by Rachel Wells
‘What do you feel like wearing?’ she asked.
‘Well I thought a dress, because I look better in dresses but then, I’m at home and I don’t want to look as if I’m trying too hard.’
‘Jeans. I think jeans and a sexy top would be best.’ She started pulling tops out.
‘I think if you get the jeans and the top right, you’ll give off the right message. Besides, your figure is to die for now. He’ll be putty in your hands.’
‘I hope so. I really did like him.’
‘I can’t really remember him, although he did have red hair, didn’t he?’
‘Yes, he has lovely hair and was funny too.’
‘Well, you deserve some fun.’
‘I do, don’t I?’ Claire giggled.
‘Right, try this on and we’ll see how you look.’
I stayed on the bed, watching the fashion parade, as the women laughed. It was nice to hear, after seeing Claire in despair again the past few days, but it worried me. If a man could do that to her, one she hardly knew, was she ready to date again? I might not be an expert, but I had seen how Claire was when she first moved here and now she’d had a mini-relapse. I would go so far as to suggest she was still very unstable. I needed to keep an eye on her.
They finally settled on an outfit and made their way downstairs.
‘Do you fancy a cup of tea?’ Claire offered.
‘No, thanks, I better get back. Dave has decided that we need to eat dinner together tonight.’
‘Oh God, sorry for dragging you over here.’
‘Don’t be silly. I enjoyed it. Anyway, I’ll see you at work, but just in case I don’t get to speak to you on your own, remember; a date is meant to be fun. He might not be “the one”, but you just need to enjoy yourself. And remember it is just a date.’
‘I know, I need to not take it so seriously. It’s early days, but I’m trying.’
After Tasha left, Claire snuggled up on the sofa and I joined her.
‘I’m sorry I’ve been such a mess lately. I love you, Alfie.’ And I rewarded her with my best cat smile. ‘Things are looking up, you know.’ I purred in agreement. I really hoped that was true, but somehow I just wasn’t convinced.
I was running late. I had to bolt from number 22B, where Franceska and Aleksy had been dressing me up and taking photos, creating hours of fun for them and Thomasz, who couldn’t stop giggling, and hours of humiliation for me. They’d put hats and sunglasses on me, scarves and anything else that they could find. Then they’d taken photos with Franceska’s phone and laughed all over again. I was surely above all this? But they didn’t seem to think so and short of running away in a huff, I had to put up with it. Luckily, I loved the family enough to know that one day I would forgive them (probably tomorrow), but only on the proviso that I got sardines again.
The dress-up game took most of the afternoon. I didn’t see Polly or Henry at all but I couldn’t think about that because I wanted to be home to see Claire, and make sure she was happy before her dinner with Joe.
I rushed through the cat flap and came face to leg with her. She looked great and the food smelt amazing as I rubbed her leg in greeting.
‘Oh there you are, I was beginning to worry. Do you want your supper? Quickly, Joe is due any minute.’ She seemed flustered as she dished some food into my bowls; she now had a special mat on the floor for them. I ate my supper quietly, and then I gave myself a very thorough clean. I wanted to look my best for Joe too.
Although Claire was busy cooking, washing up my dishes and playing with her hair, she wasn’t stressed, she seemed more excited than anything. I felt excited too. When the doorbell went, we both jumped. She fluffed her hair again and I ran my paw over my fur, and then I followed her to answer the door.
He was standing behind a huge bouquet of flowers, but I still recognised him from the other night; you couldn’t forget that red hair.
‘Joe, come in.’ He walked in the door, kissed Claire on each cheek and handed her the flowers. He also produced a bottle of wine.
‘Thank you so much, they’re beautiful. Come through to the living room and I’ll pour some wine. Are you OK with white?’
‘Lovely. Don’t worry; I remember where the living room is!’ He winked at her. I tried not to feel indignant that he had ignored me, so I followed them both through into the room. He sat on the sofa and I sat on the floor in front of him.
‘Did you meet Alfie the other night?’ she asked him.
