Molly and the Cat Cafe

Sophie was hovering indecisively in the doorway. Her rucksack was still slung over her shoulder, and I eyed it nervously lest her mood turned and she decided to fling it at me. ‘Yeah, okay,’ she replied, placing her bag and jacket on one of the dining chairs.

Debbie disappeared into the kitchen, emerging a few minutes later with two mugs of tea and a packet of chocolate biscuits, which she waved in front of Sophie’s nose. ‘I think we’ve earned these, don’t you?’ she said, opening the packet and offering it to her daughter. Sophie smiled and took a biscuit.

‘So, how was school?’ Debbie asked, a flicker of concern in her eyes as she broached what she knew to be a delicate subject.

Sophie shrugged, taking a bite out of a chocolate chip cookie. ‘Dunno,’ she answered vaguely. Debbie smiled, patiently waiting while Sophie finished her mouthful. ‘My form tutor’s still a moron,’ Sophie volunteered, taking a second bite. Debbie smiled sympathetically. ‘But I sat next to Jade on the bus home, and she said the whole school knows he’s an utter—’ Debbie’s eyebrows had shot up and Sophie stopped herself, pausing to choose her words. ‘He’s an unpopular teacher,’ she said carefully, smirking across the rim of her mug.

This was the most information Sophie had disclosed about her school life in all the time I had known her, and I sensed that Debbie wanted to capitalize on her openness. ‘Does Jade live in Stourton too?’ she probed, casually sipping her tea.

Sophie nodded. ‘Yeah. I might meet her in town this weekend actually.’ She had picked up her phone and started to scroll through a backlog of text messages on her screen.

Sensing that her daughter’s interest had wandered elsewhere, Debbie patted her on the arm as she stood up to clear the empty biscuit packet. ‘Sounds like a good idea – the two of you could get a milkshake together.’

Sophie shot Debbie a withering look. ‘Yeah, all right, Mum. We’re not five years old, you know.’

Debbie lifted her hands in a gesture of submission. ‘Of course not, love. I didn’t mean to suggest—’ She stopped, relieved to see that Sophie was smiling at her.

There were further phone calls during the week as Debbie got the finances in place to pay for the planned refurbishment of the café. On Friday evening Sophie reluctantly agreed to help her move the furniture, stacking the chairs and tables inside the kitchen and clearing the serving counter. The sight of the empty café made me melancholy. It reminded me of Margery’s house when it was being packed up, and the sadness I had felt at seeing empty floor where once there had been furniture, and marks on the walls where pictures had hung. I did not want to linger downstairs any longer than necessary, and happily ran up to bed with Debbie as soon as she had locked up.

First thing on Saturday morning I heard the bell above the café door tinkle. It was Jo. ‘Right, boss. What’s first?’ she asked cheerily.

Debbie had got up early and was already kneeling on the floor next to the stove. ‘Hi, Jo. Help me get this lino up, would you?’ she answered. ‘John’s coming later to have a look at the stove, so I want to get the fireplace area cleared.’

Jo took off her coat and hung it up, while Debbie started to score at the floor with a Stanley knife.

‘So John’s coming to help? Well, isn’t that kind of him? And on a weekend, too.’

Something about Jo’s tone made Debbie look up. ‘And what’s that face for?’ Debbie said drily, running the blade sharply along the floor.

‘What face? I’m not making a face,’ Jo replied innocently. ‘I’m merely thinking how kind it is of John to give up his weekend to fix your stove.’ A mischievous smile played around her lips.

‘Well, you’re not here to think – you’re here to work,’ Debbie replied curtly. ‘But for your information, he’s not doing it out of kindness. I will be recompensing him for his time.’

‘I’m sure you will,’ Jo muttered under her breath, which Debbie pretended not to hear.

Although Debbie had removed all the furniture from the café, she had left my box on the windowsill. I climbed into it and watched as they moved slowly across the café floor, scoring the lino before ripping it up in jagged sections. After a couple of hours they both looked hot and flustered. Debbie crawled on her hands and knees to the stairs.

‘Soph! Please, love, take pity on two old women and put the kettle on!’ Sophie grunted in response, and a few minutes later she appeared at the bottom of the stairs carrying two mugs of tea. Jo and Debbie gratefully took a mug each, then collapsed side by side on the bare floor, their backs against the wall.

‘I’m meeting Jade, Mum. See you later,’ Sophie said, picking her way between their outstretched legs on her way to the door.

‘See you later, love,’ Debbie called, blowing her a kiss.

Debbie and Jo were sipping tea in silence when John pushed the café door open. ‘Morning, ladies. Hard at it, I see.’