by Rachel Wells
Aleksy was upset, though everyone gave him a wide berth.
‘Mum, can I go home rather than come to the party?’ he asked, as he sat in his pants and socks. ‘I really don’t feel like it.’
‘You come to the party,’ Franceska stated, indicating the case was closed.
We set off, picking up Matt, Polly and the kids on the way. Toby was insisting on carrying George, but I had to walk, and thankfully the rain had stopped as quickly as it started. I listened to my humans chatter as we went towards Harold’s house. George and I had visited a few times while Harold was in hospital, seeing the progress being made. Having been around Seabreeze Cottage while they did lots of building work, I was quite the expert in home renovations, I liked to think.
‘Oh no, my garden,’ George said as Toby set him down in front of the house.
‘Sorry, son, but they were always going to tidy it up for Harold,’ I pointed out. It was no longer a jungle, but a very neat front garden. Grass trimmed, bushes cut back, and although the house wasn’t quite painted yet, the front door had been smartened up, and I could see it was going to look very nice soon. Even if poor George no longer had his jungle.
Polly opened the door and let us in and the warmth hit me first, followed by the light. No more gloomy interior, that was for sure, and all the lights worked. Walls had been painted a bright white, the living room furniture had been replaced by a nice sofa and one of Claire and Jonathan’s old armchairs. A coffee table sat neatly over new carpet and a bigger television hung on the wall. I ran to see the rest of the house. It was such a transformation. Still quite simple, but more homely. The kitchen hadn’t changed but had been cleaned up, the hallway carpet had been replaced, there was a small dining table at one end of the sitting room, overlooking the small, but tidy, back garden. I thought Harold would be very pleased, even if George was not.
They had even insisted on getting Harold a small Christmas tree, which sat in the corner of the living room. It was adorned with lights and baubles, and I saw George eyeing it up.
‘George, you cannot attack the tree before Harold even sees it,’ I said.
‘There is no fun in this house any more,’ he complained as he slunk away. I flicked my tail. Kids!
Claire and Polly supervised Matt and Jonathan hanging a ‘Welcome Home’ banner across one wall. Franceska got Tommy to help her with the food in the kitchen, which as usual looked delicious, and Toby, Henry, Summer and Martha played happily in the living room with George. It was heart-warming after what we had just witnessed with Sylvie. If only she and Connie would be part of this, I knew it would help them, but it seemed there was no way to win Sylvie around. She didn’t even seem to notice me, let alone allow me to charm her, and I had no ideas left. But I knew we would have to do something, we couldn’t go on like this. Not my poor Aleksy. But clearly dead things as presents were off the menu.
We were all lined up in the living room when Marcus texted Matt to say he was just outside. Tomasz had just arrived, with even more food, and as we all stood there Harold came in, with his stick in one hand and his son holding the other arm.
‘Welcome home,’ everyone cheered at once and as Harold’s eyes took in the scene they filled with tears. Oh no, we’d made another person cry today.
‘I can’t believe it,’ he said. My eyes widened; he sounded moved rather than angry. ‘I don’t know how to thank you for all of this. I’m such a cantankerous old man, I don’t deserve it, but I’m so happy to be home and what a lovely home it is. I don’t know how to thank you. And you …’
I almost ran in front of George as Harold slowly bent down. Was he going to hurt him? Instead though he gave him a pet. Wow, who was this man?
‘Thank you, clever cat, for saving my life, I’ll never tell you to “get lost” again.’ George purred and nuzzled into him, and I wondered where my thanks were. After all, I had gone and got the humans. I should have been used to being ignored by now, but you know, some appreciation would have been nice.
As they all crowded round Harold to show him the work they’d done to the house and then sat him down with food and a cup of tea, George, his new best friend, sat proudly next to him. I softened a bit. OK, so I was underappreciated at times but I had my George, so it was alright. And George needed any cheering up he could get.
‘And I have told Dad that I’m moving in here for a while,’ Marcus announced.
