Рейчел Уэллс - Alfie The Doorstep Cat

With Claire still away, I went back to Jonathan’s. I let myself in through the cat flap, finding the house in darkness. I padded through the empty kitchen and into the living room. I was surprised to find Jonathan lying on the sofa. He was resting his head on a cushion as if he was asleep, but his eyes were open. There was no sign of the woman from last night; he was alone, once again. He looked at me as I walked in, and I felt bad that I’d come empty handed. He looked as if he really needed a present.

‘You’re back,’ he said, dryly. ‘I’d almost say I’m pleased to see you. At least the house isn’t so damn empty any more.’ I miaowed a ‘thank you’ although I wasn’t sure how much of a compliment it was. Despite that, I decided to chance my luck and I jumped up on the sofa and sat next to him. He looked at me but he didn’t tell me to get off, which was progress of sorts.

‘Where do you go when you’re not here?’ he asked, suddenly. I miaowed. ‘Do you just roam the streets? Because I get the feeling that you actually live with me.’ He looked confused and I purred my assent. ‘It’s funny, Alfie, but it’s hit me that this is my life now. I live in this empty house which is too big for me, and I have barely any friends.’ I wondered about the two women I’d met here so far. ‘And we can’t count my one night stands. I don’t know how I got to the age of forty-three, with nothing meaningful to show for my life,’ he continued, sounding self-pitying. ‘No wife, no family, and only a handful of friends, most of whom are in different countries.’ I moved closer to him and tried to purr compassionately.

‘It’s just me and you, Alfie. All I have for my forty-three years is a bloody cat to talk to, and I don’t even know if you’re mine.’

I looked at him, head tilted to one side, trying to be reassuring.

‘I guess you’re hungry?’ he said, and I miaowed as loudly as I could. This was more like it. I was famished. I followed him into the kitchen where he took some smoked salmon out of the fridge. As much as I loved Claire, dinner with Jonathan was really special. He put some on a plate on the floor for me and he stroked me as I started eating, in a tender way that he’d never done before. We were indulging in some male bonding.

Although I was surprised, I concentrated on eating. I could be a bit of an emotional cat and I definitely felt my heart warming; I was touched. I had been determined that I would crack Jonathan, otherwise I wouldn’t have kept coming back, but I hadn’t imagined I would do so quite as quickly as this. If I hadn’t been so busy eating, I would have been jumping for joy.

After we had both had dinner, we went back to the living room. We were a bit of an odd couple; a big man and a little cat. My heart swelled with happiness as we sat on the sofa together. Jonathan turned on a huge TV and started watching something which involved a lot of violence and men with guns. I could hardly believe I was allowed to sit with him, snuggled up on the sofa. Distractedly, he stroked me as he watched his programme, and although I didn’t like what was on the TV, I really liked the comfort he was giving me so I didn’t move an inch. It strengthened my resolve to make sure I gave Jonathan the help that I knew in my heart he needed.

I woke very early; I knew because it was still dark. I was a little surprised to see that I was still on Jonathan’s sofa. He hadn’t kicked me off, but left me sleeping. I must have fallen asleep whilst he was watching that gruesome film. I was reluctant to leave, but I really wanted to go to Claire’s, eat some breakfast, and then go and wait at 22A for any movement. I wondered if 22B would be occupied soon, and what the new family there would be like. Perhaps I would visit only the nicest of the two; I still hadn’t forgiven Polly for calling me a baby killer.

When I arrived, after my morning meal, there was a van outside the building and the door to the other flat was open. It wasn’t a smart looking vehicle, like the one that Matt and Polly had had their furniture delivered in the previous day but a slightly battered, dark blue van that looked as if it might have hit a lot of lamp posts and run over a lot of animals. I shuddered – hopefully not cats. Two men were unloading furniture from it, which they were carrying into the house. I peered into the open front door. 22B was an upstairs flat. As soon as you opened the door there was a small space and then stairs. I was tempted to go in, but I held back as the men carried a table into the flat. They were struggling to negotiate the small space with the piece of furniture, and I sensed the danger of getting involved. They were speaking in a language I didn’t recognise. Their voices were quite loud and animated as if they were rowing, although I didn’t think they were. Mind you, seeing them have to carry the furniture up the steep flight of stairs, if they had been, I guess you couldn’t blame them. I hung back for a while, still itching to go inside, but fearful and unsure. Not only because the men were quite big, but also because of the language I didn’t understand. What if they were from a place where they ate cats? I didn’t know if such a place existed but I didn’t want to take any chances. Agnes had told me tales of countries where they ate dogs. Apparently it was normal for some cultures. I shuddered again. I didn’t want to end my life in anyone’s cooking pot.

I wanted to find out more about the people who lived here, though. I lay low in the shadows as I saw the men come back downstairs. Despite the fact that I thought I was being discreet, one of the men spotted me and came over to pet me. I blinked a ‘hello’ and he looked as if he blinked back. Although he seemed huge, he was surprisingly gentle with me and I purred at him. He seemed to blink quite a lot as he spoke to me in his strange language, and then a woman appeared and joined him. She was quite small but very pretty, with dark hair and brown eyes. She crouched down to pet me.

‘He don’t speak Polish,’ the man said, giving her a kiss.

‘Cats no speaking, Thomasz, she replied, in an accented voice. They both laughed and then went back to communicating in their original language. They looked to be about the same age as Polly and Matt, I guessed, and they seemed very kind and friendly. The woman’s smile was really infectious and made me want to smile, although of course I did so with my eyes, by squinting at her. I’m not sure she noticed though, she was busy talking to both the men and I still couldn’t understand a word they were saying.

‘He still here,’ she said, suddenly turning her attention back to me.

‘Maybe he welcome us here,’ the man joked.

‘Maybe. Nice cat I think.’ Her smile disappeared suddenly and she turned to the man, clinging to him and looking scared. I tilted my head to one side, intrigued, as she said something in the funny language again.

‘Franceska, it will be OK. We come here for a better life. For us and the boys. I promise you it will be good.’ He took her in his big arms and although she was crying, she managed to smile too. Another friend in need for me, it seemed. I had a radar, and I felt that this street had given me a purpose in life; helping people.

Relieved that I felt needed, I smiled to myself; I was learning that humans were more complicated than I thought. But they were friendly, and although the woman was sad, I saw a strength in her that neither Claire nor Polly seemed to have. I was sure that I would be welcome here, and I looked forward to coming back. I watched the woman go inside, before realising that it was sunny and bright and therefore time for me to go and get my second meal of the day.