As I inched along the path I scrutinized the windows of the houses that overlooked me. I felt a surge of optimism as I made out signs of human habitation within: pot plants on the windowsills, the flickering light from television sets, and dishes stacked messily next to sinks. Glimpsing the domestic clutter of strangers, I felt a wave of homesickness that made my throat tighten and eyes prickle. How I longed to be a part of someone’s home once more, to feel the warm glow of security that comes from being in familiar surroundings, knowing that you are safe and loved.
I wanted to get closer to the houses, to peer through the windows and see the people who lived inside, but it felt as though the further I went along the alley, the more isolated I became. The alley was unlit and silent, apart from the clicking of my claws against the path. The hairs on my neck bristled as I thought I heard something move on the other side of the wall. I froze on the spot, my ears twisting to locate the source of the sound, but the alley was silent again. I took a deep breath, telling myself that what I had heard was an echo of my own footsteps. Trying not to panic, I picked up my pace to a trot, my eyes fixed on the alley’s exit up ahead.
Suddenly there was movement on the wall above me. A security light on the back of one of the houses flashed on, and for a few seconds everything was lit up by a blinding white light. I backed against the wall and turned my head frantically from side to side, but I could see only the empty alley. The security light flicked off, everything went black and I held my breath as my eyes readjusted to the darkness.
My blood was thudding in my ears and I felt as though every hair on my body had stood on end. There was a scuffling noise on the wall, and I glanced up to see a shadowy shape leap down onto the path in front of me. I gasped, finding myself face-to-face with the orange eyes of a ginger tomcat. His spine was arched and his ears were pinned back against his head as he growled menacingly. Instinctively my body posture mirrored his. My back arched and I flattened my ears, letting out a low growl of warning. The ginger cat didn’t move a muscle. His narrow eyes were still fixed on mine, daring me to make the first move. He was a large, intimidating creature, his physical strength evident in his muscular frame. The patchwork of scars on his ears left me in no doubt that he was an experienced fighter. I had my back to thewall, and to escape I would have to run past him, exposing my vulnerable rear to his attacks. He began to yowl again, as if challenging me to try.
Suddenly there was a scraping noise from above, as someone slid open a window in one of the houses. Startled, the tomcat spun round to look, and I seized my chance, bolting back down the alley in the direction of the restaurant steps. I heard scuffling behind me and knew that the tomcat was in pursuit. I sprinted towards the halo of lamplight that glowed at the end of the alley, but as I ran, my energy start to sap away. The exhaustion of my long walk in the rain was taking its toll and I could feel the strength draining from my muscles. I knew the tomcat was gaining ground and I braced myself for the inevitable attack.
It came in the form of a searing hot pain in one of my back legs. I instinctively kicked out at my attacker and he, having delivered his knockout blow, backed off. I turned and hissed at him, aware of the burning sensation that was spreading down my leg and making my paw feel as though it was on fire. A cruel smile spread across the tomcat’s eyes as he looked at me.
‘Sorry,’ he said with a leer. ‘This alley’s taken.’
‘You only needed to say,’ I answered pitifully. He grinned as I limped towards the end of the alley.
Back out on the street, I felt light-headed, shaking with shock at what had just happened. I didn’t know where to go, but I knew I had to get as far away from the alley as possible. Trying not to put any weight on my injured leg, I retraced the route I had taken earlier, limping across the restaurant grounds until I found myself back in the market square. The pain in my leg was becoming unbearable and I knew I urgently needed to find somewhere under cover to tend to the wound. I hobbled towards a large yellow skip by the side of the kerb on the corner of the square. The skip was overflowing with rubble and waste, and stacked up beside it were piles of wooden crates and pallets. There was a musty, dirty smell coming from the crates, but I didn’t care. I forced myself through a gap between two pallets and burrowed forward until I reached the cold metal of the skip.
I slowly lowered myself to the ground and twisted round to examine my injured leg. The puncture wounds left by the tomcat’s teeth were visible through my fur, and I could see that the flesh around them was swollen and tender. I licked the area as gently as I could, trying to minimize the pain that my rough tongue inflicted on the inflamed flesh. Once I was satisfied the wound was clean, I curled into a ball, hopingthat sleep would provide some respite from my suffering. But when I closed my eyes I saw a muddled amalgamation of memories from the day: the red-faced diners in the restaurant, the ginger tom’s leering eyes, the rain-soaked shoppers their faces hidden by umbrellas.
Desperate to put a stop to the endless loop of unsettling images, I forced myself to think of Margery. I tried to imagine her stroking and comforting me, telling me that it would all be better in the morning. But I couldn’t summon up a clear picture of her face – it was as if she was out of focus somehow, her features vague and blurry. I didn’t know if it was the effect of the bite or if I had simply forgotten what she looked like, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t hold her face in my mind. It was a bitter blow. I felt like I was losing Margery all over again, just at the moment when I needed her most.
11 [Êàðòèíêà: i_002.jpg]
Unable to sleep, I shivered next to the skip in a feverish state, convinced I could see the amber eyes of the alley– cat glaring at me through the pallets, or hear his menacing yowl somewhere in the square. It was impossible to find a comfortable position and I experienced a searing hot pain whenever I moved my leg. Time passed agonizingly slowly as I hovered on the edge of consciousness until my mind eventually succumbed to exhaustion and I dropped into a blissful blackness.
I was woken with a start by a chorus of human voices singing nearby. I lifted my head and listened, my ears twitching at the familiar-sounding music. Margery had loved to listen to music like this on her radio at Christmas, singing along happily while she prepared our Christmas dinner.
The throbbing in my leg snapped me out of my reverie. I winced as I stretched my leg out to examine it, but was glad to see that the swelling had gone down and the puncture marks had begun to scab over. I washed the wound, then slowly stood up, using my front legs to support my weight while I cautiously straightened my hind legs underneath me. I was wobbly, but apart from some soreness around the bite mark and a residual ache in the leg, I felt okay. I arched my back in a stretch, relieved to feel that my mind was at one with my body once more.
Crawling out of the pile of crates, I squinted in the winter sun. The town square was almost unrecognizable from the rain-soaked scene of the previous night. The shops were open and busy with customers. The yellow stone walls of the buildings on all sides glowed warmly against the blue sky, and their windows sparkled as they reflected the bright morning sunlight. The Christmas carollers who had woken me were standing in a semicircle in the middle of the square, wearing heavy coats zipped up to their chins. They all smiled as they sang, and one of them rattled a bucket full of loose change at passers-by.