‘Good to see you too, mate,’ Martin said, shaking his hand. ‘Thanks for the cheque – and for all this, but you didn’t have to.’
‘I miss my boy,’ George said by way of a reply. He picked me up and gave me another quick cuddle, and I purred into his ear, wishing frantically that he didn’t have to go. ‘I’ll see you again soon, Ollie. Be good. It’ll probably be nearly Christmas before I can get back again,’ he added to Sarah and Martin as he walked to the door.
I meowed to myself sadly for ages after he’d gone. But when Sarah started unpacking the bags, she found so many exciting things for me, I almost forgot to be upset. There was a new blanket – soft and fluffy with a pattern of paw prints all over it – a toy mouse stuffed with catnip, just the right size for throwing in the air and catching with my claws, some sparkly little balls to play with, a bag of my favourite cat-treats and, best of all, a little hammock made of furry material that hooked over a radiator, for me to lie in. Sarah was laughing as she watched Martin fix it over the radiator in the lounge.
‘Look at that, Ollie,’ she said. ‘What a lovely warm, cosy bed for you, for the winter.’
I jumped straight into it, turned around a couple of times (although there wasn’t much room and I nearly fell out on the first attempt), did a bit of scraping at the furry surface the way we cats like to, and finally snuggled down, purring myself to sleep as I thought fondly of George choosing my presents. I was beginning to realise what a lucky little cat I was, after all.
When I woke up, there was another surprise. It was dark, the curtains had been drawn, the children must have gone to bed – and sitting on the sofa holding glasses of drink, like the ones people had in the pub, were Nicky and Daniel from next door. Normally I’d have had my dinner by now, and then gone in to see them, but I must have had a much deeper and longer nap than usual, in my new hammock.
‘It’s really nice of you both to ask us round,’ Nicky was saying.
‘Well,’ Sarah said, ‘we just thought that if you weren’t doing anything tonight, it’d make a change to get together for a chat. Would you like some crisps?’ She passed them a little bowl, and watching them crunching away, I realised how hungry I was. I jumped out of my hammock, yawning and stretching my legs.
‘Oh, look who’s finally woken up,’ Martin laughed. ‘I suppose you want some dinner, Ollie.’
Of course I did! I followed him out to the kitchen, purring with anticipation, and did a few circuits of the place where they normally put my dish, while I waited for him to open the tin. When I’d finally finished eating, been outside for a call of nature and then had a good wash, there seemed to be a serious conversation going on, back in the lounge.
‘We absolutely can’t accept it,’ Nicky was saying, looking a bit pink in the face. ‘We haven’t been feeding Ollie at all – only a spot of milk occasionally. It’s your money.’
‘Seriously, guys,’ Martin said, ‘George wanted you to have it. He wanted to show his appreciation to all of us for taking care of Ollie – making him comfortable and stopping him from being lonely. It’s not just about the food.’
‘Oh.’ Nicky gave Daniel an anxious look. ‘Well, I don’t know what to say. I mean, it’s very nice of him, but we love having Ollie popping in for visits anyway.’
‘If we accept the money,’ Daniel said firmly, ‘we’ll take over feeding him his evening meals. It’s not fair, otherwise.’
Martin shrugged. ‘Shall we just say that whoever’s house he’s in at the time can feed him?’
I pricked up my ears. If I was a crafty cat, I could do well out of this. I could have dinner in one house, and then nip next door and get a second helping. But then I remembered how worried Daniel and Nicky were about money. No, that wouldn’t be right. Maybe I’d let them feed me occasionally, so they didn’t feel unhappy about George’s money, but I wasn’t going to take advantage, tempting though it was.
‘OK, we’ll stock up on cat food with the money,’ Nicky said.
‘Only a few tins,’ Sarah suggested with a smile. ‘We don’t want Ollie getting greedy and cadging extra meals, do we?’
They all laughed then, and I felt so embarrassed I had to turn away and pretend to wash my face again. How had they guessed what I’d been thinking?
‘George has been far too generous with his cheque,’ Martin said. ‘We won’t need all our share either, to say nothing of the presents.’
‘Oh yes, I noticed the new bed on the radiator,’ Nicky said.
‘He loves it already. It must be so warm and cosy for him. But there were presents for the children, too – books, and games, and jigsaws – they thought Christmas had come early! So you see, we’ve had more than our fair share of George’s gratitude.’ She smiled at Nicky and added quietly, ‘Please don’t feel bad about accepting your share.’
That settled, the talk turned to Christmas.
‘To be honest,’ Nicky said, taking tiny sips of her drink, and finally putting the glass down as if she’d decided she didn’t like it, ‘I’m not looking forward to it.’
‘Oh, why not?’ Sarah asked.
Next thing I knew, the whole story was pouring out, about Nicky’s parents, and the arguments, and the Christmas visit that was supposed to be their opportunity to make up with them, until the fire in the pub put paid to their stay.
‘We’re going to have to cancel them,’ Daniel explained. ‘We haven’t got any room to put them up. Nicky’s two younger brothers would be coming too, as they’re only twelve and fourteen.’
I saw Sarah and Martin giving each other a look.
‘Well, there must be a way round it,’ Sarah said. ‘Let us have a think.’
‘I can’t see any way, other than cancelling the visit. There’s nowhere else in the village they can stay, and everywhere in Great Broomford and the other villages is fully booked.’ Nicky shrugged. ‘Dan says it’s pointless having them come for Christmas anyway while we can’t afford any luxuries.’
‘It’s going to be a disappointing Christmas for a lot of people here,’ Martin said. ‘Nowhere to hold the pensioners’ party or the children’s parties. No Christmas nights out at the pub…’
‘Not even for poor Ollie,’ Sarah said, smiling at me. They all laughed then, and I was glad really, because the conversation had been getting a bit sad.
‘Actually it might not have been all fun and games for Ollie at the pub at Christmas time,’ Martin said. ‘It always got so busy, with a lot of people coming into the pub who didn’t know him, and didn’t realise he didn’t like being stroked or petted by strangers – especially strange men.’
‘He seems to have got used to both of us now, though, doesn’t he,’ Daniel said.
‘Yes. We should be honoured.’
‘Do you know if there’s any reason for it? I mean, sometimes animals are scared of strangers if they’ve been ill-treated or something like that.’ Daniel was holding his hand out towards me as he spoke, and I walked towards him, purring, and let him stroke my head, to show him I trusted him now. ‘Has George had him ever since he was a kitten?’
‘Yes.’ Martin nodded. ‘But you’re right, he came with a history. George told me about it once. It’s very sad.’
When I realised he was going to tell the others about my horrible start in life, I decided it was time to go to bed. I didn’t want to hear it. It was bad enough having lived through it.
CHAPTER NINE
All right, little kitten – do I really have to call you Kitty? – yes, I suppose it’s about time I told you what happened to me. You have to understand, I don’t find it easy to talk about. But perhaps it’ll be good for you to realise that not all little kittens have a nice start in life, like you have, with a kind family and plenty to eat right from the start, to say nothing of having a wise older friend like me to look after you and teach you the ways of the world.