Its awful. Awful and bitter, bitter and painful, painful and hurtful.
No tears left to cry.
Why? Why would he do this to me?
Seven years. Seven happy years.
We held hands, he never spoke a harsh word, and then… just like that, he walked away.
No, not walkedran away. Coward.
The phone keeps ringing and ringing. Who on earth could it be…
Mum.
“Hello, love… love, what are you doing?”
“Nothing, Mum,” I force my voice steady, calm.
“Well, good. Youre not crying over some silly fool, are you? Not worth it.”
“A fools a fool, even in Africa,” Mum chuckles at her own joke “Darling, I wanted to invite you to the cottage this Friday. Auntie Margies coming, and her nephew, Timyou dont know him, but I do. Lovely lad, just had a rough go of it.”
“Lovely lad, but the wife he got stuck with? Useless. Thank goodness he got rid of her.”
“Strangled her, did he?”
“What? Who strangled who?”
“His wife. You said he got rid of her.”
“Oh, for heavens sake! You and your dark humour. But its good, love… joke away. Helps, you know. When Charlie Burgess left me, didnt I tell you that story?”
“We were at music school togetherme on the cello, him on the French horn. Sweet boy, bit of an odd one, with those floppy blond curls. I adored him, absolutely adored him, and that rat went and ran off with the clarinetist, Natalie. Oh, love… I wept for days. Even skipped class, walked along the riverbank, drowning in misery. Thought about throwing myself in, honestly”
“Mum… Im not really up for talking right now.”
“Oh? Alright then, love. So, Friday then? Well see you?”
“Dont know, Mum. Not sure.”
“Thats no answer, Lucy. Promise me, alright?”
“Fine… Ill come. Just for a bit.”
“Good. Love you, darling. Dad and I are here for you, yeah? Dad! I told her youre here too. Lucy? Lucy, love? Dad loves you, and so do I”
I curl up under the blanket, lights off, face pressed into the pillow.
No tears. No strength left to cry.
Just one question.
One.
Why?
What did I do?
The phone.
Again.
Sister.
Dont pick up. But if I dont, shell have the whole family in a frenzy.
“Hello.”
“Sis, whats up? Crying, are you?”
“No. Why would I cry? Just got dumped by my husband, thats all. The man I was going to have children with, the man I went through hell and back with.”
“And good riddance! Whining over some useless git. When Dave left me, I thought Id die, honestly. Remember Dave? Handsome bloke, dated him for half a year, head over heels… And look at me now, eh?”
“Exactly. Anyway, were off camping this weekendcouples trip, but Vics wife just left him, so we thought… Vics a decent chap, maybe you two could”
“And your ex? Never liked him anyway… Luce? You coming?”
“Ill think about it, Kate… Think hard, love.”
Cold. Cold and aching. Physically aching. My eyes sting from dried tears.
Another call.
Gran.
For pitys sake.
“Hello…”
“Lucy, sweetheart… Come round, Ill make your favourite scones, brew some cocoa. Well even have a little nip, eh? Send Grandad off to the allotment, just us girls… I know how you feel. When Jack Sparrow left meoh, how I suffered, love. Took up smoking for a bit, didnt last long. Then I met your grandad, and he swept me right off my feet”
“Alright, Gran… Ill think about it.”
All day, someone calls. All day, someone tells me how they were dumped, how much it hurt…
By evening, when Lucy finally drifts off, theres a knock at the door.
Who now? Not answering.
But the knocking persists, relentless.
Lucy drags herself up and opens the door.
Odd. No one there. Shes about to shut it when a cross little voice snaps
“Well, dont just stand there! Let us through. Hardly helping, are you?”
Lucy looks down.
Good Lord. What on earth?
Marching into her flat, single file…
“Scuse me… who are you?”
“Who dyou think we are? Cats.”
“Wh… what cats?”
“All sorts. Were here to help. Right, lads, in you go, shut the doorcant have you catching a chill.”
“Were family.”
“The Catson family.”
“Mum, look at the state of this patients head!”
“Son, check her heart. Other sonpulse. Daughter, put the kettle on.”
“Sit down, sit down.”
Lucy obeys. Shes clearly lost her mind, but the cats bustle about like they own the place.
“Grandma Cat, our girl needs a story.”
“Prrr, my sweet… let the bad things fade, the good things come… Papa Cat, tuck her into bed. Auntie Cat, fluff the pillows for our girl.”
“Kitten, behave. Put that downprecious thing, that. Darling, take the phone off the little one.”
Lucy watches, dazed, as tiny Catson snaps a selfie on her phone.
“Grandad Cat, rub her hands. Uncle Cat, her feet.”
And just like that, the cats tuck her in, massaging her limbs until she drifts off, lulled by the soft patter of paws…
When she wakes, Lucys surprised to find the weight lifted.
She pads to the kitchen. Where are the Catsons? Oh… just a dream.
Outside, the sun rises. What a beautiful, golden autumn morning.
Silly, taking leave just to cry… Right, whats today? Friday. Promised Mum the cottage.
At the doorstep, a tiny mewl.
Whos that?
Goodness.
Sitting alone… Catson. What in the world?
“Wheres your lot, little one?” Lucy asks, but the kitten just squeaks, pink mouth gaping.
She glances aroundno one. Tucks the kitten under her coat. Cottage first, then figure it out.
She doesnt see the Catson family peeking from round the corner.
They high-five (paw-five?) and scamper offmore souls to save.
Lucy and the kitten board the train.
At the station, a young man glances about, clearly lost.
“Where you headed?” Lucy asks.
“UhBrightwater. First time here…”
“Same. Come on.”
They chat on the way. Maxthats his namecarries her bag. By Brightwater, theyre fast friends.
Lucy doesnt want him to leave, but manners
“Lu, you wouldnt know number thirty-seven, would you? Far from here?”
“Thirty-seven? Youyoure Auntie Margies nephew!”
“And youre Auntie Lizs daughter!”
Laughing, they step through the gate.
“Whove you been cuddling all this time? Thought you might be expecting!”
“My… son.”
“Son?”
“Meet Catson!”
“Catson, eh?” Max grins.
“Problem with my kittens surname?”
“None at all. Fine name. Allow me to introduce myselfMaximilian Alexander… Catson.”
When Maxs aunt and Lucys parents appear, the pair are in stitches. On the ground, a kitten watches, head tilting.
***
A big grey cat perches on the windowsill, tail twitching.
“Where are they?” He grumbles. “Two months old and dragging him aboutdisgrace.”
Once, he was small too.
Lucy often wonders how little Catson took that selfie.
She and Max debate it. Lucys sure it was a dream…
But that man did come.
With champagne. Chocolates.
Lucy wasnt homeshe and Max werent married yet, but close.
And him… thought he could apologise, win her back. As if.
Catson answered the door.
“What do you want?” he growled.
The man froze.
Catson balled his tiny paw.
“Run,” he ordered. “And dont you dare come near our Lucy again.”
Thencouldnt help himselfstill a kitten, after alllifted a leg. Right in the mans shoe.
Good morning, dears!
Quick, listen to the tale before the Catsons arrive…
Sending hugs and sunshine.
Always yours.
