by E. Earle
“Run away?”
“Yes!”
“What makes you think I ran away?” he meowed whilst stretching. “Maybe it was just time for me to go.”
I frowned. It was impossible for him to still be alive- and more impossible that he could talk. “But you’re back?”
“Yes.”
“Why? How?”
“You need me,” he said simply. “You’re my human.”
The next day, I woke, finding myself wrapped in cat and blankets. If I was expecting to be talking cat free, I was very much mistaken. Ben seemingly had decided that he had been quiet too long and enjoyed too much being the soul of conversation.
“Make sure you have some breakfast,” he said as I poured a cup of tea for myself. “It’s lovely outside- not that I want to go outside. Horrible muck that humans drop littering the streets. Maybe I will take a walk though? A wee stroll in the park mayhaps? See some birds? Maybe I can walk you to work? That would be nice, wouldn’t it? Like old times? I remember-”
And it went on. His cat voice meowing and crooning as I prepared myself for work, as I ate, as I showered and as I dressed. I nodded and ummed my way through his conversation, shock still paralysing my limbs from doing what I needed them. I dropped my brush about five times whilst trying to brush my hair.
“You’re blonde now. I like it. I think you should go ginger though, like me. We could match then.”
Whether the nightmare of him talking to me would stop, I didn’t know. I wondered if someone had spiked my drink at work, or maybe I had drank a bad batch of rum- or maybe some cells had just exploded in my brain, making me think that my cat could talk to me.
“Aren’t you going to say bye?” Ben asked as I unlocked the door to go out.
I froze in my steps and saw his swish his tail in anticipation. “Bye,” I said, and shut the door.
The cold air brought some life into my arms and legs as I power walked it to work, determined to stamp out any anxiety in my body. My car still hadn’t been fixed and with the frost of the floor, the short walk to work had taken ten minutes longer to avoid falling over.
Suddenly, I tripped. I looked down and saw Ben rub himself along my legs.
“I thought I would walk you to work,” he said cheerfully.
My eyes widened and I looked wildly about. “How did you get out?” I hissed.
“You left the bathroom window open after your shower,” he said, sniffing the air. “Come on, you’re going to be late else.” He started walking ahead of me and then turned around. “Come on!”
I walked up to him. “Go home!”
“Don’t be silly,” he said. “It’s boring back there.”
My eyes scanned my surroundings and saw a group of school kids walking towards us in a group, laughing and talking loudly.
“But you said it was mucky out here!”
His tail went up in interest at the school kids. “They’re loud,” he noted.
“Go home!” I rubbed my forehead and stopped. “Oh god, I’m talking to a cat.”
Ben walked close to my leg as the group of teenagers approached. “Nice cat!” one of the kids shouted at me.
My mouth worked but nothing would come out. The teenagers stopped walking and barred my way from walking past them. It was a narrow path and the road was busy. For a moment, worry flamed up for Ben as I watched them pet him.
He enjoyed the attention, and I rolled my eyes.
“Is he yours?” a young girl asked wearing a skirt that I deemed a bit too short for school in this weather.
“Um... yeah,” I said.
“What’s he doing out?” another teenager asked.
“Walking me to work?” I offered weakly. They loved it, petted Ben some more and watched me walk away with him.
“Well that was nice,” Ben remarked, tail high in the air.
I said nothing, still trying to stop myself from having a total meltdown.
I allowed him to walk with me to work, figuring that if I did then he would be happy and just go home.
“Ok Ben,” I said at the gates to the college, uncomfortable with the amount of U.C.W students staring at me. “Time to go now.”
“Don’t be silly, I’ll walk you to the door,” he said, taking off again.
I had no choice but to follow, noticing every look, whisper and pointed finger in my direction. I nervously smiled at the students, nodded and said good morning.
“Nice pussy,” one student said, his chav mates laughing around him. Ben hissed at them, much to their amusement and my satisfaction.
“Mind your language,” I said, revealing my staff badge.
There wasn’t a more smug cat as I walked to the doors of reception. I looked down at Ben then and worried about him getting back. I frowned and bent down to him. “Ok then Ben, time to go home.”
His tail twitched as he blinked at me. He didn’t say anything, and I suppose it was because a group of students just walked past me, murmuring the word, “cat”.
“Home time, Ben,” I said, making my voice sound pleasant in front of the students. “Go on. Go home!”
He purred at me and thrust his head into my hand.
I stroked him quickly and then stood up. “Bye bye, Ben.”
“Have a good day at work!” he meowed as I turned around to walk into the building. I jumped, but as I looked back he was gone, and the students were absent also.
I frowned. Trust him to choose his moments.
Chapter Three
Hoping to repair any burst brain cells that had made me able to hear Ben talk, I threw myself into work. I was going to make things happen for myself. In my break, I created a six week Creative Writing Course. If the U.C.W weren’t going to make things happen for me, I was going to make things happen for myself.
I emailed it to a couple of schools in the area, saying that I have developed a course suitable for students doing or preparing for their G.C.S.E’s in English who needed some extra help in their creative writing. I also wanted to inspire young writers- that was always my passion. Being a Teaching Assistant just paid the bills. It was writing I truly loved.
