Christmas at the Cat Cafe

by Melissa Daley

  At the dining table, Debbie began to sort half-heartedly through the unopened post. ‘So, how’ve you been, Linda?’ she called across the hall.

  My ears flickered as I tried to make out Linda’s reply over the clatter of teaspoons against the worktop, but the next thing I knew, Debbie had leapt up from her seat and dashed out of the room.

  ‘Oh, Linda, what’s wrong?’ I heard Debbie ask over the sound of sniffing. ‘Go and sit down,’ she instructed her sister, ‘I’ll bring the tea through.’

  Linda reappeared at the living-room door, her eyes rimmed with red. She pulled a tissue out of her pocket and sat down at the dining table, dabbing her eyes.

  ‘Come on, now. What’s happened?’ Debbie asked tenderly, placing two steaming mugs on the table.

  Linda’s face flooded with colour. ‘Ray and I have been arguing,’ she answered.

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry, Linda. What happened?’ Debbie asked kindly, placing one hand on her sister’s back.

  Linda heaved a weary sigh, shielding her eyes with the damp tissue. ‘Things haven’t been great for a while, but it all came to a head last night,’ she whispered. ‘All Ray ever does is snipe at me. He says that I do nothing except shop, go to the hairdresser’s and get my nails done, but it’s not true!’ She paused to blow her nose, and I saw Debbie’s eyes fleetingly register her sister’s pearly-pink nails and the diamond-encrusted rings on her fingers. She continued to stroke Linda’s back in sympathetic silence. ‘Besides,’ Linda went on indignantly, ‘he was the one who encouraged me to give up work, in the first place. He wanted a trophy wife, but now he resents me for it. I’ve had enough, Debs. I can’t bear to be around him any more. I just can’t . . .’

  As Linda’s words tumbled out, Debbie began to look troubled. ‘So, Linda,’ she began, tentatively, ‘when you say you can’t bear to be around him any more, do you mean . . . ?’

  ‘I mean I’ve left him!’ Linda’s voice cracked melodramatically and she broke into fresh sobs.

  A flash of sudden comprehension illuminated Debbie’s face, and the hand that had been stroking Linda’s back fell still. ‘I see,’ she said, but the calmness in her voice was betrayed by a look of growing panic. ‘Well, have you spoken to him today? If you talk to him, you might find . . .’

  But Linda’s sobbing grew louder and more persistent, drowning out Debbie’s efforts to reassure her. ‘No, Deb, I can’t talk to him – I can’t go back! I just can’t.’ She slumped forward until her forehead practically touched the dining table, her shoulders shaking and her chest heaving.

  Debbie resumed the slow rubbing motion on her sister’s back. ‘No, of course not, Linda. I understand,’ she said soothingly.

  Over the sound of Linda’s sniffing, I heard cat biscuits being eaten from the dish in the kitchen, and a few moments later Eddie padded into the living room. With a cursory glance at the snivelling stranger bent double over the table, he spotted me in the cardboard box and walked towards me, his tail raised in salutation. I blinked affectionately and he climbed into the box beside me and began to wash, unfazed by the drama playing out on the other side of the room.

  Several minutes passed while Linda wiped her eyes with the heels of her hands and blew her nose.

  ‘So, have you thought about what you’re going to do?’ Debbie prompted, when Linda had finally stopped sniffing.

  Still avoiding looking at her sister, Linda shook her head.

  Debbie inhaled deeply, assuming an expression somewhere between resignation and dread. ‘Would . . . you like to stay here, until you get yourself sorted out?’ she asked.

  At this, Linda turned to face Debbie. ‘Oh, Debs, do you really mean that? Are you sure it won’t be too much trouble?’ she said, her red-rimmed eyes shining.

  ‘Of course it won’t, Linda,’ answered Debbie, after a fractional hesitation. ‘As long as you don’t mind sleeping on a sofa-bed, that is. We haven’t got much room, as you can see. And it won’t be for long . . . will it?’ A trace of a nervous smile danced across Debbie’s lips, but Linda appeared not to have heard the question.

  She leant over and seized her sister in a hug. ‘Oh, Debs, thank you so much. I knew I could count on you,’ she gushed, squeezing her sister tightly around the neck.

  Intrigued by the noise of Linda’s crying, the other kittens had now come upstairs to investigate. They prowled around the room, shooting curious looks at the newcomer and sniffing inquisitively at her boots and handbag on the rug.

