Rachel Wells - A Friend Called Alfie

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 2019

Copyright © Rachel Wells 2019

Cover design © HarperCollins Publishers Ltd 2019

Cover photographs © Shutterstock.com

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: 9780008354602

Ebook Edition © October 2019 ISBN: 9780008354619

Version: 2019-09-12

For Jessica.

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

Catstrology

Acknowledgements

Keep Reading …

About the Author

Also by Rachel Wells

About the Publisher

There was something about the Devon air, which felt so different from Edgar Road, where we lived most of the time in London. As the sea breeze whipped through my fur; it soothed and chilled me at the same time. It had been a very stressful time lately, and for my kitten George – who would probably argue that he was no longer a kitten but a proper cat – so we were enjoying a well-deserved holiday and a much-needed change of scene.

We were on a two week holiday at my human family’s holiday home, Seabreeze Cottage, in Lynstow, Devon. The human family consisted of Claire, Jonathan, and their children Toby and Summer. Not forgetting our cat family; my cat son, George, and Gilbert, who lived full time at Seabreeze Cottage – Gilbert had been there before us and had become one of our closest friends. Although we didn’t get to see him as often as we’d like, we always had fun whenever we were together. Gilbert was more independent than George and me, having fended for himself for years before we met him. If I’m honest, George and me are pampered cats, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

It hasn’t always been that way, there was a time when I was homeless for a while, and I had to fend for myself. My first human owner, Margaret, died when I was a young cat, leaving me heartbroken and alone. I became a doorstep cat – a cat with different homes and owners – which comes with many benefits, I can assure you, but more of that later. Thankfully, after some time on the streets, I found my way to Edgar Road, where I met my current human families. George came to live with my main human family as a kitten, having never had to fend for himself. He’s a lot more spoilt than me, but he’s kind-hearted, and I love him more than all the pilchards in the world.

We’ve had a rough year, my George and I. My girlfriend – the cat who George thought of as his mum – Tiger, had fallen ill and passed away before Christmas. We’re still grieving her if I’m honest. I don’t think you ever stop missing those you love, and I have loved and lost a lot in my life. But as a doorstep cat, with multiple humans in my life – Claire and Jonathan and their children Toby and Summer, Polly and Matt and their children Henry and Martha, Franceska and Tomasz and their children Aleksy and Tommy. You’ll met my other humans soon enough.

Although this year was unfortunate in many ways, one thing we learnt was that life carries on regardless of the sadness you hold in your heart, and we had to carry on with it.

‘I know, why don’t we go to the sand dunes?’ George suggested.

‘Last one there’s a dog,’ Gilbert, who had joined us on the beach, shouted, taking off, we followed him, hot on his paws. I was breathless as I made it just a fraction later than George and Gilbert.

‘Don’t call me a dog,’ I warned, narrowing my eyes and they both laughed.

‘I’m going to slide down on my bottom,’ George said, the carefree sound of his voice made me so happy. He wriggled onto his bottom and tried to slide down the sand, the problem was that sand isn’t very slippery, it’s grainy, and it sticks to fur like glue. I went to try to give George a gentle push with my paw, but I tripped over his tail and landed with a bump almost on top of him.

‘Yowl,’ I cried.

‘Dad,’ he chastised as we both started rolling down, and although it was a little bit scary, we got to the bottom in one piece.

‘That was so much fun, Dad,’ George said, reminding me that maybe he was growing up fast, but he was still a kitten, my kitten, in so many ways. ‘Can we do it again?’

‘Let me catch my breath,’ I pleaded, I certainly wasn’t a kitten in any way anymore, but I would do anything for my boy.

‘Come on, George,’ Gilbert shouted from the top. ‘Let Alfie recover. I’ll roll down with you, it did look like fun after all.’

We spent the rest of the evening playing, rolling and enjoying the beach, finding some much-needed peace. It became another evening for us to feel lucky about.

It wasn’t just George and me who needed a break in Devon, my human family did too. Jonathan had recently got a promotion at work, which is a good thing, but it meant he would have to work longer hours, and harder than he had before. Claire had told him to go for the job, but she was also worried about what it would mean for us as a family. She had to be supportive, however, because we all knew that Jonathan was only doing it for us, to provide more pilchards for George and me – yum – good schools for the children (whatever that meant) and Claire was even getting a new car. So this much-needed holiday had brought us all together in a way that reminded us that we were a loving family. Not without our problems, of course, but there is no such thing as a problem-less family, another thing I had learned the hard way. And when I heard Jonathan and Claire talking at night when the children were asleep, I knew they were both slightly nervous about how the new job would be and how they were going to cope with not having Jonathan around so much. I tried not to worry about them, but it wasn’t easy – I worried about everyone I loved.

During the holiday, Claire, Jonathan and the children had enjoyed picnics on the beach, walks, and bike rides. George had tried to go join them in the bike basket, but he kept falling onto the handlebars of Toby’s bike, so Claire had banned him. While they had their human adventures, we had our own feline ones. Gilbert was quite an active cat, he often took us on what he would call country walks. They were more like runs, through fields – the first time we came here we were cornered by a herd of sheep and barely got out with one of our lives intact. He and George climbed trees while I stayed safely on the ground, and of course, we visited the beach, but mainly in the evenings when we had it to ourselves. After losing Tiger, I didn’t realise how much I needed a change of scene. Claire said Devon was like a tonic, and she wasn’t wrong – I felt as if I could breathe properly for the first time since I lost her.