Рейчел Уэллс - A Friend Called Alfie

‘Where have you been?’ Pickles demanded.

‘Urgent cat business,’ George replied, self-importantly. I glared at him.

‘Pickles, we needed to go out and see some friends of ours, but we tried to be as quick as we could,’ I said trying to placate him.

‘But I wanted to come,’ he whined.

‘You can’t go everywhere with us,’ I said gently. ‘Remember what happened yesterday?’

‘No,’ he replied.

‘You nearly got run over, and you nearly got Dad run over. It’s dangerous out there, especially with your lack of road sense,’ George huffed. He sounded angry, but this didn’t seem to resonate with Pickles.

‘Why?’ he asked. Oh goodness, I remembered the why phase with George, it was an endless round of ‘why?’ questions and I wasn’t sure I wanted to go through it again.

‘Because,’ George said, ‘you are not a cat.’

‘But you said if I did what you told me then I would be able to be a cat,’ Pickles said. I tried not to put my head in my paws and weep.

‘Yes, but it takes a very long time to be like me, years in fact,’ George continued.

‘George, shush,’ I commanded, having to step in here. ‘Pickles, you are very lucky to have George to teach you how to be a cat. But, there are some things you can’t do, because of your own safety and one of those things is going out without a human.’

‘Why?’

‘When you go out, you have to have a lead on, well when you’re not in the garden, right?’ I explained.

‘Yes.’

‘George and I don’t have leads on, cats don’t and before you say why you need to know it’s the fundamental difference between dogs and cats. Now, you can come and play with us in the garden, but when we go out, if we go out, you can’t come with us.’

‘It’s not fair,’ Pickles reiterated.

‘Life isn’t always fair,’ George said, sounding wise. ‘But, Pickles, that doesn’t mean you can’t have fun, but it’s dangerous out there, beyond the garden gate, you need to remember that.’

I gave George a surprised look, I was surprised but pleased at how nice he was being.

‘OK, but will you play with me now?’ he asked.

‘Dad will, I have to go out,’ George said, and before I could question him about it, he was gone, and I was left with the puppy yet again.

I led Pickles to the garden, after a bit of a wiggle through the cat flap. I was tired after my morning’s exertions, and I would have liked to have a quick cat nap, but it wasn’t to be, as I had a puppy to entertain. We found some balls, which Pickles buried and then dug up. I tried not to look as he made a little bit of a mess of the garden. I’d probably be in trouble again, but I didn’t have the energy to prevent it. I lay down and tried to watch Pickles, but I found it hard to keep my eyes open, and at some point, I must have dropped off.

‘What on earth? Pickles, Alfie.’ Claire’s voice, which was full of anger, yet again, woke me and I jumped up. Pickles was sat at Claire’s feet, looking very innocent. I stretched and went over.

‘What have you done?’ Claire shouted, again, pointing at the flowerbeds, which I had to admit were a bit of a mess. Of course, it was my fault, I should have been watching him, as I looked at the flowers, which Claire loved too much, scattered all over the lawn. Oh god, I was supposed to be the responsible adult here.

‘Meow,’ I apologised and hung my head. I felt a little bit guilty, but I was still also tired.

‘Pickles, you have to stop digging up my flowers.’ Claire picked him up, turned and glared at me. ‘And, Alfie, you should have stopped him from doing so.’ She took him inside. As the door closed behind them I thought about following them, but then I lay down again, thinking I also could just snatch another forty winks. It would beat being told off again, after all, I’d been told off enough lately.

Chapter Thirteen

‘Do I have to go?’ Jonathan asked as he took off his tie and jacket and tried to sit down on the sofa. Claire tried to stop him from sitting down and she didn’t look best pleased.

‘Jonathan, I know you’re tired, but we haven’t spent any time together this week, and I’ve been looking forward to this,’ Claire snapped. ‘Besides, Polly is coming to babysit for us, and it would be embarrassing to tell her that date night is off because my husband doesn’t want to spend time with me.’ I felt bad for her; Claire was wearing a lovely dress, she had spent quite a lot of time on her hair, and was wearing make-up. She’d been so excited as she tucked the children up in bed, and then gone to get ready. I went over to Jonathan and gave his leg a gentle scratch.

‘Ow!’ he shouted, glaring at me. ‘You’re ganging up on me now!’ I did feel a bit guilty, but he needed to make an effort with his wife. I wanted to tell him I understood tiredness, after all, I’d fallen asleep when I should have been looking after Pickles. But of course, I couldn’t.

‘I made so much effort,’ Claire added.

‘Sorry, darling,’ he said as the penny dropped. I did stand on his foot a couple of times to help him. ‘You look gorgeous,’ he finally said as he wrapped his arms around her. ‘I’ll get changed very quickly, and we will go and have a lovely dinner,’ he promised.

‘Thank you. I know you’re tired, love, but what with the house and visiting Harold, the kids, I feel as if I haven’t spent any time with you and I also could really do with getting out of the house.’

‘I know and I’m sorry. I guess our lives are so different now with you doing all the house stuff, I don’t think enough about your day …’

‘And I don’t always appreciate how hard you’re working either. Let’s make a pact to work at us, as much as I work on the family, and you work in the office,’ Claire said, nuzzling into her husband.

‘I love you.’ He kissed her. ‘Right give me five minutes to freshen up, and then we’ll have the best dinner ever.’ He grinned.

‘Alfie, thanks for your support.’ Claire picked me up and cuddled me as Jonathan went to get changed. It seemed I was forgiven now, too.

Polly rushed in and immediately gave me a squeeze. It would be nice to spend a bit of time with her, just the two of us, which was rare. When Claire and Jonathan left, Polly and me snuggled up on the sofa together, and settled down for the evening.

When Polly’s phone rang, interrupting our peace, I jumped up.

‘Hey, Matt,’ Polly said. I climbed on Polly’s lap and tried to listen.

‘I just spoke to Marcus, Harold had a relapse, he’s not reacting to the drugs as they hoped, and so he’s quite poorly. Marcus is with him tonight, and Sylvie will phone you with any news, but he sounded pretty devastated.’

‘Oh no, I thought he was on the mend. Please tell me that he’s not critical. Should I get Claire and Jon home?’

‘No, honey, he’s not critical, but he’s not too good either. I just wanted to let you know. And I told Marcus we’d go to the hospital tomorrow if that’s OK?’

‘Of course, and if he calls again find out if we can take anything with us.’

After Polly hung up, she stroked me, and I wondered how I would break the news to George. He was asleep with Toby, so I thought I would wait until the morning and tell him then. I didn’t know how George would react, and I wasn’t sure it was fair for me to sugar-coat the news, so I had to find a gentle way of telling him the truth without scaring him.

The following day, I was awake early, fretting about how I would tell George that Harold was still poorly. I kept reassuring myself that he was going to be fine. I just hoped he was.

‘Morning, Dad.’ George joined me in the kitchen.

‘Oh hi, son, did you sleep well?’ I asked.