Short story

It’s moving day and the last thing Dorothy needs is to lose her much-loved cat

Itook a deep breath and rang the bell. The door opened and my neighbour Peter asked grumpily: “Yes? Can I help you?”

“Sorry to bother you,” I said, “but have you seen my cat? I’m moving house today and I don’t want to leave him behind. Usually he comes when I call him, but this time…”

He cut me off abruptly. “He’s the black-and-white cat, isn’t he?”

“Yes, that’s Tommy.”

“Okay, I’ll keep an eye out.”

A moment later I was looking at the closed door. As I walked away, I muttered to myself: “Typical! No ‘good luck’ or ‘keep in touch’ or ‘sorry to hear you are moving away’.”

Our houses backed onto each other, but there had never been long chats over the garden fence. I had tried to engage him in conversation, but all I got in return was a nod or a ‘Sorry, I must rush’ as he hastened off.

Mrs Jenkins who runs the corner shop and knows all the gossip told me that he was widowed. She said: “Been on his own for a while now. Puts all his energy into his work, I reckon.”

She told me that he was a primary school teacher who had turned down promotion on several occasions because he preferred being in the classroom to committee meetings and admin.

He seemed a nice man and I had tried to pluck up the courage to invite him for a coffee to get to know him better, but the time never seemed quite right. Now my last desperate ploy had failed to work…

Tommy came to greet me as soon as I stepped through the door, rubbing his head against my ankles.

“My plan didn’t work, Tommy,” I sighed. “What am I like? It’s the 21st Century and it’s perfectly okay for a woman to make the first move, but I still can’t bring myself to do it! And I’m not sure he really believed my little white lie anyway!”

Tommy meowed, then headed briskly for the back door, wanting to go out.

I laughed: “Well, thanks a bunch for listening!” I didn’t want to risk losing my cat for real, but there was another hour before the removal van was due and he always came running if I rattled his food bowl.

“Alright, you can go out, but don’t be long!”

As he strolled off down the garden, I stood for a moment surveying the neat lawn and well-established shrubs. I’d moved here ten years ago after my divorce, thinking

I’d stay for ever as it was only five minutes’ drive from my office.

Then one day I noticed some new houses being built near the river. On a whim, I’d popped into the show house and fell instantly in love with the enormous windows and ultra-modern design. I was going to miss my large garden although not the weeding and sweeping up the leaves in autumn.

And it would be sad not seeing Peter

‘I pushed him out of my mind and went upstairs to do some last-minute packing. It was time to get on with my life’

again. I’m 50, a strong, capable woman in charge of a team of sales reps, but where Peter was concerned I became as shy and tongue-tied as I’d been at 15. I pushed him out of my mind and went upstairs to do some last-minute packing. It was time to get on with my life.

When the removal men arrived, Tommy still hadn’t returned. I called him several times, but there was no sign of him. I rattled his bowl, but no cat appeared.

I wasn’t too worried as I had a pretty good idea where he would be. As I expected, he was in his favourite place, high up in a tree in Peter’s garden. He used to spend ages up there, dozing or watching the birds which he was too lazy to catch.

What I didn’t expect to see was Peter up in the tree, too, clinging on to a branch with one hand and holding on to Tommy with the other.

He called down: “I tried to rescue

him, but now I can’t get back down.”

He looked very uncomfortable and even from the ground I could see that his knuckles were white from gripping the branch. I said: “If you let him go, he will come down on his own.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive!”

The moment he was released, Tommy scrambled down the tree and into my arms.

“I’ll take him indoors and then we’ll get you down,” I told Peter.

With the help of the removal men and a ladder, we soon had my stranded neighbour back on firm ground.

Later, as we had a reviving cup of tea, and Tommy had curled up on Peter’s lap, I said: “He likes you. I thought you hated cats.”

“Not at all. We used to have a cat, but the day after my wife died, it left home. I never saw him again and I resolved never to have another cat. However, Tommy here had other ideas and he often pops round – usually when I’m cooking fish!”

I smiled to myself, thinking that Tommy had succeeded in breaking down barriers where I had failed.

Peter went on: “Sorry I was rather brief with you this morning. I’d been on the phone for ages, trying to sort out my car insurance. Are you moving very far?”

“No, just ten minutes away.” I told him about the new house with its view over the river.

“It sounds lovely.” He stood up. “Well, I must be going. Thanks for the tea. I hope you and Tommy will be happy in your new home.”

“I’m sure we will, although we’ll miss our old neighbours here,” I replied.

Peter paused on his way to the door and looked embarrassed: “I hope you will forgive me for being rather frosty when we first met. In many ways, I was still grieving and didn’t want to think about making new friends. We got off on the wrong foot, I’m afraid.” He took a deep breath, before adding: “What I am trying to say is, would you like to go out for dinner one evening?”

“Yes, I’d love to,” I said, hoping he couldn’t hear my thumping heart. I jotted down my phone number and gave it to him.

Peter smiled: “I’ll give you a few days to settle in then I’ll call you.”

As he left, one of the removal men appeared to announce they were all done. It felt strange and a bit sad, looking round the empty house, but it felt good, too. I was looking forward to my new start as well as my first date with Peter.

I coaxed Tommy into his carrier with one of his favourite treats and told him: “That was very clever of you, Tommy – pretending to be stuck up that tree. Salmon for you tonight, my boy!”