Molly and the Cat Cafe

She closed her eyes and sighed deeply, before standing up. With one hand on the door handle, she dropped her head as if in submission. ‘I suppose you might as well come in, puss,’ she said, a smile of surrender on her face. She pushed open the café door and, without so much as a backward glance, I trotted inside.

15

Debbie placed the bowl in front of me on the kitchen floor, so I ate a few mouthfuls out of courtesy, although my appetite had vanished in my excitement at being allowed in. When I felt I had eaten enough not to appear ungrateful, I padded through to the front of the café while Debbie finished her chores in the kitchen.

The café was lit only by the glow of the street lights outside, but even in the dark I knew that my initial impression of a rundown establishment had been well founded. Much of the floor area was taken up with an ugly glass-and-metal serving counter, its plastic shelves yellowing with age. I tiptoed between wobbly aluminium tables and sniffed at the musty linoleum underfoot. There was a black stove in the stone fireplace, but it was cold to the touch and, judging by the dust that coated it, looked like it had not been used for a long time.

It felt strange to be inside again after so long outdoors. The atmosphere seemed enclosed, the background soundtrack of birds in distant treetops replaced by the electrical hum of kitchen appliances. I turned and walked towards the curved bay window at the front of the café, jumping onto the windowsill to look out through the square panes of glass. The street outside was deserted, and raindrops bounced silently on the wet cobbles.

Debbie switched off the kitchen lights and walked through to the café. I hopped down from the window and approached her with my tail up in greeting. She sat down at a little table and held a hand out towards me, smiling. I trotted over and leapt up onto her lap, purring my gratitude that she had finally taken me in. The sound of sniffing made me look up, and I was dismayed to see that tears were sliding down Debbie’s cheeks as she stroked me. I blinked slowly at her, trying to communicate that she might feel better if she talked to me. She sighed and rubbed me behind the ears.

‘You know, puss, you’re the first one to show me any affection in a long time,’ she whispered. I licked her hand to reassure her that, if it was my affection she wanted, she had come to the right cat. She nuzzled her face against the back of my head while I kneaded her lap with my paws and we remained that way, sitting in the dark, silent café until eventually I dozed off. I was only vaguely aware of Debbie standing up underneath me, then carefully placing me back on the chair while I remained curled in a ball. I rearranged myself on the seat, which was still warm from her body. She whispered, ‘Night-night, puss’, before climbing the flight of stairs that led from the café to the flat above.

The next thing I knew, sunlight was streaming through the bay window and I could hear footsteps and voices through the ceiling. Startled momentarily to find that I was not under the fire escape in the alley, I sat up and looked around me. The drab greyness of the floor and dirty walls was even more apparent in the bright morning light. The woodwork, which had once been white, was yellow and peeling in places, and the metal tables were scratched. I heard a footfall and voices on the stairs.

Sophie was the first to appear in the café, glowering suspiciously at me. ‘How do you know it hasn’t got fleas, or worse?’ she scowled.

‘I’m sure she’s perfectly healthy,’ Debbie reassured her daughter from the stairwell. ‘I just need you to keep an eye on the café for a couple of hours.’

‘Well, she looks dirty to me,’ Sophie replied in a surly tone, not taking her eyes off me.

I observed Sophie quizzically. She was a little taller than Debbie and her long blonde hair was streaked with pink. It was a Saturday, and she was wearing a floral summer dress – somewhat incongruously, given the weather outside – over thick black tights and clumpy boots. I had seen her in the alley on many occasions, but never at such close quarters. She was a pretty girl, but her attractiveness was somwhat tempered by a permanent frown. Her blue eyes reminded me of Debbie’s, but rather than kindness, they conveyed irritation and hostility. I was in no doubt that she was going to prove more of a challenge to win over than her mother.