The Cat Who Came Back for Christmas

by Julia Romp

  “Let’s just take it slowly,” Wendy said, and with that the car started sliding backward.

  “Bloody thing!” I cried.

  “It’s not a Land Rover, Ju,” Wendy told me. “It’s not going to get up here.”

  “I’ll try one more time.”

  But as the car skidded slowly across the road, I knew I had to give up trying. I found a parking space and got out in a complete daze, about to start walking up the hill.

  “Have you locked the car, Ju?” Wendy called.

  “No.”

  I turned around to go back and lock the car before starting up the hill again. The snow was halfway up my shins. I’d practically need ropes and an ice ax to get through it.

  “Have you got the cat carrier, Ju?” said Wendy.

  I hadn’t. I went back to open the trunk and get it. Wendy took the carrier as I locked the car again and turned to start walking.

  “Have you got the address?” Wendy asked.

  I hadn’t.

  When we were finally ready, Wendy and I set off up the hill. Wendy seemed calm enough, but I was pretty sure she must be wishing by now that I’d disappear myself. The streetlight glinted off the snow as we started walking up the hill, but other than that the road was dark. No one had lit up their houses for Christmas here. It seemed strange, because I was so used to our estate. But as we got farther up the hill, we could see a house that was lit up. It was covered in lights that flashed color and warmth into the cold night, and as we counted down the house numbers, I realized it was the one we were looking for.

  Wendy and I walked through a gate and stopped to stare silently. The house was covered in decorations just like the ones I’d used for our winter wonderland—a snowman, stars and bells—and lights were twinkling all over the house just as they had on mine this time last year.

  “He came home for Christmas,” I said to Wendy as we got to the door. “He chose this house because he recognized the lights.”

  I reached out to knock on the door but suddenly stopped my hand as a wave of panic rushed over me. I wasn’t sure if I could bear another disappointment.

  “I feel scared,” I told Wendy.

  “I know,” she said, “but don’t be.”

  I took a deep breath as fear and excitement flooded into me and I raised my hand to knock on the door.

  A nice-looking man smiled at us and I could see a woman and a young girl standing in the hallway behind him.

  “You must be Julia,” he said. “Come in. I’m Steve and this is my wife, Alison, and our daughter, Carla.”

  They all looked so happy to see us, not seeming to mind that it was after midnight and two complete strangers had turned up demanding to see a mystery cat.

  “Carla found him,” Steve said, gesturing to his little girl. “She saw him sitting in our garden day after day, just staring into the house. He sat so still and for so long that the snow settled on him. He looked so miserable that Carla insisted we take him in. She’s been like that since she was small: she’s always the one to find lost pets.”

  Carla had blonde wavy hair and looked about 12. She was smiling fit to burst as the family dog, which was as big as a donkey, almost knocked me over.

  “Do you want a drink?” Alison asked Wendy and me.

  “No,” I said nervously, hoping I didn’t sound rude but unable to bear another minute of waiting. “I’d really like to see the cat.”

  “Of course,” Steve said. “He’s in the conservatory. We bought him a bed and put the heating on to make sure he was warm enough.”

  As Steve led us through the kitchen to the back of the house I could hardly put one foot in front of the other. My heart was beating so hard that I had pains in my chest. I didn’t know what I’d do or say if it wasn’t Ben. I was scared that I might just lie down on the floor and never get up again. It felt as though all the fear and hope, doubts and belief had rushed into this one moment.

  We got to the conservatory and I looked through the glass door. There was a pet bed in the corner but no sign of a cat as Steve opened the door and I walked slowly into the room.

  “Baboo?” I said, my voice shaking. “Benny Boo?”

  I heard a noise as something moved in the cat bed and then a nose peeped out. It was black. My heart thumped even harder. The nose poked farther into the air and I saw a little bit of white fur underneath. It was shaped like a butterfly. I could hardly breathe. Then a black head appeared and I saw a white bib of fur on the cat’s chest. Could it really be?

