Charlie the Kitten Who Saved a Life

by Sheila Norton

  ‘I can understand that. Adult humans should be able to look after themselves, but human kittens are pretty vulnerable. Especially when they’re very small, like your Jessica, for instance.’

  ‘Oh my claws and whiskers, that’s a point! You’re right, Jessica’s a really tiny human kitten. So far, she can hardly move at all on her own. Everyone got all amazed and excited the other day just because she rolled over on the carpet, can you believe? She certainly won’t be going anywhere far like that! But if she starts wandering when she’s big enough, I’ll have to start looking out for her, too, for sure. My work as a life-saving hero is obviously going to be an ongoing occupation. I feel exhausted just thinking about it.’

  ‘Well, you’d better get your rest while you can, you poor exhausted life-saving hero!’ he said. He sounded just a little bit sarcastic, I have to say, although not in a nasty way. Ollie would never be nasty to me. He just keeps me in my place, and I suppose that’s fair enough.

  ‘Are you sure you don’t want to stay and hear some of my story now?’

  ‘No. Tomorrow will be better. Quite frankly you look worn out. And anyway, I’ve been thinking. Some of the other cats in the village keep asking me if I know what happened to you while you were missing. Why don’t you tell us all, together? I’ll spread the word tonight, and we can meet by the dustbins round the back of the shop early in the morning.’

  ‘You really think they’ll be interested?’

  ‘Oh yes, definitely.’ He gave me a friendly rub with his face. ‘I’m absolutely certain they’ll all be agog to hear about the exploits of our local life-saving hero!’

  And perhaps he was being a bit sarcastic again. But judging by the way you’ve all hung around to hear this story right to the very end, you know what? I think he might have been right. What’s that, Tabitha? You don’t want the story to end? Well, I’m sorry, but I’m pretty sure it must be nearly dinnertime again. And even heroes like me need to eat, you know. We all need to keep our strength up, just in case.

  Just in case what? Well, who knows? Who knows when you might be called upon to save someone’s life, just for instance? If it can happen to an ordinary little kitten like I recently used to be, well, it could happen to any cat, anywhere. Be warned. Be prepared. Humans need us! Even if they don’t realise it, they do, because let’s face it, we’re the superior race by far.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  With grateful thanks to Sharon Whelan, Clinical Director at Clarendon House Vet’s in Galleywood, Chelmsford, for advice on Charlie’s care after his injuries.

  And thanks to everyone at Ebury who helps with the process of turning my stories into proper books – with particular thanks to my editor Emily Yau for all her hard work on Charlie’s behalf. Meow!

  Read on for an extract from:

  The Vets at Hope Green

  Also by Sheila Norton

  Available now from Ebury Press

  PART 1

  ESCAPE TO THE COUNTRY

  PROLOGUE

  It was a beautiful, warm day at the end of May and the countryside on either side of the road was full of the promise of summer ahead. I wound down the driver’s window of my little car and turned up the radio so that I could hear the music above the noise of the breeze as I whizzed along in the fast lane of the motorway. Mile by mile, I felt myself relaxing. I felt my worries and uncertainties begin to melt away and my heart lifted with the anticipation of my destination.

  Hope Green. The very name made me feel more optimistic. I sang along to the radio, remembering happy family holidays on the Dorset coast when I was a child. Hope Green had hardly changed since those days, its age-old charm untouched by the increased pace of life elsewhere. It was somewhere I could unwind and be at peace, take stock of things and perhaps really find myself at last.

  As I steadily increased my distance from my home on the outskirts of London, I could almost feel my old life slipping off my shoulders like a heavy coat that had been weighing me down – the crowded streets, the rush-hour crush on the Tube, the traffic fumes, the stress on people’s faces – I was leaving all this behind me, leaving it for a place where life still depended on the seasons, where people still had time to chat on street corners, where people picked blackberries and elderberries from the hedgerows instead of buying them in tiny plastic packets from the supermarket at ridiculous expense. Here I would be able to see the stars at night instead of neon lights. And the only traffic jams were caused by tractors.

