Рейчел Уэллс - Alfie In The Snow

Copyright

Published by AVON

A Division of HarperCollins Publishers Ltd

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London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Publishers 2018

Copyright © Rachel Wells 2018

Cover design © www.headdesign.co.uk 2018

Cover photograph © Shutterstock

Rachel Wells asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this ebook on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Source ISBN: 9780008295790

Ebook Edition © October 2018 ISBN: 9780008295776

Version: 2018-09-17

Dedication

For Becky, Martin, Helen, Megan, Jak and Rory.

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Acknowledgments

Keep Reading …

About the Author

About the Publisher

Chapter One

I was lying on the sofa, in my favourite spot, the winter sun shining down on me through the window, when my kitten, George, leapt on me. Argh, he wasn’t such a little kitten any more; I was winded and a bit squashed.

‘George,’ I said, trying to squirm out from under his weight. ‘You have to stop doing that, you’re flattening me.’

‘Sorry, Dad,’ he replied, with his charming grin and his head tilted to one side. As usual, I melted. My boy was just too adorable, even if he was getting too heavy to jump on me. I couldn’t have been prouder of what a fine young tom he was growing into. ‘But I have news.’ He sat next to me and licked his paws. George did like to draw out any announcements. He was a fairly dramatic kitten. Unlike myself, of course.

‘Go on, George, tell me the news,’ I coaxed, thinking it would be about a funny-shaped cloud he had seen this morning, or a similar Georgeism.

‘There’s a big van parked outside so new people are moving in next door.’ He looked very pleased with himself, as well he might. I pricked up my ears. New people! On Edgar Road! Well, was there anything better for a doorstep cat like myself? Only a van full of pilchards could beat that.

My name is Alfie, and I’m a doorstep cat. Which basically means I have different families and homes I visit. I do live in one main house, here with my kitten George, in Edgar Road. Our humans are Claire and Jonathan and their children, Toby and Summer. But there is another family on this road we spend time with, Polly and Matt and their children Henry and Martha, and yet another family, who live a few streets away, Franceska, Tomasz and their children Aleksy and Tommy. Phew, it’s a lot of families and friends to keep track of. I met them when I moved to Edgar Road after an arduous journey, having been homeless after my old owner, Margaret, died, but that does feel like another lifetime. They say cats have nine lives, well I reckon I’ve used a few of those up to get to where I am today, although I still have plenty left.

I do credit myself with bringing all my families together and now they love each other the way I love them all. We even have a holiday home together, Seabreeze Cottage, which is in Devon, and we spend time there when we can. But London is our main home, on Edgar Road, where we spend most of our days. There’s always something going on here. Never a dull moment. Or if there is, it doesn’t last.

Up until now we were experiencing quite a quiet time. Winter was upon us, the nights were drawing in and the air had started biting. I was becoming a bit of a fair-weather cat, preferring not to spend too much time out in the cold and rain. However, my kitten, George, loved being out in all weathers. That’s youth for you. Just don’t seem to feel the cold. But I did take my constitutional every morning and evening, and I would brave the cold to seek out my friends, the neighbourhood cats and my cat girlfriend Tiger. But now it was cold and darker in the evenings, I preferred to stay in the warm as much as was possible.

But not now. This removal van I had to see. It was still exciting to see new people. Once a doorstep cat, always a doorstep cat, after all. So George and I bounded out to see what we could discover.

We made our way next door. I knew the house well – not too long ago my first girlfriend, the one before Tiger, Snowball, lived there. She was my first love and it wasn’t the easiest of starts but after many attempts to woo her she came round to my way of thinking eventually. Don’t get the wrong idea, I’m not exactly a cat lothario, I’ve only been in love twice, once with Snowball and now with Tiger, who is a mum to George. And George is adopted; he’s not my natural kitten but he, Tiger and I are a family.

Because I’ve learnt through the years that family comes in all shapes and sizes and no one is the same. But as long as you have love then you have family.

‘Look, Dad,’ George said, his eyes as wide as saucers. We stopped on the pavement and looked at the large van. The back door to the van was open and men were unloading boxes. I gestured for George to follow me and we snuck into the back garden where I knew we would find big patio doors to look through. My first thought whenever I saw new people was, were they in the market for a part-time cat? My second was that I sincerely hoped they didn’t have a dog.

We peered through the glass door, making sure not to be too visible in case we upset anyone (or dog). I could see activity. In the kitchen a woman, perhaps a similar age to Claire who, I believe, was in her forties but didn’t like to talk about it, was unpacking. Near her was a younger girl; she was tall and slim, perhaps a teenager? She was attached to a device, a phone. Aleksy had one and didn’t tear his eyes away from it for a minute if he could help it. His mum despaired. Tommy, who was younger than Aleksy, had one too but he was more interested in sports, so he was a whole different kettle of fish. Yum.