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Copyright
Published by AVON
A Division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
www.harpercollins.co.uk
First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2020
Copyright © Rachel Wells 2020
Cover design © HarperCollinsPublishers 2020
Cover photographs © Shutterstock.com
Rachel Wells asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this ebook on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
Source ISBN: 9780008411978
Ebook Edition © November 2020 ISBN: 9780008411985
Version: 2020-09-22
Dedication
To my niece Claire, who loves cats as much as I do.
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
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
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Alfie’s Guide to Helping the Homeless
Acknowledgements
Keep Reading …
About the Author
Also by Rachel Wells
About the Publisher
Chapter One
We prepared for noise and chaos to fill our house on what can only be described as one of my favourite days. It was family lunch day, and we have a big family. What I have learnt, as a doorstep cat, is that family isn’t just about blood. As George and I groomed ourselves, ready to greet all our favourite people, we were more than a little bit excited.
I’m Alfie, if you haven’t met me before, and George is my kitten, although he’s not exactly a kitten anymore. As most parents know, there is a reluctance to acknowledge that our children are growing up, getting older and more independent. I have to admit, looking back, I miss when George was younger and needed me more than he does now. Thinking about how I used to moan about lack of sleep, no time to myself, constantly being on guard for danger … But I’d turn the clocks back in a heartbeat. Of course, George still needs me at times, but he is so independent, with his own life and even a girlfriend, Hana. Oh how he’s grown into a fine tom. But I digress.
I am a doorstep cat, which means I have more than one home, more than one family that I spend time with. George and I have our main home with Claire, Jonathan, and our children, Toby and Summer. We live on Edgar Road. It’s a big street with lots of different types of houses. We often gather at ours as it is one of the bigger houses, and we have a lot of people, pets and children to fit in.
‘Hey guys!’ Matt, who is one of the most laid back of our adults, approached the doorstep with his wife Polly, and their children, Henry and Martha. Oh, and on the lead was a very excited Pickles, their pug who spends a lot of time with us. I am not only a cat who looks after humans, but also dogs, it seems.
Pickles tries to eat everything in sight, and likes to lick whatever he can’t eat. He’s still a puppy, albeit quite a chubby one! I am often charged with Pickles sitting; have been since he was tiny. Now, as I said, he’s far from tiny – as the time he got stuck in the cat flap proved – but he’s part of the family. He might have taken a bit of getting used to, us cats and dogs aren’t natural friends after all, but we love him very much. Although … George took longer than me to come around to having him in our lives, and he can still sometimes be a bit cutting with him.
‘Meow,’ George and I greeted them, along with a friendly nuzzle. As they stepped inside, Pickles licked us both then licked Jonathan’s feet. Thankfully, he was wearing slippers. The children shrieked as they all went upstairs to play. Toby, Summer, Henry, and Martha are the best of friends, which is lucky as we all spend so much time together. As Polly and Matt went off to help with drinks and food, we waited to see who our next arrivals would be.
The doorbell rang again and Sylvie, Marcus, their teenager Connie, and their baby Theo were there. They’d also brought their cat, George’s girlfriend Hana. They made such a cute couple.
Claire practically trampled us to get hold of Theo, before they even set foot inside. Theo was our latest addition; he was only a few months old and ever so popular. It was the same when George was a kitten and Pickles a puppy. People liked babies.
‘Come in out of the cold,’ Jonathan said as Claire walked into the living room cuddling Theo.
‘I’m just going to pick Dad up,’ Marcus said, before leaving to get his dad, Harold, who lived at the end of the street.
It was largely down to George that Harold became part of our group and, in turn, his son Marcus and Sylvie – our next door neighbour – fell in love. We can actually pretty much take credit for baby Theo, thinking about it.
I grinned and raised my whiskers at George and Hana. We could hear the children laughing upstairs, the adults in the kitchen – Jonathan and Claire were cooking, and Polly now had hold of baby Theo. Pickles was running around in circles, Sylvie was enjoying a much-needed sit down and Connie hovered anxiously. We all knew who she was waiting for.
The sound of the doorbell heralded our final guests. As well as Harold, who brought his cat Snowball, my girlfriend and first love – it’s a long story so I’ll tell you about it later – Tomasz, Franceska, and their teenagers Aleksy and Tommy stood on the doorstep.
There were more hugs and kisses and nuzzles and strokes before we were all finally in one place. Our family lunch was about to start. And I couldn’t have been happier.
George, Hana, Snowball and I snuck into the garden. We should have known that Pickles wouldn’t like to be left out and watched as he emerged through the cat flap, which was actually a doggy door. He got stuck in the cat flap so it had had to be replaced with a bigger door.
