Christmas at the Cat Cafe

Linda nodded. ‘Oh yes, now you mention it, I’m pretty sure I passed him on the square yesterday afternoon, near the market cross.’

My stomach gave a strange jolt, and I sat up in the shoebox to stare at Linda.

‘The market cross?’ Debbie repeated. ‘You’re pretty sure, or you are sure?’

Linda frowned in concentration. ‘Black body, white paws, silver collar?’ she asked, and Debbie nodded. ‘Yep, then it was definitely him. Why, is he not meant to go there?’ Linda’s face was a picture of innocence, but Debbie groaned with exasperation.

‘It’s not about whether Eddie’s meant to go there, Linda, but he doesn’t normally stray so far from the café. And if you’re right, and he was there yesterday and

hasn’t been home since, and now it’s blowing a gale and bucketing down with rain out there . . .’

Debbie trailed off, but she didn’t need to finish the sentence. She was right: Eddie had never strayed so far from the café before, and he had certainly never stayed away for so long. My little boy had been missing for more than a day, and I had been so fixated on my own problems that I hadn’t even noticed.

12

The cat flap snapped shut behind me. I paused momentarily on the doorstep, sniffing the cold, damp air, before dashing along the wet cobbles to the alleyway behind the café.

In the dark, confined space of the passageway the rain seemed to fall more heavily, the raindrops pounding in a harsh staccato on dustbin lids and metal steps. I nosed through the conifers at the end of the alley and scanned the sodden churchyard. The front aspect of the church and its spire stood out against the black sky, lit from beneath by spotlights embedded in the gravel path, but the dazzling brightness of the stone facade merely emphasized the pitch-blackness all around. I stalked around the outer boundary of the churchyard, my ears alert for movement in the surrounding shrubbery. A rustle in a distant rhododendron caught my attention and I picked up my pace through the long, wet grass.

Jasper looked askance at me as I squeezed beneath the canopy of tongue-shaped, dripping leaves to the dry patch of earth where he sat. As I edged into his shelter, I gave my head and body a brisk shake, inadvertently spraying him with rainwater.

‘Have you seen Eddie?’ I asked, without preamble, and in a huffier tone than I had intended. A full week had passed since our argument about Ming, and since then we had barely seen each other.

It was Jasper’s turn to shake off the drops of water that had landed on his face and whiskers, and he took his time to do so, before answering, ‘Eddie? Not today. Why?’

‘He’s missing,’ I replied tersely. ‘He hasn’t been home since yesterday. Linda saw him on the square by the market cross yesterday morning.’

Jasper considered me intently. ‘Linda saw him yesterday?’ he repeated. I nodded. ‘So it’s only been a day?’ My eyes narrowed. Sometimes I despaired of Jasper.

I had always considered his laissez-faire approach to parenting part of his charm, but right now I found it infuriating.

‘Only been a day? He’s never stayed out overnight before. And in this weather?’ I was aware of my face growing hot under my fur. ‘What if he’s run away?’ I asked, willing Jasper to recognize the urgency of the situation.

‘But why would he run away? That doesn’t sound like Eddie,’ Jasper replied calmly.

I opened my mouth to reply, but an answer wouldn’t come. I wanted to tell Jasper that Eddie might have run away if he thought I didn’t love him any more. The image of Eddie recoiling from my hiss filled my mind; the hurt and shock on his face, and how he had sloped away with his tail between his legs. I dearly wanted to tell Jasper the truth: that my jealousy of Ming, and my conviction that she wanted to usurp my position in our family, had so consumed me that I had taken my anger out on my sweet and loving boy, and that I had compounded the problem by procrastinating over my apology. But I was too ashamed to admit what I had done and, instead, kept my eyes on the ground and said nothing.

‘He’s young, and he’s male,’ Jasper went on, unperturbed. ‘It’s natural for him to wander. Twenty-four hours away from home is nothing.’

‘It’s natural for you, maybe, but you’re not Eddie!’ I cut in desperately.

Jasper’s implacability was maddening. He seemed unable to recognize that what was normal behaviour for an alley-cat like him was not normal for our kittens; least of all for Eddie, who had always been a home-loving boy, far more interested in eating and sleeping than he was in roaming. My shame and remorse were swiftly giving way to a renewed frustration.

‘I’m going to look for him. Are you coming or not?’ I hissed, facing him with a look of defiant resolve.

Jasper’s amber eyes studied me closely. He seemed – at last – to recognize that there was more to my distress than motherly over-protectiveness. ‘C’mon then,’ he said, springing to his feet.