Читать книгу A Friend Called Alfie - Rachel Wells - Страница 13

It was Monday, our first day alone with Pickles the pug. We’d locked eyes with him a lot, but not one of the children let him out of their sight. They really did seem to adore him, which put George’s nose out of joint a bit. Being usurped by a dog was pretty low.

Claire had given us a bit of a lecture this morning, because Pickles was coming to our house and would be left alone with us while Claire took the children to school. She wasn’t ready to take him on the school run, but said she would be doing so when he was a bit bigger. What this had to do with us, I had no idea, but we listened. Or I did, George was cleaning his paws and sulking.

She went on to share that our new ‘friend’ Pickles was two months old. He was supposed to go to a family, but something happened, and they couldn’t have him at the last minute. Someone Polly worked with asked her if she knew anyone who wanted an adorable pug puppy, and Polly knew Matt had always wanted one. I was still coming to terms with the fact the children had been asking for a puppy (how dare they?), as it would also mean they had a pet who lived with them. I suppose, we visited often but didn’t live there, so Polly and Matt decided we all had a share in a puppy. Hmm.

Not one to keep things succinct, Claire told us that Pickles was allowed outside, because he had been to the vet. Apparently, he’d had the right injections, but he mustn’t go out on his own because he was a dog, not a cat. Not that we needed reminding of that. So, she was asking us to stay in with Pickles until she got back from the school run, rather than go into the garden or for our usual early morning walk. Torture for a doorstep cat. Finally, she finished talking just as the doorbell went and we opened it to find Polly, Henry and Martha stood on our doorstep. Henry was holding Pickles.

Polly rushed off as she was running late, the children all crowded around Pickles in the hallway, fussing him. George looked at me.

‘Is he going to take all the attention off me forever?’ George sounded horrified.

‘Of course not, he’s a novelty right now but what do I always tell you? There’s enough love to go round.’

‘Um, maybe, but I am so much cuter than him.’ George stomped his paw.

‘Of course you are, George.’

George was so used to being the centre of attention, and now there was a new pet on the block. This might not be as straightforward as I thought. Actually, I never thought it would be straightforward, but this was threatening to be more of a nightmare than I imagined.

‘Hello,’ I said, unsure if he would be able to understand me when George, Pickles and I were finally alone.

‘Are you my new friends?’ Pickles asked.

‘Yes, I suppose we are your new friends,’ I replied. He sounded young, and if I was honest, when he looked at me with his big eyes, he was quite adorable. But George was still sulking, I’m not sure he agreed.

‘I’m happy to meet you both,’ Pickles said. ‘It’s scary living with a new family, but everyone seems so nice,’ he mouthed, as he ran around in a circle. Why can’t puppies stay still?

‘What are you doing?’ George asked, scowling in Pickles’ direction.

‘I’m trying to catch my tail,’ Pickles replied.

He might get smarter as he got older, I thought, and tried to convey this to George through my glare.

‘So are you settling in well?’ I asked. It still felt a bit awkward, although it was easier to talk to him now he was no longer running in circles.

‘Yes, I cried a bit last night because I felt lonely. Henry convinced Polly that I could sleep on his bed, so I snuggled up to him, and that wasn’t quite so bad.’

‘You like to talk,’ George pointed out.

‘Be nice,’ I whispered to George.

‘Welcome to Edgar Road,’ George said, not exactly sounding welcoming.

‘And we both arrived here on our own at different points. So you know, if you feel a bit down, you can talk to us,’ I said, more kindly.

‘Thank you, I think I’m going to like it here,’ Pickles said. Then he sat down and smiled at us with his wrinkly face.

‘Dad, can I go out?’ George asked.

‘We’re supposed to be looking after Pickles,’ I pointed out.

