They had been friends, it seemed, for centuries. Now he stood before his old mate, asking for help.
Martin, I get it, but think about your age. Where would I put you? You were a manager once, and now you want me to be a loader? Peter Parker chuckled, eyeing the silverhaired man.
Martin Whitaker nodded, his jaw set.
Hang on, Martin Ill ring you if something turns up. Dont get sour, old chap! Well break through! Peter shouted as he walked away.
It wasnt the first refusal in two weeks. Martin had begun to accept the rebuffs, learning to keep his composure, though at first he was badly upset.
They say a friend is known in hardship. Martin had spent his life in senior posts, with a wide circle of acquaintances. But when trouble came, nobody was there.
As is often the case, the new boss brought his own crew, and politely but firmly asked Martin to tender his resignation. Retirement was just around the corner, yet nobody seemed to mind.
So, abruptly, he found himself without a prestigious job or a steady income.
Still, he refused to sink. In the town of Sheffield he knew plenty of people he had once helped find work, study or solve other problems.
Ken wont turn me down! I helped him out big time, Martin told his wife, Lucy, as he headed to yet another interview.
He returned from that interview scowling and silent.
Another friend, thats all, he sighed.
Lucy read his eyes and understood instantly.
Come, Martin, have a bite. Whatever happens, its for the best, she said, laying a plate on the table.
Martin nodded, then spent the evening scrolling through his phones contacts, a rollcall of best friends.
Help arrived unexpectedly when Martin, on the brink of giving up, was taken in by a former driver who had become the director of a modest meatprocessing plant.
I could use a supplies officer. Its a hectic job, but youll manage, the man said politely to his old boss.
Martin welcomed any work and the next day began his new duties.
The small factory sat on the outskirts of town, behind a rusted fence where two sturdy workers unloaded a truckload of meat.
A clump of local cats watched the ritual from a nearby brick wall, their whiskered faces solemn.
Martin smiled at the striped felines as they shuffled forward in perfect unison, escorting each fresh parcel of bounty.
Later he learned that a whole gang of cats roamed the premises, warding off intruders. They were a curious lot, a touch wild and not keen on being petted. Every time he tried to stroke one, it either darted away or hissed.
Rough lot youve got here, Martin laughed, watching Chef Zoe lug out the leftovers for her kitchen crew.
Yeah, theyre not exactly cuddly. Look, even the kittens are standoffish, Zoe replied, nodding toward a pair of striped youngsters tussling with older cats.
In time Martin grew accustomed to the place and learned each cats name. The gang, too, came to trust the silverhaired man, for he often slipped them bits of food. Though he kept no pets at home, he loved animals and always tried to aid them.
Whenever Martin stepped out for a cigarette, the cats would gather, eyes fixed on him, as if gauging whether he carried a treat.
Six months drifted by like a dream. Summers heat gave way to autumns damp winds and grey drizzle. The cats hid more often, yet never missed a meal.
One day a stray kitten appeared on the factory grounds, solitary and thin, black with a patchless back. The resident gang kept its distance, but the kitten did not provoke them.
Martin, after his lunch break, was smoking on the patio when a tiny dark bundle on thin legs slipped out from a shadow and waddled straight to him.
Meow, it rasped, sneezing.
Whats this little miracle? Martin asked the cats.
They stared indifferently; the newcomer did not match their brownstriped pattern or their yellowgreen eyes.
The kitten rubbed against Martins leg and purred.
Youre a soft one, Martin smiled.
The others think its a stray, see? They keep their distance, but its sweet, Zoe observed, brushing past.
Martin, wary of the gangs possible aggression, fetched a slice of sausage and set it near the kitten, placing a smaller morsel a short distance away for the others. They lunged greedily at their share, while the kitten lingered, nuzzling Martins hands before eating.
From then on Martin called the kitten Pudding and fed it before anything else.
Who are you delivering lunches to? Lucy asked, amused.
Its just a tiny, funny little thing, he replied, blushing slightly.
Maybe youll bring it home? Lucy suggested, though she knew Martin disliked indoor pets.
Not a chance! We dont need a cat in the flat, he muttered.
Lucy shrugged.
One bleak, overcast morning, as Martin trudged to work, a familiar voice called, Oi, Martin! Good to see you!
Peter Parker hurried toward him, grinning.
Got the job sorted? he asked, reaching out.
Martin gave a cold stare, nodded without moving his hand from his coat pocket, and kept walking. Hed long learned the price of that friendship.
Crazy bloke, Peter muttered, hopping into his car to escape the chill.
Pudding sat, puffed up, on a low plank at the warehouse entrance, its black fur looking like tiny needles in the frost.
Dont they let you in? Martin growled toward the insulated cat shelter where the gang huddled.
Their yellow eyes glimmered from the doorway, trying to decide if a human would feed them.
The radio announced a snowstorm heading for the city that night.
Did you hear the forecast, Martin? How will you get to work tomorrow? the driver complained.
When the shift ended, the driver offered Martin a lift home. Snowflakes began to dust the pavement.
Actually, could you drop me at the plant instead? Martin said abruptly.
The driver shrugged and turned the wheel.
Missing the office, mate? he joked, pulling up at the fence.
Martin didnt hear him.
He sprinted into the yard, where a thin white blanket of snow now covered the ground. He ran to the plank where Pudding usually perched and called, Pudding, come here!
The kitten didnt appear. The resident cats watched him warily as he circled the perimeter, shouting.
Soon a fluffy crowd of cats surrounded him, while two crows settled on the fence, curious about the scene. Snow kept falling, thickening the silence.
Pudding! Where are you? Martin cried, glancing around.
Sensing the snowfall, the gang retreated to their shelter, curling together for warmth, knowing no food would come from him today.
Martin turned away, leaving the yard.
By morning, as the meteorologists had promised, the city was buried under snow.
Blimey, a proper whiteout, townsfolk muttered, shoveling through drifts.
Martin barely made it to work, a few minutes late like everyone else. The cleaner had cleared the paths, and the cats peered out of their den, hopeful for a bite.
Martin set out a plate of sausages for them.
Here you go! Pudding sends his regards, he said gently, watching the wild troupe keep their distance.
A childlike joy filled his heart, reminding him of the days when a small boy would roll down a hill with his parents. Perhaps the snow sparked it, or perhaps it was the sight of the kitten finally emerging from its hiding place at the last instant, daring to be seen.
He scooped the trembling kitten up, hugging it close.
Well done, Pudding! At last youre found, my friend! he exclaimed.
The tiny cat sneezed and yawned all the way to the doorstep, clinging to Martins fingers as if afraid to let go.
Lucy didnt even look surprised when she saw Martin on the threshold with the new family member.
Decided to keep it after all? she teased.
Yeah I couldnt leave it out in that snow, he admitted, setting the little miracle on the hallway floor.
The kitten sniffed cautiously, whiskers twitching as it explored its new world.
Martin watched the creature, his eyes shining. Lucy embraced her stern, rugged husband, knowing better than anyone the kindness that lived in his heart.
The kitten perched on the windowsill, gazing out at the endless white. In the distance, across the frozen landscape, the cat hed chosen as his friend trotted back toward him.
This bond between a towering man and a tiny kitten was different from any human friendship, yet Martin and Pudding both understood there was no room for betrayal, deceit or flattery. And that was enough to keep them waiting, believing, and dreaming.