  I knew I was also leaving behind a few people who thought I’d lost my mind and was making a huge and ridiculous mistake. Perhaps I was, but I didn’t think so. This was my opportunity to start again, to carve out a new future for myself. A future that wouldn’t be just about me. And I was rushing headlong towards it, never more certain of anything in my life. Hope Green was my hope for that future, and I was determined not to look back.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Six weeks earlier

  It had been a fairly ordinary day at the James Street Vet Clinic. We’d had the usual procession of dogs, cats, hamsters and rabbits, but also a pair of budgies, a little white mouse and an urban fox who had been hit by a car and had been carried in almost lifeless by the kind but distraught lady who had found him. Without exception, the pet owners were all well heeled, well dressed and well paid, settling their bills without a murmur on their Amex cards before rushing back to their large expensive homes and their important jobs.

  Not that I resented our clientele, I reminded myself as I pulled on my coat and prepared to set off for my own, not-so-large home in a far less expensive area of the city. They were polite and responsible people for the most part and, after all, they did keep me employed. I loved seeing all the different animals being brought in and I knew many of the regulars by name and personality. I enjoyed the breakthrough moments when sick animals were restored to health and, on sadder occasions, though it was initially upsetting, I took satisfaction in my ability to comfort and console the owners.

  I’d always wanted to work with animals, and when I was offered the position of receptionist at this upmarket clinic in the heart of London’s West End, I thought all my dreams had come true. However, after four years of the same monotonous routine, I was beginning to feel that it wasn’t enough any more.

  Adam didn’t understand. I knew this because he delighted in questioning me on it every time I brought up the subject. I thought that your boyfriend was supposed to be someone who listens and sympathises, but he had taken the opposite tack. The last time it had come up, when we’d met for drinks after work, he had asked me in his usual weary voice what exactly it was that I wasn’t happy with.

  ‘Nothing,’ I’d told him, equally wearily. ‘I keep trying to explain to you – there’s nothing wrong with the job itself, it’s just that I feel … kind of frustrated, I suppose.’

  ‘Frustrated with what?’

  I sighed. To be fair, I had trouble rationalising it myself. On the surface, my job was everything I wanted it to be. I loved seeing and spending time with all the animals, especially the regulars, but I’d always hoped for something more. I’d never really told Adam how strong my desire was to become a vet myself one day, though of course he knew I’d taken the City & Guilds course in Animal Care the previous year. His view was that I was ‘only’ the receptionist – as if I wasn’t all too aware of this already – and wasn’t employed to start ‘scrubbing up and interfering in operations’.

  I’d taken the course with the intention that it would allow me to help out occasionally at the clinic. Playing with my favourite pets while they waited in the reception area was nice, obviously, but it wasn’t where I saw myself further down the line.

  ‘I just don’t have the chance to do anything with what I learned.’

  ‘You’re not one of the nurses,’ he said, with a slight lift of his eyebrows, ‘or one of the vets.’

  ‘I’m not that stupid, Adam. I just thought they’d let me help out if they needed an extra pair of hands. Holding
a difficult patient or calming them down, that kind of thing.’ I sipped my drink, wishing yet again that I hadn’t brought up the subject.

  ‘You must have known what the job description was when you accepted the post.’

  ‘Of course I did, but that was four years ago and … well.’ I shook my head. This was going nowhere. ‘Let’s just say I’m starting to feel like I want a change.’

  When I’d first moved to London from Norfolk to take up the much longed-for position of working with animals, I was perhaps a tad starry-eyed and naïve. The reality of living in London had been a series of shocks, mostly of the financial variety – I rented a tiny single room, no bigger than a matchbox, in an upstairs flat which I shared with two other girls – and the reality of being a receptionist in an inner-city veterinary clinic was not how I had envisioned it. I don’t know why I’d allowed myself to assume it would eventually lead to something other than what it was. It wasn’t the job. It was me.

