Alfie in the Snow. Rachel Wells

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      ‘The cats are coming?’ Sylvie asked as we all set out to lunch on Sunday.

      ‘Yowl,’ I replied. Of course we were.

      ‘You’ll soon learn that our cats go pretty much everywhere with us,’ Claire explained, as if it was perfectly normal. Over time, I have learnt that it’s not. Dogs, they go to many places with humans, cats not so much. But for George and I things were different. And we liked it that way.

      ‘It makes me feel sorry for Hana,’ Connie said. She wasn’t being surly at all today, she had a big smile on her face. She really was very pretty, a bit like her cat; they matched. ‘You know, at home on her own so much of the time.’

      ‘Meow,’ I said. Good, it seemed the seed had been planted.

      ‘Yes, but darling, Hana doesn’t go out, I’m not sure she’d cope very well.’ Sylvie sounded worried.

      ‘I know, but seeing the freedom Alfie and George have, well it got me thinking. I really am worried that she’s lonely here.’

      ‘Ah, well maybe we’ll get her a treat later, some fish maybe, just in case.’ Sylvie gave Connie’s shoulder a squeeze. That wasn’t what I had in mind.

      George and I kept up with the humans, although at one point Toby picked George up and carried him for a while. No one thought to offer me a lift. But Franceska and Tomasz didn’t live far away, so it wasn’t so bad. I was used to the journey, it was one of my regular routes.

      The family used to live in the flat above the restaurant, which was nice but small, so when Tomasz became more successful and the boys got bigger they bought the house next door. They still had the flat, but a couple of the members of staff lived there. Thankfully they’d knocked down the back wall so the yard to the restaurant and the house was adjoining, which meant when George and I stayed with them – which we did if Claire and Jonathan and the children went away without us – I could see Dustbin whenever I wanted.

      ‘Hello, welcome,’ Tomasz said, standing at the door, and scooping me up as he ushered everyone in. They had a rule that the place was always closed on Sundays, to make sure everyone could have a day off, so when we had family day here we had the place to ourselves. As hugs and kisses were exchanged, Toby and Henry went to find the boys, Martha and Summer took their dolls over to the table which had been set for the children, whilst the adults all chatted and sorted out drinks. Connie stood, looking slightly awkward, but as soon as Aleksy spotted her he bounded over. I was offended that he didn’t even say hello to me.

      ‘Let’s go and find Dustbin,’ I said to George, affronted, and we made our way through the kitchen – where we normally weren’t allowed – to the backyard.

      ‘I heard you were coming,’ Dustbin said as he greeted us affectionately.

      ‘Hi, how are you?’ I asked, pleased to see my very good friend.

      ‘Yeah, not bad. Got a few mice yesterday, the blighters keep coming back for more, it’s like they never learn.’ He gave his head a small shake.

      I shuddered, I hated all talk of hunting. In fact for a cat I was a pretty poor hunter. I had done it out of necessity, when I was homeless, in order to survive, but I didn’t like it and since becoming so pampered I had lost my knack. George showed an interest in it, disappointingly, but more for the thrill of the chase than anything. I tried to discourage it but it was his instinct, so I had to accept that.

      ‘Dustbin, can we go and find some mice?’ George asked, looking hopeful.

      ‘Maybe later, lad. They’ve all scarpered for now.’ He gave me a ‘look’ and I thanked him silently.

      ‘Anyway, they’ll be bringing us some lunch soon,’ I said. When we visited it was the only time we ever ate outside because Dustbin didn’t like to come inside. Which reminded me to tell him about Hana.

      ‘Well, I never heard such a thing. A cat who doesn’t go out? I wouldn’t like that.’

      ‘But if you didn’t know any different you might,’ George said, sagely. He was a chip off the old block.

      ‘True, George, true. And what suits some cats doesn’t suit others, eh Alfie?’ I nodded my agreement. ‘Anyway, Alfie, you might want to know this: Franceska was on the phone out here last night, talking to one of your ladies no doubt, and she said she was worried about Aleksy.’

      ‘Oh no, what about?’ My fur stood on end. I couldn’t bear it if anything was wrong with my Aleksy.

      ‘He’s acting all secretive apparently, home late from school, spending all his time in his bedroom on his phone, only coming out for meals – and you know how close he and Tommy were. Well, apparently he basically ignores his little brother, these days.’

      ‘Oh,’ I said, a bit relieved. ‘I know what this is, the women were talking about it the other day: hormones. All teenagers get it, it’s like an illness I think, you know, makes you not a very nice person for a while, but they all said it passes eventually.’