Alfie the Christmas Cat Page 5

  George actually saw it as his job. Last year I caught him visiting Harold when he was ill in hospital, and it turned out that whilst there he had managed to cheer up people who didn’t have any visitors and were feeling very down. He said it was his career. I managed to get him fired, with Pickles’ help – accidentally of course, as I was just worried about him, but that’s another story. The point was that George, who was very much my son, liked to reach out a helping paw to those who needed it and this woman, newly moved into our street and on her own, would probably be one of those people.

  I was impatient as I waited for George to get up. He slept in Toby’s room, something he’d established when Toby first came to live with us and didn’t sleep well. Now, although Toby slept better than anyone else in the family, George still always slept in there, curled up at the end of his bed. It was very sweet.

  I did my ablutions as I waited, tempted to wake George, but knowing it was too early for us to go anyway. You see, I might be a grown-up but I still got overexcited at times. There was a kitten in all of us, I believed. Finally, George emerged with Toby, who was rubbing his eyes. The house was about to spring to life, and the morning routine would begin.

  ‘Why can’t I find any socks?’ Jonathan shouted as he emerged from the shower.

  ‘They are all in your sock drawer,’ Claire replied, far more patiently than he deserved.

  ‘Mummy, I don’t feel well I think I better stay home from school,’ Summer groaned, as she did most mornings.

  ‘If you have all your limbs then you’re going to school,’ Claire replied. ‘Now both of you get dressed and then come down for breakfast.’

  ‘I can’t find my pants,’ Toby said.

  ‘They’re where they always are, Tobe,’ Claire replied. I honestly don’t know how she managed to keep so calm.

  George and I headed downstairs for breakfast.

  ‘Right, can we go now?’ I asked after we’d eaten. I was bouncing around like a kitten. Not only did I want to avoid the chaos of the morning, which seemed to be ramped up today for some reason, but I was eager to go and check this new person out. I could barely contain myself.

  ‘She might not be up yet, it’s still early. Look, it’s even dark outside, Dad,’ George said. For once he was trying to contain me, rather than vice versa.

  ‘But we can stake the flat out, and then at least we’ll be ready for when she does emerge.’ I was pretty much an expert on people and knew that if, for example, the curtains were open or a light was on, she would be up. And even if she didn’t have a job, she would have to go out at some point. I was happy to wait for as long as it took.

  ‘Fine, but don’t expect me to hang around all day waiting for someone we don’t even know,’ George said. He was grumpy this morning, but I hoped he’d cheer up when we set off.

  ‘George, everyone is someone we don’t know until we meet them,’ I pointed out, but he just flicked his tail at me and stalked over to the cat flap.

  It didn’t help matters that it was a particularly cold day as we made our way along Edgar Road. The cold wind was whipping our fur, and it was damp and dark. I couldn’t exactly use the weather as a good reason for us to be out this early. Even I was having trouble keeping my spirits up. I just hoped this new woman was worth it, otherwise I was pretty sure George would sulk with me for at least the rest of the day, if not the week.

  ‘If this woman turns out to be anything but wonderful, you know I’ll blame you,’ George said, echoing my thoughts.

  The street was deserted, and although I could see lights on in some houses, people hadn’t yet emerged. Maybe I should have been a little more patient, I thought, as we reached the flat in question. I felt a pang of nostalgia as I always did when I saw it, thinking back to when I first met Franceska, and Aleksy, who was just a small child then, younger than Summer is now, and Tommy, who was still a toddler. And then Polly and Matt with Henry, who was a baby, not much older than Theo is now, I don’t think. Goodness, so much had happened between then and now, it struck me how full and wonderful my life had been and still was. In fact with each year it seemed to get fuller and more wonderful. I wasn’t a young cat anymore but there was plenty more lives left in me. Just look at Elvis; he was much older than me and still going strong.

  ‘What are you thinking about?’ George asked, clearly bored of sulking.

  ‘Just how much has happened since I first visited this flat, when Franceska and family lived here.’

  ‘Are you getting all soppy?’ George asked.