  ‘Perhaps you’re just in a bit of a rut,’ Adam said. ‘Maybe you’ll feel differently when we buy a place together.’

  And that was the other thing. I might have been naïve when I first moved to London, but the scales had long since fallen from my eyes. It amazed me that Adam continued to think it was only a matter of time before we could afford to get a place together – neither of us was exactly earning mega bucks. Adam was living with his parents in Hampstead, claiming to be saving up, and while I couldn’t deny the idea of one day setting up home together had once been an exciting prospect, as time passed it seemed more and more unrealistic. In fact, the difficulties seemed to be all I thought about these days, and I’d started to question whether I actually wanted our relationship to last at all.

  I wasn’t ready to confront these thoughts, though, so I changed tack and gave Adam an apologetic smile.

  ‘OK, maybe I’m just being silly,’ I said. ‘You’re right: I knew from the start what my job was all about, and at least it’s better than working in that estate agents’ office back in King’s Lynn.’

  ‘Exactly. I don’t suppose there was much contact with dogs and cats there.’ He smiled and took my hand.

  ‘And of course, I do want us to move in together,’ I went on, ignoring the doubts at the back of my mind. ‘It’s just so difficult. I wonder how we’ll ever manage it.’

  ‘At least we can try, though. We can still have our dreams.’

  I smiled back at him. ‘I do dream about it, actually. A lot, as a matter of fact. I like to fantasise about a pretty little cottage somewhere in the country. It has a huge garden all around it where the dogs can run free, with apple trees where the children can climb and swing from the branches—’

  I stopped short. What on earth was I thinking of, sharing that with him? But it was too late. He’d stopped smiling and had taken his hand away from mine.

  ‘More of a fairy tale than a dream, that one, isn’t it?’ he said. ‘I mean, if you’re going to be that unrealistic, no wonder you think we’ll never be able to afford it.’

  ‘I know. I did say it was just a fantasy.’

  ‘We both work in London. It’ll have to be a flat. And as for a garden, forget it. Quite apart from the fact that you know I don’t particularly like dogs.’ And then he added under his breath, ‘Or children.’

  ‘Since when have you not liked children?’ I asked, taken aback. ‘That’s a new one to me.’ It was one thing he wasn’t an animal lover, but I didn’t quite know if I could process that he didn’t like children either.

  ‘OK, I don’t not like them, but I’ve never wanted any of my own. Not for a long time, anyway, if at all. Maybe when I’m about forty I might feel differently …’ He looked at me sharply. ‘You’re not getting broody or anything, are you?’

  ‘No. Of course not,’ I said. ‘But I suppose I’ve assumed we’d have them at some point. When we’re ready and … financially stable and everything.’

  ‘And living in the cosy cottage in the country with roses round the door?’

  ‘Don’t mock me, Adam. We all need our dreams.’

  As I swung my bag over my shoulder and walked out of the clinic, I thought about my ‘dream’ and whether Adam really was part of mine or not. I’d met him just over three years ago at a birthday party for one of my flatmates, and the attraction was instant – and mutual. Back then, we never seemed to argue. We were like any other young couple – independent and carefree, spending what little we had to spare on fun and frivolity. Ironically, it was only when our relationship became more serious and we started making long-term plans to settle down that the arguments began. Our differences, which hadn’t particularly mattered up till then, now seemed to loom in almost every conversation. He positively loved London and never wanted to leave, whereas I’d only ever seen it as a temporary base, somewhere I could enjoy an independent city-dweller life and establish a career, but not a place where I could settle down.

  Adam was a trainee accountant and had aspirations of climbing the professional ladder and eventually commanding a big salary, with things like flashy cars and riverside penthouse apartments high on his wish list. I’d have been happy with a pushbike, a couple of Labradors and, well, yes, that fantasy cottage in the country. Were we really even compatible? Or had our relationship simply become a habit?

