A Friend Called Alfie

by Rachel Wells

  ‘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

  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 kitche
n 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.’