  The cat turned its head toward me and all I could see was its eyes—huge, green and wise.

  “Ben!” I sobbed as I dropped to my knees and he ran across the room toward me.

  I opened my arms and it seemed like forever until Ben jumped into them. Then I felt the weight of him in my arms, his soft fur as it brushed my face, and knew he was real. Holding on to Ben as if I would never let him go, I could hardly believe I had found him. But his weight, the smell of him and the feel of his soft fur told me that I had. As Ben put his paws around my neck and nuzzled into me like a baby, I could feel the thickness of his coat and hear the sound of him purring like a lion as I started to cry.

  “Baboo! Where have you been?”

  Ben looked up at me again and my heart felt as though it was going to burst. All my hope and faith had been stretched so thin that I’d begun to wonder if I was wrong to believe in Ben as I did, in the love that would somehow bring us back together. Now I knew I’d been right to hope he’d come back to us. Ben was sitting in my arms, his paws clamped around me so hard I thought he’d never let go, and I swear he smiled as I looked at him with just one thought in my mind. George.

  “Thank you,” I said through my sobs to Steve, Carla and Alison, who were standing by the door. “Thank you so very much.” I looked at Carla. “You can never know what you’ve done,” I said. “I can’t thank you enough.”

  I hugged Ben to me again and he meowed with pleasure as my tears fell on to his fur. If finding Ben was a Christmas miracle, Carla was the Christmas fairy who’d made it happen. As Ben purred she smiled at me again. He was safe and sound—just as we all would be now we had found him. My search was finally over. All I had to do now was get home to George.

  You wouldn’t believe the drive home we had. All I wanted was to get back as quickly as possible, because I didn’t want George to be apart from Ben for another minute. But when Wendy asked the GPS to give us the quickest route back to London, rather than the easiest one, it directed me down every country lane in Sussex and we got completely lost. We met people with shovels ready to dig themselves through the snowdrifts, others who’d broken down and a policeman who wondered what on earth we were doing trying to drive my tiny car through the snowy wilderness. All the while, Ben was meowing in the cat carrier on the backseat, and I felt awful that I was putting him through another adventure when his last one had only just ended.

  Wendy and I couldn’t stop talking about it all as I drove. Where had Ben been all this time? He certainly looked too well fed to have been fending for himself for three months. How had he got down the motorway to Brighton, and who had been looking after him? He couldn’t have gotten all that way alone, surely, so had someone taken him? But as Wendy and I talked about it during the long drive home I realized that I would never know for sure. It was going to be a mystery that would never be solved; but it didn’t matter, because Ben was home and that was all I’d ever wanted.

  Hours later, we finally got back to Hounslow and I was filled with nerves as Wendy gave me a smile before opening her front door. As I walked into my house, I felt almost dazed. It was 4:00 a.m. but I knew George wouldn’t be asleep. I could hear my heart thumping in my ears as I took Ben out of the carrier and stood at the bottom of the stairs with him in my arms.

  “George?” I called. “He’s home. Ben’s home.”

  I heard footsteps and George’s face appeared at the top of the stairs. He looked unsure, almost scared.

  “He’s here, Ge
orge. Ben is really here. I’ve found him. He’s come home.”

  George flew down the stairs before stopping suddenly as he got to the last step. He stared at Ben, who was looking around, as if shocked to be back in the home he’d left so long before. Then he looked at George and their eyes locked together, one set green, one set blue, as they stared at each other.

  “Baboo!” George cried. “Where have you been?”

  “He’s been on holiday,” I said in my cat voice. “He’s been to the sea. He was very tired in the car but he’s fine now.”

  George didn’t speak or take Ben from my arms. He just stood and stared at us as if he could hardly believe that Ben was real. It was as if George could not let himself believe that his friend was home again after so long wishing and hoping. My heart quivered as he turned away from me.

