‘Good, then I’ll get the letter in the post first thing tomorrow,’ replied Debbie, breaking into a relieved smile.
Debbie walked with David to the door. As he was about to leave, he turned to face her.‘My mother was very fond of you, and of Molly,’ he said, his eyes darting self-consciously across the floor by Debbie’s feet. ‘I’m grateful that you took the time to visit her. It meant a lot to her.’
Debbie looked stunned for a moment, and then her composure crumbled.‘Oh, David, come here,’ she said, flinging her arms around him in a bear hug.
David’s discomfort was evident, but he tolerated the hug, and even lifted one hand to pat Debbie’s back.
With a final curt nod, he was gone. Debbie locked the door behind him, puffed her fringe out of her eyes and heaved a huge sigh of relief. As she wearily climbed the stairs, I stared after her in dismay, wondering what on earth it was that David had just agreed to.
25
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During our walk that evening, I recounted to Jasper the conversation I had overhead. The moon drifted in and out of sight behind the shifting clouds above us, as Jasper loped along the slush-covered pavement beside me, one ear cocked attentively.
‘So, did Debbie say anythingspecifically about rehoming you?’ he asked when I had finished.
‘No, not specifically,’ I admitted. ‘But she said there hasn’t been enough room for us all recently, and that it’s not what Margery would have wanted for me. What else could she have meant?’
We slowed to a halt underneath the elm tree in the square and paused to contemplate the town’s festive decorations. Lengths of coloured bulbs were strung between the lamp posts, and the handsome Christmas tree by the town hall glittered with lights. After a few moments’ silent deliberation, Jasper glanced at me sideways and said, ‘Well, if Debbie thinks there isn’t enough roomfor all the cats, maybe she’s planning to rehome Ming.’
‘No, it wouldn’t be that,’ I replied disconsolately. ‘If Debbie decided to rehome Ming, she wouldn’t need to tell David first. Ming has nothing to do with Margery’s legacy.’
‘Hmm,’ he mused, unconvinced.
A knot of frustration formed in my stomach, as the conviction grew that Jasper thought I was overreacting. Jasper’s equability was one of the things I loved about him – it anchored me, when my natural inclination was to worry – but at times his implacability infuriated me. He had never been a pet, and had never experienced the intense attachment to an owner that I had felt for Margery, and that I now felt for Debbie. As an alley-cat, how could Jasper possibly understand how it felt to lose your home and owner, or how terrifying it was to think it might happen again?
I stood up and wandered off dispiritedly, unable to bear his measured attempts to reason away my anxiety. A burst of raucous laughter issued from inside a pub to my left and I instinctively swerved away from the noise, skidding on an invisible patch of ice. As I rounded the corner of the square, I broke into a run, fleeing not only Jasper’s scepticism but also my own disappointment that, once again, I was alone in recognizing the threat our family faced. I ran back to the parade, paying scant regard to the cars that rushed past me.
Ming was fast asleep on the cat tree, but Abby and Bella raised their heads drowsily as I pushed through the cat flap into the dark caf?. Upstairs, Debbie and Sophie had gone to bed and the flat was silent and still. In the living room Eddie was fast asleep in the shoebox, with his tail draped over the cardboard rim. I jumped onto the sofa and settled my gaze on the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest, taking comfort in the fact that, although I did not know what our future held, at least all my kittens were safe. As I succumbed to the irresistible pull towards sleep, I was aware of a feeling of relief as my worries scattered and my mind drifted into darkness.
I was eating breakfast with the kittens the following morning when I heard Debbie on the phone.‘Hi, Lind, it’s me. How are you?’
I swallowed my mouthful and stepped away from the food bowl, allowing Eddie and Maisie to devour greedily the last few biscuits in the bowl.
In the living room Debbie was standing at the window, the telephone pressed to her ear.‘Look, Linda, I think we need to talk. If you’re free this evening, why don’t you come for dinner?’ She wrapped the spiral telephone cord nervously around her finger.
I could picture Linda’s face as she considered the invitation, lips pursed, jaw set, still smarting from the humiliation of their last encounter. After a short silence, however, a tinny chirp down the line indicated assent.
My stomach gave a strange jolt. I was certain Debbie was planning to tell Linda about her meeting with David, but I would have to wait until the evening to hear what she had decided to do.
With a whole day to fill before Linda’s arrival, I crept downstairs and headed out onto the parade. Christmas was now only a week away, and as I trotted along the cobbled streets I was jostled on all sides by harassed-looking shoppers laden with carrier bags. I hadn’t even reached the end of the parade when a sudden hailstorm struck, and my body was pelted with icy pellets that stung, even through my thick fur.
I ran back to the caf? and rushed through the cat flap. Inside, the kittens had picked up on the excited air of festivity and were more skittish and boisterous than usual, chasing each other up and down the zigzag walkway, and making the customers shriek with laughter. But in my fretful state I couldn’t face the ebullient atmosphere, so I kept my head down and slunk between the tables to the stairs. Finally finding some peace and quiet on the living-room sofa, I spent the day dozing and washing, watching the light levels change outside the window as the hours dragged by.
It had been dark for some time when Debbie finally came upstairs at the end of the day. She allowed herself a few minutes to recover, slumped on one of the dining chairs rubbing her knees, before busying herself in the kitchen. I paced the living-room floor agitatedly, both dreading and longing for Linda’s arrival.
About twenty minutes later, the tinkle of the bell and the opening and shutting of a door downstairs made my heart lurch.
‘Hi, Debs, it’s me,’ Linda called from below.
I smelt Linda before I saw her, my nose tingling at the cloying scent of her perfume, which preceded her up the stairs. My body tensed as Beau came bounding into view around the banisters, with his pink tongue hanging out. He darted past Linda’s legs with a slightly deranged look, skidded into the living room and gleefully began to smear his damp snout along the edge of the sofa cushions. Firing a withering look at him, I prowled out of the room, keen to keep within earshot of the sisters’ conversation.
Debbie emerged from the kitchen with a look of determined good cheer.‘I’m just dishing up,’ she said brightly, taking Linda’s coat and hanging it on the rack.
‘Great,’ Linda replied, mirroring her sister’s rictus smile.
When they carried their meals through to the dining table, I followed at a discreet distance, glancing sideways at Beau, who was proprietorially ensconced on the sofa cushion. His beady eyes tracked my progress across the rug, and I read some sort of victory in his look, but did my best to ignore him as I climbed into the shoebox. My attention was focused on the other side of the room, where the sisters had sat down on either side of the dining table and started to eat.
They didn’t seem to know what to say to each other at first, and when they did at last speak, they made awkward small talk.
‘The caf?’s looking lovely. Very Christmassy,’ Linda began politely.
‘Thanks,’ Debbie replied.
A pause, then,‘Where’s Sophie this evening?’
‘She went Christmas shopping with friends. They’ve probably gone for a burger.’
I was acutely aware of the clink of their cutlery, and the rattle of Linda’s bracelets every time she lifted her glass.