  ‘You know me so well, son. I know I always tell you stories about the past and you say that I go on and on, but it’s such a part of me, of all of us, and that’s probably why I do it so much.’

  ‘I understand. Now I’m a big cat I do, anyway. I remember when I first came to live with you and how much I loved it, and then when Toby came, and going on holiday and meeting Hana, Harold and the others. There is a lot in our lives to be grateful for …’

  ‘But?’ I asked, I could sense the sadness behind his words.

  ‘I still miss Tiger mum and I always will. When Harold was ill last year and I thought I would lose him too, I didn’t know how I would bear it. I was so happy when he got better. I’m so happy we have each other, you know – all of us – but I miss Tiger mum with every beat of my heart.’

  ‘Oh George, so do I. But we were so lucky to have had her in our lives.’

  ‘I know, but it doesn’t make missing her any easier, does it?’

  ‘No, I’m afraid it doesn’t.’ As much as we could say the right things about loss – you know, how it’s better to have loved and lost than never loved at all and that sort of stuff people always say – it doesn’t make it any better for the ones left behind. There are people and cats that I have had to say goodbye to in my life that I will never stop missing. I felt quite emotional as I gave George a nuzzle.

  ‘On a more cheerful note, we are here,’ George said, as we found a bush in the front garden of the flat to shelter in.

  We staked the flat out for quite a while, before George nudged me and we looked at the front door opening. I sat up straight as a woman with short grey hair walked out. The evaluation of her seemed about right. She was fairly old, but not quite as old as Harold, it seemed, and she was wearing a big jumper, and trousers. She was also carrying a bin bag, which explained why she had emerged. George and I looked at each other. It was our cue.

  ‘Meow,’ I said approaching her.

  ‘What on earth?’ She spun round, almost bashing me with the bin bag. Lucky I ducked out of the way. I felt bad, I had obviously startled her.

  ‘Meow,’ George said, joining us, turning on his charm.

  She looked at us as if she wasn’t quite sure what we were. George and I exchanged glances as the woman stood still, staring at us. What was going on?

  ‘Get out of my garden,’ she shouted, eventually, putting the bin bag down on the ground, precariously close to my tail. George took a step back but I stayed where I was. When George first met Harold he kept telling him to go away, but George won him round in the end, so I wasn’t too worried. Instead of moving, I purred at her.

  ‘You horrible stray cats, what are you doing here, clawing around my bins? I’m going to call animal control and have you taken away.’ She didn’t look or sound very friendly. The opposite, in fact.

  ‘Yowl!’ I objected. How on earth could she mistake us for strays? Me with my fine grey fur and George with his lovely, bright ginger-ish coat? We were absolutely nothing like stray cats. Not that I have anything against strays, I might add – I was homeless myself for a while, if you remember. However, I certainly didn’t look my best then, and the point was that I was affronted by this woman. How dare she criticise us like that.

  ‘Meow,’ George said, putting his head to one side, and looking his cutest. Surely she couldn’t resist us now?

  She picked the bin bag up and before we knew what was happening, she started swinging it at us.

  ‘Yowl!’ I said as it caught my tail. I looked at George, telling him, with my eyes, to run. He didn’t need to be told twice.

  We both turned to escape. The woman was chasing us, swinging the bag at us and shouting. We got to the kerb, where would we go now? She was gaining on us, looming over us. All I could see was a big shadow. I was terrified of what might happen if she caught us.

  ‘We have to try to cross the road,’ I managed to say, my breath shallow. We looked – there was a car not far away – and I hoped we could make it. We had no choice. ‘As fast as you can,’ I added.

  ‘I’ll get you for trespassing,’ the woman screeched and we both took off across the road. I let George go ahead, I was his father, so I had to protect him, but as George ran as fast as he could, I stayed pretty much on his tail. A horn beeped as the car swerved, narrowly avoiding us. I could hear the roar of the engine and the pitch of the beep in my ears as we kept going.

  Finally, we made it to the safety of the pavement on the other side of the road. I stopped and looked back across. She was waving her fist angrily at us, but thankfully she didn’t attempt to follow as there were more cars around.

