Christmas at the Cat Cafe

‘That would have been his dad that you saw. They look very similar. Eddie’s been gone for a week now, and it’s not like him. He’s never lived outdoors.’ I could feel her gaze on me, but I continued to stare at the uneven stone wall beneath my paws.

‘When did you say he went missing?’ she asked gently.

‘He was seen last Saturday by the market cross.’

I watched as the tortoiseshell closed her eyes in concentration. Her face was mostly ginger, but there was a patch of black over one eye that lent her a slightly piratical look. Beneath her coat, which was a messy patchwork of ginger, white and black, her body was slim and taut. I was acutely aware of my own plump physique, maintained by a generous diet of cat food supplemented by café titbits, and felt a sudden burst of gratitude not to be living outdoors, in a constant daily struggle against the elements, having to hunt or scavenge for every meal.

The tortoiseshell’s eyes sprang open. ‘Look, I don’t know if it was your boy, but I heard something about a pet cat hanging around the streets,’ she said urgently, as if worried that she might be overheard. ‘Caused quite a stir, strolling around town like he owned the place, in and out of the alleys – a bit like you did that time, come to think of it,’ she added, her golden eyes twinkling.

‘When was that, can you remember?’ I pressed.

‘Couldn’t say for sure, but a week ago sounds about right,’ the tortoiseshell replied.

I fixed her with a stare. ‘Do you have any idea where he went?’ I asked, my heart pounding so loud I could hear it.

Suddenly, her head dropped. ‘From what I heard, an alley-cat chased him to the town sign on the main road south. After that, I don’t know what happened to him,’ she said sorowfully.

I thanked the tortoiseshell and leapt down from the wall. I pelted out of the alley and across the middle of the square, dodging the legs of shoppers and dashing between parked cars until I reached the entrance to the churchyard. Spotting Jasper prowling between the headstones on the far side, I sprinted across the grass, causing a cluster of crows to flap skywards in alarm.

‘I know what happened to Eddie,’ I panted. ‘A cat chased him to the main road south, about a week ago. An alley-cat told me.’

Jasper’s eyes widened. ‘An alley-cat told you?’ he repeated, doubtfully.

‘Yes, the one next to the sweet shop. She’d seen you go up and down searching for him, but she was hiding from you.’

Jasper stared at me with a mixture of surprise and admiration.

‘I knew it,’ I said, feeling self-righteousness bubble up inside me. I had been right not to listen to Purdy; Eddie had not gone off in search of adventure, he had been forced to run away. But any vindication of my maternal instincts was dwarfed by my concern for Eddie’s well-being. The tortoiseshell had confirmed my worst fears: that he had got into a confrontation with an alley-cat and been chased out of town. He would be out there somewhere, alone, hungry and too frightened to come home.

I stared at Jasper defiantly, willing him to recognize the seriousness of the situation. ‘So, what are we going to do?’ I asked.

‘Well, there’s only one thing we can do,’ replied Jasper soberly. ‘I’ll have to go after him.’

Later that evening Jasper bade farewell to the kittens and slipped out onto the street under cover of darkness. I walked by his side through the town’s back streets until we picked up the main road heading south. There, we padded past the shops, the public toilets and the car park, to the point where the pavement ended and a grassy verge took over. All around us, the fields beyond the hedgerows looked inky-black in the darkness. An owl screeched, unseen, in a tree nearby.

We stepped off the kerb and made our way across the damp verge to the hedgerow. I knew Jasper would be able to handle himself, yet I still dreaded the thought of him leaving, and the fact that we would have no means of communicating while he was away. Much as I had felt vexed and frustrated by him in recent weeks, Jasper was my anchor. Without him, I would have no one to confide in and seek reassurance from.

As if he had read my mind, Jasper murmured, ‘It’ll be okay – I’ll find Eddie.’ He nuzzled his face against mine and I looked up into his amber eyes, wanting to commit their comforting gaze to memory.

Jasper burrowed into a gap in the hedgerow, there was a brief rustling sound, then he was gone. I turned and retraced my steps slowly back to the café. There was nothing I could do now except wait.

15

After breakfast on Monday morning I descended the stairs to find Debbie casting puzzled looks around the café. I could almost see her doing a head-count, as she watched the kittens file across the floor behind me. A few minutes later, I was settling into my habitual position in the window when I heard her rattling a box of cat biscuits on the back doorstep. ‘Jasper, breakfast!’ she called hopefully into the empty alleyway.