‘What are you doing?’ Pickles asked. He might not be tiny anymore but he was only a year old, so still a baby. He’d also spent most of the first year of his life trying to be a cat. It’s a hard lesson every non-cat has to learn, that not just anyone can be a cat. It takes a lot of skill.
‘Just getting a bit of fresh air and a bit of quiet,’ I said.
‘It is so noisy in there, isn’t it?’ he said.
‘I love it when we’re all together but we are a lot aren’t we?’ George stated. There was no arguing with that. We were a lot.
Lunch was in full swing. We didn’t have a dining table big enough for everyone, so the children sat at one table and the grown-ups at another. I, obviously, was with the grown-ups, but I hovered by the chairs – it was frowned upon for cats to be on the table, although sometimes that didn’t stop me. George and Hana were with the children and Pickles was under the table, trying to catch any food that had been discarded. He really liked his food. Snowball was curled up in my bed, taking a rest. I noticed that Connie and Aleksy were sat with the adults, but Tommy, Aleksy’s younger brother, was at the children’s table and he didn’t look happy as he pushed his food around his plate. I made a note of that. If people were unhappy, it was my job to sort them out.
I padded over to him and tried to get his attention, but he ignored me. I was put out – I’m not used to being ignored – but then, Tommy really did look thunderous. I made my way back to the safety of the adults.
‘We have this school project; it’s about homelessness,’ Aleksy said.
‘God, that’s heavy, in my day we just did Geometry,’ Jonathan said with a laugh.
‘Showing your age, Jon,’ Matt teased.
‘In my day we wrote with quills not pens,’ Harold added, then laughed loudly. I had no idea what he meant but as Harold was quite fond of being grumpy, it was nice he was laughing.
‘So, what is the project?’ Marcus asked.
‘We’re learning about awareness campaigns. We have to design a campaign to highlight the problems facing homeless people today and make people aware that it’s a problem,’ Connie explained.
‘Goodness, that sounds very serious,’ Claire said.
‘We wanted to go to the local shelter and meet people who are actually homeless to find out what it’s like,’ Aleksy said. ‘So that when we do our project we will have direct experience to draw on.’
‘And then we thought we might come up with ways to raise money for them,’ Connie added with a blush.
‘You are very good and kind, Aleksy and Connie,’ Franceska said. ‘I’m proud of you both.’
‘I’ll come with you,’ Tomasz said. ‘We give food from the restaurant to the local place so I know them; I can take you both.’
‘Oh that would be great!’ Connie’s eyes lit up.
‘But it will be hard,’ Sylvie said. She was very overprotective and I knew she would be worried about Connie.
‘Yes, but these two will be fine,’ Polly cut in. ‘They are tough and have big hearts. I think it’s wonderful that you’re learning about these things at school.’
‘In my day—’ Jonathan started, but then laughed.
‘So, we’ll visit the shelter and then think of a way to raise money and awareness,’ Aleksy said. I nuzzled him. I was very proud of him too.
After lunch, the children all went to play again and Connie and Aleksy snuck away, which just left Tommy.
‘Can we go home now?’ Tommy – who had barely said two words to anyone – asked.
‘No, if you don’t want to go and set up games for the little ones, then you can just sit there on your own,’ Franceska snapped. It wasn’t like her. But then, Tommy wasn’t normally so unpleasant either.
‘Go into the living room and put the TV on,’ Jonathan suggested.
Tommy scowled but he went. I glanced at Snowball; we knew all about teenagers. They could be problematic but Tommy was also fun, and he loved setting up assault courses and competitions for the others. I knew he felt left out when Aleksy and Connie started going out together but he normally invited one of his friends to come to our family events. I wondered why he hadn’t today.
‘He’s been nothing but trouble, lately,’ Tomasz said quietly once Tommy was out of earshot.
‘He’s grounded and I said he couldn’t have a friend here today, because of his behaviour,’ Franceska added. Ah, that explained it.
‘What’s he done, Frankie?’ Claire asked.
‘Being rude, answering back, not doing his homework. He even took money from my purse the other day. It’s like my lovely little boy’s been taken and replaced by someone else.’ She sounded upset so I went to nuzzle her.
‘Oh God, teenagers; I am not looking forward to that,’ Matt said, shaking his head. ‘But it’s not like Tommy,’ he added.
‘Do you want me to have a word with Connie? Ask her if she and Aleksy could be more inclusive?’ Sylvie suggested.
