Molly and the Cat Cafe

Watching my kittens grow was a bittersweet experience. I found them endlessly fascinating and longed to see what changes their development would bring next. But with those changes came the certainty that, eventually, they would no longer be dependent on me. When that time came, I knew Debbie would have to decide what was going to happen to us. I tried to put thoughts of the future out of my mind but, when the kittens were asleep, I couldn’t help but wonder where they would end up and what my future would hold when they had gone.

While I had the kittens to look after, Debbie had other demands on her time. The café’s growing popularity presented her with a fresh set of concerns, about staffing levels, suppliers and wage bills. Having borrowed money to pay for the refurbishment and take on new staff, the stakes were higher than ever, if the café didn’t continue to thrive. Even when she was in the flat, Debbie was often preoccupied, attending to business matters on her laptop or making work calls on the phone.

It happened gradually and imperceptibly but, as time went on, I began to sense that Debbie and I were no longer as close we used to be. By the time she had finished dinner and dealt with the evening’s administrative jobs, she was exhausted and ready for bed. She had stopped confiding in me, the way she used to, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that she was hiding something from me, and that it was tied up with the future of the café. I could not be sure, but I suspected that the time might come when Debbie would have to choose between the café and me. Knowing that Sophie’s wellbeing and security depended on the café being a success, I was in no doubt that, if Debbie was forced to make a decision, she would choose the café.

At night, when everyone was asleep, I would jump onto the living-room windowsill. The amber glow of the street light illuminated the alleyway below and, if I pressed my head against the glass, I could just make out the dustbin beneath the window. To see the alley and not be able to step out into it, however, increased my feeling of isolation. Staring at the dark alley, I resolved that – if the worst were to happen – I would be prepared. If and when the time came, I would return to the alleyway rather than allow myself to be rehomed by a stranger. Sometimes the thought would rise, unbidden, that I wished the tomcat would come back, that being homeless would be less frightening if I had him by my side. But I knew that indulging in such daydreams would lead only to disappointment and I dismissed them from my mind. I had survived as an alley-cat before; if necessary, I could do so again.

26

In the weeks that followed the bombshell of the council’s letter, uncertainty about my future became a constant backdrop to my life. I was intensely conscious that every developmental leap in the kittens took them closer to independence, and me closer to possible homelessness. I lived in a limbo-like state. Sometimes I found the uncertainty unbearable, and I fantasized about running away. At least that would spare Debbie the pain of having to make the decision herself.

Debbie, meanwhile, was increasingly stressed about the café, which had started to lose customers. When she wasn’t in the café she was at the dining table, going through the accounts or typing emails on her laptop. I couldn’t help but notice that her relationship with Sophie was also deteriorating. Sensing that her mother was preoccupied, Sophie became sarcastic and stroppy. I was reminded, unhappily, of how she had behaved when I first moved in.

It seemed like things were beginning to unravel for all of us, and the worst part was that I felt responsible. I could see that the presence of the kittens was adding to the pressures on Debbie. They were six weeks old now and were hungry, boisterous and playful. Their adventurousness was no longer confined to the living room: they got into the kitchen cupboards, underneath the beds, and on one occasion Purdy climbed up inside the chimney breast and had to be rescued by Debbie from the soot-filled flue. Much as I adored their liveliness, I bitterly regretted that it was always Debbie who had to step in when one of them needed rescuing, or to clean up their trail of mess and destruction. I could do nothing but stand back and watch and I worried that, much as Debbie loved the kittens, her patience was being stretched to breaking point.

One evening she had finally sat down with the laptop, having just finished washing up in the kitchen, when Sophie walked in, frowning. ‘Mum, have you seen my geography project?’ she asked sharply.

Debbie was squinting at the screen through her glasses. ‘Mmm?’ she replied, distractedly.

‘Mum?’ Sophie snapped. ‘I left it on the kitchen worktop this morning. It’s gone. Have you seen it?’

Debbie took off her glasses and turned to look at Sophie. ‘Sorry, love, what did you say?’