  As Linda and Debbie pulled apart, Linda gave her eyes a final dab. ‘Well, I suppose I might as well bring my things in, before it gets dark,’ she said, with an air of practicality, tucking her tissue back inside her jeans pocket.

  ‘Your things . . . have you – you mean now?’ I saw the corner of Debbie’s mouth twitch.

  ‘If that’s okay?’ Linda asked, with an ingratiating smile. ‘I just threw a few things in the car this morning, to keep me going.’

  ‘Er, okay,’ Debbie answered, her eyes flitting anxiously around the cluttered room. ‘I’d better clear up some of this mess, to make some space for you.’

  ‘Deb, please, don’t go to any trouble – it’ll be fine. You’ll hardly know I’m here,’ Linda insisted. She jumped up from her chair, startling the kittens who scattered skittishly across the room, and grabbed a bunch of keys from her bag. ‘I’ll just nip down and get my stuff from the car. Back in two minutes,’ she said, pulling on her boots.

  ‘Hang on, you’ll need the key for the café door,’ Debbie called after her sister’s retreating back.

  Linda leant back through the doorway, smiling as Debbie tossed her a key. ‘Thanks. I’ll get a copy cut tomorrow,’ she said airily.

  Downstairs, the café door slammed shut. In the living room Debbie stood next to the dining table, looking slightly shell-shocked. Slowly the kittens began to emerge from their various hiding places, still jumpy after Linda’s sudden departure. Debbie watched them with a preoccupied look for a few moments until, with a brisk shake of her head, she set about trying to tidy up. She had just picked up the stack of newspapers from the coffee table when the café door tinkled again.

  ‘It’s only me,’ Linda shouted from the bottom of the stairwell.

  Clutching the papers, Debbie listened as Linda mounted the stairs. Her tread was slow and laboured, accompanied by sporadic grunts of frustration, and every step was followed by a dull thud as something heavy hit the floor.

  ‘Linda, are you all right?’ Debbie called, hastily setting the newspapers back down. She winced at the sound of scraping against a wall in the hallway.

  I watched from the corner of the room as a large plastic container came through the door, followed by Linda, pink-faced from exertion. In addition to the plastic container that she held in front of her body, she was also pulling a wheeled suitcase behind her. She edged past the dining table, almost knocking over a dining chair, and Debbie automatically stepped forward to take the container, placing it in the middle of the floor.

  It took me a moment to register that the container was a pet carrier; and it was a further few seconds before I realized, with a sickening lurch in my stomach, that the animal inside was a dog.

  3

  Linda wheeled her suitcase across the room and stood it beneath the window, then puffed out her cheeks with relief.

  ‘Um, Linda, what’s this?’ Debbie asked, looking dubiously at the pet carrier, which had begun to wobble on the rug.

  ‘Oh, this is Beau. Didn’t I mention him?’ Linda’s voice was offhand.

  I narrowed my eyes suspiciously at her, before returning my gaze to the quaking plastic box. The kittens stood around the living room, fascinated and alarmed in equal measure. Purdy, who had always been the most confident of the siblings, strode brazenly towards the carrier, sniffing the air as she prowled in a circle around it. The box fell ominously still as its occupant sensed her silent movements. The other kittens looked on, happy to let their braver sister do the investigating for them.

/>   ‘No, I’m pretty sure you didn’t mention him. Beau is a dog, I take it?’ Debbie replied, in the unnaturally even tone she used when trying not to lose her temper with Sophie.

  ‘Yes, but he’s only small, and very well trained,’ Linda reassured her. She crouched down in front of the carrier, which started to rock violently as its occupant scuffled to the front and began to paw at the wire door. ‘You’re a good boy, aren’t you, Beau? Do you want to come out?’ she cooed in a babyish voice, her lips puckering into a pout.

  A small black nose appeared through a gap in the door, and a pink tongue flicked underneath, reaching for Linda’s face. I averted my eyes, repulsed by the demeaning display of canine submission, but the licking had the desired effect on Linda; she kissed the wet nose and began to unlock the carrier.

  Before the door was even fully open, the dog had shot out into the room, where his demeanour changed instantly from submissive to aggressively territorial. He was a buff-coloured fluffy creature – not much larger than me – with short, stubby legs and a plume of a tail that curled back over his body. The fur around his cheeks had been neatly trimmed to emphasize the teddy-bear-like roundness of his snub-nosed face; and his dark eyes, which were half-hidden beneath feathery eyebrows, darted beadily around the room.