After I had done that, (I had a two hour break) I emailed all of the schools in the area, emailing them my C.V and asked about any upcoming vacancies. I finished with applying for a couple of jobs and went back to class actually feeling good about myself.
At half four I had finished work. I needed to prepare for my English lesson. I walked into the staff room and signed out, when a line of conversation caught my ear.
“...ginger cat outside.”
“What was that?” I asked.
A teaching assistant (whose name I don’t know) smiled at me. “Oh, we were just saying that there’s a ginger cat outside reception.”
My heart stopped. “Oh god.”
The TA looked confused. “Don’t you like cats?”
“Not that one.”
I walked outside to find Ben sitting there, licking his paws clean from whatever he had dared to step on.
He blinked as my shoulder got in the way of his sun and started to rub himself on my legs. “Good day at work?”
“Didn’t you go back to the flat?” I said through clenched teeth, aware that people were looking at me from the reception windows.
He didn’t answer me and decided to meow instead as a couple of students walked past. “Shall we go home?” he finally said as they were out of earshot.
I looked behind and saw a couple of TA’s standing there murmuring to each other whilst gawping at me. They waved then, grinning and I was forced to wave back.
“Let’s go,” I said, quickly jet setting off into my fastest powerwalk.
He walked me to work for the rest of the week and was there waiting for me when I finished. People had started to talk about it around the college, but Student Support never said a word.
The next week, I found a bowl of milk for him by the reception doors, and soon someone was feeding him as well. Concerned that they thought he w
as a stray, I decided to broach the subject of a collar.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he sniffed. “Me? Wear a collar? Never in my life!”
I had grown used to the fact that whatever brain cells that had been damaged weren’t going to repair themselves, and resigned to the fact that I lived with a talking cat.
“What about a really nice collar?”
“Oh sorry, were you considering putting me in a horrid one?”
“Ben!”
He jumped away from me and onto the windowsill, his pale ginger back as my only response. I rolled my eyes. “Benedict?”
His tail twitched. “That’s better,” he said, quickly returning.
“But what if someone catches you?”
“That is impossible.”
He was right, you know.
A week or so later, we were to test this theory. Whether Ben had become bored waiting outside for me in the cold, or whether he decided he would like to invade my life even more, he decided to take his intrusion one step further.
I was in the library, replying to Nuneaton Academy. They had expressed an interest in my Creative Writing Program and wanted to meet me for a discussion. My hours were still low at the college, but things had become so much better since I had stopped teaching I.C.T. Jeff however, didn’t seem to want to reply to my emails about any upcoming work. Whether he had given me up as a lost cause, or too much trouble to deal with, I don’t know. All I knew that it was nigh on impossible to get his attention.
“Oh my God, is that a cat?”
I looked up tiredly, wondering which student had just discovered the old news that a cat liked to sit outside the reception (the library was above reception), from looking out of the window. I realised then that the red haired student in question was actually looking down the English Literature Section.
My eyes widened.
“No.you.haven’t!” I stood from my seat and heard another student shriek with delight. “Oh god, oh god, oh god!”
I turned around and saw the Library Assistants soon clock on. “Did someone say there’s a cat in here?” one with a 90’s red bob and diamante glasses demanded. Her co-worker with curly hair stared back at her in confusion.
I picked up my bag and quickly logged off. I was getting out of here!
Then I heard it. That meow. I turned around to see a Library Assistant lunge for a ball of ginger fur, only to fall into a trolley full of returned books. My eyes widened, half shocked that someone was throwing themselves around, and half because that ball of fur was darting around students’ feet, whom of which were still shrieking and yelling with delight. The sanctity of quiet was soon destroyed in the library as I watched nigh near the entire staff try and catch the cat.
My cat.
“Get him!” 90’s bob woman shouted.
Now, if there’s a time to regret not getting out of there while you can, then this was the time, because that ball of fur, suddenly clocked me.
I just managed to drop my bag as it flew in my direction and threw itself into my arms, purring all too loudly.
Without saying a word, I turned and walked out- and into Jeff.
Jeff was wearing another one of his impeccable grey suits, which I realised to dismay had quickly become covered in Ben’s ginger fur.
“Oh, hi, Jeff,” I said, clutching Ben tightly to me, terrified he’d run off again and cause more madness.
Jeff’s face was unreadable, and soon I was surrounded by Librarians.
“Is this your cat?” 90’s bob demanded.
“No animals allowed!”
“Look at the state of the library!”
My mouth worked as Ben purred into my ear, his eyes half closed in satisfaction. “Um, I’m, err-”
“Is this the cat I’ve been hearing so much about?” Jeff demanded, his arms becoming crossed over his chest.
I glanced at the Librarians, smug expressions on their faces, smelling discipline about to be dealt.
“Um, possibly?” I said, my heart pounding, aware that my lunch had fallen out of my bag.
A moment’s pause came before the shocking happened.
Jeff smiled. “How’s he finding the whiskers?”
“Wha-?”
