At the vets, Debbie explained that she had found me in the alleyway and wanted to keep me. The vet checked me over and pronounced me‘in remarkably good health for a stray’. She then ran a device that looked like a television remote control across my body to scan for a microchip. When the device started bleeping, Debbie’s face fell. She shot a questioning look at the vet, who began to tap at her computer keyboard. ‘According to the chip, her name’s Molly,’ she said.
‘Oh, what a lovely name,’ Debbie replied, a smile lighting up her eyes. ‘I suppose she must be lost. Her owner’s probably looking for her,’ she continued. The smile had faded and she looked as if she was about to burst into tears.
‘Let’s call the number and find out, shall we?’ the vet asked gently, and Debbie nodded.
The vet left the room and we waited, Debbie drumming her fingers on the black examination table while I tried to ignore the unpleasant smell of disinfectant. I wanted to reassure Debbie that I knew Margery wouldn’t be able to look for me, and I very much doubted that Rob would have made any effort to. But we were both at the mercy of the vet and her phone call. There was nothing we could do except wait.
After what felt like an eternity, the vet came back into the room.‘The number’s no longer in use, and without a current contact, there’s not much we can do.’ A grin began to spread across Debbie’s face. ‘Molly is officially a stray, and yours to rehome if you want to.’ I’d never felt so happy to hear myself described as a stray, and there was no mistaking Debbie’s elation as she burst into tears of relief and hugged me. I was given an injection before being returned to the cat carrier where I waited patiently while the vet typed Debbie’s details into her computer. Once the registration process was complete, Debbie thanked the vet, pickedup the handful of leaflets she had been given, and we were free to go.
‘What do you think about that, Molly – you’re officially my cat!’ Debbie said cheerily as she placed me on the passenger seat of her car.
There was not much I could do to communicate my delight through the plastic of the carrier, but the happiness that rushed through my body made me feel like I was floating. I was so ecstatic that I didn’t even mind when Debbie cranked up the volume on the car radio and sang along loudly for the entire duration of the journey home.
16 [Êàðòèíêà: i_007.jpg]
‘Guess what, Soph. We have a new member of the family!’
Debbie swung the caf? door open triumphantly, brandishing the cat carrier in front of her. Sophie was sitting on a stool behind the serving counter, frowning as she swiped her thumb across her phone. A slight rolling of her eyes was the only indication that she had heard Debbie’s words. Her apathy did nothing to dent my euphoria, however, as Debbie released me from the carrier into the empty caf?.
She gave me a quick rub behind the ears, before pulling an apron over her head and disappearing into the kitchen. Without acknowledging either of us, Sophie wordlessly grabbed her coat and vanished out onto the street. Realizing that I was free to explore, I headed upstairs, keen to see Debbie’s home, and the rooms I had fantasized about for so long.
The flat was low-ceilinged and felt rather cramped, as if more rooms had been fitted inside than there was space to accommodate. A narrow hallway opened into a tiny kitchen and bathroom on one side, and a square room that overlooked the alley on the other. The room was fairly large, but was dominated by the dining table and chairs immediately in front of the door, and by a deep three-seater sofa along the wall. A modest television set stood in the alcove next to the open fireplace, which, I was disappointed to note, showed no signs of recent use. There was yellowing woodchip paper on the walls and a threadbare carpet underfoot, but Debbie had gone to great lengths to make it homely, with flowers on the dining table, soft rugs placed over the carpet and colourful pictures on the walls.
A short flight of stairs led from the hallway to Debbie and Sophie’s compact bedrooms, tucked under the building’s eaves. I poked my head around the door on my right, peering into what I deduced must be Sophie’s room. I picked a fastidious route between the dirty clothes, balled-up tissues and damp towels that littered the floor. As I brushed past a chair Idislodged a messy heap of clothes, which had been thrown onto the seat-back. The pile toppled over, startling me as they hit the floor behind me. I dashed out of the room, hoping that, given the state of the rest of the bedroom, Sophie wouldn’t notice the additional mess.
Debbie’s room was no larger than Sophie’s, but was much more welcoming. The bed was covered by a pretty patchwork quilt in shades of blue and silver. I padded across the floor to the dressing table, on which bottles and jars stood in neat rows. A heart-shaped wreath of dried lavender hung from the window above. I breathed deeply, detecting the faintest trace of a scent that would forever make me think of Margery.
Heading back down to the living room, I heard the radiators tick unevenly as the central heating slowed, and I took a moment to savour the fact that, since entering the caf? the previous day, I had not once felt cold. In the living room I jumped onto the sofa and washed thoroughly, in preparation for a nap, which I knew would be more comfortable than any I had had for months.
Over the next few days I began to settle in, and the flat and caf? gradually started to feel like home. Sophie was the only obstacle to my complete assimilation to life in the flat. She had been unimpressed by my arrival and remained stubbornly impervious to my attempts to charm her. She rarely noticed my existence and, if she did, her attitude was invariably hostile.
One afternoon, during my first week in the flat, I was asleep on the sofa when she got home from school. She flung her rucksack across the room at the sofa, where its flying plastic clips caught the back of my head. I flew into the air in panic, my hackles raised and my tail fluffed. She did not apologize for her clumsiness, nor did she even acknowledge my presence. As I tried to wash away my mortification afterwards, the thought crossed my mind that she had known I was there and had thrown her bag at me deliberately. I could not understand why Sophie would have a grudge against me, but her behaviour left me in no doubt that she disliked me.
Debbie had placed a cardboard shoebox in the caf?’s bay window for me, which was where I often spent my mornings, observing the people who walked along the cobbled street in front of the caf?. The first to appear every day were grey-haired couples in waterproof coats and sensible shoes, on their way to the market square. Late morning was thetime for young mums pushing buggies, with small children trailing behind them distractedly. Whenever the children noticed me in the window, they would drag their mothers over and point at me through the glass: ‘Look, Mummy, cat!’ and their mothers would smile wearily before pulling them away, with no time to dawdle.
There was one old woman who walked past the caf? on a daily basis, always wheeling a shopping trolley behind her. Something about her appearance perplexed me. Her posture and lined face reminded me of Margery, but rather than Margery’s silvery-grey waves, the lady’s hair was a strident reddish-brown, set fast around her head like a helmet.Her hair fascinated me as it never seemed to move, even when a strong wind was whipping up the canopies along the parade. Every time she saw me in the caf? window she scowled at me and, intrigued by her curious hair and angry expression, I would stare back.
Hardly any of the people who passed by on the street stepped foot inside the caf?, and it didn’t escape my notice that the caf? attracted very few customers at all. A few workers from nearby shops and offices would pop in for a quick sandwich at lunchtime, but other than that it was not uncommon for the caf? to remain empty from dawn till dusk. I understood now why there had always been such generous quantities of leftovers in the dustbin in the alley. As an alley-cat, it had been a blessing, but now I realized that it had been a sign that the caf? was struggling.