‘You don’t have to, son, and I’m sorry again about the whole divorce thing,’ Harold said. Being in hospital had really changed him.
‘No, we’ve put that firmly in the past where it belongs. Dad, I should never have let our row get out of hand. We’re family, so I’m staying at least until after Christmas and then we’ll see. I’ve arranged some home help for when I’m working, so you’ll be looked after as you should.’
‘And we’re going to pop in and see you as well,’ Jonathan said. He was quite fond of the old man; apparently they shared the same taste in football teams.
‘Oh, and I was thinking, we’re having a big Christmas this year, at our house,’ Claire said. ‘So why don’t you both join us?’
I felt like squealing; this was the sort of situation I loved, bringing more people into our family circle.
‘That’s so kind,’ Marcus said. ‘And if you’re sure we won’t be in the way, then we’d love to. I’m not much of a cook.’
‘He isn’t,’ Harold laughed. ‘He can burn water.’ Everyone laughed although I didn’t quite understand what that meant. It was a shame I couldn’t get Sylvie there, after all she and Marcus, well they were both divorced, both nice-looking, a similar age … Although one of them was insane. But then no one, not even me, was perfect.
‘You might have to bring a couple of chairs,’ Polly laughed.
‘Deal.’
‘Daddy, George is in the Christmas tree,’ Summer shouted and everyone moved at breakneck speed to find George sitting in the middle of the tree, a tangle of lights.
When he’d been untangled and sat back on the floor I went up to him.
‘What did I say?’ I chastised.
‘You said, don’t attack the tree before Harold sees it. Well he’s seen it now.’
I couldn’t argue with that.
Chapter Thirty
How we got to Christmas Eve, I don’t know, but it was now upon us. December tended to do that. With the excitement of the decorations, the nativity, Aleksy and then Harold, it had been one of the busiest Decembers for my humans, and especially for me. It was flying by, and giving me very little time to enjoy the festivities or to grieve, both of which I wanted, and needed, to do. However, I was trying very hard to put everything aside to enjoy today.
Christmas Eve was a very special day with all my families. Even Tomasz took the day off from the restaurants. And he closed them all on Christmas Day and Boxing Day, he said it was important for him and his staff to have family time. The only problem was that my families weren’t together on Christmas Eve, so I had to travel if I wanted to see everyone. Claire and Jonathan were busy with last-minute preparations for the big day. Claire was preparing any food that she could ready in advance and Jonathan had to try to keep two very hyperactive children and one hyperactive kitten entertained and calm, which was no easy feat. I did try to help him but it was impossible. He gave up and took them out to the park to try to run off some of their excitement, and he called for Matt, who came with Henry and Martha. Polly was doing some last-minute shopping, which she always did. She was always a last-minute person, whereas Claire was super organised. I just hoped she remembered to buy enough cream for pudding because I was especially looking forward to that.
I was determined to put any sadness about Tiger away for the day; if George could do it then so could I. I still missed her and I knew she would be the one cat I wanted to visit today but couldn’t. Nonetheless, Christmas was a time for fun, and I was going to do my very best.
It had been a bittersweet time since Harold’s welcome-home party. He an
d Marcus were firmly part of our family now. They sort of fitted in as if they had always been there, actually. Marcus was funny, kind, and had been very hurt by his ex-wife, which would have made him perfect for Sylvie, if she hadn’t been quite so unhinged. Though I had to stop thinking that, as I had quite enough to cope with without trying to matchmake. But I couldn’t help it, I was still hoping for a way to get my next-door neighbours back into the fold, but so far my one-sided conversations with Tiger hadn’t yielded any inspiration.
My other friends hadn’t exactly been full of helpful advice; even Elvis hadn’t seen a TV show about it. It was as if, without Tiger, we were devoid of plans, and I hoped that my career of helping people hadn’t died with her. The gap she left in our friendship group, our family, our relationships was vast and obvious to us all. She had been like the glue that held us all together in a way and, without her, we had to try that bit harder, but all the while knowing something, or rather someone was missing.