  Easter was coming up and I’d booked two weeks off work so I could spend at least part of it with Adam at his parents’ house in Hampstead. I hadn’t taken any holiday since the previous summer, and when Adam had suggested it around Christmas time it had seemed like a nice idea. Back in the dark chill of December, when I was spending every evening huddled in my duvet in front of the electric fire in my tiny room, the thought of going for long walks with Adam on Hampstead Heath in the sunshine held a lot of appeal. I liked his parents, I liked their big townhouse on a tree-lined avenue, and I liked his mum’s hearty cooked breakfasts, roast dinners and home-made desserts. I’d managed to romanticise the whole notion of the holiday to the point where it was almost irrelevant that Adam and I were quarrelling so often. I’d even convinced myself that, somehow, things would be different during this mythical springtime idyll, and that afterwards, everything would feel better.

  Dream on, Sam, I muttered to myself as I swiped my Oyster card at the turnstile in the Tube station. I needed to start facing up to the fact that we weren’t getting along so well any more. The longer it went on, the harder it was going to be. And suddenly, I realised that instead of spending more time in each other’s company over Easter, what we really needed was a break from each other.

  ‘Darling! How lovely to hear from you! Hold on, let me just put this down and turn off this …’ My mum, as usual, sounded like she was in the middle of doing at least three things at once, all of them urgent. ‘How are you?’

  ‘OK, thanks.’ I hesitated. It was best never to beat about the bush with Mum, so I just came out with it. ‘I wondered if I could come home for a couple of weeks?’

  ‘How lovely! Of course you can. When are you thinking?’

  ‘Next weekend.’

  ‘Hold on, let me think. So you’d be here over Easter?’

  ‘Yes, and the following week, if that’s all right. It’ll be nice to see you both, and catch up with the family, and—’

  ‘I thought that was when you were going to stay with Adam and his family?’

  ‘Well, yes, it was.’ I let the pause become ominous, not really knowing what else to say. ‘I don’t think I’m going to go.’ It was surely the biggest hint that things weren’t going well in my relationship, but Mum failed to pick up on it.

  ‘Oh, that’s a shame. Dad and I will be away,’ she continued in her upbeat voice. ‘Didn’t I tell you? We’re going on a cruise – Venice and the Greek islands. We thought we’d treat ourselves.’

  Oh yes. I remembered now – Mum had told me about the cruise. I think she’d counted on me being with Adam over Easter. These days, it seemed as if my parents made a career out of treating themselves, not that I
blamed them. They worked hard, and since my two brothers and I had all left home, they had no ties to hold them back and were determined to see the world. I was usually pleased for them but at that moment I could have really have done with their company.

  ‘Oh. Never mind. I hope you enjoy it.’

  ‘So what will you do? Go to Hampstead after all?’

  ‘I don’t know. Perhaps I won’t take the time off work at all.’ The thought of a holiday had lost all of its appeal now. ‘Maybe I’ll wait till you and Dad are back.’

  ‘Well, don’t forget we’re going to Madeira in May with Peter and Gaynor. And then at the end of June we’ll be in France for a week as usual. And then there’s the trip to New York coming up—’

  ‘Of course. OK, Mum. I’ll get back to you.’

  ‘Is everything all right? You sound a bit … down.’

  Finally, she’d picked up on it, but it was too late now for her to help, so I brushed it off. ‘I just fancied getting out of London for a while, that’s all. I’m OK.’

  ‘I don’t blame you, Sam. It must be so exhausting, in those crowds all the time.’ She paused. ‘Why don’t you go down to Dorset and stay with your nan? It must be a while since you saw her.’

  I hadn’t thought about staying with my nan. And it was true: I hadn’t seen her since she’d come up at Christmas. I loved spending time with Nana Peggy, and Hope Green, the village where she lived, was the exact opposite of London: just what I needed. I wasn’t sure if she’d want me descending on her at such short notice, but there was no harm in asking. And since my granddad had passed away a few years ago I was sure she wouldn’t mind having a bit of company.

  Suddenly, my day was looking a lot brighter.