‘But I told Hana I’d go and see her this morning.’ Although Hana didn’t go out much, she had a cat flap, so George visited her regularly, as did I sometimes. I didn’t want to force him to stay and help me with Pickles as he’d probably end up resenting me for it, so I thought I’d be best off letting him go. Although, I would have liked to go out …

‘OK, I can take care of Pickles, but you need to get used to him because he’s going to be here a lot,’ I whispered to George, as we moved towards the back door.

‘Fine, and I will be nice, but now I would rather be with my actual friend.’ George sounded a bit surly; he was still a little put out at how the children ignored him as soon as Pickles arrived on the scene. It was jealousy, something that siblings often suffered from. Goodness, get me I was already thinking of him as if he was part of the family, which was very magnanimous of me if I did say so myself.

‘But give Pickles a chance, George, after all he might be a bit like a brother to you now.’

‘Well perhaps, seeing as you are so keen to adopt the puppy, you might tell him not to eat your food,’ George snapped before he disappeared out of the cat flap. I turned to see Pickles, nose deep in my breakfast.

‘Pickles, that food is not for you, it’s for cats,’ I said, trying not to sound angry. I had been saving that, though, so now I’d be hungry later.

‘I thought it tasted a bit funny. Never mind, can we go and play now?’

Oh goodness, I thought, here I was yet again in the role of reluctant parent. Why did this keep happening to me?

I was so pleased to see Claire when she came home that I ran straight into her legs and gave them a welcoming rub. I was also happy to see that she had Sylvie with her.

Pickles had been very busy, exploring the house; he had tried to get into every cupboard, thankfully he didn’t succeed. Finally he found some food that the kids had dropped under the kitchen table, which he ate despite me telling him not to before he ran into a door. He was clearly in the learning stage of life, and only at the very beginning. After he’d eaten, he then ran up and down the kitchen for no apparent reason before jumping into the dog bed that Claire had put in the corner for him.

‘Are you alright?’ I had asked. He was breathing quite heavily and making a snorting, or snuffling noise.

‘I have had so much fun with you this morning, Alfie, but I’m tired now so I might just close my eyes.’ As he had drifted off to sleep, I thought about joining him, I was so exhausted.

‘Oh my goodness he’s so cute,’ Sylvie said, picking him out of his bed and giving him a cuddle. I kind of understood how George felt, as I became invisible.

‘Isn’t he? The kids love him, and Polly is besotted. I think she wanted a third child, but Matt put his foot down, so Pickles has taken that place.’

‘Makes sense. I’ve always been more of a cat person myself, but he is adorable. Look at that little face.’ As Pickles wiggled into Sylvie’s arms, Claire gave me a head scratch.

‘Where’s George?’ she asked me.

‘Meow,’ I replied.

‘He’s at ours,’ Sylvie replied, ‘he came in just before I bumped into you.’

‘Right, shall I put the kettle on?’ Claire said.

‘Please, I’d love a coffee, but then I’m not sure I can bear to pull myself away from Pickles to drink it.’

‘Honestly, everyone adores him. But then we have to make sure Alfie and George don’t feel left out,’ Claire said. Ah, so someone had noticed us after all. I purred with pleasure.

‘Claire, you treat those cats as if they’re your children sometimes.’

‘They are.’ Claire shrugged and I purred in agreement.

‘So how are things with Marcus?’ Claire asked, and I settled down to listen to the latest news.

‘Good, we’re taking it slowly, what with all we’ve both been through, but it’s nice having him live so near, and he’s such a good man. Also, he grounds me, stops me from my you know, my darker thoughts, I guess.’

‘I heard a whisper that Harold thinks you are wonderful,’ Claire said with a laugh.

‘From Harold, that is a huge compliment,’ Sylvie laughed. Harold could be very grumpy but a bit like a chocolate, despite the hard exterior he had a soft centre.

‘And speaking of Harold, I have to go and see him in a bit, shall I take you, Pickles?’ Claire asked.

‘Woof,’ Pickles replied, and I knew that although he had no idea who Harold was, he very much wanted to go and I would be able to have a luxurious rest on my own.