Rachel Wells - Alfie in the Snow

‘Maybe we should give this one a miss?’ Claire suggested, but the kids were already half way up the path. We all followed, reluctantly. There was a light on in the front room and Toby knocked on the door, George still in his arms. The children all stood expectantly on the front doorstep, discussing what sweets they might expect. A man came to the window. He was old, moving slowly. He looked out at us, then, to our surprise, he raised his fist at us, shouted, ‘Get lost’, and pulled the curtains closed.

‘Why doesn’t he want to see us?’ Martha asked, her eyes full of confusion.

‘Maybe he forgot to buy sweets. Come on, we’ve got lots of houses to visit,’ Claire chivvied them up. As we made our way back down the path I glanced back at the house. I didn’t understand why he didn’t want to see us either.

Finally, with weary legs – me – and full bags of sweets and chocolate – the children – we reached the house next door to us. I could barely contain my excitement as I waited with everyone on the doorstep. The woman who opened the door didn’t look sad, not like the crying woman I’d seen last night. She had short-ish blonde hair which fell over her face, and was tall and slim. She looked composed, smiling, her head tilted to one side questioningly as she stood in front of us.

‘Trick or treat,’ the children chanted.

‘Oh my goodness, Connie, come here,’ the woman shouted and the teenager I’d seen joined her at the front door.

‘Hi, I’m Claire and this is Polly.’ Claire beamed as the children held their bags out hopefully. ‘I live next door, Polly is down the road. We would have come round properly to introduce ourselves, but with it being Halloween …’

‘Hi.’ Polly held out her hand and the woman took it.

‘I’m Sylvie, and this is Connie. Lovely to meet you.’ The woman paused for a moment, then she said, ‘I’m sure I’ve got some chocolate inside, why don’t you come in for a moment?’ The children didn’t need to be asked twice, but Polly swiped George out of Toby’s arms and put him next to me on the doorstep.

‘Oh, who are these two?’ Sylvie asked.

‘Our cats,’ Polly and Claire said in unison. They both laughed. ‘You guys wait here,’ they said as they followed the children inside and the door was closed on us.

‘Oh well, Dad, I guess when they come out we’ll hear all about it.’

‘Yes.’ But I was impatient. I wanted to know about the new family, and the cat. And was there a man? Because we’d only seen Sylvie and the teenager. So many questions.

We waited patiently by the front gate and it wasn’t long before Polly and Claire and the children emerged. They were laughing and Sylvie was smiling.

‘Oh how sweet, your cats waited for you.’

‘They enjoy trick or treating,’ Polly said.

‘It’s funny, so different for us. My Hana is a house cat, she’s never been outside – but that was normal in Japan.’

‘Hana is such a pretty cat,’ Claire said, and I agreed from what I had seen.

‘She’s a Mikeneko, which is Japanese of course. Cat with a coat of three colours. The English name would be a tortoiseshell.’

‘But Hannah is an English name?’ Polly asked.

‘It’s actually H-a-n-a, it’s Japanese for flower.’

‘That’s lovely, a sweet name for a sweet cat,’ Claire said.

Bingo, I already had more information at my paw tips than I thought I would. A house cat, and what was Japan? A coat of three colours. Oh, this was most interesting.

‘Right, well we’ll see you soon. I’ll text and we’ll have that dinner,’ Polly said as she gave a wave. I was delighted, it seemed the women were already the best of friends. But how we were going to befriend a house cat?

Later, when the children were upstairs having managed to sneak a number of their sweets up there, despite being told not to, and Polly and Claire were sitting on the sofa with a glass of wine, I learnt more about Sylvie.

They both seemed to like her so far. She was English, but she and her daughter had moved back from Japan which was a place quite far away, by the sound of it. They had lived there with her husband, who had left her for another woman and they were now getting divorced and she was very upset about it. Already things were beginning to make sense. Claire had been divorced when I first moved in with her, before she met Jonathan of course, so they had that in common. Anyway, it was difficult because not only had Sylvie split up with her husband but she’d also had to move away from the country that had been her home for many years. Her daughter, Connie, who turned out to be the same age as Aleksy – fourteen – was also upset about leaving her school, her friends and her dad. I guess that explained the late-night wine drinking in the kitchen and crying. Claire had done that a lot too.

As I listened to them talk about how they would make Sylvie feel really welcome and how they would also introduce Connie to Aleksy who would be at the same school in the same year, I began to feel excited. New friends. Now I just had to figure out how to get their cat, Hana, to come out so we could meet her. Either that or we’d have to find a way to go in. It was just a minor hiccup; after all, I’m a pretty resourceful cat, if I do say so myself.

I heard a clatter of footsteps on the stairs and Toby burst in with Henry at his heels.

‘George has been sick on my bed!’ he cried.

‘He ate lots of our chocolate, by accident,’ Henry explained.

‘Great, right, well I better go up and clear up. And you guys, I already told you no more sweets,’ Claire shouted.

‘I feel a bit sick too, Mummy,’ Toby said. We all did what I call a parenting eye roll, and rushed upstairs to sort it out. I would be having stern words with my kitten later.

‘So, I missed the trick or treating,’ Jonathan said, not exactly sounding disappointed.

‘Yes, funny how you had to work late tonight,’ Claire bit back.

‘I did, honestly. Anyway, the kids had a good time?’

‘Yes, I took photos.’ Claire handed him her phone. ‘But there was one house which was a bit of a nightmare, at the end of the street, overgrown, peeling paint. There was a light on but when we rang the bell, an old man glared at us then drew the curtains. Who would do that to a bunch of kids?’

‘Oh, I know. That’s the guy who Vic and Heather Goodwin were moaning to me about. Apparently they have been trying to talk to him about tidying the place up, even offered to do the garden for him, but he told them to go away. Although I’m not sure he was that polite. They said he’s a bit of an ogre and they think he might be dangerous. All bulging eyes and shifty behaviour, according to them.’

‘Great, so I took our kids to a nutter’s house?’

‘Oh I wouldn’t worry, you know how the Goodwins exaggerate. He’s probably just a grumpy old man who doesn’t like people. I understand, after all I’ll probably be one one day.’

He was right, he definitely would.