Alfie in the Snow

‘You mean she’ll buy it,’ Jonathan replied.

‘Well yes, we know Polly’s not much of a cook, but at least it’ll be from Waitrose.’

I licked my lips. Christmas dinner was one of my favourite meals. I even liked some vegetables, which Claire said was very unusual for a cat. I think cats, in my experience, like a far wider variety of food than anyone gives them credit for.

‘And it’ll be nice to be together,’ Claire said wistfully. Her parents went to Spain every year for Christmas now, where her brother lived, and Jonathan wasn’t close to his family, so our friends were our family. It wasn’t a bad family at all.

‘The excitement levels of Summer and Toby will be cranked up this year.’

‘Oh, Summer is already talking about what she wants. Although I ought to warn you, she wants a baby.’

‘A doll?’

‘No, for us to have another baby.’

Jonathan choked on his beer, his face turning a funny colour. ‘What did you say?’

‘I said that we had a lovely family already and, as Santa knew that, he’d probably not be able to send us a baby, and she then said perhaps a talking doll would do instead.’

‘Thank God for that.’ Jonathan started to return to a normal-ish colour. ‘It’s not just beyond Santa’s remit, it’s way beyond mine,’ he said.

‘Don’t worry darling, our family is perfect and I don’t want to change a thing,’ Claire said, going over to kiss him. Warmth flooded me as I let the feeling of happiness wash over me. Then I went to tell George it was time to wash his paws in time for dinner.

A parent’s work was never done.

Later that night, when George was tucked up with Toby and Summer was fast asleep, I set out to see my girlfriend Tiger. She lives just down the road and we usually met up most evenings, weather permitting – she’s even more of a fair-weather cat than I am – to watch the moon and chat about our day. We would also bring up any worries we had about George. We were parents first, which is what had prompted our friendship to develop into something more.

I sat on her back doorstep and meowed, which normally means she comes out. But she didn’t. I pushed the cat flap with my nose then waited but nothing. I couldn’t go in, her humans weren’t too keen on other cats in their house, although they tolerated George but not me. I guessed she had probably fallen asleep. Tiger wasn’t always the most active of cats.

I was about to give up and head home but I couldn’t resist going for one last look at our neighbours. As before, I found myself peering through the back doors, the house was fairly dark. But sitting at the table in the kitchen was the woman, in front of her was a glass of wine, and on her lap was the cat. The cat had her back to me, so no one noticed as I watched. The woman picked the glass up slowly and took a drink, before carefully placing it back on the table, and pushing her hair out of her eyes. I saw her head fall as she stroked the cat, and I saw what I thought were tears glistening in the darkness. Even from outside it was as if I could feel her sadness, her pain. I went home wondering what her story was, their story, and why she was upset. But I knew that somehow and at some point I would get to the bottom of it.

That was the kind of cat I was.

Chapter Two (#ucbee3e5b-6407-5a68-98ed-45f53441eec5)

‘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.