But I’m getting ahead of myself now. Back at Sarah and Martin’s house, something very important happened during those cold winter days. Their new kitten came home. The whole family went out together to collect her, and when they came back, Grace was carrying her very carefully in a cardboard box. Sarah closed all the doors and then they put the box down and let her out.
‘Keep Ollie away for the first little while,’ she told the children. ‘We don’t want her to be frightened.’
As if I, of all cats, was going to frighten a poor little kitten. I knew just how it felt to be tiny and defenceless in a scary new place. I sulked in my chair in the lounge, listening to the children’s excited voices, imagining the little newcomer scurrying around the kitchen, wondering where she was, who these new humans were, and what had happened to her mother and her siblings. It brought back sad memories for me. But this new little kitten had come to a good home straight away. She was going to have a happy start in life.
Of course, she soon settled in, and quickly got used to me, too. I liked having her snuggle up with me in my bed. She was a bright little thing. Pretty soon she understood enough Cat for me to start giving her the benefit of my experience and teaching her about the human world. They called her Nancy. Apparently that was the name of someone in a book, a book about an Oliver.
‘All we need now is an Artful Dodger,’ Martin said. Sarah laughed, but I had no idea what he was talking about.
* * *
Not long after Nancy arrived, I was on one of my regular visits to Caroline when I heard a little squeaking noise coming from the kitchen. I sat up straight, ears erect and twitching. For a minute I thought Nancy must have followed me all the way there. I must have imagined it – it had sounded just like a kitten crying.
‘Come and see, Oliver,’ Caroline said, her eyes bright with excitement. ‘Be very gentle, though.’
I followed her into the kitchen, across the wide stone floor, and there, by the big old cooker that seemed to be turned on, belting out heat all day every day throughout the winter, was a furry cat bed just like the one I had. And sitting in the middle of the bed, looking a bit lost, was a tiny kitten. He looked even smaller than Nancy, but it might have been because the bed was too big for him. And whereas you could already see Nancy was going to be a beauty, with her mother Suki’s sleek shiny fur and creamy colouring, this little fellow looked like he’d been born with a cheeky expression on his face. He glanced up at me, his head on one side, one ear up and the other down, let out another little squeak and then clambered out of the bed, tripping over his own paws. He came right up to me, bold as brass, and began to rub his face against my legs. I couldn’t believe it – it was like looking at a miniature version of my old friend. There was no doubt about it, he was quite clearly Tabby’s son.
I couldn’t help feeling fond of the little chap. He was certainly never going to lack for anything, this one – he’d fallen on his paws, all right, living in this beautiful house, with these lovely humans. But if he looked for a father figure, a good upright male cat to guide him as he grew up – well, Tabby certainly wasn’t going to be around to do that. I made up my mind there and then that I’d take this little kitten under my own paw and tell him all he needed to know. Starting with my own life story, of course.
Yes, of course, that was you, Charlie – that was our first meeting. As you know, Nancy’s your sister. Suki was your mother, and unfortunately for you, Tabby was your dad. I’m only joking, he’s not a bad sort really. You could do worse than grow up like him, I suppose – you’re already like him in so many ways.
* * *
Ever since that day, I’ve been coming back to see you, haven’t I. Well, all right, I apologise – I know it’s been a bit of a while this time. I’ve been a very busy cat. I’ve obviously had to spend time every day inspecting the rebuilding of my pub, and I’m happy to say that last week we moved back in. Yes – I’m back where I belong, with George, and if you’d ever been lost or homeless you’d understand why I’m so happy. And the thing is, you see, I still have to visit my friends at my two foster homes, because they keep telling me they miss me. And I need to do a tour of the village every day to make sure all my other human friends are getting along OK.
But look at you now! Have you had a couple of growth spurts since we last met? You must be almost fully grown by now. I’ll certainly never be able to call you Little Kitten again. You do realise you’ll probably end up growing bigger than me, don’t you? You’re quite the young man about town now, I suppose. And with that cheeky way about you, I daresay you’ll be getting all the female cats’ hearts racing, just like that old rascal Tabby still seems to do. But I hope you’ll always remember what a lucky cat you are, to be living here. It was always a cat’s paradise, with those huge grounds and these big rooms to run around in, but everything’s so much nicer here now that Laura’s finished furnishing it and making it really homely. Julian’s a good, kind male – who’d have guessed how much he actually does like cats, after all. And of course, you love Caroline, don’t you. Everyone says how quickly she got better after you came to live with her.
Where are they, by the way? In the sitting room? Come on, then, let’s go and see them.
* * *
Ah, just look at them! Do they do that all the time? Sitting snuggled up together on the sofa like two cats curled up in their basket? Why do they keep looking at each other and grinning like that? To think, I used to wonder whether Laura had something wrong with her when she said she liked Julian. I’m glad she’s moved in. It’s nice to see them so happy together, isn’t it – nice for Caroline, too.
Caroline’s pleased to see us – look, she’s coming over to play with us now.
