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‘You mean she’ll buy it,’ Jonathan replied.
‘Well yes, we know Polly’s not much of a cook, but at least it’ll be from Waitrose.’
I licked my lips. Christmas dinner was one of my favourite meals. I even liked some vegetables, which Claire said was very unusual for a cat. I think cats, in my experience, like a far wider variety of food than anyone gives them credit for.
‘And it’ll be nice to be together,’ Claire said wistfully. Her parents went to Spain every year for Christmas now, where her brother lived, and Jonathan wasn’t close to his family, so our friends were our family. It wasn’t a bad family at all.
‘The excitement levels of Summer and Toby will be cranked up this year.’
‘Oh, Summer is already talking about what she wants. Although I ought to warn you, she wants a baby.’
‘A doll?’
‘No, for us to have another baby.’
Jonathan choked on his beer, his face turning a funny colour. ‘What did you say?’
‘I said that we had a lovely family already and, as Santa knew that, he’d probably not be able to send us a baby, and she then said perhaps a talking doll would do instead.’
‘Thank God for that.’ Jonathan started to return to a normal-ish colour. ‘It’s not just beyond Santa’s remit, it’s way beyond mine,’ he said.
‘Don’t worry darling, our family is perfect and I don’t want to change a thing,’ Claire said, going over to kiss him. Warmth flooded me as I let the feeling of happiness wash over me. Then I went to tell George it was time to wash his paws in time for dinner.
A parent’s work was never done.
Later that night, when George was tucked up with Toby and Summer was fast asleep, I set out to see my girlfriend Tiger. She lives just down the road and we usually met up most evenings, weather permitting – she’s even more of a fair-weather cat than I am – to watch the moon and chat about our day. We would also bring up any worries we had about George. We were parents first, which is what had prompted our friendship to develop into something more.
I sat on her back doorstep and meowed, which normally means she comes out. But she didn’t. I pushed the cat flap with my nose then waited but nothing. I couldn’t go in, her humans weren’t too keen on other cats in their house, although they tolerated George but not me. I guessed she had probably fallen asleep. Tiger wasn’t always the most active of cats.
I was about to give up and head home but I couldn’t resist going for one last look at our neighbours. As before, I found myself peering through the back doors, the house was fairly dark. But sitting at the table in the kitchen was the woman, in front of her was a glass of wine, and on her lap was the cat. The cat had her back to me, so no one noticed as I watched. The woman picked the glass up slowly and took a drink, before carefully placing it back on the table, and pushing her hair out of her eyes. I saw her head fall as she stroked the cat, and I saw what I thought were tears glistening in the darkness. Even from outside it was as if I could feel her sadness, her pain. I went home wondering what her story was, their story, and why she was upset. But I knew that somehow and at some point I would get to the bottom of it.
That was the kind of cat I was.
Chapter Two (#ucbee3e5b-6407-5a68-98ed-45f53441eec5)
‘I fell asleep,’ Tiger said the next morning when George and I called on her. I hadn’t even opened my mouth.
‘I thought so.’
‘It was quite cold and I snuggled up with my human on the sofa, and the warmth from the fire, you know.’
‘Tiger, it’s OK, you don’t need to explain.’ Normally she didn’t offer explanations, but I didn’t say that.
‘Mum, Dad, can we go for a walk to the park?’ George asked. He had boundless energy this morning. I wished I did, but I was feeling the cold. I had an old injury which I had suffered when I first moved to Edgar Road. It was a long story involving saving Claire from a horrible relationship, and eventually bringing all of my families together, but it did leave me with a slightly bad leg which seemed to get worse and stiffen up in the cold or the rain. I mainly got on with things, I was pretty used to it by now. However, at the start of every winter I would be reminded of it.
‘Of course we can, George,’ Tiger said, nuzzling him. ‘It’s not raining, and hopefully it’ll stay dry.’
We set off and, as George hopped in front of us, I told Tiger about the new people.
‘So this cat is very pretty, is she?’ Tiger narrowed her eyes.
‘She’s unusual-looking but nearer George’s age than mine,’ I replied. Tiger did have a jealous streak, so I needed to tread carefully when talking about other cats.
‘What does George think?’ She immediately switched from sounding jealous to maternal.
‘He told me that after Chanel he’s sworn off girls for life.’ I grinned.
‘Good, because no one is good enough for my boy.’ I couldn’t have agreed more.
