Molly and the Cat Cafe

‘My geography project, Mum. It’s due tomorrow. I left it on the worktop.’ I could see that Sophie’s frustration was about to turn to anger.

‘Sorry, love, I don’t remember seeing it,’ Debbie replied. She put on her glasses and turned back to the laptop. ‘I put the recycling out this afternoon,’ she added vaguely.

‘The recycling?’

‘Yes, there was a stack of old newspapers in the kitchen . . . ’

Sophie stared at her mother. ‘A stack of old newspapers? And did you happen to notice whether my geography project was on the top of that stack?’

Debbie frowned and rubbed her forehead. ‘Sorry, love, I don’t recall seeing any project, but I’m not sure—’

Sophie had gone, slamming the living-room door behind her. I heard her run downstairs, and a few seconds later the café door slammed too.

Debbie dropped her head into her hands. She sighed deeply, then closed the laptop and stood up, walking across the room to the sofa. Her cheeks were pink and I knew that tears would soon follow. I had tried to keep some distance from the situation, not wanting to inflame matters between mother and daughter by getting involved, but I could not sit and watch Debbie cry. I climbed out of the cardboard box and went to sit by her ankles, looking up at her face.

Debbie noticed me and smiled tearfully. ‘Oh, Molly,’ she sighed, putting her hand down to stroke my ears.

That was all the invitation I needed. I jumped up onto her lap and rubbed my head against her damp cheek. I let her cry into my fur until the combination of her tears and my loose hairs sticking to her face meant that she had to reach for a tissue. When she had blown her nose, she held my face between her hands and looked me in the eye.

‘Oh, Molly, what a mess I’ve made of things. What am I going to do, eh?’ I blinked at her slowly, wanting to encourage Debbie to keep talking. There may have been nothing I could do to help, but I could listen. ‘I don’t know what to worry about more: that Sophie’s starting to hate me again, or that the café’s going under. So far I’m making a complete mess on both fronts.’ She stroked my ears, and I rubbed my cheek along the side of her hand. ‘You know the really crazy thing, Molly? It turns out that you were what the customers wanted all along, but I didn’t realize until it was too late.’

I looked at her inquisitively, not following what she was saying. ‘It’s “Molly’s Café”, isn’t it?’ she said by way of explanation. ‘Everyone used to see you in the window, and that’s why they came in. They expected you to be inside. They all loved hearing about the kittens – couldn’t wait to meet them – but now I’ve had to tell people that you won’t be coming downstairs any more. And, well, they’re just not coming through the door like they used to.’ Her eyes filled with tears again. ‘If I let you downstairs, that witch will have me shut down by Environmental Health, but if I keep you up here we’ll lose all our customers and the café will probably go under. So I’m damned if I do, and damned if I don’t, aren’t I?’

My head was spinning. I had had no idea my presence meant so much to the customers, and I felt a momentary glow of pride that I had been the reason many of them had come at all. But, on the other hand, this discovery merely reinforced my conviction that I was to blame for Debbie’s predicament.

While she had been talking, Eddie had woken up and had jumped onto the sofa, his tail happily aloft. He climbed onto Debbie’s lap alongside me and rolled onto his back. I pressed his exposed tummy with my paw and he squirmed from side to side, pretending that my foot was a foe he must fight off. Debbie watched Eddie and her tear-stained face melted into a smile.

‘See, Molly – we’re the same, you and I. We’re just trying to do what’s best for our children, aren’t we?’

I purred in agreement. Even though we were no closer to a solution, I was grateful for Debbie’s words. If nothing else, they made me feel that we were on the same side once more.

A little while later Sophie returned home. Debbie and I listened as she let herself into the café kitchen and climbed the stairs.

‘Hi, Soph,’ Debbie called quietly.

Sophie pushed open the living-room door. ‘Sorry about earlier, Mum,’ she said, her voice conciliatory.

‘I’m sorry too,’ Debbie answered, relief spreading across her face. ‘I’m sure we can find your project – it should still be in the box.’

‘Don’t worry Mum, I already found it. It’s fine, just a bit smelly from the bin.’

Debbie smiled. ‘Phew. Hopefully they won’t mark it down for smelliness.’

‘I don’t think they will,’ Sophie agreed.

‘I tell you what: shall I make us both a hot chocolate?’ Debbie suggested, and Sophie nodded.