Рейчел Уэллс - Alfie And George

‘Matt said maybe there’s a cat snatcher, like the child snatcher in Chitty Chitty Bang Bang ,’ Polly said.

I put my paws over my ears.

‘Shush, Polly, not in front of Alfie,’ Claire chastised. ‘And that’s ridiculous. Besides, if anyone tried to take our cats we would sort them out.’ Claire looked at me as she said this and I felt marginally reassured.

It wasn’t good, these missing cats — I could feel it in my fur. But for now there was little I could do, so I went upstairs to see the children, following the trail of their laughter. At least they were having fun, and I needed to join in with that while I came up with a plan for what to do with my troublesome grown-ups, and tried not to worry about this cat problem at the same time.

It never rains but it pours. My very first owner, Margaret, used to say that a lot. I didn’t always understand what it meant but I think I do now. After family day I spent quite a lot of time fretting. I worried about all my families, including Tasha, who had been in floods of tears after mediation had gone horribly wrong. She was now talking about taking Dave to the cleaners — wherever that was — and saying that her parents were going to pay her legal bills so she could do so. She was refusing to hand over the money for the house sale, which the solicitor held in an account, until it was all settled, and things had turned a bit nasty. Jonathan said that if Dave came near her he would get involved, but thankfully Tasha hadn’t told her ex where she was living and anyway, she said, he was too lazy to do anything. It was all in the hands of the law now and Tasha was refusing to speak to him, or have anything to do with him apart from through solicitors. It was a bit complicated for me to follow, being a cat, but I was trying. Oh, and he’d still only made half-hearted attempts to see Elijah which upset everyone. We all loved Elijah and I couldn’t understand any father who didn’t want to see his child as much as possible. Look at me and George.

It was also literally pouring. As George and I sat on the windowsill watching the rain drip down the pane, I was worrying about everyone and everything.

I was feeling helpless and hopeless. I couldn’t help Tasha, but actually knowing that she had this solicitor person as well as Claire and Jonathan made me feel better. I couldn’t seem to help Matt and Polly, who seemed to be barely speaking whenever I saw them. I couldn’t help Franceska and Tomasz, who were going to be apart. Aleksy and little Tomasz were so excited for their holiday but I worried that it meant Franceska might never come back! I couldn’t imagine losing them from my life. And it seemed I couldn’t help Claire and Jonathan, who only the previous night had had a massive row.

‘Did you have to say that to the social worker?’ Claire had shouted the previous evening as we sat in the living room.

‘I only said there was no history of criminal activity or insanity in my family …’ Jonathan tried not to smile.‘It was a joke!’

‘Then you said you weren’t sure about my mother! Did you really think that was funny?’

‘Well, your mother can come across as a bit bonkers.’ He laughed.

‘This is just a big joke to you, isn’t it, us getting a child, a sibling for Summer, another child for us to parent? I can’t believe you sometimes.’

‘Of course not, it was just a stupid joke, Claire. The social worker needs to know we have a sense of humour, surely?’

‘Well, you’re not funny.’

Claire had slept in the spare room, the room that Tash had only recently vacated. I know she cried herself to sleep too, because I slept with her, leaving George for the first time since he’d moved in, although I did check him regularly, which of course meant I was feeling a little sleep deprived myself.

The atmosphere had been strained here all day, a bit like at Polly and Matt’s. So far, Claire was refusing all of Jonathan’s efforts to make up and when they left for work and to take Summer to nursery it was a relief to have that atmosphere out of the house along with them.

‘What is wrong with people?’ George asked me, chasing a raindrop with his paw and bringing me back to the present.

‘Oh dear, where do I start?’ I began to tell him all I knew. As I started feeling more and more fearful, I tried to downplay the situation for George’s sake. Yes, he needed to know how humans worked, especially if he was going to take after me, but he was still so young — I had to protect him. As I was thinking of how I was going to fix each of my humans, from Tash, who had suddenly gone from the top of my worry list almost to the bottom, to Matt and Polly, Franceska and Tomasz and now Claire and Jonathan, George jumped down from the windowsill and ran off. I pulled myself from my reverie and went to find him.

When George had first come to live here, Claire was pretty careful about where he was allowed to go. All the bedroom doors were kept closed, as was the bathroom and the downstairs loo, so he was basically confined to the kitchen/dining room and living room. Despite the stair gate, he could get up the stairs, but once he was there he was confined to the landing. Now that he was bigger, however, they didn’t bother to close the doors, the argument being he knew what he was doing (he didn’t) and he was still never left alone (he was). But he had more freedom and now I had to locate him, with so many more places he could be.

He wasn’t in the kitchen. I knew he hadn’t gone outside or I would have heard the cat flap, so I did a quick look around the utility room, especially the washing machine, before heading upstairs.

‘George,’ I called out loudly, but there was no answer. I tried to stem my growing panic as I checked the bedrooms, telling myself that he couldn’t be far, he was just a kitten after all … The bathroom door was closed, as was the door to Jonathan and Claire’s en suite, so at least I didn’t have to worry about him having fallen into the loo again. But still, I couldn’t help but panic. I knew he was here but because I couldn’t see him there was this irrational worry that I couldn’t quite keep away. I went back into the spare room.

‘George,’ I shouted again. I heard a little muffled sound. I traced it to the wardrobe where Claire kept some of her clothes, and saw that the door was a tiny bit ajar. I hit at it with my paw until it opened a bit more and I saw George lying on one of Claire’s jumpers which were piled up on the bottom of the wardrobe.

‘George, I was worried! I’ve been calling you. Why didn’t you answer me?’

‘But, Dad, if I answered you it wouldn’t be hide and seek would it?’

‘Hide and seek?’

‘Yes, the children taught me the other day, it’s so much fun. One person seeks and the others hide.’

‘Yes, thank you, I do know how to play, but the point is that we weren’t playing hide and seek, I was sitting on the windowsill with you one minute and the next you were gone.’

‘Oh, maybe I should have told you.’ George had confusion in his beautiful eyes. ‘Right, now why don’t you hide?’ He didn’t seem contrite or even aware of the worry he caused me.

‘I don’t really feel like it.’ I was still busy fretting over my families, and now that I’d found George, I had to calm myself down again.

‘Please, Dad, it’s the best game ever!’ His eyes were wide with hope and I couldn’t help but smile. I remembered when Aleksy had first played the game with me — it had been such fun. How could I disappoint? Besides, it was raining outside, so there was nothing else we could do.