  I scanned the area to locate all the kittens, praying they were near enough the door to be able to escape, should they need to. My eye was immediately drawn to Purdy, who was on the living-room rug behind Beau’s carrier. The nonchalance she had displayed while Beau was incarcerated had vanished now that he was free. She had drawn herself up into a defiant arc, with her hackles raised and tail fluffed voluminously.

  As if sensing her presence, Beau turned and fixed his dark eyes insolently on Purdy. She stared unblinkingly back at him and, for a moment, the room was silent and still. Then, with a vicious growl, he lunged across the floor towards her. Purdy responded instinctively, with an explosion of spitting and hissing, and for a moment it was impossible to distinguish dog from cat, as they merged into a writhing mass of limbs and fur. The other kittens leapt for safety, sending papers and empty mugs flying as they tried to get as far away from the melee as possible.

  ‘Beau! Oh my God. Beau, baby – stop!’ Linda shrieked, with absolutely no effect whatsoever.

  Purdy scrambled on top of the pet carrier, from where, with her claws bared and ears flat against her head, she let out a rapid volley of bats against Beau’s upturned muzzle. Confused by her sudden height advantage, Beau seemed rooted to the spot, powerless to defend himself against her repeated blows. The sound of claws snagging on skin was followed by Beau’s high-pitched yelp and a gasp of shock from Linda. Then it was all over: realizing the battle was lost, Beau fled, scuttling into Linda’s open arms.

  She made soothing noises and kissed the tip of his nose as Beau whimpered pathetically. I turned to look at Debbie, wondering why she had gone to stand by the window, seemingly to stare at the ceiling. Following her eye-line upwards, I realized that Abby and Bella had both shot up the curtain and were now crouched on the curtain pole, rigid with fear, resolutely ignoring her attempts to coax them down. Throughout the drama Eddie had remained by my side, alert but sanguine, perhaps reassured by his proximity to me. Maisie, the smallest and shyest of my kittens, was nowhere to be seen; I hoped she had either escaped through the door or taken refuge behind the sofa.

  Deciding to leave Abby and Bella where they were, Debbie turned back to face the room. ‘Linda,’ she said, rubbing her forehead, ‘I think maybe we should keep Beau and the cats apart for now, at least until they all get used to each other. Don’t you?’

  Beau was lying on his back in Linda’s arms, licking frantically at her face in a way that made my stomach turn. ‘You might be right,’ Linda replied, looking at Beau with a distraught expression. ‘The poor thing’s traumatized, bless him.’

  Downstairs, the café door slammed. ‘Hi, Mum,’ shouted Sophie. Beau immediately wriggled out of Linda’s grip, dropped to the floor and started yapping demonically.

  ‘Hi, love,’ Debbie called back meekly, with a look that suggested she expected the situation was about to take a turn for the worse. We all listened as Sophie ascended the stairs, Beau’s bark increasing in ferocity with every step she took. When Sophie appeared in the doorway, Maisie picked her moment to dart out from behind the sofa, shooting between Sophie’s legs to make a break for the stairs. The combination of Maisie’s escape and Sophie’s arrival proved irresistible for Beau. He bolted after Maisie, practically knocking the unsuspecting Sophie off her feet.

  ‘What the . . . ? Whose dog is that?’ she asked, before looking up and noticing Linda, who was still crouched in the middle of the floor, ashen-faced. ‘Oh, hi, Auntie Lin—’

  ‘Stop him, Soph!’ Debbie shouted, but it was too late. Beau had deftly swerved around the banisters in pursuit of Maisie. Linda jumped to her feet and barged past Sophie into the hallway. There were more yelps and scuffles in the stairwell, as Linda grabbed Beau and manhandled him back upstairs, finally depositing him in the kitchen and slamming the door shut. Seconds later, Linda reappeared at the living-room door. She smoothed her hair and arranged her face into a smile, before walking towards Sophie with her arms open.

  ‘Hi, Soph, how are you? Good day at college?’

  ‘I’m good, thanks,’ Sophie replied, nonplussed, allowing her aunt to embrace her. She shot her mother a questioning look over Linda’s shoulder.

  ‘Auntie Linda’s going to be staying here for . . . a few days,’ Debbie explained. ‘With her dog.’

