Molly and the Cat Cafe

It was, in part, this regret that had motivated me to bring Debbie and John together that night. It was too late for me and the tomcat, but I wanted Debbie to make an informed choice: to know what she was giving up, if she ruled out the possibility of a relationship with John. As I started to drift out of consciousness, my mind wandered back to my conversation with Nancy, as I had prepared for my journey to Stourton. ‘Humans always think they know what they want, but they don’t always know what they need. You can be the one to show them,’ she had told me, as we sat in the playground on the edge of Rob’s estate. At the time I had not understood what she meant, so preoccupied was I with the daunting challenge that lay ahead of me. But as I was lulled to sleep by the sound of Eddie’s heartbeat thumping against my chest, I wondered whether I had done just that for Debbie: I had shown her that what she needed was John.

‘Debbie, are you up there? What’s going on? Why aren’t you open?’

Jo was in the café stairwell, shouting up to the flat. The kittens began to stir around me, emerging unwillingly from the fog of sleep. I heard Debbie stumble out of her bedroom in response to Jo’s shouts, having overslept after the previous night’s drama. Trying not to disturb the kittens, I climbed out of the box and walked to the hallway, just as Jo’s worried face appeared above the plyboard at the top of the stairs.

‘I’ve been calling you, but it kept going to voicemail, so I let myself in with the spare key. Why aren’t you open – is everything all right?’

Debbie staggered down the stairs from her bedroom. ‘We can’t open today. We’ve got no gas or hot water,’ she explained, lifting the upended ironing board out of her way. The contents of the cupboard were still strewn across the hallway floor, after Debbie’s frantic efforts to locate the cat carrier during the night.

‘Boiler finally packed in?’ Jo asked. Debbie nodded sheepishly. Jo’s eyes flashed. ‘Oh, Debs, you knew that needed to be sorted out!’

‘I know, Jo. Please, I had enough of a telling-off from John about it last night.’

‘John’s been round? Last night?’ Jo’s mouth curled into a smile; I sensed that, like me, she also nursed hopes on this subject. ‘So, it’s not all bad news then. I’ll put the kettle on, then you can tell me all about it.’ She bustled past Debbie into the kitchen.

I followed Debbie into the living room, where she slumped, yawning, onto a dining chair. The sound of voices had finally roused the kittens and they trotted towards the kitchen in hope of breakfast. I could hear their excited mewing as they tried to get Jo’s attention.

‘Oh, all right kitties, here you go,’ she said, filling their bowls with cat biscuits. A couple of minutes later, Jo put a cup of coffee and a slice of toast on the table in front of Debbie.

‘Thanks, Jo,’ Debbie murmured, taking a bite.

‘So go on then, tell me what happened.’ Jo’s eyes glinted with eager anticipation. Debbie rubbed her face. ‘Well, around three a.m. Molly came and told me the gas was leaking.’

Jo did a double-take. ‘Molly told you the gas was leaking?’ she repeated.

Debbie took a sip of coffee. ‘Well, she didn’t tell me, obviously, but she must have known something was wrong, because she kept waking me up, wanting me to follow her downstairs.’

Jo cast an admiring look in my direction, then listened avidly while Debbie recounted the night’s events. She sat in open-mouthed horror when Debbie described the dripping boiler and hissing gas pipe; chuckled as she explained how we had all stood on the street, waiting for John to arrive; and couldn’t contain her glee when Debbie admitted that she and John had stayed up past dawn drinking tea. Having finished her story, Debbie stifled another yawn.

‘So, what’s next?’ Jo asked.

‘I’ve got to speak to the bank today about increasing the loan. John said he’s going to try and find us a replacement this week—’

‘I’m not talking about the boiler!’ Jo cut in, exasperated. ‘I mean what’s next with John?’

Debbie looked at the table bashfully. ‘I don’t know, Jo – probably nothing. We didn’t exactly discuss our future plans. It was hardly the time or place.’

‘Are you kidding, Debs? He came out to help you in the middle of the night. He’s seen you in your dressing gown! That’s practically married, in my book.’

Debbie winced. ‘Please, don’t remind me.’ She took a bite of toast, avoiding Jo’s piercing gaze. ‘I suppose I do owe him, after what he did for us,’ she said at last, to emphatic nodding from Jo. ‘Maybe I should offer to take him for a drink, to say thanks.’

Jo was silent, but I saw her smile as she took a sip from her mug.

John returned to the café a few days later to fit the new boiler. The walls in the flat shook with banging and drilling from the kitchen below, followed eventually by gurgling in the pipes as the heating system refilled.