‘Not that I remember. Hi, Alfie,’ he said, reaching out to stroke me. ‘Cute cat,’ he said, smiling. But I knew he didn’t mean it – I could tell. Firstly, he nearly sat on me the other night, so I knew full well he’d seen me. And secondly, you can tell how people feel about you from the way they stroke you. Of course there are other ways of telling, but if someone really likes cats, they stroke you as if they mean it. I guess it’s like the cat equivalent of a handshake. I’ve watched some people take a hand and give it a good solid shake, whilst others barely touch it. Joe, with his half-hearted stroke, definitely didn’t mean it and I felt sad. Not only did Jonathan’s friend overtly dislike me, but Joe secretly did too. I wasn’t doing very well at all.
As if to prove me right, when Claire went to pour the drinks he looked around the room without giving me another glance. I tried to approach him, but he looked at me with mean eyes.
‘Get, cat,’ he said, quietly. Deeply insulted, I slunk away and went to sit under the chair. I might as well observe the evening, as I obviously wasn’t going to be invited to participate in any way.
Claire appeared to be happy and he seemed charming with her, but I knew immediately he was faking things, and not only because of his behaviour towards me. He made her laugh, although I couldn’t understand why; nothing he said was remotely funny.
‘I love working in advertising,’ he said. ‘The creative part and dealing with clients. I particularly enjoy the face to face aspect of it.’
‘I guess so, although in my job I prefer it when I don’t have to deal with the clients, I often find it easier to get the job done.’
‘I hear you, Claire. But I find it challenging. You know, when you get a really good idea and the client hates it, but you really want it and you finally persuade them. There’s no buzz like it.’
‘I guess that you are more suited to it than me. But anyway, since being in London I’m getting used to it.’
‘Different from Exeter, though.’
‘Very. But you know, I’m really happy I made the move.’
‘Let’s drink to that. New start, new friends.’ They clinked their glasses.
‘Right, new friend, let’s sit down for dinner. And hope that I don’t poison you.’
I sat under the table while they ate, quietly eavesdropping and totally uninterested in the food. I decided that Joe might be nice to look at, all bright red hair and blue eyes, but he was boring. He talked about himself an awful lot and what made me really mad was that Claire hung on his every word. She was funny and smart and lovely but at dinner she turned into an airhead. More like the women that Jonathan used to date. She agreed with everything he said. Even when he said he liked hunting, and I knew that Claire hated it. She had told me when I moved in that I should never bring her anything dead, because she didn’t believe anything should die just for the sake of it. Had I been able to answer her, I would have said that it was just a cat’s way of showing love and affection, but instead I respected her wishes. Now this idiot sat opposite her, talking about shooting seasons and plucking pheasants and she didn’t even tell him what she’d told me. I had half a mind to bring her a dead bird to teach her a lesson.
Instead I sulked under the table, unnoticed, until they got up and went back to the sofa. They started kissing in an alarming way, as if they were wrestling with each other. I didn’t know whether to go in and save Claire or not, but she didn’t sound as if she needed help.
‘You’re gorgeous,’ Joe said, when he took his lips off her for a minute.<
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‘So are you. Come on, let’s go to bed.’ They both practically ran upstairs without a backward glance; it seemed that they had both forgotten all about me.
Sitting watching the night sky, I was feeling increasingly insecure. I was worried that I was disposable to both Jonathan and Claire, and I really hoped I wasn’t. Even with four families, life still felt precarious. Especially now it seemed that both Claire and Jonathan had found ‘friends’ who didn’t like me. This was a turn of events that I hadn’t anticipated.
It was one thing to win round owners and other cats, but these two were something else. Even with Agnes, who was incredibly cold towards me at first, I could see goodness in her. The same was true of Jonathan; although his was well buried, I knew it was there. However I didn’t sense any good in either Philippa or Joe, and I was terrified that they would hurt me.