  We both lay on the pavement, panting. I couldn’t get the sound of the car out of my head, or the sound of her shouting. George lay still for quite a while. It had been a very close call.

  ‘Not a cat fan then?’ George said, when he finally got his breath back.

  ‘Seems not. Home?’ I said, dejectedly. I was filled with disappointment. I was pretty annoyed about being chased with a bin bag, and almost being hit by a car, but I didn’t want to upset George anymore, so I thought I would play the incident down.

  ‘I think I’ll go and see Hana, if that’s OK?’ George said. ‘After being attacked by a mad woman, then alm
ost getting run over, I need cheering up.’

  ‘’Course.’ I felt guilty, it was my fault that that had happened at all. I tried to keep George away from danger but I had unwittingly led him to it yet again. ‘And remember when we’re walking down the street to give that flat a wide berth,’ I added seriously.

  ‘So you don’t think it’s worth trying to win her round?’ George asked. I wasn’t sure if he was being sarcastic or not. I wasn’t taking any chances though.

  ‘George, when Harold was telling you to go away he never threatened you with the cat warden or a bin bag did he?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Right, so let’s not try to win her round, we might not come out of it in one piece. It’s not worth the risk, son.’

  I was a very persistent cat, but, I had enough people in my life not to need one like that. I wasn’t going to take any risks with that woman. Oh no, she was definitely off my Christmas card list. Not that I had one, of course.

  Chapter Eight

  I was still fretting about our encounter when I got home, leaving George to go next door. I felt a bit unsettled still – one of those moods where you don’t exactly know what to do with yourself. Do you go visit friends who might cheer you up, do you spend the time pondering why it is you feel so fed up? Or do you take a nap? I stretched. I decided to take a nap. I had been up very early after all. A nap it was.

  I was shaken from my nap some time later with an almighty thud. I opened my eyes to find Pickles had jumped into my basket and was almost squishing me. He was quite a weight, let me tell you.

  ‘Pickles, it’s lovely to see you but please get off,’ I asked, as nicely as I could. He shuffled a bit so he was no longer crushing me but we were both still squashed up. He licked me.

  ‘Claire’s going shopping and she said you were in charge of me.’

  ‘Oh I must have been sound asleep because I didn’t hear her leave, or you arrive,’ I said.

  ‘You were snoring,’ Pickles said.

  ‘I don’t snore,’ I replied.

  ‘Well it sounded like it. Anyway, where’s George?’

  ‘I think he’s with Hana.’

  ‘Boring. So you’ll have to play with me.’

  ‘Right.’ I tried not to sigh. ‘So what are we playing?’

  ‘Ball.’

  I was pleased with this. One of Pickles’ easiest activities – by that I mean one where he can rarely get into trouble – was ball. I would push a ball with my paw in the hallway, he would run after it, fetch it, and bring it back to me. He could play this for hours and although it was a little boring for me, I didn’t mind. It would give me time to think about the horrible lady at the end of the street, to think about Tommy, and to think about what I was going to do about it all. At the moment, I had nothing. Just hope that the talk Tommy had with Jonathan the other day would have an effect. That the woman at the end of the street wouldn’t be a problem if we kept out of her way. That Pickles would get fed up with playing ball before my paw really began to ache … Why on earth didn’t I hold out much hope for any of that? While Pickles was distracted with the ball, I jumped up onto the hall table, for a break. I noticed that there were various flyers with pictures of food on, and one which I knew was for a Christmas pantomime because Claire had put it there, saying that she needed to book. I wasn’t sure exactly what it was, but I did know it was some kind of show that happened every Christmas and the kids loved it. I wished for a moment we could go, but we were never invited.

  ‘Alfie, ball,’ Pickles said. And I jumped down. Sore paw or no sore paw, Pickles wasn’t going to let me off the hook for long.

  Claire took Pickles out for a walk, and Snowball came to surprise me. Clearly I wasn’t going to get much rest today, not that I minded one bit.

  ‘I wasn’t expecting you,’ I said, nuzzling her.

  ‘Harold had some appointment and Sylvie’s taking him so I thought I’d visit.’