Hello, Caroline. Ha! It still makes you laugh when I rub myself around your legs like this, doesn’t it. Sorry if it tickles, but I just can’t help it – it’s so lovely to see you up on your two back paws all the time. Yes, I’ve come to talk to Charlie, but I’m here to see you as well. You say you’re excited about Christmas?
Surely it’s not going to be another Christmas again, so soon? It’ll be your first one, Charlie. Now, remember what I told you about the Christmas tree. You’re going to want to play with those baubles. They’re irresistible. You might have to sit on your paws to stop yourself. You say they’re bringing the tree in tomorrow? You saw Harry chopping it down outside? Oh, listen – they’re just talking about it now.
‘I don’t mind where we put it, Julian,’ Laura says. ‘In here, or in the ballroom. You decide.’
‘I don’t mind either,’ he says, looking back into her eyes with that silly smile. ‘I want everything the way you’d like it this Christmas, darling. No expense spared. Decorations everywhere. We’re celebrating Caroline’s recovery – and us all being together.’
* * *
And look who else is here! It’s Nicky, with baby Benjamin. He’s getting big now. Do you like him, Charlie? Yes, I know he makes a lot of squealing and squawking noises, but he can’t help that, you used to do it yourself.
It’s nice that Nicky has come to visit Caroline, with the baby. Look how Caroline enjoys fussing over him. Nicky’s put him down on the carpet so she can play with him. So she often comes here when she’s not looking after Freya and Henry? Ah, I see – she’s got friendly with Laura. They like to have a chat together. It looks like Julian’s going to leave them alone to talk. Perhaps he’s going off to do some Saturday pottering like Martin does.
‘How’s the house coming on, Nicky?’ Laura’s asking her now.
‘Slowly!’ She laughs. ‘But we’re getting there. We’re going to put a new kitchen in after Christmas – we’ve been saving up, and Dad’s going to help. Daniel’s so busy with the car repair business.’
‘I hear he’s going part-time at the shop in London now?’
‘Yes. He’s hoping to give it up altogether eventually. He’s got dreams of having his own workshop one day, and employing an apprentice.’ She gives another little laugh.
‘Good to have dreams, I suppose.’
‘I hope they come true. For both of you,’ Laura says, squeezing Nicky’s hand. ‘It’s good to see you looking so happy.’
‘And you,’ Nicky says. ‘I’m so glad it’s going well, Laura. Julian’s a good man.’
‘Yes.’ Laura’s cheeks go pink and she’s smiling to herself. ‘It’s going to be a wonderful Christmas. He’s determined to make everything perfect. For Caroline – for all of us. A celebration. It’s been a good year.’
‘Yes, it has,’ Nicky agrees. ‘Who’d have thought, this time last year, that Daniel and I would be married and living in our own home with our baby by now? It’s been a really special year.’
‘For me, too,’ I meow at them, in case they’d forgotten me – and they both turn and smile.
‘He always looks as if he’s trying to tell us something,’ Laura says. ‘I wish I knew what he was thinking.’
It just doesn’t seem to occur to them, you see, Charlie? If they’d only put themselves out a bit, and learn to speak some Cat! But however much they love us, and care for us and try to understand us, as far as I know not a single human has ever done it. Never mind, you’ll just have to do what we all do – listen to their conversations in Human and let them think there’s something unusual about you because you can understand them. One day, you might even have an important job yourself, like me – saving Christmas … or something else … for your humans. If not in this life – maybe in one of the other eight. Who knows? That may not be a myth, after all.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
With thanks to Emily Yau and Gillian Green at Ebury Press for entrusting me with the writing of this story, and especially for Emily’s support and encouragement throughout the book’s development.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Sheila Norton lives near Chelmsford in Essex with her husband, and worked for most of her life as a medical secretary, before retiring early to concentrate on her writing. Sheila is the award-winning writer of numerous women’s fiction novels and over 100 short stories, published in women’s magazines.
She has three married daughters, six little grandchildren, and over the years has enjoyed the companionship of three cats and two dogs. She derived lots of inspiration for Oliver The Cat Who Saved Christmas from remembering the pleasure and fun of sharing life with her own cats. Sheila is convinced cats can understand Human and that we really ought to learn to speak Cat!
When not working on her writing Sheila enjoys spending time with her family and friends, as well as reading, walking, swimming, photography and travel. For more information visit www.sheilanorton.com. Or sign up for email updates here.
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CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
THOMAS DUNNE BOOKS.
An imprint of St. Martin’s Press.
OLIVER THE CAT WHO SAVED CHRISTMAS. Copyright © 2015 by Sheila Norton. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
www.thomasdunnebooks.com
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First published in the United Kingdom by Ebury Press, an imprint of Ebury Publishing, a Penguin Random House company
First U.S. Edition: October 2016
eISBN 9781250108487
First eBook edition: October 2016
Oliver the Cat Who Saved Christmas Page 20