Рейчел Уэллс - A Friend Called Alfie

‘I will, I’ll take care of her too. We all will, and when you come back we’ll all be together again and soon the new baby. We could be the babysitters for them.’

‘I’d like that, thanks Aleksy.’

My heart was fit to burst.

Everyone burst into the back garden.

‘Are we interrupting?’ Polly asked.

‘No,’ Aleksy said. Connie blushed.

‘We just thought that it would be nice to have a photo, you know all of us, the whole family.’

We were organised, the humans gathered us up in their arms – Pickles by Henry, Toby insisted on holding George, Snowball sat on Harold’s lap, he’d been placed on a garden chair and Claire had me in her arms. Hana of course was with Connie. Marcus set up a tripod and a camera which he put on a timer.

‘Say “cheese”,’ he said.

‘Cheese,’ everyone said.

At the mention of his favourite food, Pickles jumped out of Toby’s arms and landed on Snowball, who was on Harold, Snowball squealed and then jumped, but was luckily caught by Sylvie. Everyone turned their heads just as the camera went off.

‘Perhaps next time we should say a non-food related item,’ Polly suggested.

That night, Snowball, George, Hana – who had decided she would brave the cold to hang out – and I sat in our back garden.

‘It’s been eventful again, hasn’t it?’ I said.

‘It’s been such a crazy time for me,’ Snowball said.

‘We are happy and sad, aren’t we?’ Hana pointed out. ‘That seems to be how life works. We get happy, we get sad, and so on.’

‘You’re very smart, Hana,’ George said. ‘Almost as smart as me.’

Snowball and I tried very hard not to look at each other.

‘But look at us, we have each other,’ I said. ‘And we have so many people we love around us.’

‘Too many sometimes,’ George said.

‘No, son,’ I replied. ‘There will never be too many, because our hearts are so big we can love and love.’

‘And that’s what life should be about,’ Snowball finished. We all watched the stars through the black sky in silence and I knew that at that moment we were all thinking about how lucky we were.

Chapter Thirty-Two

‘So you want us to have an old person?’ Vic Goodwin, Salmon’s owner and the self-appointed head of the Edgar Road neighbourhood watch – along with his wife Heather, asked.

‘Not exactly,’ Claire replied. We had gathered some of our neighbours and friends in our living room. The Goodwins, Tiger’s, or should I say Oliver’s family, the Barkers, my main family and a family who lived next door to Harold that I wasn’t familiar with. Harold had bravely invited them to come, although Claire was with him, as was Snowball. The children were all upstairs being looked after by Aleksy, Connie and Tommy.

‘It was George’s idea,’ Polly said, with a giggle. I raised my whiskers. They weren’t helping matters at all. I nudged George and told him to nudge Harold.

‘You mean to tell me this was a cat’s idea?’ Heather Goodwin asked. The new couple, Carol and Steve, looked incredibly confused. The fact they hadn’t run for the door was surprising, although in fairness, Tomasz, who was a big man, was pretty much stretched across it. We were all trapped.

‘Oh dear Lord,’ Jonathan said, rolling his eyes and glancing over at Matt who seemed to be finding it all terribly amusing.

George nudged Harold. He blushed, but cleared his voice.

‘George inspired me,’ he said. ‘I know most of you know about my hospital time, and the fact that before my son and I sorted out a few differences last year I was on my own a lot.’ Marcus went over and patted his dad on the shoulder. ‘I’ve seen a lot of loneliness lately and I’m not happy about it,’ Harold continued.

‘It’s a crying shame,’ Mrs Barker said. ‘No one should be lonely.’ She had a tear in her eye. I went to rub against her leg and she looked at me gratefully.

‘It is, and once a week I go to the senior centre which is a lifeline for us oldies, not so much for me because I am well looked after, but some there don’t have anyone else. And in hospital some of the patients didn’t have any visitors at all. So, Claire and I are going to go in once a week and see people, take them a cake, a smile, a newspaper and have a chat. It’s like George did when I was in hospital.’ Harold was on his best behaviour. He was also wearing his best suit because he told George he wanted everyone to take him seriously.

‘I am so confused,’ Steve said, glancing at the door.

‘Never mind,’ Tomasz told him, ‘in about an hour it might all become clear. If not, there’s lots of beer in the fridge.’ This made him look even more confused, so Jonathan went to the kitchen and returned with a bottle for him.

‘You see,’ Matt said, deciding to take control a bit. ‘Harold made a list of people who really are struggling with loneliness. Do you want to carry on explaining?’ Matt said, as he got him back on track.

‘Claire and I thought we’d launch a Sunday Lunch Club. We’d ask you, and perhaps you can ask your friends, if they would be able to host someone for lunch once or twice a month. At least they’ll have somewhere to go, something to look forward to and a home-cooked meal, because some of them don’t even have that,’ Harold explained.

‘I can’t bear it, it’s so sad,’ Polly said.

‘Right does that make sense?’ Jonathan asked. He hated how these meetings could drag on and I know he was keen to sit down in front of the TV.

‘What has it got to do with the hospital?’ Vic asked.

‘Nothing really, but that was where the idea originated. As Harold said, he and I will be doing some hospital visiting, but really we’re looking for ten families at first to host Sunday lunch. What we can do is match you up with someone who is on their own, but you’d have to go and collect them and drive them home after as well,’ Claire explained.

‘So we do get an old person?’ Vic asked, for the second time. I raised my whiskers, he was no spring kitten himself.

‘Yes, you do. Now who is in?’ Jonathan asked with a sigh.

‘Of course,’ Mr Barker said. ‘We’d be happy, we don’t go far ourselves most weekends, and we always have a nice Sunday roast, so we could easily have someone every week if they like.’

‘We couldn’t do every week,’ Steve said. ‘We go and see our kids you see, they live the other side of London, but definitely once a month to start with, then maybe more.’

‘We’re in,’ Franceska said.

‘I don’t have a choice,’ Jonathan mumbled but he winked to show he was joking.

When everyone in the room agreed to be a part of it, they also started suggesting other people who may help out too.

‘I know, I shall make a spreadsheet,’ Vic said.

‘What’s that?’ Harold looked terrified.

‘Come to mine, and I’ll show you, we can make a spreadsheet of families who can host and then match them with people who need company, highly technical and very efficient,’ Vic said, sounding efficient.

‘Sounds perfect, Vic,’ Claire said, giving his shoulder a pat.

We knew, as they carried on chatting, that we’d done it. If Vic and his spreadsheet were involved then it was now a reality. The Goodwins might be busybodies but their hearts were in the right places. I was very fond of them now, deep down.

I felt emotional as George and I went to see what the children were up to. We found them all in Summer’s room, and Pickles dressed up as a ballerina. It wasn’t pretty.

‘What is going on?’ I asked.

‘I’m a girl. I like being a girl. I think I might be a girl rather than a cat from now on,’ Pickles said, twirling inelegantly around.