  I filled her in about our near miss and also about Aleksy and Connie’s idea.

  ‘You need to keep away from that woman,’ she said.

  ‘I will and also when I have some energy I’ll warn everyone else about her,’ I added. ‘But let’s focus on Aleksy and Connie. They’re coming over later and they’ll probably be expecting an idea.’

  ‘Think about it, Alfie. Christmas, what does it mean to you?’

  ‘Ah, you are doing that thing Claire does. You know, brainstorming,’ I said.

  ‘Yes, I certainly am,’ she replied.

  ‘OK. It means nice food, family, friends, happiness, keeping George and Pickles away from the Christmas tree and the tinsel, presents, Santa, and everyone being together.’ I think I’d done a pretty good job of summing it up.

  ‘Right, so let’s try to get those into an idea. Being together is a good one.’

  ‘Oh I see, like if you get loads of people into one place to raise money.’ I suddenly felt excited as the ideas began to trickle into my brain. Everyone together. The community as a whole. Of course, that was what was needed. ‘Do you mean an event?’ I asked.

  ‘Oh yes, an event. Like the Christmas Nativity at school – everyone goes to that. In fact, the children love it and the adults do too,’ Snowball pointed out. ‘Although it’s usually done by the younger children isn’t it?’

  How she was an expert on the Nativity, I didn’t know.

  ‘George told me about how the other year Tommy put him in a manger at the kids’ school Nativity and how he and you have been banned from going since,’ she explained.

  Ah, that was how. But she was right, it was for younger children. But it didn’t have to be, did it? It wouldn’t even have to be at the school at all.

  ‘I’ve got it,’ I said. ‘How about a Christmas show for the community to raise money for the homeless shelter? What a brilliant idea.’ If I did say so myself. Although my fur fizzed with excitement at the idea, I was unsure how we would actually do it.

  ‘Wow, it is, although we might need a few more details,’ Snowball said.

  ‘No, what we need is to pass this idea to the humans and once we’ve done that they can come up with details. I mean, details are not what this cat should be concerned with. Gosh I still have it! I’m still an ideas genius.’ I did a little spin, I was pretty pleased with myself.

  ‘And as modest as ever,’ Snowball replied. ‘But you have to convey the idea to the humans now and you know that’s a whole other problem.’

  ‘Leave it with me, I’ll come up with something.’ I wasn’t going to tell her that I didn’t have a clue how to do that. I had got a bit carried away with talk of the show, and Christmas songs and someone being Santa and a part for me and George and even Pickles, Hana, and Snowball …

  Now for the logistics. I needed to give them the idea of putting on a show but how? I started thinking, then had a flash of inspiration. I remembered seeing the flyer for the Christmas pantomime on the hall table, when I was playing with Pickles. And although I didn’t know what it was, I did know it was a show that happened at Christmas. So if I could somehow get her to link that to an idea for a show, it might just work. All I had to do was push the leaflet under Claire, Aleksy and Connie’s noses somehow. I hoped they didn’t think I meant for them to do an actual pantomime, because clearly someone was already doing that.

  ‘Aha, I’ve got an idea.’ I explained it. It didn’t sound like my strongest one when I said it out loud but, again, it was all I had.

  ‘It might work but it’s a long shot,’ Snowball said.

  ‘Honestly, you have no faith in me. I will make it work. It’s the best idea I’ve got anyway.’

  ‘Alfie, it’s the only one you’ve got,’ Snowball pointed out.

  Ready to put my plan into action, I jumped up onto the hall table and meowed loudly, hoping that Claire would come to see what was going on. But when she finally came into the hall she was on the phone and she shushed me, walked into the living room and closed the door. I knew from experience that getting the attention of humans, when you wanted to show them something they needed to see, wasn’t always easy. I pushed it with my paw onto the floor and decided to stay with it, one paw on the bottom of the leaflet until she reappeared and noticed. But when she came out of the living room, she barely gave me a second glance before she dashed out of the house, saying she was late for Harold. So, was I going to wait there with the leaflet until she came back? No, I was not. I needed a new idea.