‘No, thank you. He and Aleksy are at odds all the time – they can barely stand to be in the same room at the moment. Aleksy said that Tommy is acting like a jerk, Tommy says Aleksy is a goody-goody. Honestly, we are hoping it’s just a phase, because otherwise …’
‘I could give him a good whack with my walking stick. That’ll soon sort him out,’ Harold offered. I wasn’t sure if he was joking; he didn’t look as if he was.
‘Dad, we don’t do that anymore,’ Marcus replied.
‘National service, that’s the answer. He should go into the army.’
‘Um, he’s only fourteen,’ Claire pointed out.
‘Make a man of him it would,’ Harold began one of his favourite tirades, and there would be no stopping him now.
If they really needed to punish Tommy they should make him listen to one of Harold’s lectures.
Chapter Two
It was another one of my favourite days of the week – Sunday – and George and I were patrolling Edgar Road. It was freezing, and winter was definitely knocking on the door, but that didn’t stop us from popping into homes where the Sunday Lunch Club was in full swing. To explain, the idea of the club was that people opened their homes to someone who would otherwise be on their own, and gave them a lovely Sunday lunch. Simple but brilliant.
And, it was a doorstep cat’s dream.
Harold wasn’t being grumpy for once and came up with the idea to help ease loneliness by setting up The Sunday Lunch Club. George thinks it was his idea initially, which it probably was. George and I are known for our brilliant ideas – he gets it from me. A chip off the old paws. The club helps lonely people feel less lonely and it also means a lot to those who host the lunches, so it helps the community as a whole. A wonderful idea and one which has now grown beyond Edgar Road. I am very proud of George and Harold. They did have my help, of course, but I’m not one to boast … Although they could not have done it without me.
Anyway, I digress. Today we popped in to see all our neighbours who were hosting lunch on our street – and not just to get treats, although both George and I had very happy tummies by the end of it. But most importantly, it warmed our hearts to see people who would otherwise be on their own enjoying food and company. The host families got to meet new people and widen their social group as well. It was a winning situation for all. Harold was at Marcus and Sylvie’s house with a couple of other people. Snowball was there and I had popped in to see her briefly. I would love to see more of her, but we are always surrounded by people these days – it’s hard to get time alone. We’re lucky that we’re older and not in that teenage kind of love that George and Hana have where they want to spend every moment together.
‘It was such a brilliant idea that me and Harold had, wasn’t it?’ George said. He said this every time.
‘Yes, son, such a wonderful idea and getting to see how happy people are is such a huge credit to you.’ I was proud of him, despite the fact that he liked to inflate his little ego at times. But who could blame him? He deserved it. And I had often been accused of the same thing, although I’m pretty sure my ego is fully in check … most of the time.
‘And Harold and I really are genius, aren’t we?’
‘You are.’
‘And I might be the cleverest cat who ever lived.’
Hang on, that was my title. ‘Well, maybe the second cleverest cat,’ I purred with a smile. We both grinned. ‘Right, son we better head home.’
The days were becoming darker as well as colder. I could feel the chill in my fur, announcing we would soon be facing the coldest part of the year. We had to brace ourselves for it. I loved to go out, and was reluctant to become a fair weather cat like some of the others, but I still preferred the warm.
We went through the cat flap of our house. Today, we had hosted our lunch with Doris, a lady who always knitted, even while eating, and Clive, a very smart ex-teacher who liked to debate politics and scared Jonathan by asking him questions he had no clue how to answer. They were both lonely, and having that in common was enough, but they still bickered with each other. Jonathan said they should just get married, as they were like an old married couple, but Claire told him that wasn’t funny. Claire and Jonathan were still young but had been married for ages now, and they did bicker quite a bit, but they also laughed a lot too. We didn’t see Clive and Doris laughing, so I was pretty sure even my matchmaking skills would be pushed to the limit trying to get them together. Didn’t mean I wouldn’t try though! I put that thought on my ‘save for later’ list.
I had got many couples together in my time, Claire and Jonathan being my biggest and first success. But there was always so much to do keeping my cats and my families under control, I had little time for much else these days. I certainly had my paws full.
‘Look,’ Summer said when we went into the living room, where all the family, along with Doris and Clive, were sat drinking tea. ‘Doris knitted a cat bonnet.’
‘Meow?’ What on earth is a cat bonnet?
Doris proudly held out a knitted red hat, which she then proceeded to put on George’s head. He tried to squirm away but he was too slow. He looked furious – us cats do not like being dressed up, thank you very much; we have lovely fur and that’s enough for us. As he tried to pull it off with his paw, the others admired him.
‘Oh Doris, it’s so cute,’ Claire said, beaming.
‘Perfect fit,’ Clive said.