“The whiskers?” Jeff prompted again. “I leave whiskers outside for him. Don’t worry- the milk isn’t proper milk- it’s cat’s milk for kittens. My wife bought it when she heard about your cat. She says they love it.”
I think the expression I had on my face was reflected on the surrounding Librarians around.
“And you lot,” he growled, turning to the library staff. “Whatever pandemonium you started in the Library was appalling, disruptive and unnecessary. It’s a cat- not a rhino!”
90’s bob started to splutter. “But, he was disrupting the students, sir!”
Jeff snorted, making me jump. “Nonsense. You disrupted the students. Don’t let it happen again. Ellie? May I have a word?”
Numb, I nodded and started to follow him into his office as the army of Librarian’s dispersed.
“Um, Ellie?”
“Yes?”
“Is that your ham sandwich on the floor?”
Quickly retrieving my lunch, I followed Jeff into his office and sat, Ben curling up into a nice warm ball on my lap.
“Right now, Ellie, I understand things haven’t been easy recently,” he said, “but you really can’t bring a cat to work with you.”
“Would you believe me if I said he brought himself?” I had no way to properly explain myself and I didn’t expect to get away with this. I was screwed.
Jeff laughed to my surprise, making me jump. “Actually, I could probably believe that.”
“He walks me to work,” I blurted, realising how crazy it sounded as soon as I said it. “And he waits for me to finish here. I think he gets bored.”
Jeff frowned. “Don’t you keep him in the house?”
If only it was that simple. “He’s an escape artist. If you kept him in this office, he’d find a way out.”
For some reason, Jeff found that hilarious as well. I was so confused and embarrassed, until Jeff started to show me some pictures on his phone of his own cats.
“Five?” I said, trying not to gasp it out. “You have five cats?”
“We did have six, but Tilly got ran over.”
An awkward silence passed at Jeff stared into space. I sensed that even Ben was starting to get a bit uncomfortable.
“Anyway,” Jeff started, making me jump again, “I have seen your emails, and I’ve been meaning to get back to you. I believe you’ve started doing a Creative Writing Course outside of the U.C.W?”
I shifted in my seat in discomfort. “Yes,” I said slowly. “I work part time and I like to stay pro-active.” I smiled, realising that I had said something very grown up and then tried to look serious- difficult with a ginger cat in your lap. “I’ve been meaning to ask you actually, Jeff, since we’re here now face to face...”
“Yes...?”
I then launched into my idea of running a Creative Writing competition within the college. I said that I knew that there weren’t any courses to actually cater to this, and that we only had GCSE English or Foundation English, but that may play to our favour. That we may be tapping into unknown talent. The college prided itself on its Art Campus in the neighbouring town and catered to everything except from Creative Writing.
“It could be something that may be pursued in the future,” I said. “I’ve noticed AQA have started to deliver an A-Level Creative Writing Course. This could be just the thing to bring up interest.”
Jeff frowned, and I wondered if I had gone too far with him. Been too ambitious.
“The college doesn’t deliver A-Levels, Ellie,” he said thoughtfully. “But it’s a good idea. I see no reason why we can’t hold a Creative Writing Competition. Get the media involved.”
At the word “Media” my stomach clenched. I remember last time I wanted to involve the media in a project I had done with the studen
ts of the college. The PR woman Sabrina had not been… helpful.
I had been trying to raise money for terminally ill boy called Dylan to send him to Disney land, and the students had made cakes to donate towards a Fundraiser Day. Nuneaton News were publishing a story about it and wanted to involve the U.C.W with a story about the students helping. A picture was asked for, and I went through all the proper routes. But it was a brick wall as soon as I had approached Sabrina. She was the ultimate power-tripper.
You could tell she enjoyed having power over other people, enjoyed asserting her authority, enjoyed making people feel small and stupid. I had told the story to uncaring ears, sharing the little boy’s plight with someone who literally could not give one flying toss about him. But she made all the right head gestures, nods and mmmms, but the smile never reached her eyes. The worst thing was, she gave me permission, and a form for the students to sign.
I went back up to class, rejoicing and excited, for her to interrupt the lesson, tell me she wasn’t happy with the information she had given me and that I was not to mention anything about the College in the newspaper. My mouth was wide open in shock, and the students were appalled also.
“You can come back to me when you have more information,” she said haughtily, her cream suit unblemished and perfect.
“But I’ve given you all the information I have,” I said numbly. “The paper needs the story by tonight-”
“Well, no they don’t really, do they?” she said, cocking her head to the side.
I was so shocked I couldn’t even say anything. I walked away from her and back to my seat next to my learner, the white form of permission in front of me.
A minute later, she returned, walking into the class and snatched the form from in front of me. “You won’t be needing that now, will you?” she said and walked away.
It was something that had always put a sour taste in my mouth whenever I heard her name. Sabrina Whitehead.
A renowned Prom Queen of Nuneaton with a long line of successful sisters who had also gained the title of Carnival Queen. She was the yearly judge of the future Carnival Queens and was always a guest at the major Nuneaton events. Now, I don’t know whether I was just envious that I had never had a crown on my head or what- but I was pretty sure that my encounter with her decided that we wouldn’t get along.