George was now coping so much better than I ever imagined he would. He missed her, he talked about his ‘Tiger mum’ a lot, in a way which made me want to weep, but he also kept himself busy. He visited Harold, those two were thick as thieves, and I let him have space for that friendship, as I did with Hana. He told me how he would sit next to Harold on his new sofa, watching a TV show about ‘very old things’ and eating biscuits dunked in tea, which was now George’s new favourite food. I have to admit I couldn’t resist going to spy on them a little. I managed to watch them sometimes, keeping out of sight on the front window, and they did look very sweet together – not something I ever thought I would say about angry Harold. But he wasn’t angry any more, he was happy, and as I knew from my years of experience, happiness changes people for the better, which was why I was such an advocate.
George had also been spending time with Hana in their house, though sadly that had stopped this week, as Susan, the cleaner, had gone away on holiday until after Christmas. He was trying to persuade Hana to come outside but she wouldn’t, or rather she couldn’t. But, George, a chip off the old block, wasn’t giving up, and said that he was going to redouble his efforts in the new year and was hopeful that by summer she might have experienced the great outdoors. I was happy for him to have a project. She was lovely, Hana, but he said she was homesick, and also of course she was living with two miserable people. Although Hana didn’t complain, it was all so sad for her, and now George couldn’t even go in and cheer her up and they’d had to go back to having their through-the-window conversations.
‘You see, Dad,’ George explained to me, very maturely, I may add. ‘I miss Tiger mum, but I know she would be pleased because I am spending time with a lonely person and cat, and then they aren’t quite as lonely when I’m there.’
I thought I would burst with pride for my lovely, kind, caring kitten. Tiger and I had both taught him well.
Christmas Eve passed in a whirl of activity with all the families that George and I decided to visit. We always spent Christmas Eve together and liked to think we were a bit like Santa cats as we delivered good cheer to everyone we cared about. Although we didn’t dress up. Claire had tried to dress me up once and let’s just say it didn’t end well for any of us.
We started with Harold. Marcus and he were laughing in the living room as we sat on the windowsill until they let us in. Their Christmas tree was wonky and even George didn’t seem keen on trying to jump onto it any more, which was a bit of a relief for me. They were both preparing sprouts, which they were going to bring to us for lunch tomorrow, and some other vegetables which were all very sensible, and not terribly tempting for us cats. But Marcus said he also had bought some nice wine, chocolates for the adults and a big jar of sweets for the children, which I knew would be gratefully received. He looked at George and I, and then winked at his dad.
‘We’ve got a present for the lovely cats too,’ he said. My ears pricked at this and I hoped it was some kind of fish. Although I think George was hoping for dunked biscuits.
‘We better had, these cats deserve a medal,’ Harold said, affectionately, and I basked in the fact I’d been acknowledged for once. But I would much rather have had pilchards than a medal. I wasn’t even sure what a medal was.
We left them a little while later full of good cheer and went to visit Polly and Matt. Matt was trying to get the children to sit still and watch a film, but they weren’t really in the mood. They were both so excited, babbling about what Santa would bring them, and even Martha, who was normally quite chilled out, was bouncing around.
‘Alfie and George,’ Henry beamed, as we entered the living room.
‘Oh good, we can play,’ Martha said and Matt just shook his head in defeat. Their living room was decorated beautifully but then as Polly was an interior designer we all expected nothing less. Their tree was so tasteful, and she got away with it by giving the children their own tree to decorate, which was in the corner of the living room and was a bit of a mess. Polly told Claire it was alright because you couldn’t really see it, but George loved it because he could jump on it, which totally ruined it, but made the children laugh. I despaired along with Matt, but Polly said he could do anything to that tree as long as he didn’t touch hers. For once, George actually took notice of this and didn’t dare go near her tree. No one did, not even Matt.