The park was pleasantly empty. We trailed around after George who bounded from one activity to the next. He stared for ages at his reflection in the small lake – I urged caution because when I was younger I’d done the same and nearly drowned. Then we made piles of leaves which were browning and a little soggy, but still quite fun to play with nonetheless. There were no butterflies to chase at this time of the year but George did manage to climb one of the smaller trees. By the time we headed back for lunch I was hungry, Tiger said she was tired – I swear she was getting lazier by the second – and George was still full of energy. He would only come home when I promised he would be allowed out later to the other end of Edgar Road, on his own.
It had been a hard decision to let George out alone, and I know that human parents had the same dilemma as Franceska had been through it with Aleksy and Tommy. Aleksy was a teenager now and wanted more freedom, a bit like George, but at the same time we, as parents, knew there were dangers out there. Letting go was possibly one of the hardest parenting lessons we had to face.
When George first went out alone, although he promised he wouldn’t go far, I was a bag of nerves until he came home. When he did come home I almost smothered the poor lad but I had never felt relief like it. Well, apart from the time he was catnapped and I found him, or the time he ran off after Chanel and we found him … But this was different, it was the first time he had gone out with permission.
Now he went out alone a fair bit, but never at night and never for too long. I tried to make him tell me where he was going as well, although to be fair he didn’t always seem to know. Sometimes he said he was going to the park, sometimes to see if any of the other cats were around. So far I had resisted the urge to follow him, but only just. Instead I would pace up and down or watch out of an upstairs window for his return. And thankfully he always came home and never stayed out too long. Otherwise the worry would probably have turned my fur even greyer than it already was.
So, this afternoon I thought I would catch up on some of my personal cat business. I enjoyed time alone to have a thorough grooming session – after all, when you’re a parent you always seem to be having to rush your ablutions, and then I would enjoy some thinking time. It’s hard to think when you’ve got youngsters always wanting your attention. So, as much as I worried about George, now he was more independent I was beginning to enjoy some ‘me time’ as well. I settled on Claire and Jonathan’s bed – Jonathan didn’t like me being on there, Claire didn’t mind – because it was incredibly comfortable and one of my favourite places to muse.
The front door opened, and the rush of voices and children interrupted my thinking time. I stretched, yawned and then headed downstairs where to my joy I found my families all together in the kitchen. George was hopping among them.
‘Oh hi, Alfie,’ Tommy said, coming over to pet me. I saw a number of fat pumpkins on the kitchen table. Ah, of course, it was the weird thing that humans celebrated called Halloween.
‘I want to carve my pumpkin all on my own,’ Summer said. Claire looked terrified and I agreed. The idea of Summer with a knife was not good.
‘Sum, let me help you and Martha,’ Tommy suggested kindly. ‘It’ll be better than letting the adults take over.’ She considered his offer and agreed.
‘And Aleksy, maybe you can help Toby and Henry?’ Franceska suggested.
‘Do I have to?’ Aleksy answered, sounding surly which wasn’t like him, although it was lately. ‘I’m too old for all this.’
‘Yes you do,’ Franceska snapped and she, Polly and Claire exchanged glances.
‘We’d be very grateful if you would,’ Polly said, trying to calm the situation.
‘Fine.’ Aleksy made it sound as if it was anything but.
Claire made drinks for the grown-ups as the children sat at the table in the kitchen and began carving their pumpkins.
‘Hey,’ Henry said. ‘Let’s have a competition to see which one is the scariest.’ They all seemed to like this idea, although I knew from experience the only one who would end up liking it was the child who won.
‘What costumes are everyone wearing this year?’ Franceska asked. ‘I miss my boys dressing up.’
‘We’re too old to dress up,’ both Tommy and Aleksy said at the same time.
‘Summer wants to be a witch, and Toby is insisting on being a superhero,’ Claire said.
‘And I’m going to be a superhero too,’ Henry said. Toby and Henry were quite close and often copied each other.
‘I’m going to be a cat,’ Martha announced.
This news surprised me; after all, there were two cats here.
‘Oh, you can be Summer’s cat,’ Franceska said.
‘And George,’ Summer piped up.
‘Sum wants me to dye George black,’ Claire explained.
My whiskers twitched and George looked terrified. Imagine, my lovely kitten being dyed black!
‘Don’t worry George, it won’t happen. But I had to promise to make you a little witch’s hat to compensate.’