  ‘Oh, right.’ Sophie smiled politely.

  Linda released her from the hug, and I saw Sophie’s eyes land on the large suitcase under the window.

  No one spoke as Debbie, Linda and Sophie stood awkwardly around the empty carrier. Purdy had jumped onto the sofa and, with a look of complacent victory, had begun to wash, while Abby and Bella remained huddled together nervously on the curtain pole. I sat in the shoebox next to Eddie, taking in the bizarre tableau. The silence was broken only by the sound of Beau pawing at the kitchen door, his claws grating against the wood.

  ‘I’m sure he’ll settle down soon,’ Linda murmured, at which Debbie tried to muster a smile.

  ‘Well, I’ve got work to do, so I might just go up to my room,’ Sophie said breezily, picking up her school bag.

  ‘Good idea, love,’ Debbie concurred. ‘We’ll order a takeaway later,’ she added, in an artificially upbeat tone.

  ‘Mmm, great,’ Sophie replied, her phony enthusiasm not fooling anyone.

  Debbie sank onto a dining chair, looking drained.

  I would have liked nothing more than to restore my equanimity with a calming wash, followed by a long nap, but the dog’s persistent scraping at the kitchen door, now accompanied by pitiful howling, ruled out the possibility of any rest.

  Sensing tension in the atmosphere, Linda took it upon herself to tidy the mess caused by Beau and Purdy’s stand-off, lifting the upturned mugs off the floor and straightening the disarrayed files on the dining table. She picked up the pet carrier and looked around for somewhere less obtrusive to put it, finally making space for it on the floor in the alcove next to the sofa.

  The delivery of a Chinese takeaway later that evening went some way towards lifting spirits in the flat. Sophie shuffled down from her bedroom, wearing slippers and a onesie, her long blonde hair tied back in a loose ponytail, to reveal the almond-shaped blue eyes that so closely resembled her mother’s.

  ‘How’s your homework going?’ Debbie asked, as she placed a bunch of cutlery on the table.

  ‘Okay,’ Sophie shrugged.

  ‘They work you hard at school these days, don’t they?’ Linda said, peeling the cardboard lids from the foil food trays at the table.

  ‘It’s not school, it’s college,’ Sophie corrected her. She had left school the previous summer to attend a local college, and was adamant that the distinction between the two should be recognized.

 
The three of them spooned out food onto their plates and began to eat, to the background accompaniment of Beau’s pitiful whimpering in the kitchen. Linda cheerfully fired a succession of questions at Sophie and Debbie about their lives, the café and Stourton. There was a relentless, interrogative quality to her questions and, when she finally took Beau for a walk after dinner, it felt as though everyone in the flat – human and feline – breathed a collective sigh of relief.

  Debbie flopped onto the sofa and patted her lap, inviting me to jump up. Sophie sat down beside us and tapped at her phone, while Debbie stroked me and sipped her wine. Neither of them spoke, and I sensed we were all enjoying the peace and quiet.

  Twenty minutes later, however, when we heard the café door open, I felt Debbie’s body tense underneath me. She inhaled sharply when Linda appeared in the living room with Beau tucked under her arm, although whether that had to do with Linda’s return or the fact that, upon seeing Beau, I involuntarily impaled her knees with my claws, I could not be sure. Debbie unpicked my embedded claws from her jeans, one by one, while Linda placed Beau inside his carrier in the alcove, ordering him, ‘Be a good boy and lie down.’ Worn out by his walk and, presumably, grateful not to be locked in the kitchen, Beau did as he was told and, within a few minutes, was fast asleep and snoring.

  When Jasper sauntered into the room a little while later I realized that, in the chaos of Linda and Beau’s arrival, I had forgotten to meet him in the alleyway for our usual evening stroll. As I watched him slink silently between the table legs, it occurred to me that, having been outside all day, he would be unaware of the new arrivals. He did not break his stride when he noticed Linda sprawled sideways on the armchair, but a snuffly snort from the pet carrier in the alcove stopped Jasper in his tracks. He froze, glanced through the wire door at the sleeping dog, then lifted his eyes to shoot a look in my direction that seemed to say, ‘You’ve got to be kidding me.’ His tail twitched and his amber eyes narrowed in distaste at the unconscious Beau, before he swiftly retraced his steps into the hall. A couple of moments later I heard the cat flap downstairs swinging and I knew he had headed back out, no doubt planning to sleep in the alley.