Matt and Polly were the best at decorating, they had lights outside the house and reindeer scattered around the small front garden. Claire had begged Jonathan for something similar but he’d refused, saying that he’d probably fall off the ladder, or it would take him all of December to do, as our house was bigger, so it was left undecorated outside. It was the only battle that Jonathan won really, and as Claire wasn’t going to do it herself she said the kids could just admire Polly and Matt’s.
Polly came downstairs, looking a little flustered, which wasn’t like her.
‘I’ve run out of Sellotape,’ she said. ‘And I’ve still got loads of wrapping to do.’ You see, she was so disorganised.
‘The shops will be closed now,’ Matt said. Even he looked alarmed. ‘Are all the kids—’
‘No,’ Polly said quickly. ‘I need more.’
‘Meow,’ I said. Claire will always have spare, I tried to tell her. Claire had drawers full of it, we never ran out.
‘Oh Alfie, thank goodness, I’ll just nip to Claire’s to borrow some. Are you sure you’re OK with the kids?’ Polly asked.
‘Not really, but then they’ve eaten a mountain of chocolate coins, so what did I expect?’ I’d never seen a man look so defeated. ‘Actually, shall I go get the Sellotape?’ he asked, smiling at the idea of escape.
‘No, I think I’d better go,’ Polly said. ‘After all, we’ve still got loads to do before the carol concert and you’ll probably have a drink with Jonathan …’ She was right, he would, and I could see from the disappointment on his face that that was what he had been hoping for.
I cheered up at the mention of the concert. There was always a Christmas Eve carol concert for the children at the local church, and although George and I didn’t get to go, it meant that Franceska and family would visit us either before the concert or after, so I would get to see them briefly. I’d have liked to have seen Dustbin but we really didn’t have time. Christmas Eve was a busy day for us all, as I’ve said.
After we left Matt and the children trying to sort out the small Christmas tree that George had all but squashed, we went to see our friends. They were all waiting to wish us a Merry Christmas and we chatted about what we were looking forward to most about the following day.
‘Food,’ I said, which was true. ‘And all the humans I love being together of course.’
‘I like the wrapping paper,’ George said. He hadn’t grown out of playing with that yet either.
‘Oh, I do love the fact that we have visitors all day and they make such a fuss of me,’ Nellie said.
‘I like the fact I get to sleep a lot, because my lot go out for quite a while and there’s nothi
ng like a good Christmas Day nap.’ I wasn’t sure I agreed with Rocky but as long as he was happy.
‘I like the Queen’s Speech,’ Elvis declared. ‘She does it every year on TV, and when she comes on we all go quiet and listen very intently. It wouldn’t be Christmas without it.’
No one knew quite what to say about that. I had never even heard of it. But anyway, we passed a pleasant few minutes before I felt something wet landing on my fur.
‘Oh no, it’s raining,’ I said.
‘No, Dad, it’s not raining, it’s snowing!’ George said. ‘Look.’ We all looked up at the sky and snow was actually falling. We all stuck our tongues out to catch it, and it definitely made us all feel even more Christmassy.
‘Do you think Tiger sent the snow?’ Nellie asked as a fat snowdrop landed on her head.
‘Probably, she hated snow,’ I laughed.
Walking home, George kept trying to catch the snow with his tongue, and because he wasn’t looking where he was going he walked into a lamppost.
‘Ow,’ he said.
‘Look where you’re going, silly,’ I replied, but actually catching snow was quite fun, I had to concede. We both stopped naturally when we got to Tiger’s house. There were lights inside and I wondered how the Barkers were coping without Tiger. There was still no tree, I could see through the window, and only a small amount of decorations, but I hoped they were OK. I would have liked to have seen them really, but since Tiger had died they never opened the cat flap, and as it was so cold I doubted they would venture out.
‘Do you think Tiger mum is happy where she is?’ George asked, suddenly.
‘I do, son,’ I replied. ‘She can’t be over-the-moon happy because she’s not with you, but I think she’s not in pain and that must be a good thing.’
‘I know, I miss her but I’m glad she’s not in pain, any more. Dad?’
‘Yes, George?’ I could barely speak.