‘So, Summer, Martha and George will all share a broomstick,’ Henry explained. I wasn’t sure about George and a broomstick but we’d have to see.
‘Where are we getting a broomstick from?’ Claire asked, worriedly. ‘I’ve only got a kitchen broom.’
‘We need a proper broomstick,’ Summer shouted.
‘Don’t worry, I’ve ordered one from the internet,’ Polly said. Halloween was a lot of work, it seemed.
George was on the kitchen table and I could barely watch as he dodged the knives, seemingly unaware of the danger he faced. I heard him make a funny sound, which worried me.
‘Ahh,’ Toby cried. ‘George spat pumpkin over me.’ We all looked and Toby had a splat of pumpkin on his face. George glanced over to me as if to say, ‘I didn’t know it wouldn’t taste good.’ I raised my whiskers again. My curious son would never learn, it seemed, as he tried to lick Toby’s face.
The rest of the carving passed without incident. As the four children proudly presented their finished pumpkins, it was up to the adults to choose a winner. As Aleksy and Tommy had done most of the work it didn’t seem fair but then the older boys didn’t seem to mind as Aleksy wandered off to do something on his phone and Tommy went to the fridge to find a snack.
‘It’s a draw,’ Polly announced diplomatically.
‘Absolutely,’ Claire agreed, ‘they are all far too good.’
Thankfully the children all seemed to accept this. Summer and Toby’s pumpkins were placed on the front doorstep, with a lit candle in each – I warned George to stay away – so that Jonathan would be able to admire them when he got home.
As everyone said their goodbyes, Henry and Martha proudly clutching their pumpkins to their chests, they arranged to go ‘trick or treating’ the following day after school.
‘I can’t wait to go trick or treating,’ George said to me when we were alone.
‘Well, you know Claire said you had to wear a hat,’ I pointed out.
‘Yeah, I’m not pleased about that but at least they’re not going to dye me black,’ he replied. And I had to agree.
‘Oh, and George, no more eating the pumpkin.’
‘No Dad, it tasted really weird.’
Chapter Three (#ucbee3e5b-6407-5a68-98ed-45f53441eec5)
Even I had to admit to being excited. George had been unbearable today; he was so keen to go trick or treating, that from the morning he was badgering me about the time. It was a very long day until I bundled him off to find Tiger, telling him how much she would love to hear about the pumpkin carving and the evening ahead. It did buy me a little bit of peace and quiet and I would apologise to Tiger later.
What I was most excited about was the fact that when trick or treating we would definitely go to the new next-door neighbour’s house and hopefully meet them. Despite not having a costume or being given a specific role I would join them, as the other parents did.
While the children got ready upstairs, I groomed myself in the living room. I was sad that Aleksy, Tommy and Franceska wouldn’t be joining us, but the boys refused point blank to go on the basis that they were too old. Growing up was hard, but it was definitely difficult for parents, I knew that with George. They became more independent, needed you less, wanted you less even, which could be hurtful. It was something that I was having to learn to accept and Franceska and I were in a similar situation on this one.
The children emerged giddy with excitement. Toby was in a Spiderman costume and Summer was dressed in a black cape with a tall pointed black hat and a false nose. She looked a bit scary in a very cute way. George, being carried by Summer, had a little black hat on and he looked adorable. I was sure he would earn the kids extra sweets this year. Claire picked up the broomstick, and we all headed out to meet Polly, Martha and Henry.
All assembled, they decided to start at the end of the street. I was slightly disappointed by this. Edgar Road is a long road and it meant I would have quite a wait before we reached next door.
We approached the first house. Summer, Martha and George were all at the door, trying to balance on the broomstick, when it tipped and George fell off.
‘Yowl.’ He landed on his tail.
‘Martha, that was your fault!’ Summer stormed.
‘No, it was yours,’ Martha bit back, and Martha never got cross. Polly picked George up and petted him, Claire picked the broomstick up and as the girls glared at each other with their arms crossed, a kindly woman answered the door, and thrust sweets at them. They soon forgot to argue and were happy to get back on the broomstick. However, Toby took George from Polly and offered to carry him, which seemed the safest bet.
We crossed the street to a house opposite which was a real mess. The garden was overgrown, the house had peeling paint, and it looked sad, if it was possible for a house to look so. I saw Polly and Claire exchange a glance.
‘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.
