Alfie in the Snow

‘You really do spoil them,’ Claire said, almost chastising him but not quite. Thank goodness he did, otherwise we had to settle for food that came out of pouches. There was nothing wrong with it, but it wasn’t quite the same. For a cat I did have a pretty sophisticated palate and a love of fine dining.

I started eating, knowing George would be down later, but I was hungry. As I lapped my food, I listened to the easy conversation between Claire and Jonathan.

‘I was talking to Frankie and Polly about Christmas earlier,’ she started.

‘Already?’ Jonathan pretended to be not the biggest fan of Christmas, but deep down he loved it, especially with the children. We all loved it, and I pricked my ears as it sounded like news.

‘Jon, it’s less than two months away and you know how quickly it’ll come round. Anyway, we were saying that perhaps this year we can spend the day together, here.’

‘We were saying?’ Jonathan raised an eyebrow.

‘OK, I was. I was thinking about Devon, but then Matt has to work between Christmas and New Year, so they literally only have two days off and Frankie said it would be very nice to have Christmas in London.’

When Tomasz and Franceska had first arrived from Poland they had very little, but they worked hard, especially Tomasz and now he owns four restaurants. Not on his own – he has partners and Franceska works with him now the children are older. They are doing very well and I am incredibly proud of them. They also introduced me to sardines which remain, to this day, my second favourite fish.

‘I haven’t even spoken to work about time off yet, but I’m happy for Christmas in London.’

‘And Frankie said they would do all the side dishes, I’ll do the turkey and Polly will make the pudding.’

‘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