We’ve been mates for what feels like centuries, and now hes standing before me, begging for a favor.
Tom, I get it, but think about it youre not a spring chicken any more. Where would I put you? Youve been a manager, and you expect me to be a rickety warehouse hand? I chuckled, eyeing the silvertempled gentleman across the table.
Stephen Michael gave a weary nod.
Hang tight, Tom Ill ring you if something decent turns up. Dont get down, old chap! Well pull through, he shouted as he walked out.
It wasnt the first rejection in the past fortnight. Stephen had started to brace himself, learning to keep his temper in check, though at first the disappointment hit hard.
As the saying goes, a friend is proved in need. Stephen Michael Stevenson had spent his whole career in senior roles, surrounded by a wide circle of acquaintances. When the chips fell, though, he found himself utterly alone.
Just as it often happens, the new boss brought his own crew, and Stephen was politely but firmly asked to tender his resignation. Retirement was just around the corner, but nobody gave a toss.
So, in a flash, he was stripped of a respectable job and a steady income.
He refused to wallow. In Manchester hed helped a fair few people find work, finish their studies, or get out of a sticky spot.
Kirby wont turn his back on me now! I gave him a hand when he needed it, Stephen told his wife, Lucy, before heading off to another interview.
He came back glum and silent.
Its a proper nightmare, he sighed.
Lucy read the worry in his eyes instantly.
Alright, Stephen, sit down and have a bite. Whatevers happening will work out for the best, she said, laying a plate on the table.
Stephen nodded, then spent the evening scrolling through his phone, checking the contacts of his top friends.
Help arrived out of the blue when Stephen was about to throw in the towel. An old driver, now the director of a modest meatprocessing plant, took him under his wing.
I can put you on as a supplies clerk. Its busy work, but youll manage, he said politely to his former boss.
Stephen welcomed any job, and the next morning he started his new duties.
The little plant sat on the edge of the city, behind a tall chainlink fence where two burly workers were unloading a truckload of meat. Not far off, a ragtag gang of local cats watched the ritual with keen interest.
Stephen smiled at the striped felines, their whiskered faces twitching as they followed each fresh delivery.
Later we learned the whole site was ruled by a whole brigade of cats who didnt take kindly to strangers. They were a bit wild, each with a prickly disposition. Every time Stephen tried to pat a whiskered, striped one, the cat would either bolt or hiss.
Youve got a tough lot here, I laughed, watching the kitchen maid, Zinnia, carry away the lunch leftovers for her charges.
Yeah, theyre not exactly cuddly. Even the kittens are a bit aloof, she replied, nodding toward a pair of striped youngsters tussling with the older cats.
In time Stephen got the hang of the place and learned the names of every cat. They, in turn, began to trust the silverhaired man, because hed often slip them a bit of food.
He never kept pets at home, but he loved animals and always tried to look after them. Whenever he stepped out for a cigarette, the cats would circle him, eyes steady, as if measuring whether todays treat would be theirs.
Six months slipped by unnoticed. Autumn arrived with its chilly breezes and drizzly rain. The yard cats hid more, rarely venturing out, though they never missed a meal.
One day a lone kitten appeared on the factory grounds. He kept to himself, shunned by the resident gang but not attacked. Small, gaunt, black with a patch of missing fur on his back, he somehow melted the hard mans heart.
Stephen was out for his usual postlunch smoke when the feline troupe lounged on the sunwarmed boards. Suddenly, from behind a corner, a tiny black furball on a pair of spindly legs strutted straight toward him.
Mew, it croaked, sneezing.
What on earth is that? Stephen asked the cats.
They looked on indifferently. The newcomer didnt match their usual brownstriped pattern or yellowgreen eyes. He rubbed against Stephens shoe and purred.
Well, look at that, what a softie, Stephen laughed, scratching the kitten behind the ears.
Looks like someone dropped a stray, said Zinnia, stepping closer. Our lot usually keeps to themselves, but this little one seems to have slipped through.
Stephen eyed the wary gang. They could have easily swatted the newcomer. He went inside, fetched a slice of sausage for the kitten, and set out smaller bits for the others a short distance away. While the rest dove greedily into their treats, the kitten lingered, nuzzling Stephens hand before finally munching.