It was a rare sight. Franceska was crying. It was a day that Thomasz didn’t have to go to work and he had taken both the boys out, telling his wife to have some time to herself and ‘put her feet up’. She didn’t do this, though. She took out her computer and she made some very thick coffee before speaking to someone on the screen, who I guessed was her mother. She looked similar to her, only with very grey hair and more lines on her face. I sat on her lap at one point and they both laughed. I heard Franceska say my name, so I guessed I was being introduced.
They spoke in Polish for a long time and afterwards Franceska burst into tears. I moved as swiftly as I could to be near her, having long since left her lap, and she scooped me up and held me close. I felt such warmth from this lady, more than any of the other people on the street, although I wasn’t usually prone to favouritism.
‘Oh, Alfie,’ she said, sobbing in a way that made my heart want to break. ‘I miss my mamma so much. All my family. Pappa, my sisters, sometimes I think I never see them again.’ I looked at her, trying to convey that I did understand. Which I did. My whole being carried such loss with me everywhere I went; I carried it in my fur, my paws and my heart.
‘I love my Thomasz and my boys. I know we here for better lives and Thomasz loves his job. He is brilliant chef and here is opportunity. And I know he ambitions when we marry. I know he want his own restaurant and I really think that he get it one day. I must support him. And I do, but I am so lonely and afraid.’ I knew how she felt.
‘I keep so fine when the boys are around but then when I am alone I feel it all. I no want Thomasz to know because he works so hard and is so tired trying to keep everything in order. Is better job here but is expensive so he worries too. We all worry and sometimes I wonder if it’s worth it. Why not stay at home? But also I understand he want more. For him, for us and for the boys.’ And my Franceska, my lovely, gorgeous friend, put her head in her hands and sobbed.
We stayed like that for what seemed like a long time. At last she gently put me down, stood up and went to the bathroom. She washed her face and put some stuff on it like Claire does. She straightened up and practised smiling in the mirror.
‘I must stop this,’ she said, and I wondered if it happened often. I really hoped not. I had never really been alone with her like this before. I had always seen the faraway look in her eyes, but that was only when she snatched moments to herself.
The doorbell rang just as she had recovered herself. She walked down the carpeted stairs in her bare feet. Polly stood on the other side of the door, smiling and holding a bottle of wine.
‘Hello!’ Franceska looked surprised, as did I; Polly rarely smiled, and this was a more relaxed smile than I had ever seen before.
‘Guess what? We just met Matt after work and on the way home, we ran into Thomasz, your Thomasz.’ She was breathless with excitement and she looked more beautiful than ever, if that was possible. ‘Anyway, the men started talking and they both got onto the subject of football and Matt wanted to show Thomasz some game on the oversized TV – Matt’s pride and joy. Not only that, but they promised to feed the children. Which means we can have an hour to ourselves with some wine! Voilà.’ Franceska looked confused, then she smiled.
‘You better come in before they changes their mind.’ They both laughed.
‘I know I never normally let Henry out of my sight but he’s been taking his solids so well and I’ve expressed some milk, so, as Matt pointed out, there was no reason at all why I shouldn’t have some time to myself. Not to mention a glass of wine.’
Polly followed Franceska into the kitchen, where she poured them both a drink.
‘Na zdrowie,’ Franceska said, holding her glass in the air.
‘I’m hoping that that means “cheers”,’ Polly replied.
They both sat in the living room and I joined them. I tried not to be affronted that Polly hadn’t really acknowledged me, but then she rarely did. She seemed to see me as an afterthought, but with her it wasn’t that she didn’t like me, it was more that she didn’t like anything or anyone right now. I knew deep down that she wasn’t mean, like the more recent newcomers in my life.
‘So, are you OK?’ Franceska asked.
‘I think so. I know it sounds awful but I haven’t been away from Henry since he was born. Not even for an hour. I mean I’ve been asleep while Matt looked after him, but never in a different house. This is the furthest I’ve been.’
‘Sometimes we mothers need breaks.’
‘Yes, we do. But then I already feel guilty.’ It seemed Polly’s earlier joy was short lived as her eyes clouded.
‘Mother’s guilt, it come as soon as you get pregnant.’ Franceska laughed weakly.