  But then George carefully laid himself down on the floor and looked up at me. Gently, I put Ben down and he stared around before taking a step toward his friend, stopping to sniff the air, moving step by step toward him. George just gazed at Ben and I saw peace in his eyes for the first time since that awful day when Ben had gone missing. He stayed completely still as Ben bent down to smell him, his face, his hair, his clothes, before climbing on to his chest and lying down. Time stopped as George put his arms around Ben and started to stroke him.

  “You’ve been to the sea?” he said, his voice high and curling, full of love and tenderness again. “You’ve been surfing and on a boat, haven’t you? I know you have.”

  I waited, wondering if that was all he’d say in cat talk for now. George was quiet for a minute before looking at Ben and my heart leaped as the words tumbled out of him.

  “Did you bring me a bucket of sand home? Did you go swimming? There’s fish and chips at the sea. Did you have ketchup with them? Did you see Katie Price? She lives in Brighton. Did you see fishes—lots of lovely fishes? Or were you a pirate on a big ship? I think you were out on the wide blue sea and that’s why you’ve only just come home. It is, isn’t it? You’ve been away at sea.”

  The words danced in the air between us as I looked at George with Ben.

  “You’re a beach bum, Baboo!” George said with a giggle. “You used a bucket and spade. The beach is pebbly at Brighton, isn’t it? Did the boat have a horn? Did you go on the sea and look at the fishes?”

  He carried on talking, laughing as he stroked Ben and hugged him, the love pouring out of him just as it always had done.

  “He’s been living with a girl called Carla,” I said.

  “Have you?” George asked Baboo.

  “Yes. It was like a hotel. He had a nice warm bed and there were lights on the house just like ours.”

  For a moment, George’s face darkened. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he said. “Let’s not talk about it ever again. Ben’s home now. He’s home with us. He’s never going to leave us again.”

  He leaned forward to give Ben a kiss, digging his fingers into his fur as he cuddled him. Ben purred in delight before jumping off George’s chest and on to the floor, where he crouched down over his paws, staring up at his friend.

  Come on, George. Let’s play! I’m home now. I’m back and I’ve missed you so very much.

  With that, he ran upstairs and George went after him.

  “We’re going to play hide and seek,” he called as he went up the stairs. “Ben loves being home, Mum, doesn’t he?”

  “Yes, George. I think he does.”

  “I do too.”

  George ran off up the stairs and I could hear him laughing as he played with Ben. A feeling of peace filled me. George had come to life again in the moment that he saw Ben, just as I’d always thought he would. He had finally come back to me, we were together again and in the instant that Ben came home all the sadness of the past three months had disappeared. As I walked into the kitchen to put the kettle on, I stared out at the dark sky as I waited for the water to boil and listened to George’s laughter. The sweetest sound.

  Then I heard his footsteps running down the stairs and he ran into the kitchen.

  “Can we get the decorations out, Mum?” he asked. “And the tree? Ben wants Christmas to start now.”

  “Yes, but I haven’t got a thing ready,” I said with a laugh. “There’s no special food in the fridge or presents under the tree.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” George said. “You can wrap up the toys from last year like I’m always telling you.”

  He ran off again and I turned to follow him. Ben was home, we were together and as I got to the top of the stairs the two of them were waiting for me. I started laughing as Ben dashed into my bedroom, jumped on the bed and careened off it like a rocket. He was just as excited as George and I were.

  “Mum?” George said as I stood on the landing and wondered how on earth we were going to get everything ready in time.

  “Yes, George?”

  “I think this is going to be the best Christmas ever.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes.”

  Epilogue

  As George decorated the Christmas tree and Ben scampered around as if he’d never been away, I started thinking about all that had happened—the tears and doubts, sleepless nights and worrying. And as I looked at George and Ben together, I was sure of something I’d never been certain of before. Ever since George had been born, I’d never quite gotten rid of the feeling that I had failed him by not giving him a proper family, a mum and dad who were married and the kind of childhood that I’d had and loved so much. But when Ben went missing, I had finally realized that George did have a family. Just because it was a different shape and size from the one I’d known didn’t make it less of one. Ben, George and I were a family and we were complete.

