Molly and the Cat Cafe

By now the market traders had packed their vans and left, and the dark streets had begun to empty of pedestrians. I felt a growing sense of panic, wondering where I could go to find food. I ran across the square towards an entrance gate, through which I could see an imposing brick building set back amidst a well-kept garden. A smartly dressed couple hurried past me and made their way through the grounds towards the building’s floodlit entrance. I followed them, mindful to keep a discreet distance, and as they pushed open the heavy wooden door, the delicious aroma of cooked food drifted down the path towards me. I climbed a grassy bank and nestled under the branches of a yew tree, from where I could see into the restaurant inside.

I was transfixed by the luxurious scene on the other side of the glass. Diners sat at linen-covered tables, their faces lit by the glow from flickering candles. Some of them wore coloured paper crowns, the kind I remembered Margery wearing as she ate Christmas lunch. They looked pink-cheeked and in high spirits, refilling their glasses with growing frequency as their crowns slipped forward over their eyes. The sound of their laughter pierced the stillness outside, and I watched in fascination as waiters glided between the tables, placing plates of food in front of them with great ceremony. Women in heavy jewellery pushed food demurely around their plates, flicking glossy hair over their shoulders with an air of nonchalance.

Could there be a potential owner for me among this restaurant’s clientele? Surely some of them must be cat-lovers, I thought, but how was I to know which? I recalled the reaction of the woman I had followed at the farm shop: her face had shown undisguised revulsion when she had discovered me loitering near her car. Studying the perfectly groomed women in the restaurant, I felt sure they too would not welcome any overture of friendliness from a cat that looked the way I did.

The screech of an owl in the treetops above me brought an end to my musings. I did not have time to allow myself to dwell on my hardships. I needed to find something to eat.

10

Dense shrubbery ran around the edge of the restaurant’s grounds and it did not take me long to hunt a mouse. The rain had slowed to a light drizzle, and I allowed myself the luxury of a perfunctory wash under a rhododendron bush whilst waiting for my meal to settle. By the time I had finished, the clouds had cleared to leave a cold, starry night. The air temperature was dropping and the ground underneath my paws was beginning to harden. My next challenge was to find somewhere dry to spend the night.

Padding across the flowerbeds at the back of the restaurant, I noticed a short flight of stone steps leading to the street below. I crept silently down the steps, finding myself on a narrow, shop-lined road. A street light opposite illuminated the entrance to an alleyway between two shop fronts. Keen to get off the exposed pavement, I ran over and took a few tentative steps into the alley. It was enclosed by drystone walls, but up ahead I could see the backs of houses that bordered it on both sides.

As I inched along the path I scrutinized the windows of the houses that overlooked me. I felt a surge of optimism as I made out signs of human habitation within: pot plants on the windowsills, the flickering light from television sets, and dishes stacked messily next to sinks. Glimpsing the domestic clutter of strangers, I felt a wave of homesickness that made my throat tighten and eyes prickle. How I longed to be a part of someone’s home once more, to feel the warm glow of security that comes from being in familiar surroundings, knowing that you are safe and loved.

I wanted to get closer to the houses, to peer through the windows and see the people who lived inside, but it felt as though the further I went along the alley, the more isolated I became. The alley was unlit and silent, apart from the clicking of my claws against the path. The hairs on my neck bristled as I thought I heard something move on the other side of the wall. I froze on the spot, my ears twisting to locate the source of the sound, but the alley was silent again. I took a deep breath, telling myself that what I had heard was an echo of my own footsteps. Trying not to panic, I picked up my pace to a trot, my eyes fixed on the alley’s exit up ahead.

Suddenly there was movement on the wall above me. A security light on the back of one of the houses flashed on, and for a few seconds everything was lit up by a blinding white light. I backed against the wall and turned my head frantically from side to side, but I could see only the empty alley. The security light flicked off, everything went black and I held my breath as my eyes readjusted to the darkness.