‘I guess so, that’s what Mum said. I miss my mum.’ Polly’s eyes flecked with sadness.
‘Oh so do I. I miss so much.’
‘You see, we have a lot in common,’ Polly smiled. Her teeth were so white and perfect. I was sure this woman could have been a model.
‘In this case, we must get used to taking the gifts when our husbands give. Mine is too busy to do this much.’
‘Mine too. Right, and no more moaning, we will enjoy ourselves. It’s just an hour and I think it’s important that we make the most of it.’
‘Good. You know, Polly, you are my first English friend.’
‘And you’re my first London friend. And the only Polish friend I have, actually. I’m so glad you live next door.’ The two women were getting sentimental and I felt a bit emotional too. It had been that sort of day all round.
By the time Polly left, they had only had a couple of drinks, but they were both giggling and happy. Thomasz came home with the boys and Polly went, looking as good as when she’d arrived.
‘Bye, Frankie,’ she said, kissing her cheek and using the more affectionate version of her name, which Franceska said she preferred. ‘Matt, he is nice man,’ Thomasz said, when they were alone.
‘Nice family. I think we can be friends.’
‘Yes, I am thinking they look down on us because we are Polish.’ Thomasz’s face darkened.
‘I know, but not everyone is like that. We are lucky our neighbours aren’t.’ Franceska’s eyes clouded over.
‘But others …’
‘Let’s not talk about it, Thomasz. I really don’t want to.’ Her face was taut with worry.
‘Sorry, but I think we should.’
‘It is one woman and she will soon stop. Old lady, she no understand modern world.’
‘But we don’t take benefits and I won’t have you upset in the street.’
‘Please, leave it, Thomasz, you hardly ever have day off. Please don’t ruin.’ She left the room to go to the boys and I wondered what she meant and what I was missing? It sounded like someone had said something bad to her. If I ever found out who, I would go and hiss, spit and scratch them for making my Franceska sad.
As I sat at the front door to be let out I had more questions than answers, but it was time to check on Claire and Jonathan. It was also time for me to go and see what was being served for dinner.
It was getting worse. I was becoming a very worr
ied cat. My plan so far had not been without hiccups but I did think it had, on the whole, been working brilliantly. But over the past month, it had all started going wrong.
Jonathan was staying out more and more, usually forgetting to leave me any food. Then, when I next saw him, he would be all contrite, although he would smile like a lunatic cat, so I didn’t believe him at all. He was suddenly very happy with the dreadful Philippa. And she wasn’t very happy with me. Every time she came to our house, she would make a big fuss about me being allowed on the furniture and about how unhygienic I was; a blatant lie, as I was one of the cleanest cats I knew. I took great pride in my appearance; but she just didn’t like me. Yesterday evening, I arrived at Jonathan’s at dinner time. The woman, Philippa, was sat on the sofa, my sofa, next to Jonathan. He was reading a big paper, she was reading a magazine, and they were sitting there as if they had been together for a long time. It made me bristle with annoyance. Jonathan looked up.
‘Alfie, I was wondering where you were. I left some food out for you in the kitchen.’ I looked at him; I hadn’t walked past any food.
‘Oh no, I put it in the fridge, it’s disgusting to leave food out,’ Philippa said. I gave her my meanest look, and even Jonathan raised his eyebrows. He got up and walked to the kitchen. I followed him. He found my food in the fridge and put it down for me.
‘Sorry, mate,’ he said, as he went back to the living room.
They were still sitting in the same place after I’d eaten. I jumped onto Jonathan’s lap to thank him for the food.
‘You don’t mind that?’ Philippa asked, looking at him disapprovingly. She had a bit of a snooty face if you asked me.
‘No, not at all. He’s a good cat.’
‘I don’t think it’s sensible to encourage pets on the furniture.’
‘He’s fine, he doesn’t shed much hair.’ It was funny hearing Jonathan defend me. After all, when we’d first met, he’d accused me of all sorts and he didn’t like me on his furniture, or even in his house at all.