‘It’s adorable. Doris, will you teach me to do knitting?’ Summer asked.
‘Of course I will, my dear.’ Doris’s cheeks flushed with pleasure.
My eyes widened. I couldn’t believe it. It was terrible. It made his head look like a tomato. Thank goodness I didn’t have one.
‘Don’t worry, Alfie, I’ll have one for you next time I’m here, but your head is a bit bigger, so I need to get more wool. And thinking about it, green might be your colour.’
I had no words as I slunk off to see if there were any more leftovers.
That night, when George and I took our last steps outside before bed – without his cat hat, I may add – we looked at the dark sky and saw the brightest star blinking at us.
‘There’s Tiger mum,’ George said, lifting his paw.
‘Yes.’ I gulped. Despite the fact that it had been quite a while since we’d lost Tiger – George’s adopted mum and my last partner – it still floored me whenever I thought of her not being here anymore. We have both moved on in many ways, the way life forces you to, but although I am happy and with Snowball now, I will always have a place in my heart reserved for Tiger. She was my best cat friend on Edgar Road before we fell in love.
I’ve loved and lost a lot in my life, both humans and cats, and you never stop missing them, a lesson I have learnt the hard way. But on the flip side, a heart is a wonderful thing. It’s big and has the capacity to love many people and many cats. I even managed to love Pickles, who is a dog, and I never thought I’d hear myself saying that. Despite the fact I’m now reunited with Snowball – who was my first love, before Tiger – I miss Tiger. And that’s fine, because as I said, the heart is a miracle and it’s big enough for all it needs to be big enough for. It allows you to miss those you’ve lost and still love those who are with you.
‘She’d be so proud of you, son,’ I said, because it was true. She would.
‘I know, Dad,’ George replied.
I think he gets his modesty from me.
‘Right, lad, let’s go to bed.’ I started to make my way inside, giving the star one last glance. It seemed to blink at me. I blinked back.
We probably had a big week ahead of us, we had a lot of people and cats to check on so there was always a list of things to do. Especially as I worried about Tommy; I had to be on alert.
‘Before we go to bed, Dad, what am I going to do with that awful bonnet that Doris gave me?’
‘Well the polite thing would be to wear it when she is here, at least for a bit.’
‘But it’s scratchy. I was thinking I could bury it in the garden, blame it on Pickles.’
‘George, that’s not nice.’
‘But the hat isn’t nice.’
‘I know, but we do these things to make people happy and if you have to wear it for a short time, every now and then to make Doris smile, is that so terrible?’
He glared at me and then he raised his whiskers.
‘I guess not, especially as you’ll have one as well next time.’ I could hear him laughing as I followed him into the house.
Chapter Three
Humans will never cease to amaze me. In the morning, our house springs to life in a very dramatic way. There’s shouting, jostling, arguments, and occasionally tears. Jonathan gets ready for work – normally with maximum fuss as he seems unable to find anything. Claire rouses the children from their beds (the tears are usually theirs), then she feeds us cats and prepares breakfast for everyone before going to get dressed. Toby rushes downstairs as if there’s a fire, and Summer sulks as she hates mornings these days. Claire fires questions at everyone: ‘Have you got much on at work today? Have you done your homework? Do you need your PE kit? Why won’t you eat your toast …’ You get the idea. George and I eat our breakfast and then attempt to escape before the madness of trying to get everyone out of the house begins. Trust me, it’s chaos. Jonathan leaves first, rushing out, often moaning about where his keys are even though they are always in the same place. Summer takes forever getting her shoes on, Claire gets exasperated as she repeats the same thing over and over, and Toby gets cross about being late, because he hates being late. The thing is, this happened every single weekday morning. Every single one. You would think they would learn, but no. Humans! Who’d have them?
If only they could be more like us. George and I get up, have a good stretch and a quick wash before we have our breakfast, then we have a more thorough clean up and we’re ready for the day. Totally fuss free.
I know that our house isn’t unique. Polly and Matt, with Henry and Martha, have the same situation. George says that our next door neighbours, including Hana, are far more organised than our family, and definitely not as shouty. But Sylvie has just had baby Theo, so she doesn’t go to work, and her partner Marcus is actually very calm. As for Connie, she’s more sensible than any of the grown-ups put together, so she manages to get herself to school. The main noise is caused by Theo, who basically ensures none of them get enough sleep – I can vouch for that as I remember when Summer was a baby. We were all sleep deprived and grumpy in the mornings as a result. But like Summer, Theo will grow out of it and start sleeping at some point. When George was a tiny kitten it took him a while to learn to sleep at night as well, actually, thinking about it.