A Friend Called Alfie

A Friend Called Alfie Rachel Wells The Sunday Times bestseller returns for a sixth book! Alfie and his mischievous kitten George are back for more adventures – this time with a puppy in tow… At Christmas time we all need a friend… Alfie and his kitten, George, have always known that a human is for life and not just for Christmas. So when George learns that one of the residents of Edgar Road has been taken into hospital, he realises it’s up to him to provide some comfort at this difficult time of year. The only problem is that they now have a little puppy in tow – Pickles the Pug, who is convinced he can be a cat if only he sticks with his new found friends. As George tries to do everything he can to make the world – and its humans – happier, Alfie struggles to keep Pickles in check and out of trouble. Because even the best laid plans can be destroyed by a well-meaning – but mischievous – little puppy… Join Alfie, George – and now Pickles – as they come to the rescue of some lonely souls. The perfect read for fans of James Bowen from the Sunday Times bestseller. A FRIEND CALLED ALFIE Rachel Wells Copyright (#uc2618bbc-985c-50a6-b772-919d46a82da5) Published by AVON A Division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF www.harpercollins.co.uk (http://www.harpercollins.co.uk) First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2019 Copyright © Rachel Wells 2019 Cover design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2019 Cover photographs © Shutterstock.com (http://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 Dedication (#uc2618bbc-985c-50a6-b772-919d46a82da5) For Jessica. Contents Cover (#u81a5455b-442c-5cd7-99a1-09d917c8ed11) Title Page (#u223cbc1a-38d9-58ed-b841-3dd4c8d7324e) Copyright Dedication Chapter One (#u475c875f-10d9-589b-8dfc-a228e33b7beb) Chapter Two (#uc37589c2-3f1f-5d12-9690-d4dbc93d0467) Chapter Three (#u2c9f9b8a-6c11-51a4-96f7-0bc07b04c4e6) Chapter Four (#u4adb5bb1-2242-5135-832e-624bd0ea1634) Chapter Five (#ubf142984-047a-52eb-9a56-693643700614) Chapter Six (#u7c1b91e5-255f-5bfe-99d5-0293e98c59a1) Chapter Seven (#u649b7d0f-8ef5-5795-baf8-5df91f537ae0) Chapter Eight (#u463161ec-a35a-54df-b2ac-cef3d969ee37) Chapter Nine (#ue8b9d64c-aab8-5aa8-986e-65869de29c72) Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Twenty-Two (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Twenty-Three (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Twenty-Four (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Twenty-Five (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Twenty-Six (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Twenty-Seven (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Twenty-Eight (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Twenty-Nine (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Thirty (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Thirty-One (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Thirty-Two (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Thirty-Three (#litres_trial_promo) Catstrology Acknowledgements Keep Reading … About the Author Also by Rachel Wells About the Publisher Chapter One (#ulink_e0eb1448-2403-5c2a-acb6-b1e698c4e1ad) 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. In the evenings at the cottage, Claire cooked, Jonathan relaxed, the children, worn out by the activities slept well. Sometimes the neighbours came round, or someone would babysit for us while Claire and Jonathan went to the local pub. We were quite friendly with some of the other families in the village, Seabreeze had become a home from home. Even the next door neighbour, Andrea, who once tried to run us out of the village, was our friend now. It’s a long story which culminated in Seabreeze Cottage almost being set on fire, but luckily Gilbert and I foiled the plan and saved the day. It’s what I did. As I said it’s a very long story but Andrea, who had been deserted by her husband, now had a new man friend called Fred, who was very jolly, and everyone agreed he made Andrea a lot more likeable. It’s a shame the same couldn’t be said for her cat, Chanel. Chanel was George’s first crush, she was a mean, unfriendly cat, and George’s devotion to her had been quite alarming. Luckily he had moved on now and saw her for the scowling cat she was. Despite the family being friends of ours now, Chanel still hissed at us whenever she saw us. Not everyone is kind, unfortunately, and not everyone wants to be a good friend. I am, George is, my humans are, but Chanel certainly isn’t. Thankfully George has learnt to give her a wide berth, and her hiss is definitely worse than her bite – not that we ever get close enough to test that theory. ‘Right, it’s getting late, we should be getting home before Claire worries,’ I said, worn out from rolling and covered in sand. ‘OK, but we can come and play this again, can’t we?’ George asked. ‘If you’re good,’ Gilbert replied, giving me a blink. ‘I might need a day or two to recover,’ I said. ‘I’m not as young as you, George.’ ‘No, but you’re not old either,’ he replied quickly. Gilbert and I exchanged a glance. Since losing Tiger, George was worried about losing me too. It was only natural but I wasn’t going anywhere. There were plenty of lives left in this cat yet. ‘Oh there you are boys,’ Claire said, when we walked into the kitchen, having done our best to get the sand off us and failed, as usual. When we went back to London from Seabreeze, the sand had a habit of coming back with us. ‘Meow,’ I said in greeting before the three of us headed over to our food bowls to eat our supper. ‘Right, well Jonathan and I are about to settle down to watch a film if you want to join us?’ she said. I loved how Claire always spoke and treated us as if we were humans. We were cleverer than most humans, but I appreciated the gesture anyway. ‘Meow,’ I said. Snuggling up on the sofa in front of a film sounded the perfect way to end the day. We ate, cleaned up and headed into the small TV room. Gilbert took his spot on his favourite chair while George and I curled up in the middle of the sofa – the comfiest place. ‘Blimey, Claire, there’s barely any room for us, these cats take up all our space,’ Jonathan said as he squeezed himself into the small space we’d left for him. ‘But, darling, we wouldn’t have it any other way,’ Claire replied, kissing him on the cheek and trying to move us. George and I pretended to be asleep, so in the end, she had no choice but to sit on the floor in front of her husband. Chapter Two (#ulink_0f68bd12-f60d-50bf-bc94-e1b4a6faf130) ‘Back to Edgar Road, tomorrow, son,’ I said, trying to hide my sadness that our holiday in Lynstow was coming to an end. I loved being here; I enjoyed the change of scene, especially getting to see Gilbert, I loved how relaxed my family seemed, not to mention the beach. I even quite liked sand now. Actually no, I tolerated sand but I struggle with the way it sticks to my fur like glue and makes grooming such hard work. But then I loved watching the sunset, and the soothing sound of the waves gently lapping the shore, so perhaps I’ll just have to put up with sand. ‘I know, Dad, and I’m glad to be going back, to see our friends and especially Hana, but I’ll miss it here, and I’ll miss Gilbert of course.’ ‘Me too, but we’ll be back before you know it.’ All our families from London had pledged to come to holiday here together at some point and being here with all of them was one of my favourite times ever. Having everyone I love under one roof made me feel like the luckiest cat alive. Sure the cottage would be quite crowded, noisy and chaotic, but I wouldn’t want it any other way. ‘But,’ George paused, looking a little upset. ‘This will be the first time we go back to Edgar Road and not see Tiger mum.’ His voice cracked, I could feel his pain. I nuzzled him, reassuringly. ‘I know, son,’ I said. Gilbert looked over at me and gave me a reassuring blink. ‘It’ll be strange not going back and telling her all about our holiday, but we can still tell her.’ The memory brought back the pain I felt every time I would walk past Tiger’s house, like I was being stabbed in the heart. There were times I would wait for her by the cat flap, even though I knew she’d never come out of it again – the sorrow hadn’t abated. It was hard, but as the grown-up, it was my duty to step up and help him through his grief. I learnt that you can’t protect your children from loss; you can’t keep all the bad in the world away from them. However, you can do your best to help them cope with bumps in the road, it’s all any parent can do. Becoming a parent makes you realise how much capacity you have for love, but it also shows you your limitations. No matter how hard you try, you can’t control what the world will send your way. The night was drawing in on our final holiday evening, and I thought about all those I had loved and lost. The pain doesn’t get any easier, but you do get used to it a bit more, I guess. ‘George, do you remember the first time we had to go past her house knowing she wasn’t there?’ ‘Yes, I do, it was horrible in so many ways.’ ‘What about the second time, when she wasn’t there at Christmas?’ ‘It was difficult.’ ‘I know, but what I want you to know is that it gets a little easier each time,’ I said with the authority of someone who knew this to be true. ‘But doesn’t that mean we don’t love her anymore?’ he asked. ‘No, it means we love her just as much as ever, but we also accept that we have to get used to her not being there,’ I tried to explain. ‘You know.’ Gilbert spoke for the first time in ages. ‘Missing someone is natural. George, I miss you when you’re not here in Lynstow, but I have to get on with life, and sometimes when I miss you, I just think of something you said, or when you made me laugh, and I feel better. I almost feel you here with me.’ I felt choked with emotion at Gilbert’s words. ‘I think of Tiger mum all the time.’ ‘Look, George,’ I said, hopping on my paws excitedly as the stars began to appear in the sky. ‘Look at that bright star. What do you see?’ ‘It’s her, I just know it,’ George said, sounding happier. ‘I can tell her all about how we’ve had a lovely holiday now.’ I nodded as he proceeded to do so. Gilbert and I looked on, giving him a bit of space to talk to his mum in the sky. I tried not to get caught up in the unfairness of it all. I still hadn’t accepted why she had to be taken from us, but I also knew that overcoming my own issues was part of process too, but something I felt I had to keep hidden from George. No yowling for this cat, at least not until I was alone. ‘You know we are lucky,’ I said, trying to keep my voice steady, as George finished speaking. ‘We are,’ Gilbert said. Gilbert came to live in Seabreeze Cottage after running away from his home. I learnt that not every human was kind to their pets and I felt so sorry for him when I first heard his story, but at least now he had us, and he loved his life here. We tried to get him to come and live in London with us, but he said he wouldn’t be able to live away from the sea. I could almost understand that, but I loved London too. I loved the traffic and the bustle, and of course, London was where my other friends and families lived too. ‘We’re lucky that we get to spend time here, together,’ George said. ‘And I’m lucky to have such good families and friends. Not to mention how blessed I am to be such a handsome and charming cat who everyone loves.’ George winked with his right eye. ‘Chip off the old block that one,’ Gilbert said, with a grin. I had no idea what he meant. Packing up the cottage was always a bit of a frantic time. Not for George and me – we did very little but watch on as Jonathan moaned about how much stuff Claire had brought. He would grumble ‘how on earth am I supposed to fit it in the car’ although he always did. George and I would sit on the lawn and watch him huffing and puffing and saying words that no child or cat should hear, sweat rolling down his face in the sun as he tried to get all the suitcases into the boot of the car. While he was doing that, Claire would be tidying the place. Although there was a caretaker at Seabreeze who cleaned the place and fed Gilbert, Claire wouldn’t dream of her thinking she was above cleaning her own house. So she whipped through the house from top to bottom while the children got to play with their friends for the last time. Gilbert had made himself scarce. We said goodbye to him that morning as we had a last walk before our long journey home. He didn’t actually like to see us go, he said it made him sad, so he would always disappear just before we were setting off. He was a softy at times, despite the fact that he was a survivor cat, who proved to be made of sterner stuff than many. I would miss him. But I knew we’d see him again soon. And as I felt sad I remembered how lucky I was to have so many friends and such good ones at that. Once the house was emptied of our stuff, Claire, as usual, had to check the house again before she was satisfied we hadn’t left anything behind. Jonathan would surely moan about the traffic they were bound to hit if we didn’t get moving soon. They rounded up the children who were tearful at having to say goodbye to their summer holiday. Claire jollied them along by reminding them they were going to see their friends at home soon, and George and I were put into our car carrier, which I didn’t love to be honest. Although George and me were in it together, and there was a soft blanket for us to lie on, I wasn’t a fan of feeling caged. It made me a bit anxious, not that I’d let on to George. It was a shame, I thought, as I hid my feelings that Jonathan didn’t do the same. ‘Claire, if we don’t get going soon I’m going to be driving for hours and hours longer than necessary,’ he snapped. ‘OK, keep your hair on, we’re ready. Toby, strap yourself in,’ she commanded as she strapped Summer into her car seat. Toby was old enough to do it himself. Finally, after going back to check the house one last time, Claire got into the car. ‘Right, can I leave now?’ Jonathan asked, sounding tetchy. ‘Yes, is everyone alright?’ ‘I’m hungry,’ Summer said, and the long journey home began. It was nightfall by the time we reached Edgar Road. Jonathan was right, the traffic had been terrible, but Claire managed to entertain him by asking him crossword clues. I learnt that if Jonathan felt clever he was happy, so I think Claire only asked him clues she knew he’d know the answer to. She was quite intelligent, my Claire. The children were given snacks, and finally, they fell asleep, which meant the journey was long but peaceful. Even George slept gently beside me. I was desperate to stretch my legs and get some fresh air. As Claire got the children into the house and Jonathan took the luggage out, letting George and me out first, I breathed the London air, so different from Devon but so familiar. ‘Welcome home, son,’ I said as George and I stretched. Before we went into the house, I allowed myself a quick glance towards where Tiger used to live. No, it wasn’t easier yet, but I hoped that it would before too long as I swallowed back a yowl. When Tiger was alive the first thing I would have done after a holiday was to have gone to see her, and tell her how glad I was to be home. But I couldn’t do that now, I couldn’t tell her how much I’d missed her, and it pained me to have to turn away from her house, knowing she was no longer there. I blinked away a tear, ushered my son inside the house and stepped into the warmth of home. Once in the kitchen, I prepared to settle him down for the night, it had been a long and tiring journey. Frankly I just wanted to forget everything and sleep, hoping tomorrow I would wake up feeling better, or at least ready for a new day. Chapter Three (#ulink_da20728a-ac67-53bd-bea9-58cb21020b25) The week after getting back from Devon, I developed post-holiday blues. Jonathan had to go straight back to work to start his new job. Overnight the relaxed – well for Jonathan anyway – holiday Jonathan was replaced by an even more stressed out one than usual. Claire had to get the children ready to start school again – buying uniforms, shoes and bags and organising clubs; it was a flurry of activity for everyone. But I felt flat, and although I got to see my other humans and cat friends, I still couldn’t quite shake the gloom. It didn’t help that London was greyer than Devon and I was feeling more than a little bit down in the dumps. I kept telling George that our grief over Tiger would get easier, but it wasn’t feeling that way at the moment. Seeing our cat friends on Edgar Road – Rocky, Elvis, Nellie, and even the sour-faced Salmon – couldn’t cheer me up. My paws felt heavy as I walked, although I knew I needed to snap out of it, I had no idea how. Being a cat wasn’t always as easy as people thought. I did, thankfully, have a bit of time to myself to try to let out my sadness, which I could only do alone. George was next door with his best friend Hana, a lovely cat who moved here from Japan last year. Hana was about the same age as George, and she was ‘Mikeneko’ which means she had a coat of three colours, in English, we would say Tortoiseshell. She was beautiful and sweet, one of the calmest cats I’d ever met – quite the opposite to my boy. I did wonder if George and Hana were more than friends, after all the boy was growing up. George could act a bit like a teenager when I asked him about Hana – he would shut me down pretty quickly, and say they were just good friends. His reluctance just made me want to know more … However, they did adore each other regardless of their relationship status, and they saw one another most days. Hana had been a house cat in Japan and didn’t go out, something that both horrified and fascinated me. Since being in London, we had managed to get her out a bit, but she preferred being indoors. It was her choice, and I understood that it took all sorts of cats to make the world go round. Hana lived next door to us with Sylvie and her teenage daughter Connie. Connie was the girlfriend of my first human child friend, Aleksy, who I had known almost from the first day I arrived at Edgar Road. I couldn’t believe he was a teenager now, my child friends were growing up fast. Aleksy and Connie had a sweet relationship, a lot of hand-holding and blushes. However, they were both clever children, and so I personally thought they were a good match. Also, Sylvie was now seeing one of our other friends, Marcus, which made her happy. I had to admit she was a bit unstable when she first moved here, and she had me a little worried. She’d been through a horrible divorce, so it was understandable. She was lonely and missing her home in Japan. I knew how hard starting over could be, after all, I had done it. But lately, she smiled a lot. Also, she always gave us fresh fish when we visited which obviously helped. We all met Marcus through his father, Harold, who happens to be one of George’s best human friends. George and I saved his life last year when he was ill, and since then he’s become part of our family. We know so many people, I know, it’s hard to keep track of them all, but that is what a doorstep cat does, and I’m very good at it if I do say so myself. Perhaps the reason I was feeling glum was because I was feeling a bit left out. Everyone was in love, or at least it seemed that way, apart from me, who had lost the only two cat women I had ever loved. Snowball, my first love moved away with her family a few years back, and you all know about Tiger. Goodness, I really was feeling sorry for myself. I didn’t usually wallow in self-indulgence, but today I was letting myself feel my feelings. So I curled up on Jonathan’s favourite cashmere blanket, which I am absolutely not allowed anywhere near, under any circumstances, and had a little therapeutic cat nap. George woke me, bounding up to me excitedly and then sitting on my tail. He was a little bit clumsy sometimes, my boy. ‘Hey,’ I said, stretching my paws out and yawning. ‘Claire just came home with Toby, Summer, Henry and Martha and said that Polly was coming round in a bit with a surprise for us all.’ His eyes were wide with excitement. ‘I think that includes us, Dad.’ Since Jonathan had secured his big promotion, Claire had given up her part-time job so she could spend more time with the children. Polly worked irregular hours sometimes and Matt was quite busy, so Claire said she was a bit like their part-time nanny. Claire also looked after Harold, George’s old man friend who lived at the end of Edgar Road, Marcus’ father. She did his shopping and dropped in on him regularly making sure he ate a good lunch. Marcus lived with him and took care of him, but he had to work, and of course he also had Sylvie, so Claire helped out there a lot. She loved looking after people – and cats – and she was very good at it. Mind you, I think she learnt a lot of her skills from me. ‘A surprise, you say?’ I narrowed my eyes. ‘Do you think it’s food?’ ‘I don’t know, but Claire said that Polly had sworn her to secrecy, the children are excited, and I’m hoping that it might be something for all of us, we should go downstairs so we don’t miss it.’ George hopped around excitedly, catching my tail yet again. ‘Yowl! George, you need to be more careful,’ I gently chastised. I knew he wouldn’t be, he never was. ‘Did you have a nice afternoon?’ I asked, thinking I may get to find out a little more about his feelings for Hana. ‘With Hana,’ I added. ‘Yes, I’ll tell you about it later, but come on, let’s go now otherwise we’ll never find out what this surprise is. ‘What on earth is that?’ George asked as eyes wide we stared at something wriggling in Polly’s arms. ‘I have never seen anything like it,’ I said. It was tiny. Smaller than George had been as a kitten. We all peered in, the thing was a light brown colour, with a dark brown snout and dark brown tips to his ears. ‘It’s a puppy!’ Martha shouted, going to her mum and trying to reach for it. George and I exchanged a glance. Surely not? They wouldn’t … Polly bent down. ‘Yes, it’s a puppy, but he’s very little, so we need to be gentle, and we also need to make sure that we don’t scare him by being too loud.’ The children crowded around. ‘Whose puppy is it?’ Summer asked, suspiciously. ‘Well, Summer, he is going to live with us at our house,’ Polly said. ‘But when I’m at work, he’ll be here with Claire, and with you guys when you get back from school, so in a way, he’s all of ours.’ ‘A bit like Alfie and George?’ Toby asked. He was a bright boy. ‘Exactly.’ ‘What’s his name?’ Henry asked. ‘We don’t have one yet, love,’ his mum replied. ‘So this afternoon we should all think of a name for him. He’s a pug by the way.’ ‘Yay.’ The children all started throwing out suggestions and George and I backed away into the kitchen. ‘Puppy,’ Summer shouted. ‘Nah that’s boring,’ Henry replied. ‘Flower,’ Martha suggested. ‘But he’s a boy,’ Toby pointed out. ‘Spiderman,’ Henry shouted. ‘Don’t be silly,’ Summer replied. George and I left them to it. ‘Is this what I think it is?’ George asked, sounding horrified. ‘What do you think it is?’ I asked. ‘A dog, they got a dog.’ ‘I’m afraid it seems as if they have. Although it’s quite a strange-looking dog. And small, but it’ll probably grow a bit like you did.’ I couldn’t believe Polly would betray us like this. Who on earth got a dog when there were two perfectly good cats around? ‘And they said this dog will be at our house a lot,’ George said. ‘This cannot be happening. It’s the worst thing in the world.’ He put his head in his paws. I have to admit I felt like doing the same, but I had a feeling that this puppy was here to stay, and therefore, I had quite a lot of sorting out to do. I’ve never been a dog fan, Tiger and I used to tease dogs on leads by getting them to chase us and sit just out of reach so they couldn’t get us – it was just so much fun. Although I have been chased by a dog or two in my time, I have never let one catch me. I always outsmart them. But I digress. The problem is that I think of dogs as being like cats but without the brains, which is why they don’t get to be independent the way we cats are. Perhaps my prejudice wasn’t a good thing to pass onto George. Because by the sounds of it, this puppy was going to be at our house a lot and I knew that we needed to be friends with it, I mean him. We couldn’t be mean, that wasn’t what we did. And the humans seemed to like him, so we had to too. It might not be easy, but we would have to do our best. ‘George, I might not be a fan of dogs, but I have to be honest with you, I haven’t actually spent any quality time with one.’ ‘What? Never?’ ‘Nope, and I don’t actually personally know any dogs,’ I explained. ‘So why do you say they are all terrible?’ George asked, eyes wide. ‘Um, good question. Sometimes we judge things before we really know them, I may have done that with dogs.’ I was desperate to limit any damage before George traumatised the very tiny dog. ‘I think it’s just a cat and dog thing, we are different from them, and that’s OK. This puppy, he’s a baby, we need to give him a chance.’ I wasn’t sure if I was making any sense, but this was a new side of me. I was being forced to turn my long-held convictions on their head. That wasn’t going to be easy. ‘So you mean this dog might be OK?’ He didn’t sound convinced, but then neither was I. ‘He might be, in fact, I’m sure he will be. Remember how we try to get everyone to be friends, well in this case that includes the puppy dog, I’m afraid.’ I had a feeling I wasn’t doing the best job ever. But this was a new situation for me. ‘Um, so I shouldn’t hiss at him? Or try to scratch him.’ ‘No, George.’ Something occurred to me. ‘The thing is that he’s clearly a baby and he’s come to live with Polly and family, the way you came to live with us as a tiny kitten and that was quite frightening in the early days wasn’t it?’ ‘Yes, and when Toby came to live with us he was frightened too wasn’t he?’ George had many faults, but he was a very perceptive lad. Toby was adopted by Claire and Jonathan a few years back. Now it seemed as if he had always been here with us, but it had been hard for him at first. ‘This dog might be feeling frightened and we must be superior cats to make sure he’s alright.’ I had always tried to impart that kindness was the most important thing we could do for one another. ‘Alright, Dad, in this case, I will do so but also if he does turn out to be the way you say dogs can be I can’t guarantee that I’ll be nice to him forever.’ ‘That sounds reasonable and fair, George,’ I said. I hoped this puppy might prove me wrong about dogs. I’m not sure I felt that optimistic, though. But even I, faced with one of my long-held views, was questioning myself. Claire came into the kitchen, clutching the puppy to her chest. He was tiny and had quite short legs. Even though I wasn’t sure how big he would grow to be, I desperately hoped he wouldn’t grow too big. Big dogs definitely scared me if they got too close. ‘Alfie, George, come and meet our new friend,’ she said, gently, moving towards us and kneeling down. George and I exchanged glances as we tentatively moved nearer. I had never seen a dog like this up close before. He was calmer now and, as we peered at him, the little dog put his tongue out and licked his nose. Then he seemed to focus on us, with his big eyes, but it was hard to tell what he was thinking. Just then he gave a little wag of his short tail which sort of stuck to his bottom. ‘Oh goodness, he already likes you!’ Claire exclaimed. ‘Welcome to the family, and Alfie, George, it’s time for you to formally meet Pickles. The children voted and this name, which was Polly’s idea, actually won.’ Really? Just as I thought it couldn’t get any worse. Pickles? What kind of name was that? Even for a dog. Chapter Four (#ulink_e0eb1448-2403-5c2a-acb6-b1e698c4e1ad) It was Monday, our first day alone with Pickles the pug. We’d locked eyes with him a lot, but not one of the children let him out of their sight. They really did seem to adore him, which put George’s nose out of joint a bit. Being usurped by a dog was pretty low. Claire had given us a bit of a lecture this morning, because Pickles was coming to our house and would be left alone with us while Claire took the children to school. She wasn’t ready to take him on the school run, but said she would be doing so when he was a bit bigger. What this had to do with us, I had no idea, but we listened. Or I did, George was cleaning his paws and sulking. She went on to share that our new ‘friend’ Pickles was two months old. He was supposed to go to a family, but something happened, and they couldn’t have him at the last minute. Someone Polly worked with asked her if she knew anyone who wanted an adorable pug puppy, and Polly knew Matt had always wanted one. I was still coming to terms with the fact the children had been asking for a puppy (how dare they?), as it would also mean they had a pet who lived with them. I suppose, we visited often but didn’t live there, so Polly and Matt decided we all had a share in a puppy. Hmm. Not one to keep things succinct, Claire told us that Pickles was allowed outside, because he had been to the vet. Apparently, he’d had the right injections, but he mustn’t go out on his own because he was a dog, not a cat. Not that we needed reminding of that. So, she was asking us to stay in with Pickles until she got back from the school run, rather than go into the garden or for our usual early morning walk. Torture for a doorstep cat. Finally, she finished talking just as the doorbell went and we opened it to find Polly, Henry and Martha stood on our doorstep. Henry was holding Pickles. Polly rushed off as she was running late, the children all crowded around Pickles in the hallway, fussing him. George looked at me. ‘Is he going to take all the attention off me forever?’ George sounded horrified. ‘Of course not, he’s a novelty right now but what do I always tell you? There’s enough love to go round.’ ‘Um, maybe, but I am so much cuter than him.’ George stomped his paw. ‘Of course you are, George.’ George was so used to being the centre of attention, and now there was a new pet on the block. This might not be as straightforward as I thought. Actually, I never thought it would be straightforward, but this was threatening to be more of a nightmare than I imagined. ‘Hello,’ I said, unsure if he would be able to understand me when George, Pickles and I were finally alone. ‘Are you my new friends?’ Pickles asked. ‘Yes, I suppose we are your new friends,’ I replied. He sounded young, and if I was honest, when he looked at me with his big eyes, he was quite adorable. But George was still sulking, I’m not sure he agreed. ‘I’m happy to meet you both,’ Pickles said. ‘It’s scary living with a new family, but everyone seems so nice,’ he mouthed, as he ran around in a circle. Why can’t puppies stay still? ‘What are you doing?’ George asked, scowling in Pickles’ direction. ‘I’m trying to catch my tail,’ Pickles replied. He might get smarter as he got older, I thought, and tried to convey this to George through my glare. ‘So are you settling in well?’ I asked. It still felt a bit awkward, although it was easier to talk to him now he was no longer running in circles. ‘Yes, I cried a bit last night because I felt lonely. Henry convinced Polly that I could sleep on his bed, so I snuggled up to him, and that wasn’t quite so bad.’ ‘You like to talk,’ George pointed out. ‘Be nice,’ I whispered to George. ‘Welcome to Edgar Road,’ George said, not exactly sounding welcoming. ‘And we both arrived here on our own at different points. So you know, if you feel a bit down, you can talk to us,’ I said, more kindly. ‘Thank you, I think I’m going to like it here,’ Pickles said. Then he sat down and smiled at us with his wrinkly face. ‘Dad, can I go out?’ George asked. ‘We’re supposed to be looking after Pickles,’ I pointed out. ‘But I told Hana I’d go and see her this morning.’ Although Hana didn’t go out much, she had a cat flap, so George visited her regularly, as did I sometimes. I didn’t want to force him to stay and help me with Pickles as he’d probably end up resenting me for it, so I thought I’d be best off letting him go. Although, I would have liked to go out … ‘OK, I can take care of Pickles, but you need to get used to him because he’s going to be here a lot,’ I whispered to George, as we moved towards the back door. ‘Fine, and I will be nice, but now I would rather be with my actual friend.’ George sounded a bit surly; he was still a little put out at how the children ignored him as soon as Pickles arrived on the scene. It was jealousy, something that siblings often suffered from. Goodness, get me I was already thinking of him as if he was part of the family, which was very magnanimous of me if I did say so myself. ‘But give Pickles a chance, George, after all he might be a bit like a brother to you now.’ ‘Well perhaps, seeing as you are so keen to adopt the puppy, you might tell him not to eat your food,’ George snapped before he disappeared out of the cat flap. I turned to see Pickles, nose deep in my breakfast. ‘Pickles, that food is not for you, it’s for cats,’ I said, trying not to sound angry. I had been saving that, though, so now I’d be hungry later. ‘I thought it tasted a bit funny. Never mind, can we go and play now?’ Oh goodness, I thought, here I was yet again in the role of reluctant parent. Why did this keep happening to me? I was so pleased to see Claire when she came home that I ran straight into her legs and gave them a welcoming rub. I was also happy to see that she had Sylvie with her. Pickles had been very busy, exploring the house; he had tried to get into every cupboard, thankfully he didn’t succeed. Finally he found some food that the kids had dropped under the kitchen table, which he ate despite me telling him not to before he ran into a door. He was clearly in the learning stage of life, and only at the very beginning. After he’d eaten, he then ran up and down the kitchen for no apparent reason before jumping into the dog bed that Claire had put in the corner for him. ‘Are you alright?’ I had asked. He was breathing quite heavily and making a snorting, or snuffling noise. ‘I have had so much fun with you this morning, Alfie, but I’m tired now so I might just close my eyes.’ As he had drifted off to sleep, I thought about joining him, I was so exhausted. ‘Oh my goodness he’s so cute,’ Sylvie said, picking him out of his bed and giving him a cuddle. I kind of understood how George felt, as I became invisible. ‘Isn’t he? The kids love him, and Polly is besotted. I think she wanted a third child, but Matt put his foot down, so Pickles has taken that place.’ ‘Makes sense. I’ve always been more of a cat person myself, but he is adorable. Look at that little face.’ As Pickles wiggled into Sylvie’s arms, Claire gave me a head scratch. ‘Where’s George?’ she asked me. ‘Meow,’ I replied. ‘He’s at ours,’ Sylvie replied, ‘he came in just before I bumped into you.’ ‘Right, shall I put the kettle on?’ Claire said. ‘Please, I’d love a coffee, but then I’m not sure I can bear to pull myself away from Pickles to drink it.’ ‘Honestly, everyone adores him. But then we have to make sure Alfie and George don’t feel left out,’ Claire said. Ah, so someone had noticed us after all. I purred with pleasure. ‘Claire, you treat those cats as if they’re your children sometimes.’ ‘They are.’ Claire shrugged and I purred in agreement. ‘So how are things with Marcus?’ Claire asked, and I settled down to listen to the latest news. ‘Good, we’re taking it slowly, what with all we’ve both been through, but it’s nice having him live so near, and he’s such a good man. Also, he grounds me, stops me from my you know, my darker thoughts, I guess.’ ‘I heard a whisper that Harold thinks you are wonderful,’ Claire said with a laugh. ‘From Harold, that is a huge compliment,’ Sylvie laughed. Harold could be very grumpy but a bit like a chocolate, despite the hard exterior he had a soft centre. ‘And speaking of Harold, I have to go and see him in a bit, shall I take you, Pickles?’ Claire asked. ‘Woof,’ Pickles replied, and I knew that although he had no idea who Harold was, he very much wanted to go and I would be able to have a luxurious rest on my own. Chapter Five (#ulink_ee596f45-00a2-538a-9f8c-ea1441dbd765) After a frankly exhausting time with Pickles the pug, I went out to see if any of my friends were about. I hoped to bump into George who seemed to be giving the house a wide berth. I needed to talk to him because Pickles needed us, both of us, and I needed George to see that. I also could have used the help, having been run ragged by the puppy. And it was only day one. I understood George had mixed feelings. Not only had I always told him to avoid dogs, but he was now supposed to accept someone into his life, his family, that he was unsure of. I padded over to the area where we cats often hang out, sort of our recreation ground on Edgar Road. Nellie was there, lying near a bush, and Elvis was nearby playing with some leaves. I joined them. ‘Hey, Alfie,’ they both greeted me. ‘Have you seen George?’ I asked. ‘He came by earlier and said that he was going to see Harold.’ ‘Right, and did he tell you about the puppy?’ I asked. ‘Yes, and I got the impression he’s not too impressed,’ Nellie said. ‘He said that dogs are dumb and he shouldn’t have to be nice to it.’ ‘Pickles, not it,’ I said. ‘Goodness, this might be worse than I thought. I was afraid that this might happen, but Pickles is just a baby, and it looks like he’s a full member of the family now. They’re not going to give him back after all. And I wouldn’t want that to happen to any pet.’ ‘A dog, in a cat’s world,’ Elvis mused. ‘What am I going to do? I’ve always been against dogs, but now I am babysitting one! Anyway, I like him, and I need to find a way to get George to do the same.’ ‘Your life is always getting complicated, isn’t it?’ Nellie pointed out. She was right, it was. And now there was Pickles. ‘The lad is still hurting about Tiger, and now there’s yet another change in his life.’ Elvis could be a very wise cat when the mood took him. ‘I know, so I can’t be too demanding, but I think I need to get him to at least tolerate Pickles sooner rather than later. He’s going to be at our house a lot, and I don’t want George to go out every time he comes.’ I felt a shudder run through my fur at the thought of me having to babysit the dog alone. I didn’t want Pickles to come between us. ‘And when he’s a bit older we can probably go out and leave him. Or maybe Claire will take him with her more, dogs tend to go out with humans a lot, so it’s just in the short term. Hopefully.’ The idea that I could sell this to George cheered me. ‘Exactly, Alfie, this dog is now part of the family, so maybe you should just get George to think of him as his little brother and teach him what he knows,’ Nellie said. ‘What?’ I was confused. ‘Well, if they brought another kitten in he might be a bit jealous at first, but then you’d say he was a big brother and he had to teach the kitten to cat, so why don’t you give him that role with Pickles?’ ‘You know, Nellie, you might have something there. I’ll tell him he’s a big brother now with responsibility, and if he teaches Pickles all he knows—’ I paused and tried not to think of all the scrapes George got himself in ‘—then he might accept him more readily. You guys are amazing, thank you. And where’s Rocky?’ ‘Oh he was tired, so he went off for a nap. That cat likes its sleep.’ ‘What cat doesn’t?’ I replied. George appeared shortly afterwards, saving me from having to go and find him. ‘How was Harold?’ I asked. Harold and George shared a love of digestive biscuits, among other things. Harold dunked them in strong tea, until they were soggy and then fed them to George. ‘He was fine, good actually. It’s nice and quiet at his house. Not like ours,’ George replied in that stroppy way of his when he was sulking. ‘Although Claire took Pickles to see him earlier and even he said the dog was sweet.’ He stomped his paw. ‘George, I know you’re not happy about Pickles, but I need you to help me,’ I started, carefully. ‘Help you do what?’ George asked, sounding surly. ‘George, when you came to live with me, I was your dad straight away, and you were so tiny, there was so much for me to teach you.’ ‘So?’ Gosh this boy could act like a teenager at times. ‘Well, you had me, and our cat friends, and Tiger mum to help you learn as you grew, so that made you very lucky.’ ‘S’pose.’ ‘Right, but Pickles, well he doesn’t have anyone to guide him, apart from us. And I know it’s different because he’s a dog but he doesn’t have any other dog friends. He probably misses his mum very much, he’s just a baby.’ ‘I guess so. But what can I do about it?’ ‘You can be a big brother to him, like Aleksy, Henry and Toby all are. It’s a very important, responsible role.’ ‘It is?’ ‘Of course, you’ve seen how much our human big brothers take care of the little ones, and it’s a role that I think you are ready for.’ I noticed that Elvis and Nellie were listening and trying not to grin. We all knew the way to get George to agree to anything was flattery. ‘In fact,’ I continued, ‘you would probably make the best big brother ever.’ No,’ George said. Which surprised me. ‘Why not?’ I asked. ‘He doesn’t live with me so he can’t be my brother.’ He wouldn’t meet my eyes. ‘What about a cousin then?’ Nellie suggested. ‘I’m like an aunt to you, George, so how about you be a big cousin to Pickles.’ ‘That’s a great idea, Nellie.’ I nuzzled her in gratitude. ‘But what do I have to do as a big cousin?’ George asked. ‘You can teach him things,’ Elvis said. ‘Yes,’ Nellie added. ‘You are a cat, and he’s a dog, but there’s still plenty you can show him.’ ‘You mean that I can teach him things that I can do?’ George at least sounded interested now. ‘That’s right, George. You can also show him how to be kind, how to be caring, all the important lessons that we taught you,’ I added. ‘And what about you? You can’t be his dad because you’re my dad,’ he said, and I heard jealousy rearing up in his voice. ‘If you’re like a cousin to him then maybe I can be a bit like an uncle to him. Does that sound OK with you? Because you are my son, my number one and you always will be, understood?’ ‘Yes, you’re right, we need to be nice to Pickles. He can be my friend, after all.’ George hopped around, and even I was surprised by the sudden change in attitude. ‘Oh George, that’s so great, and you’ll grow to love him, I’m sure you will.’ I crossed my paws he would anyway. ‘After all, I have a very big heart,’ George said. ‘You do,’ Nellie agreed, in the motherly way of hers. ‘The biggest,’ Elvis added, he was a wise cat, when he felt like it, as he licked his paw. ‘And I am proud of you every single day,’ I added, as emotion overwhelmed me. ‘A bit like how I was friends with Hana when she moved from Japan and was lonely, I can try to be the same with Pickles. But Hana’s my best friend, so I won’t like Pickles as much as I like her.’ ‘That’s OK.’ I sensed the need for baby steps. ‘You’re right, Dad. Pickles is a silly puppy, who doesn’t know anything, right?’ ‘I’m not sure about the silly part but yes,’ I agreed. Actually, he was silly, but I was trying to get George to bond with him, not tease him. ‘So, I need to teach him everything I know,’ George added. ‘Exactly,’ I agreed. ‘I will do what you asked, and I will start tomorrow morning. I’m going to teach Pickles catting.’ ‘Eh?’ Nellie said. ‘It makes sense. Pickles is a dog, and everyone knows they’re not as good as cats, so I will increase his chances by teaching him to be like me.’ Nellie, Elvis and I blinked at each other. It wasn’t quite what I had in mind, but seeing as I had somehow led him to this place I couldn’t argue. I didn’t have a paw to stand on after all. ‘It’s more about teaching him things you know,’ I reiterated. ‘And I know how to be a cat. So that is what I will teach him. I’m going to teach Pickles how to be a cat, and I just can’t wait to get started.’ Chapter Six (#ulink_e0eb1448-2403-5c2a-acb6-b1e698c4e1ad) The education of Pickles would have to wait because we had headed next door to Sylvie’s for a Japanese night. The night started out badly when Jonathan was late, because of his new job, which led to an angry hushed exchange at our house between him and Claire. I knew it was because he wanted to change out of his suit, but Claire said he didn’t have time, and that he should have left work earlier. I could see both points, Jonathan was working hard, which he had warned us he would have to, but the reality wasn’t as easy as the theory, it seemed. Sylvie served up some wonderful Japanese food, including raw fish – sashimi – for me, Hana and George before the humans were seated. It was delicious. When Sylvie hosted Japanese night, as many of our families who could make it usually attended. Tonight Polly and Matt couldn’t be there, and Tomasz was working, so it was just Claire and Jonathan, Franceska, her children, Aleksy and Tommy, along with Harold, Sylvie, Marcus and Connie. And us cats of course. Our children were being looked after by our babysitter, Rosie, who lived on our street and helped out for us all from time to time. ‘Who’s hungry?’ Sylvie asked, ushering everyone to sit around their large dining table where the colourful food was laid out waiting for the humans. I wanted to bound over and get stuck in, but I had to show Hana and George manners, so I held back, although my mouth was literally watering from the taster I’d enjoyed beforehand. Harold made a huge fuss of George as usual as he slowly made his way over to the feast. ‘Have you got any bread? Any English food?’ Harold asked, once seated. He insisted on coming to Japanese night, but he refused to eat the food. Perhaps there was some hope of an extra portion? ‘I’ll get you some, Harold,’ Connie offered. ‘Would you like a sandwich?’ she asked, sweetly. ‘If you insist and a nice bit of ham wouldn’t go amiss,’ he mumbled. ‘Anything for you, Harold,’ Sylvie said. She was so calm and patient these days, which with Harold you had to be. ‘Wine?’ Marcus asked, filling up glasses with a warm smile. ‘Yes please,’ Tommy asked, and giggled. Out of the two boys he was the most likely to get into trouble. ‘Tommy, you are far too young,’ Franceska chastised, ruffling his hair in her maternal fashion. ‘As are you, Connie, before you get any ideas,’ Sylvie added but it was all in good humour. Tommy was nearly thirteen, and Connie and Aleksy almost fifteen, growing up so fast. When I first met Tommy, he was still in a pushchair. Goodness, that made me feel old. ‘So how’s the puppy settling in?’ Marcus asked. ‘Ah, he’s gorgeous,’ Claire said. ‘So sweet and so much fun.’ ‘But not as gorgeous as our George,’ Harold said, and I purred in agreement. ‘I can’t wait to meet him,’ Connie added. Claire had organised a sort of ‘welcome to the family’ party for him at the weekend, which of course annoyed George. His whiskers had definitely been put out of joint. ‘I know, I haven’t even seen him yet,’ Jonathan added. ‘Working long hours means I barely see my own family let alone the new puppy.’ He sounded sad, and I did worry about him. He and Claire said it would only be like this while he settled into his new job, and I just hoped it wouldn’t take too long for things to change. ‘But the weekend will be lovely, having us all together,’ Claire reiterated. ‘Harold, you’re definitely coming, aren’t you?’ ‘As long as we get some normal food,’ he blustered. ‘Luckily we don’t get easily offended,’ Marcus laughed. But we were all used to Harold’s ways, and we loved him for it. ‘Then after lunch, we can watch the footie together, Harold,’ Jonathan said. ‘Now, you’re talking.’ He grinned. ‘Can we do anything?’ Sylvie asked. ‘No, all under control, just bring yourselves,’ Claire beamed. ‘And Tomasz has promised he will definitely be here,’ Franceska said. Tomasz could work too hard at the restaurant as well, but he was much better lately now he had a full team of staff in place. ‘I’ll probably be the one to play most with the puppy,’ Tommy said. ‘How come?’ his mum asked. ‘Because I’m the odd one out now. Connie and Aleksy spend the whole time holding hands and making gooey noises, and the other children are still really young kids, so I am in the middle. I’ll train the puppy, I might get him to do some tricks. Even teach him to dance.’ Good luck with that, I thought, as I headed over to experience our feast. I sat back and cleaned myself up, hoping that a morsel might make its way in my direction. George and Hana were occupied, their little heads almost touching, and paws entwined. I was just glad they had each other. ‘George told me all about the puppy,’ Hana said, as I joined them. ‘He sounds interesting,’ she said carefully. ‘Pickles, he’s quite exhausting but quite sweet, Hana. I’m sure you’ll meet him soon,’ I said. ‘I would like to meet him, I’ve never met a dog before, but I’m a little nervous,’ she said. She’d lived a very sheltered life in Japan. ‘Don’t worry, Hana I will be right by your side when you do,’ George said, puffing his chest out. ‘Oh George, you are the best,’ she replied. ‘Then I’m excited to meet him,’ she finished, with a grin. I smiled, because these two were like chalk and cheese. George, a bundle of energy who barely ever stood still and Hana, so calm, even the way she moved was sleek and graceful. George had all the grace of a dog. Oh goodness, now with Pickles in our lives, I really ought to stop thinking that way. I left my boy happily playing with Hana, and I went back to see the humans. I jumped onto Aleksy’s lap and let him fuss over me. He also gave me some of his leftovers, which I received gratefully. ‘Does Alfie like the puppy?’ Aleksy asked. ‘You know Alfie, he’s kind to everyone,’ Claire said, echoing my thoughts. ‘But you know, cats don’t always like dogs,’ Jonathan pointed out. ‘Alfie and George seem to have taken to him, and he already adores them. He follows them around everywhere.’ ‘Alfie, you need to come to our house soon, Dustbin has been really busy, but he’d like to see you,’ Tommy said. Franceska, Tomasz, Aleksy and Tommy lived a few streets away from Edgar Road, and I visited them often, I even stayed there sometimes, but I hadn’t been over since before the holiday. With everything going on, I just hadn’t had a minute. Dustbin worked for the restaurant, he kept the rodents at bay, and we were great friends. He was a feral cat with one of the biggest hearts I knew. He’d helped me get out of a few scrapes over the years, and I missed spending time with him. I wondered if it would be safe to leave George and Pickles alone the following day. It might give George a sense of responsibility and also allow him and Pickles to bond a bit. That way we all win, George would get to be a big brother, or cousin rather, and I got time off. Perfect, it was another good plan. ‘Tomorrow we have careers day,’ Aleksy said. ‘What’s that?’ Jonathan asked. ‘It’s a day of learning about different jobs that we might want to do, so we can begin to think about it,’ Connie explained. ‘God, you are so young, I had no idea what I wanted to do until about ten years ago,’ Marcus said. ‘I’m not sure I’ve decided yet,’ Jonathan joked. ‘Not helpful,’ Claire chastised. ‘What do you do?’ Tommy asked Marcus. ‘I had my own business, but I sold it, so now I work for a business advisory company, where we help companies find ways to grow. I actually quite like it,’ Marcus explained. Tommy made a face. ‘And I work in investments in the City,’ Jonathan added. ‘I’m going to be a fireman,’ Tommy announced. ‘I like to save people, and I like fires.’ No one really wanted to comment on that, and stayed quiet. ‘I think I’d like to work in restaurants,’ Aleksy said. ‘Ah, you just want to suck up to mum and dad,’ Tommy shot. ‘No I do not, I think the business side would be interesting. I like hospitality, and I like the fact that we make people happy with our food.’ ‘Ah, kochanie, we would love for you to work with us one day, but it has to be what you want to do.’ Kochanie was a Polish term of affection, Franceska used it a lot. ‘What about you, Connie?’ ‘I’d like to be a solicitor, I think. Once I’m qualified, I can travel if I want to, or stay here.’ ‘Her father’s a solicitor,’ Sylvie said; her voice filled with sadness and her eyes clouded over. It was a ‘Sylvie moment’, and it could go either way. ‘Maybe it’s in the blood then,’ Marcus quickly cut in, diffusing the situation. He was good at that. She was still bitter about her ex-husband and rightfully so, he went off with a younger woman and they recently had a baby. Connie’s father still lived in Japan, which was very hard for her, as she only got to speak to him on Skype occasionally. Marcus, though, was a top bloke. He knew how to handle the situation, and I was grateful that Sylvie had welcomed him into their lives. ‘It might be in my blood, I think it is,’ Connie finished. ‘Now I have to work hard and get the grades I need to study law at a good university.’ ‘Right, let’s help with the clearing up,’ Franceska suggested and as chairs began scraping along the floor, and plates clanked together, all felt right once again. George and I sat on the back doorstep of our house and watched the stars. ‘So tomorrow I’m in charge of the dog?’ George said, puffing his chest out importantly. ‘You and Pickles can spend some time alone, so you can share your wisdom with him,’ I said. ‘Remember, the most important thing, you need to be kind to Pickles.’ ‘I will be, but does Pickles have to do everything I say?’ ‘I think that sounds a bit more like you’re going to boss him around, rather than teach him.’ ‘OK, but he’s the youngest. If he does something wrong, I can tell him to stop? I’m the boss because I’m the oldest.’ ‘You absolutely can do that, as long as you tell him nicely.’ ‘So I am in charge then.’ There was no point in arguing further. We enjoyed the night air for a bit longer, before we headed inside. I tucked George in where he slept on the end of Toby’s bed on his own blanket. It was so sweet, the bond they shared. At times like this, as I saw my family and my friends, I counted my blessings. Tomorrow I would see my other friend, which would make me very happy indeed. I just hoped and prayed that George and Pickles would be alright together. And that the house was still standing when I got home. Chapter Seven (#ulink_5c5fc134-ca07-5cf7-9d03-8b1628313e27) The following morning, I took my time strolling to Franceska and Tomasz’ place. Autumn was in the air, and leaves were turning brown on the trees, ready to shed. It was one of my favourite times because I loved playing with leaves. It was a sunny but chilly day, and I intended to enjoy the time alone. Since becoming a parent, I had come to value alone time. Now that George was older and went off on his own, I veered from worrying about him to enjoying a bit of peace. However, since being joined by Pickles, I was reminded of when George was a tiny kitten, and I had barely any time to myself. As I enjoyed my walk, I passed a lot of legs on the pavement, people rushing around, busily, no one seemed as chilled as I was. I dodged some pushchair wheels and nearly got stepped on a couple of times, but I was an expert in dodging humans. I even saw a couple of dogs, on leads, and I tried to smile at them, but they didn’t seem to be that keen to smile back. Maybe my new relationship with the dog world would take time. When I arrived, I scooted around the back of the restaurant through the alley I knew well, and headed to the dustbin area where I knew I would find my friend, Dustbin. He was aptly named. Even if he was a bit scruffy looking, and could be a little fragrant at times, I adored him. As did George. ‘Dustbin,’ I said, and then stopped. Next to him was a scruffy-looking female cat, who I had never seen before. ‘Ah Alfie,’ he greeted me. ‘What a nice surprise.’ ‘Who is this?’ I asked as the cat, who on closer inspection was a ginger cat with very green eyes, gave me the once-over. ‘This is Ally, she lives in the next alley. We met when she strayed into my yard while you were away, and then she offered to help with the rodents, so we’ve been hanging out ever since.’ If cats could blush, I am pretty sure that Dustbin might have done so. In fact, I swear his whiskers turned a bit pink. Dustbin, although happy to be friends, was more of a loner cat so this was definitely a turn up for the paws. I was proud of him, and I was pleased for him if it was what I thought it was anyway. ‘Nice to meet you,’ Ally said. She looked a little shy suddenly, which for a big feral cat wasn’t that usual. ‘You too,’ I replied, as we looked at each other. ‘So you’re new around here?’ ‘Not really. I live a few roads away, but then I was exploring one day and came across this place, met Dustbin, and we just got talking.’ ‘So do you have a family or do you live outside like Dustbin?’ ‘I’m a street cat,’ Ally explained. ‘I’ve never lived with a family myself. Dustbin told me so much about you and I thought that you sound nice and I’ve met the family who lives here, so I am very happy to meet you.’ ‘Good to meet you too,’ I said. ‘Right, Alfie, I’ve got things to do. I’ll leave you two to it. See you later, Dustbin.’ ‘See you later, Ally,’ Dustbin said, not quite meeting her eyes. ‘Bye,’ I said as she swished her tail as she strutted away. ‘Well, well well,’ I teased when Dustbin and I were alone. ‘Stop it, Alfie, I mean I know you always told me how nice female company was, but I’m a loner cat as you know. Then I met Ally and well, I can’t explain it, I just like hanging out with her.’ ‘That is so great, and there’s nothing wrong with it. You like spending time with me as well,’ I pointed out. ‘Yeah but it’s different with Ally, I can’t explain it, and I’m probably far too old to be feeling like this, but I look forward to spending all my time with her, and I never want to be apart from her. Even now I kind of miss her.’ He sounded so young and unsure as he explained this. ‘Sorry, Dustbin, but you’re in love, it’s clear to see.’ I did a little hop, I loved to see my friends happy. ‘Don’t know about that, but she’s alright,’ he replied gruffly. I could see through his facade, he was different, had a bit more of a spring in his step, and he definitely seemed happier. ‘Right, well then, why don’t you and I find a nice sunny spot to chill out in, and you can tell me all about alright Ally.’ ‘She’s a very good mouser,’ he said, sounding impressed and then he continued to talk about her. It was both wonderful and slightly weird to see Dustbin this way. Only because he had never been one for other cats or people. Although he had grown fond of George and me, it was more because I didn’t give him much choice in the matter. When we first met he wasn’t that keen on being friends really. So to see him talking about Ally with his eyes lighting up and his voice almost bashful, it was definitely unexpected. Of course, I was happy for him. I’d been in love twice after all, so although it hurt when it was over, it was wonderful while I had it. Claire always went on about some bloke who said ‘it was better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all,’ or something like that, and I totally agreed with that. Because love and loss go hand in hand, but they also both mean you are alive, your heart still beating. Listen to me; Dustbin had made me get all nostalgic and gooey. What was the world coming to? ‘If you ever need any advice about women, you know where to come,’ I offered as I stretched my paws out and got ready to leave. I needed to get back and make sure that Pickles and George were alright. Although part of me didn’t want to go there at all, terrified of what I might find. ‘Thanks, Alfie, but you know, it’ll be, you know, fine. I mean it’s nothing to worry about.’ He was still feigning nonchalance, but I saw how he really felt. We said our goodbyes, and I smiled all the way home. The smile disappeared from my face as soon as I got through the cat flap. Claire was chasing Pickles. Arms outstretched she was running around after him but every time she got close he seemed to dodge her. Her face was getting redder and redder. ‘Pickles, drop, bad puppy,’ she said. George was sitting by idly licking his paws. What had he done? When Claire caught Pickles, she picked him up and took one of Jonathan’s favourite slippers – Italian and expensive – out of his mouth. Oh no, Jonathan would be furious. ‘Oh thank goodness you’re back, Alfie,’ Claire said. She looked a little frazzled. ‘These two have been running me ragged. Firstly, Pickles managed to get stuck under the sofa, and I have no idea how that happened, then he chewed a chair leg. All I did was visit Harold to take him his lunch and came back to find that George and Pickles were nowhere to be seen. I panicked and then found them in the garden, they’d got through the cat flap. Then finally he stole Jonathan’s favourite slipper, and he’s going to be so cross. How can a puppy be so much work? I’m going to collect the children. Please make sure that nothing happens when I’m gone.’ She barely took a breath before she left the house and stalked off. ‘Who wants to tell me what’s going on?’ I asked when alone with George and Pickles. ‘It was so much fun,’ Pickles said. ‘I was teaching him what I knew,’ George said. ‘Just like you said. So, I showed him the warm spot under the sofa, how was I supposed to know he wouldn’t be able to get out? And I can’t take responsibility for the chair leg, I did tell him that cats don’t chew things, but he’s not that quick to learn. He also licks everything which I think is weird.’ ‘And the garden?’ ‘I needed to go out, you know, for obvious reasons and he followed me through the cat flap. So you see, none of this is really my fault.’ The joys of parenting. ‘Right, listen up, both of you,’ I started in my sternest voice. ‘Pickles, George is right, we don’t chew things, so please can you try to keep your chewing to your toys.’ I walked over to his nice soft bed, full of toys that he could chew. ‘OK.’ he said, but as George said, he was young and I wasn’t sure if he understood or if I would have to tell him lots more times. ‘Secondly, if George goes out, then I don’t see why you can’t go with him as long as you both promise to stay in the garden.’ ‘I promise I won’t let him leave the garden,’ George said. ‘Besides I need to learn to climb the tree,’ Pickles said, ‘Seriously?’ I turned to George, who tried not to smile. I swished my tail. George was definitely having a bit of fun with Pickles. Someday soon, Pickles would learn for himself that he can’t climb trees, I was pretty sure he couldn’t anyway. ‘So, on the whole, did I do good, Dad?’ George asked. ‘Not bad for your first day,’ I conceded, but I wasn’t entirely convinced. Claire clearly wasn’t anyway, but I needed to encourage George and Pickles’ relationship in whatever way I could. ‘And me, was I good?’ Pickles asked. I chose to pretend that I hadn’t heard. It was easier. Thankfully before any more trouble could occur, the door opened, and Claire and the four children rushed in. They all headed for the kitchen and made a fuss of all of us, which was nice for George, before demanding snacks. ‘We’re going to put Pickles on the lead and take him to the park,’ Summer announced bossily. She was wearing her school uniform, her fair hair in a ponytail was bobbing behind her. ‘I’m so going to hold the lead,’ Henry said. He was the biggest of our younger children, very tall for his age, and he looked a little like his father with his light brown hair and nose sprinkled with freckles. ‘But I want to,’ Martha asked. Martha was usually the most laid-back of the children, apart from when it came to Pickles it seemed. She was such a pretty child with dark hair and big dark eyes. Polly, her mum, used to be a model and she often said that Martha took after her. ‘And me,’ Summer shouted. ‘But what about me?’ Toby said. Toby was the same age as Henry but was smaller. He had sandy blond hair and serious blue eyes. He was so gentle which with bossy Summer as a sister was a very good thing. ‘Listen.’ Claire had her best parenting voice on. ‘We will all take turns looking after Pickles. I will have to take him across the roads because I’m the grown-up, and the rest of the time you will have equal time holding the lead, I’ll use the stopwatch.’ None of them argued with that. If only Pickles and George were so easy to control. I was tired by the time everyone had left for the park. I lay down on the sofa, and George joined me. We snuggled up together, which was lovely, and rare these days. George was usually too busy or pleaded to be too old for a cuddle with his old dad. He told me all about his day with Pickles. ‘He’s quite funny really, but then so naughty, and also a bit too easy to tease, so I’m sorry, but when I told him to stop chewing, he really didn’t listen. And he tried to eat my food, which he doesn’t even like. When I pointed out that you already told him it was cat food, he claimed he forgot. I think it might be harder than I first thought for him to be like me.’ ‘Keep trying,’ I said, deciding not to tell him that I didn’t necessarily want Pickles to be like George, but to humour him for now. ‘And you’ll never guess what I found out today.’ ‘What?’ George’s ears pricked up, he loved gossip. ‘Dustbin has got a girlfriend,’ I said. ‘No way! Oh my goodness, Dustbin who said love was soppy and he didn’t have time for all that, as he had too many mice to catch?’ ‘Exactly. But I think he’s met a kindred spirit. Ally, from a nearby street actually, and she sees off the rodents with him.’ ‘She sounds like the perfect match for him.’ I nodded, and purred, my boy was pretty perceptive. Now, if only he could teach Pickles that quality, we’d all be alright. ‘I like that Dustbin is happy. Can we visit him soon, and maybe I’ll get to meet Ally from the alley too.’ ‘Of course, I’ll take you one day soon, when we don’t have to puppy-sit. I wonder if his relationship with Ally the same as yours and Hana’s.’ I was trying to dig, of course, I was. ‘I am getting to like Pickles a little bit. Especially watching him try to climb trees, it was so funny, he kept trying to grip his front claws, but they slid down, and he ended up on his bottom. The best thing was that he kept trying, which I suppose either shows great character or extreme stupidity, I’m not sure which.’ So he wasn’t giving me anything, as usual. ‘Let’s go for great character, it’s nicer,’ I replied, although I wasn’t sure that was the right answer either. ‘And then when Claire found us in the garden, she was a bit cross, so she took him inside, and he fell asleep straight away, you should have heard how loudly he snores. He sounds like a train.’ ‘But you like him?’ I asked. ‘Yes, I like him. A bit anyway.’ This was progress. We snuggled up together, and both fell asleep. Chapter Eight (#ulink_517113e7-b638-581d-9be2-b0bcac2a7776) ‘Oh for goodness’ sake, George, can you stop trying to trip me up,’ Claire snapped, as George followed her around, hanging around her legs too closely and hoping to get some scraps of food she was carrying. But Claire, preparing for the family get-together was stressed enough, without George adding to it. ‘George,’ I hissed. Trying to get him to come over. He bounded over to me. ‘What?’ he asked, looking at me innocently. ‘You know better than to annoy Claire when she’s stressed.’ ‘But the food smells so good.’ ‘And if we keep out of her way, we’ll get something nice, but for now, we need to let her get on with it.’ ‘Claire, how much food do we really need?’ Jonathan asked, coming into the kitchen. ‘I don’t want anyone to go hungry,’ Claire replied. ‘You know it’s a good job I got a promotion; otherwise there’s no way we could afford all this,’ Jonathan moaned. ‘Oh shut up and go and get the drinks ready. Oh, and can you give the cats some food, to keep them out of my way.’ ‘Meow!’I objected, I wasn’t in her way, it was all George. But I grinned at George, we were getting food, his annoying ways had worked in both our favour. Family days were utterly precious, and my heart was full as the doorbell kept going, heralding the arrival of the people we loved. Polly, Matt, the children and guest of honour Pickles arrived first. The children all crowded round Pickles, which I could tell annoyed George, although he had played with Summer and Toby that morning. Before I had much time to be fussed over by Matt, the door went again and in came, Tomasz, Franceska, Aleksy and Tommy. They made a huge fuss of George and me, which placated George. Tomasz picked Georgia up and cuddled him, Aleksy did the same to me. Franceska gave us both a stroke and Tommy took George out of Tomasz’s arms and ticked his head the way he loved. Before they even got past the hallway, the door went again. Sylvie and Connie came in, Connie make a beeline for Aleksy and Sylvie raising her eyebrows, but not objecting as they went off to the living room hand in hand. ‘Marcus has just gone to get Harold, so they’ll be here any minute. But I have to warn you, Harold said he didn’t sleep so well, so he’s a little moody today.’ ‘Don’t worry, I’m sure George will cheer him up.’ George preened at that. He was the only one who could cheer Harold up after all, and I was so glad for anything that made him feel good about himself. ‘Watch what we taught Pickles,’ Henry said, to all of us. We watched. ‘Right, sit,’ Henry commanded. Pickles wagged his tail but didn’t sit. ‘SIT,’ Henry shouted. Pickles didn’t move, ‘You’re not doing it right, do it like this,’ Martha said. ‘Pickles, sit down,’ she commanded in her sweet voice, with a smile. Pickles barked. ‘I can do it,’ Toby said. ‘Pickles sit,’ he shouted. Pickles walked to the other side of the hall. ‘PICKLES, SIT RIGHT NOW!’ Summer shrieked. Pickles sat down, but then so did we all. ‘Well Summer wins the training prize I guess,’ Polly said. ‘No, she’s just the scariest,’ Claire said. ‘Summer, the secret to good puppy training is not to shout at him, he’s a baby, and you could scare him.’ She’d certainly scared me after all. Just as all hell threatened to break loose as Summer didn’t take criticism well, we were once again saved by the doorbell, and Marcus and Harold appeared. George, taking no chances, leapt into Harold’s arms, taking him by surprise. ‘Come in, and let’s get this party started,’ Claire said excitedly as everyone filed to different rooms in the house in a way which showed how used to being here everyone was. Like a proper family. ‘I’m happy to be here but to be honest, it’s getting colder than I like,’ Harold blustered. He loved to have something to complain about. It was September, and it wasn’t as hot as summer but it was hardly cold yet. ‘I can put the heating on for you,’ Claire offered, giving Harold a hug. ‘No, I can’t be doing with that central heating, it kills people,’ Harold said. Really? Did it? ‘I don’t think it does, Dad,’ Marcus said, steering him to a chair. George was still attached to him. Those two, I thought, fondly. ‘Mark my words, in a few years’ time everyone will be talking about it. It’ll come out that it’s causing that global warming and the ozone layer and the lack of polar bears.’ George licked Harold’s face, he thought he was the cleverest man in the world. I did sometimes wonder where Harold got his complaints from, and by the looks on the faces of my humans, they did too. Thankfully they all loved him very much. I was in heaven as I moved from room to room to check on my loved ones. The women were in the kitchen, drinking wine, eating and chatting. The men were all in the living room, with drinks, plates of food and George who hadn’t left Harold’s side sitting together on the chair he was settled in. I had a suspicion they were sharing food, but I was too happy to tell him off. As long as he was having a good time, I would have to accept it. The children, along with Pickles, were upstairs joined by Tommy, who protested he was too old to hang out with the younger ones but actually secretly enjoyed making up games for them to play. What he’d done was to set up an obstacle course for Pickles on the upstairs landing. There was a toy horse jump, a tunnel that Summer used to love when she was little, a hoop which one of them had to hold for him to jump through and a stool for him to climb on and off. Pickles seemed very confused by this and kept getting it wrong. ‘No, Pickles, you don’t sit down in the tunnel,’ Summer who was the bossiest of all the children chided. Even her words didn’t work this time. The problem was that Polly had taught them that if they wanted Pickles to do something, they had to offer a treat as a reward, but they were giving him treats before he did anything. All the treats had gone, and Pickles was none the wiser in how to do an assault course. ‘I know,’ Tommy said. ‘I’ll go and get George, he can show Pickles how it’s done.’ I raised my whiskers, George, hopefully, would be pleased to be given such a role. I waited until Tommy came back upstairs, George wriggling in his arms. He didn’t seem that happy, actually. ‘Right, George, please can you show Pickles how to do an obstacle course,’ Tommy begged. George came to where I was and sat with his back to the children. Oh dear. ‘What’s wrong?’ I whispered. ‘They ignore me, and now they want me to show the dumb puppy how to do something so basic,’ he hissed back. ‘George, they love you, they pretty much ignored me too, but Pickles is new to them. Perhaps show them how fantastic you are and it might help Pickles too,’ I coaxed, gently. ‘I am fantastic, aren’t I?’ ‘You are, son.’ ‘Meow,’ George said loudly and he went to join the children. As they cheered him, I saw him preen, and I was happy how easy it was for us all to be friends, or almost friends in any case. Connie and Aleksy sat on the stairs holding hands and whispering to each other, but the important thing is that they didn’t sneak off into one of the bedrooms, so I didn’t have to worry too much. I jumped onto Aleksy’s lap. ‘Hey, Alfie,’ Aleksy gave me a nice head scratch. ‘I tried to bring Hana, but she didn’t want to come, I think she just wanted some peace and quiet,’ Connie said. I didn’t blame her for staying away, this was not for the faint-hearted, although she normally came with us, she didn’t always. Suddenly Pickles knocked into George, and sent him flying, with caused George to yowl and land on his tail. Then George, showing his balance, fell off the stool and landed on Pickles, who cried out, but seemed unhurt, and the children all shrieked with laughter. George really did seem to be taking Pickles under his wing and he tried to show him calmly exactly how an obstacle course was done. ‘Wow, Pickles actually does follow George,’ Toby said. ‘He’s almost doing it right now!’ George basked in all the praise. ‘Right, children, can you come and eat please.’ Claire’s voice floated up the stairs. Everyone carried on doing what they were doing. ‘NOW,’ she shouted, and we all traipsed downstairs, the children a little reluctantly, I was far keener. George and I had a bowl of fat pilchards awaiting us, and Pickles tried to muscle in. ‘Not for you,’ Matt said, scooping him up, thankfully. I was a very tolerant cat, but no one came between me and my pilchards. Pickles let out a cry. ‘No, Pickles, you need to eat only puppy food, mate, I’m afraid. You don’t want to get fat do you?’ Pickles looked as if he would very much like to get fat. After eating, the children went out into the garden, Pickles was fast asleep in his bed, and George and I were satisfyingly full after our lovely meal. Harold was asleep in the living room, snoring contentedly. I felt my heart swell with love for all my friends and I wished it could always be like this. Chapter Nine (#ulink_684cbf00-9232-568c-8edc-05e17308e208) I went through my mental checklist alone in the garden before Pickles would inevitably break through the cat flap again. It was October already, time was passing, and winter was creeping ever closer. I did prefer the warm weather, not least because I had an old leg injury, which flared up more in the winter. Anyway, I wasn’t going to dwell on that. I was going to make the best of things, which is what this cat always did. My chaperoning skills were going to be essential today because George hadn’t been able to visit Hana for a couple of days. Knowing how happy they made each other, I knew he needed to do that. After Claire dropped the children at school, she’d be home most of today, so it wasn’t as if I would be in sole charge of Pickles, thankfully. Marcus took Harold to somewhere called a ‘Senior Centre’, a place where he could socialise with other old people, most of whom he claimed not to like, so I really had no idea why he went. But with a day to herself, Claire would clean the house, do the laundry, tidy all the children’s rooms, and change all the bedding – it was quite exhausting to watch. When she’d finished that she would then sit down with a well-deserved cup of coffee and her book – and hopefully me, before going to pick the children up from school. It wasn’t easy being a housewife, which I believe is her official job title. It was hard to see how anyone could have an outside job, and look after a house and children once you’d seen Claire in action. Claire used to love working, she’d had a good job in marketing, but after she had Summer, she lost a bit of her ambition. Then when Toby came to live with us, she felt the children were her priority. It turned out she loved being a mum more than anything, and she was lucky, with Jonathan’s job and the fact she was very sensible with money, she was able to devote herself to doing what she loved. Also, I was unsure how we would cope if Claire and Jonathan both worked as we all needed a lot of taking care of. Not to mention what would happen to Pickles after all. I like to think it was seeing me taking care of those I cared about that made Claire realise it was what she wanted to do. And we were both quite good at it. Back to my checklist. All my humans were doing well at the moment, I thought, as I ran through them one by one. The children were happy and not arguing with each other, and of course, having Pickles had perked them up the way George had when he first came to live with us. Aleksy and Connie were happy and perhaps the most sensible teenagers the world had ever seen. And the adults were not causing me problems for once. We were all happy and harmonious on Edgar Road, including my extended families in the neighbourhood of course. Even Pickles. Then there were the cats. Luckily my lovely friends were all fine; having lost Tiger I did fret about the other cats a bit, but they all seemed in good health. Dustbin’s new girlfriend was definitely an interesting turn up for the books. George was coping; even though he still missed Tiger, but we were dealing with that. It would take a lot of time to heal. It became more important to me to understand what was actually going on with Hana and him. It wasn’t just out of noisiness, but concern. Or that’s my story, and I am sticking to it. Life was calm, and I just crossed my paws that the turmoil of last year was long behind us. Not that having Pickles was particularly calm, but you know what I mean. The cat flap bashed, and George sprang through it, followed at a more leisurely pace by Pickles. ‘Hello, Alfie,’ he said, as he stood on the grass then he bent down to lick it. He was actually very cute, even his wrinkly face seemed adorable to me now. ‘Pickles, how are you?’ I asked. ‘I am very well. I was a bit sick this morning, but Polly said it was because I wasn’t supposed to eat the children’s breakfast – Henry fed me some off his plate, so he’s in a bit of trouble but how am I to know?’ ‘It’s hard, I agree. Pickles, the general rule of thumb is that if it’s in your food bowl, then it’s yours. If it’s not, then it isn’t,’ I explained. ‘No, that seems far too hard to remember.’ His wrinkled face wrinkled even more. ‘I think I’ll just have to take my chances.’ ‘See what I mean?’ George hissed. ‘Pickles, show my dad how you climb trees.’ ‘Yes, yes, I will.’ We watched as Pickles approached a tree in the garden, and started trying to climb its trunk. It was fruitless, his front legs slid off the bark as soon as he moved them. Then he decided he’d try to jump, but he couldn’t jump very high yet, and landed with a bump. Yet again I had to intervene. ‘Maybe tree climbing isn’t going to be your thing. After all, I’m not keen either,’ I said. George was studying his paws intently. ‘But if I can’t climb a tree then I’ll never be a cat.’ ‘Pickles, you’re a puppy who will grow up to be a dog, not a cat,’ I said gently. ‘But cats are best, George said so, so if I do everything he teaches me, I can grow up to be a cat.’ Pickles turned to look at me, his eyes full of hope. What on earth could I say? I turned to look at George. ‘I really need to go and see Hana,’ he said as he ran off. ‘How about we go inside, and I’ll teach you how to have a lovely rest,’ I suggested. ‘Do cats do that?’ he asked. ‘Of course, it’s one of the things we do best.’ With no idea what we were getting into with Pickles, I ushered him back through the cat flap and into the house. Thankfully, our sofa was low enough for Pickles to jump on, so I led him there, jumped up and gestured for him to do the same. He wriggled around a bit on the sofa cushion, his little paws padding up and down. Then he chose a spot and licked a cushion before sitting on it. I didn’t really understand dog behaviour, but then I had no experience. Give me a human or a cat any day. ‘So, lie down, and then we can both close our eyes and have a rest. That’s very good cat behaviour.’ I felt guilty for using George’s naughty plan, but then I was quite tired, I’d already done quite a lot of thinking today. ‘OK.’ He lay down, resting his head on his paws and before long he was snoring quite loudly. When I was sure he was asleep, I thought I could steal a few minutes away. I left through the cat flap, went as fast as I could next door and round to the back of Sylvie’s house. At the back were patio doors. I couldn’t go in, because there was no way George could know I was there, he would kill me. But it wasn’t actually spying, I was only doing what a good parent would do. I positioned myself in a bush near the doors, and I craned my neck and glanced through. Hana was lying on the floor in a sunny spot, and George was sitting next to her. I could see they were chatting, but of course, I couldn’t hear or see what they were talking about. This brought back memories. When my first girlfriend Snowball moved in here I used to spend hours by the back door trying to get her attention. She accused me of stalking her once. But in the end, I did get her attention. OK, so it might have involved a near death experience, the fire brigade and a ruined flowerbed but that’s another story. I tried to move a little closer, trying to balance on the bush to lift me a bit. However, my paw slipped, and I ended up falling through the middle, onto some soft soil. I got up, brushed my fur off, and feeling a little silly I snuck another look. Although George and Hana definitely seemed close, it was still inconclusive. I went home, none the wiser. I got home, thankfully before Pickles woke up. I snuggled next to him, so he would wake and think I’d been there all along. I was so tired I almost fell asleep when a wet nose touched my cheek. I stretched, wishing that I had another forty winks. ‘That was a nice rest, but now I want to play,’ Pickles said. ‘What do you want to play?’ I asked. This was bringing back memories, memories of George as a tiny kitten, always wanting to do something. ‘I don’t know, the only games I know are the ones George taught me.’ He looked thoughtful. ‘Did he teach you to play hide and seek?’ I asked. ‘No, can we play that?’ He started wagging his tail and wiggling his bottom simultaneously. ‘Yes, what happens is that I count to a certain number—’ ‘What’s count?’ ‘Don’t worry, we’ll teach you one day. Anyway,’ I continued, ‘I count and you hide somewhere, and then I come and find you.’ ‘Wowee that sounds like fun.’ Pickles was so excited he forgot where he was and fell off the sofa, landing on his back. ‘Are you alright?’ I asked; puppy-sitting was hard work. ‘Yes, fine.’ He bounced up. ‘Right I’m going to be the best hider ever.’ I lay down and pretended to count for as long as I thought I could get away with. George had always loved hide and seek, and it was my favourite game because it gave me a few moments of peace while I counted. Top parenting tip for you. Finally, I had to go and find Pickles. I padded through the hall and then into the kitchen. He was sat on the floor with his head in a cereal box. Although I could see his body, it wasn’t a bad hiding place, actually. ‘Found you,’ I said, approaching. ‘Hmmph.’ A vague sound came from the box. ‘You can take the box off now, I’ve found you,’ I said, edging closer to try to hear him. ‘I’m stuck,’ he replied, his voice still muffled. The next thing I knew he was running round in circles, cereal crumbs falling onto his fur and the floor before he bumped into a cupboard door. ‘Ow,’ he cried. I sighed. I wasn’t sure what to do. I was a cat, after all, and I had paws, which meant I wasn’t sure how I could get the box off. ‘Calm down, Pickles. Right, lie down, and I’ll see if I can grab the box,’ I commanded. He lay down, still wiggling. He did look funny. I tried to grip the box with my paws but they just slid off. Pickles was really quite stuck. I began to panic. I was the worst puppy-sitter ever. George had got into quite a few scrapes as a kitten: stuck in bags, boxes, and various cupboards, but I could deal with cat scrapes. Puppy scrapes were a whole different ball game. ‘I can’t live in this box forever,’ Pickles said, sadly, and I redoubled my efforts, but it really wasn’t budging. Thankfully I heard the door open and in walked Claire. I sat up and looked at her, my eyes full of guilt. ‘What on earth?’ Claire pulled the box off Pickles and picked him up. He was covered in cereal. ‘Meow,’ I said, it wasn’t my fault. ‘Oh goodness, I better clean this mess up. I guess puppies can be hard to look after,’ Claire said, gently, holding Pickles in one arm and petting me with the other, to show she wasn’t angry. ‘Meow,’ I agreed, relieved. ‘Right, well, Pickles, stay in there, while I get this cleared up.’ She brushed the cereal from his fur and set him down in his bed. I went over to him. ‘Not the best hiding place after all, then, Pickles,’ I said. ‘Oh, I wasn’t hiding. I was going to find somewhere to hide then I spotted the cereal box on the floor.’ Why was it on the floor? I wondered. One of the children I guessed. ‘So, what were you doing?’ ‘I wanted to have a snack, so I got the box on its side and then I went in to get my snack, and I somehow got stuck.’ Of course he did. ‘But it was quite delicious,’ he finished. ‘But next time I’ll have to find an easier way to get it.’ Claire took Pickles with her while she cleaned the house, saying it was the only way she could keep him out of trouble. I wasn’t sorry, as I went out and bumped into George who was coming from Hana’s house. ‘Hi, son,’ I said, happy to see him. ‘What have you been up to?’ As if I didn’t know. Конец ознакомительного фрагмента. Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес». Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/pages/biblio_book/?art=48660142&lfrom=688855901) на ЛитРес. 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