‘Yes, you do. Now who is in?’ Jonathan asked with a sigh.
‘Of course,’ Mr Barker said. ‘We’d be happy, we don’t go far ourselves most weekends, and we always have a nice Sunday roast, so we could easily have someone every week if they like.’
‘We couldn’t do every week,’ Steve said. ‘We go and see our kids you see, they live the other side of London, but definitely once a month to start with, then maybe more.’
‘We’re in,’ Franceska said.
‘I don’t have a choice,’ Jonathan mumbled but he winked to show he was joking.
When everyone in the room agreed to be a part of it, they also started suggesting other people who may help out too.
‘I know, I shall make a spreadsheet,’ Vic said.
‘What’s that?’ Harold looked terrified.
‘Come to mine, and I’ll show you, we can make a spreadsheet of families who can host and then match them with people who need company, highly technical and very efficient,’ Vic said, sounding efficient.
‘Sounds perfect, Vic,’ Claire said, giving his shoulder a pat.
We knew, as they carried on chatting, that we’d done it. If Vic and his spreadsheet were involved then it was now a reality. The Goodwins might be busybodies but their hearts were in the right places. I was very fond of them now, deep down.
I felt emotional as George and I went to see what the children were up to. We found them all in Summer’s room, and Pickles dressed up as a ballerina. It wasn’t pretty.
‘What is going on?’ I asked.
‘I’m a girl. I like being a girl. I think I might be a girl rather than a cat from now on,’ Pickles said, twirling inelegantly around.
Oh boy, I thought, but we couldn’t help but grin.
Later that night when everyone had left, I led George out into the garden. It was time for a dad to kitten chat. I felt nervous but determined. There was really just one piece of the puzzle left.
‘George, you know that Snowball is here to stay, now?’
‘Oh yes, Harold loves her. And although she’s still missing her family, she seems to be settling in quite well too. Dad, I’m sorry I was so mean when she first came, but you know, with your history I felt as if she was going to replace Tiger.’
‘No one can ever replace Tiger, George, you really need to understand that,’ I said, fiercely, looking at the dark night and hoping to see the brightest star, which was always her.
‘I know that now but you know I really like Snowball. She’s very cool and funny, and sometimes I feel guilty about how much I like her, because of my mum.’
‘But she would want you to like Snowball. Tiger was the best of cats, she wouldn’t want you not to be friends with Snowball because of her.’
‘I know that, but it’s not always rational, feelings I mean.’
‘No, they certainly aren’t. But, George, you know I loved Snowball very much before and in my heart she isn’t replacing Tiger, but I have to tell you that I still love her.’ I held my breath as I waited for his response.
‘I know, I can see it. I’m not silly like Pickles you know.’
‘How do you feel about that?’
‘I feel the same as I feel about my friendship with Snowball. I feel that it’s right, and good, but I also sometimes worry that wherever Tiger mum is she’ll think we’ve forgotten her.’
‘I know, I feel that too. But we will never forget her, the two of us will keep her memory alive, along with our other friends. But you know without Tiger I’ve been a bit lonely. Not in the way that Harold’s friends are, who don’t have anyone, but just you know in that way.’
‘That bit of your heart way, you mean?’
‘Exactly that. When did you get so wise?’ I laughed.
‘I had the best parents to teach me,’ George said and we nuzzled.
‘So I have your blessing, with Snowball I mean?’I asked.
‘Yes, you do. I might find it hard, I can’t pretend otherwise, but I want you to be happy and I think that’s what Tiger would have wanted too.’ Just then we looked up and saw the brightest star in the sky and it seemed to be winking at us. We blinked back.
Chapter Thirty-Three
[Ęŕđňčíęŕ: img_34]
‘It’s the most wonderful time of the year,’ George said, in his sing-song voice. He was incredibly excited because it was Christmas Day. Our favourite day.
‘It is son. Happy Christmas.’ We nuzzled.
It was early, of course, because our children woke at the crack of dawn, or so it seemed, to see if Santa had been. He had. As George and I watched them open presents, squealing excitedly about what they’d got, we felt warm and fuzzy. This was family at its best and it was also the scene that made it absolutely crystal clear how lucky we all were. We had so much, and it also made me spare a thought for those who didn’t have as much, or anything close. We had to remember Christmas was about giving, receiving, and also being mindful of everyone else. What saddened me about the world sometimes is how people don’t value people enough, or cats for that matter. Anyway, enough of my sad thoughts, because no one should be miserable on Christmas Day.
The run-up had been hectic, as it always is, although in a different way this year. Harold’s Sunday Lunch Club was up and running, although it was very early days, and today we had five people dining with us who would otherwise be on their own for Christmas. And not only that, there would be no turkey for them if they didn’t join us. I, for one, found that unimaginable because that was my favourite thing about Christmas. George also quite liked Brussels sprouts but I didn’t quite understand that.
The Goodwins and the Barkers were having Christmas Day together, and they had invited three other people, which was kind of them. In the new year, the regular Sunday lunches would start properly, and Harold was very proud of himself. As was I. And of George, who inspired this whole thing. Claire was working with the Goodwins as well, to try to get more people involved. They were starting with Edgar Road, because it is a very long road, they felt they should be able to get many people to sign up. With the combined forces, I couldn’t see how it would fail. Claire had the charm, Vic would talk until people agreed to anything and Heather never took no for an answer. We all had high hopes.
There had been the usual pre-Christmas fun of course. The nativity play which Toby, Henry, Summer and Martha were all in. It was pretty uneventful compared to last year when we put George in the manger as baby Jesus. People are still talking about that, and oh how I’d enjoyed it but we were absolutely banned from going this year. Claire even locked the cat/dog flap, she wasn’t taking any chances as we were trapped in the house.
The Christmas tree had also managed to survive relatively unscathed, as George didn’t climb it this year. He said he had grown out of that, but the same couldn’t be said for Matt and Polly’s because George taught Pickles to try to climb it instead. Pickles had gone back to trying to be a cat having abandoned trying to be a girl, and George showed that despite his maturity and his discovery of his purpose in life he could still be naughty. It didn’t end well. Polly was furious as decorations scattered, the tree almost landed on Pickles, who thankfully escaped unhurt. We were all cross with George and even he realised he’d pushed it too far. He promised to act as a more responsible older cousin to Pickles but I wasn’t holding out much hope on that. Thankfully Polly had the sense to ban putting presents around the tree, in case Pickles ate them and we had adopted that policy at our house as well.
I had been spending more time with Snowball and my other Edgar Road friends, now we had a little less going on. Snowball and I were back to being a couple, and although at times I did feel guilty about Tiger, I knew, deep down, she would want me to be happy. And I was happy. Some days I woke up and wondered how I was so happy, because since losing Tiger, I’d been far more down than even I realised, but it was as if I now had a new lease of life.