A Friend Called Alfie

‘George told me all about the puppy,’ Hana said, as I joined them. ‘He sounds interesting,’ she said carefully.

‘Pickles, he’s quite exhausting but quite sweet, Hana. I’m sure you’ll meet him soon,’ I said.

‘I would like to meet him, I’ve never met a dog before, but I’m a little nervous,’ she said. She’d lived a very sheltered life in Japan.

‘Don’t worry, Hana I will be right by your side when you do,’ George said, puffing his chest out.

‘Oh George, you are the best,’ she replied.

‘Then I’m excited to meet him,’ she finished, with a grin. I smiled, because these two were like chalk and cheese. George, a bundle of energy who barely ever stood still and Hana, so calm, even the way she moved was sleek and graceful. George had all the grace of a dog. Oh goodness, now with Pickles in our lives, I really ought to stop thinking that way.

I left my boy happily playing with Hana, and I went back to see the humans. I jumped onto Aleksy’s lap and let him fuss over me. He also gave me some of his leftovers, which I received gratefully.

‘Does Alfie like the puppy?’ Aleksy asked.

‘You know Alfie, he’s kind to everyone,’ Claire said, echoing my thoughts.

‘But you know, cats don’t always like dogs,’ Jonathan pointed out.

‘Alfie and George seem to have taken to him, and he already adores them. He follows them around everywhere.’

‘Alfie, you need to come to our house soon, Dustbin has been really busy, but he’d like to see you,’ Tommy said. Franceska, Tomasz, Aleksy and Tommy lived a few streets away from Edgar Road, and I visited them often, I even stayed there sometimes, but I hadn’t been over since before the holiday. With everything going on, I just hadn’t had a minute. Dustbin worked for the restaurant, he kept the rodents at bay, and we were great friends. He was a feral cat with one of the biggest hearts I knew. He’d helped me get out of a few scrapes over the years, and I missed spending time with him. I wondered if it would be safe to leave George and Pickles alone the following day. It might give George a sense of responsibility and also allow him and Pickles to bond a bit. That way we all win, George would get to be a big brother, or cousin rather, and I got time off. Perfect, it was another good plan.

‘Tomorrow we have careers day,’ Aleksy said.

‘What’s that?’ Jonathan asked.

‘It’s a day of learning about different jobs that we might want to do, so we can begin to think about it,’ Connie explained.

‘God, you are so young, I had no idea what I wanted to do until about ten years ago,’ Marcus said.

‘I’m not sure I’ve decided yet,’ Jonathan joked.

‘Not helpful,’ Claire chastised.

‘What do you do?’ Tommy asked Marcus.

‘I had my own business, but I sold it, so now I work for a business advisory company, where we help companies find ways to grow. I actually quite like it,’ Marcus explained. Tommy made a face.

‘And I work in investments in the City,’ Jonathan added.

‘I’m going to be a fireman,’ Tommy announced. ‘I like to save people, and I like fires.’ No one really wanted to comment on that, and stayed quiet.

‘I think I’d like to work in restaurants,’ Aleksy said.

‘Ah, you just want to suck up to mum and dad,’ Tommy shot.

‘No I do not, I think the business side would be interesting. I like hospitality, and I like the fact that we make people happy with our food.’

‘Ah, kochanie, we would love for you to work with us one day, but it has to be what you want to do.’ Kochanie was a Polish term of affection, Franceska used it a lot.

‘What about you, Connie?’

‘I’d like to be a solicitor, I think. Once I’m qualified, I can travel if I want to, or stay here.’

‘Her father’s a solicitor,’ Sylvie said; her voice filled with sadness and her eyes clouded over. It was a ‘Sylvie moment’, and it could go either way.

‘Maybe it’s in the blood then,’ Marcus quickly cut in, diffusing the situation. He was good at that. She was still bitter about her ex-husband and rightfully so, he went off with a younger woman and they recently had a baby. Connie’s father still lived in Japan, which was very hard for her, as she only got to speak to him on Skype occasionally. Marcus, though, was a top bloke. He knew how to handle the situation, and I was grateful that Sylvie had welcomed him into their lives.

‘It might be in my blood, I think it is,’ Connie finished. ‘Now I have to work hard and get the grades I need to study law at a good university.’

‘Right, let’s help with the clearing up,’ Franceska suggested and as chairs began scraping along the floor, and plates clanked together, all felt right once again.

George and I sat on the back doorstep of our house and watched the stars.

‘So tomorrow I’m in charge of the dog?’ George said, puffing his chest out importantly.

‘You and Pickles can spend some time alone, so you can share your wisdom with him,’ I said. ‘Remember, the most important thing, you need to be kind to Pickles.’

‘I will be, but does Pickles have to do everything I say?’

‘I think that sounds a bit more like you’re going to boss him around, rather than teach him.’

‘OK, but he’s the youngest. If he does something wrong, I can tell him to stop? I’m the boss because I’m the oldest.’

‘You absolutely can do that, as long as you tell him nicely.’

‘So I am in charge then.’

There was no point in arguing further. We enjoyed the night air for a bit longer, before we headed inside. I tucked George in where he slept on the end of Toby’s bed on his own blanket. It was so sweet, the bond they shared. At times like this, as I saw my family and my friends, I counted my blessings. Tomorrow I would see my other friend, which would make me very happy indeed. I just hoped and prayed that George and Pickles would be alright together. And that the house was still standing when I got home.

Chapter Seven (#ulink_5c5fc134-ca07-5cf7-9d03-8b1628313e27)

The following morning, I took my time strolling to Franceska and Tomasz’ place. Autumn was in the air, and leaves were turning brown on the trees, ready to shed. It was one of my favourite times because I loved playing with leaves. It was a sunny but chilly day, and I intended to enjoy the time alone. Since becoming a parent, I had come to value alone time. Now that George was older and went off on his own, I veered from worrying about him to enjoying a bit of peace. However, since being joined by Pickles, I was reminded of when George was a tiny kitten, and I had barely any time to myself. As I enjoyed my walk, I passed a lot of legs on the pavement, people rushing around, busily, no one seemed as chilled as I was. I dodged some pushchair wheels and nearly got stepped on a couple of times, but I was an expert in dodging humans. I even saw a couple of dogs, on leads, and I tried to smile at them, but they didn’t seem to be that keen to smile back. Maybe my new relationship with the dog world would take time.

When I arrived, I scooted around the back of the restaurant through the alley I knew well, and headed to the dustbin area where I knew I would find my friend, Dustbin. He was aptly named. Even if he was a bit scruffy looking, and could be a little fragrant at times, I adored him. As did George.

‘Dustbin,’ I said, and then stopped. Next to him was a scruffy-looking female cat, who I had never seen before.

‘Ah Alfie,’ he greeted me. ‘What a nice surprise.’

‘Who is this?’ I asked as the cat, who on closer inspection was a ginger cat with very green eyes, gave me the once-over.

‘This is Ally, she lives in the next alley. We met when she strayed into my yard while you were away, and then she offered to help with the rodents, so we’ve been hanging out ever since.’

If cats could blush, I am pretty sure that Dustbin might have done so. In fact, I swear his whiskers turned a bit pink. Dustbin, although happy to be friends, was more of a loner cat so this was definitely a turn up for the paws. I was proud of him, and I was pleased for him if it was what I thought it was anyway.

‘Nice to meet you,’ Ally said. She looked a little shy suddenly, which for a big feral cat wasn’t that usual.