then I would enjoy some thinking time. It’s hard to think when you’ve got youngsters always wanting your attention. So, as much as I worried about George, now he was more independent I was beginning to enjoy some ‘me time’ as well. I settled on Claire and Jonathan’s bed – Jonathan didn’t like me being on there, Claire didn’t mind – because it was incredibly comfortable and one of my favourite places to muse.

The front door opened, and the rush of voices and children interrupted my thinking time. I stretched, yawned and then headed downstairs where to my joy I found my families all together in the kitchen. George was hopping among them.

‘Oh hi, Alfie,’ Tommy said, coming over to pet me. I saw a number of fat pumpkins on the kitchen table. Ah, of course, it was the weird thing that humans celebrated called Halloween.

‘I want to carve my pumpkin all on my own,’ Summer said. Claire looked terrified and I agreed. The idea of Summer with a knife was not good.

‘Sum, let me help you and Martha,’ Tommy suggested kindly. ‘It’ll be better than letting the adults take over.’ She considered his offer and agreed.

‘And Aleksy, maybe you can help Toby and Henry?’ Franceska suggested.

‘Do I have to?’ Aleksy answered, sounding surly which wasn’t like him, although it was lately. ‘I’m too old for all this.’

‘Yes you do,’ Franceska snapped and she, Polly and Claire exchanged glances.

‘We’d be very grateful if you would,’ Polly said, trying to calm the situation.

‘Fine.’ Aleksy made it sound as if it was anything but.

Claire made drinks for the grown-ups as the children sat at the table in the kitchen and began carving their pumpkins.

‘Hey,’ Henry said. ‘Let’s have a competition to see which one is the scariest.’ They all seemed to like this idea, although I knew from experience the only one who would end up liking it was the child who won.

‘What costumes are everyone wearing this year?’ Franceska asked. ‘I miss my boys dressing up.’

‘We’re too old to dress up,’ both Tommy and Aleksy said at the same time.

‘Summer wants to be a witch, and Toby is insisting on being a superhero,’ Claire said.

‘And I’m going to be a superhero too,’ Henry said. Toby and Henry were quite close and often copied each other.

‘I’m going to be a cat,’ Martha announced.

This news surprised me; after all, there were two cats here.

‘Oh, you can be Summer’s cat,’ Franceska said.

‘And George,’ Summer piped up.

‘Sum wants me to dye George black,’ Claire explained.

My whiskers twitched and George looked terrified. Imagine, my lovely kitten being dyed black!

‘Don’t worry George, it won’t happen. But I had to promise to make you a little witch’s hat to compensate.’

‘So, Summer, Martha and George will all share a broomstick,’ Henry explained. I wasn’t sure about George and a broomstick but we’d have to see.

‘Where are we getting a broomstick from?’ Claire asked, worriedly. ‘I’ve only got a kitchen broom.’

‘We need a proper broomstick,’ Summer shouted.

‘Don’t worry, I’ve ordered one from the internet,’ Polly said. Halloween was a lot of work, it seemed.

George was on the kitchen table and I could barely watch as he dodged the knives, seemingly unaware of the danger he faced. I heard him make a funny sound, which worried me.

‘Ahh,’ Toby cried. ‘George spat pumpkin over me.’ We all looked and Toby had a splat of pumpkin on his face. George glanced over to me as if to say, ‘I didn’t know it wouldn’t taste good.’ I raised my whiskers again. My curious son would never learn, it seemed, as he tried to lick Toby’s face.

The rest of the carving passed without incident. As the four children proudly presented their finished pumpkins, it was up to the adults to choose a winner. As Aleksy and Tommy had done most of the work it didn’t seem fair but then the older boys didn’t seem to mind as Aleksy wandered off to do something on his phone and Tommy went to the fridge to find a snack.

‘It’s a draw,’ Polly announced diplomatically.

‘Absolutely,’ Claire agreed, ‘they are all far too good.’

Thankfully the children all seemed to accept this. Summer and Toby’s pumpkins were placed on the front doorstep, with a lit candle in each – I warned George to stay away – so that Jonathan would be able to admire them when he got home.

As everyone said their goodbyes, Henry and Martha proudly clutching their pumpkins to their chests, they arranged to go ‘trick or treating’ the following day after school.

‘I can’t wait to go trick or treating,’ George said to me when we were alone.

‘Well, you know Claire said you had to wear a hat,’ I pointed out.

‘Yeah, I’m not pleased about that but at least they’re not going to dye me black,’ he replied. And I had to agree.

‘Oh, and George, no more eating the pumpkin.’

‘No Dad, it tasted really weird.’