  A year on, we are still in Hounslow and life has slipped back to how it should be: George has turned 14 and goes to school, and we talk, laugh and play together with Ben, who spends the rest of the time sunning himself in the summerhouse or chasing off dogs. The moment he got home again, our life together became what it had once been. George started cuddling me again and talking about love. He mentions it more and more often now, either telling me he loves me as we joke together or saying that Ben loves me. Each time he does, I know how lucky I am to hear those words.

  As for me? Well, I’m still an almost pet detective. A few days after Ben got home, I got a phone call from a woman in Devon whose cat, Numpty, had disappeared when she and her family had been to Hounslow for Christmas with her mum and taken him with them. The woman had found out about me because her mum had one of my posters on her fridge.

  “Where do I start?” she said. “I have to go home in two days and I don’t know how I’m going to find him.”

  How could I say no when I’d only just got Ben home and the memory of the pain of being without him was still so fresh inside me? I told the woman I’d do what I could.

  “It’s good you’re helping, because Numpty’s family is probably crying like we were,” George told me as I printed posters. “They’ll be sad.”

  It took me nine weeks to find Numpty, but I did in the end. He’d been found wandering by an elderly couple who’d been feeding him and they recognized his picture on one of my new posters. I found Numpty lazing on the sofa as though he was in a five-star hotel.

  At the moment I’m looking for Samba, in between helping out at animal charities by taking cats to appointments with the vet or inspecting homes to see if they’re suitable for a pet. I like doing it and I know I’ll keep on searching for cats when people lose them, because I understand what they mean to those who love them. Our life changed the moment we lost Ben—just as it did when he came home again—and I still remind myself to thank the family who helped him finally get home to us again.

  So now I’ve told you our story, there is someone else who’d like to tell you a bit about himself and Ben.

  Ben likes food and treats. He loves being with me if I try to bounce. He gets on the trampoline. If I play computer, he sits on my lap and e
ats Cheerios out of my bowl. He even wants to eat when I do. Ben can’t lie. He loves us all the time. He is never sad. But sometimes he likes to bite my mum. I love it. It’s funny. He likes to be naughty like me. Ben is kind and loves me touching him. He purrs. He loves to be with me all the time and I do cat talk with Ben so he don’t feel left out. It’s fun and I love chasing him and when I call him he runs away. It’s funny. When I do cat talk, I get happy and excited. Cat talk makes me and my mum and Ben feel close. It makes me happy and we love all the adventures Ben goes on. My mum tells me stories about him and I tell better ones. Mum’s are funny.

  When Ben went missing, I thought he was dead. Just dead, gone. I don’t know why just dead. My mum looked for him and people phoned and made my mum cry. It was like an empty house. I didn’t have anyone to play with and I was in my room missing him. Tears come out my eyes and they hurt when I thought he was gone. Every day when I got on my bus Mum said this: “Don’t worry. I will be out all day looking for Ben.” I missed talking to him and every day I woke up he was not in his chair. It’s so good he’s home now. He makes me comfortable.

  The things I like are:

  Xbox—It’s good talking to people I can’t see. I wouldn’t like to see them. Some are 11 and some are 55. I like it when they say I’m good. They think I’m a really normal kid. I don’t tell anyone I have special needs. They would laugh at me. But sometimes I spell things wrong. I called someone a beast but I meant best and they called me stupid. But I’m a better player.

  School—At first I did not like it because I did not know the people around me or the teachers. It took me a while to get used to them and I didn’t look at anyone or try to talk. I didn’t like the chairs. They make you sit straight and I still don’t like them or the uniform or the smell of school dinners. But I love my school and I want to stay there as long as possible. My school is the happiest place to be.