What a charming little fellow, Stephen said, looking into the kittens bright eyes.
From then on, he called the kitten Pasty.
Who are you feeding? Lucy asked, eyebrows raised.
Just Pasty, love. Hes a tiny, funny thing, he replied, a faint grin on his face.
Maybe you could bring him home? Lucy suggested, though she knew Stephen frowned at the idea of indoor pets.
No, we dont need a cat in the flat, Stephen muttered.
Fair enough, Lucy shrugged.
One bitter, overcast morning, as Stephen trudged to work, a familiar voice called out.
Hey, Tom! Good to see you!
He turned. Old friend Peter Palmer hurried toward him.
Got the job sorted? Peter asked, offering a firm handshake.
Stephen gave a cold glance, nodded, and kept his hand in his coat pocket, walking on. Hed long since learned the price of that friendship.
Youre a bit of a rogue, arent you? Peter muttered, hopping into his car to escape the chill.
Pasty sat, puffed up, on a low board at the loading dock, his black coat looking like tiny spikes in the frosty air.
They wont let you in, eh? You lot are a right pack of wild things, Stephen grumbled toward the insulated cat shelter where the gang huddled. Their yellow eyes flickered, trying to gauge whether hed bring food.
That evening the radio warned of an impending snowstorm.
They say a heavy snowfalls on the way, Stephen. Howll you get to work tomorrow? a lorry driver complained.
When the shift ended, the driver offered Stephen a lift home. The sky was already a dull grey, and the first flakes were landing on the pavement.
Hey, Dave, could you drop me off at the plant instead? Stephen suddenly asked.
Dave shrugged and turned the wheel.
Missing the office, eh, Stephen? he chuckled, pulling up at the fence.
Stephen didnt hear him.
He bolted into the yard, the snow already a thin white blanket. He ran to the boards where Pasty usually perched and called,
Pasty! Pasty, where are you?
No answer. The resident cats watched him warily as he paced the perimeter, shouting. Soon a flock of fluffy cats and even two crows settled on the fence, observing his frantic search while the snow kept falling.
Pasty! Where have you gone? Stephen cried, glancing anxiously around.
The cats, sensing the approaching blizzard, retreated to their shelter, huddling together for warmth, realizing thered be no food from him today. Stephen, meanwhile, turned and shuffled away from the yard.
By morning, as the weather forecast had promised, the whole city was under a thick cover of snow.
Blimey! What a snowstorm, locals muttered, shoveling through deep drifts.
Stephen barely made it to work, arriving a few minutes late like the rest of the crew. The groundskeeper had already cleared a path, and the cats peeked out from their nook, eyes hopeful.
He placed a bowl of treats on the ground.
Here you go! Pasty sends his regards, he said gently, smiling at the wary feline band now keeping a respectful distance.
A warm feeling bubbled inside him, as if hed been back on a childhood hill with his mum and dad. Perhaps the snow had stirred that feeling, or maybe it was the sight of that stubborn little kitten finally emerging from his hiding spot at the last second. Stephen had never believed his eyes, but when he saw Pasty burst from the shelter, he seized the tiny creature and held him close.
Good lad, Pasty! You finally showed up, you little rascal! he exclaimed.
The kitten yawned, sneezed, and clung to Stephens coat with his tiny claws, as if terrified of losing his newfound friend.
Lucy wasnt surprised at all when she saw Stephen return with a new family member.
Decided to keep him, have you? she teased.
I did. Hed freeze out there alone in this blizzard, Stephen admitted, letting the kitten explore the kitchen counter.
The kitten nosed the air, his whiskers twitching as he claimed his new territory. Stephen watched, his eyes shining. Lucy wrapped her arms around her usually stern husband, knowing better than anyone the kindness that lived in his heart.
Pasty perched on the windowsill, watching the snowfall beyond the glass. In the white expanse, the man who had become his friend trudged back toward him.
Their friendshipbetween a big, gruff man and a tiny catwas different from any human bond, but Stephen and Pasty both understood that there was no room for betrayal, deceit or flattery. And that, after all, was worth waiting for and believing in.
