She leapt from the shed roof up into the branches of a tree while I stayed on the shed roof, eyeballing the dog as he was dragged away down the alley. When he had gone I looked up into the tree, but the tortoiseshell cat had disappeared.
Feeling disconsolate, I made my way across the square in the direction of the church spire. I entered the churchyard through a wooden gate, savouring the peaceful atmosphere, which was in stark contrast to the bustle of the square. A pigeon cooed from the church roof as I settled down behind a row of headstones for a wash. I wasn’t sure how I felt about the tortoiseshell cat’s revelations. To be told that the alleyways were, in effect, no-go areas for me was disheartening; but, I reminded myself, it wasn’t an alley I wanted, it was a home, and an owner. More worrying was her dismissal of my chances of finding someone to take me in. If she was right, and people in Stourton cared only for dogs, I would have made a grave error in coming to this town at all.
My wash complete, I pushed through a row of conifers that bordered the churchyard and found myself in a short parade of shops along a cobbled street. There was a café at the far end of the row, with a rusty metal table and chairs standing outside its door. I padded along the cobbles to get a better look at the café. Paint was peeling from the frames of its curved bay window, and the solitary string of fairy lights draped inside did not do much to improve the café’s shabby appearance. The sign above the door read ‘Church Café’ and I was relieved to see a sticker in the window saying ‘Sorry: no dogs’. My impression of a rather down-at-heel establishment was confirmed when I peered through the glass door and saw a few rickety tables in front of an ugly serving counter.
I made my way round to the side of the café, and my heart sank to see that an alleyway ran behind it. The rear of the café and its adjoining shops presented a mismatched vista of windows, fire escapes and air vents. A large, square dustbin was pushed against the back wall of the café, only a few feet away from where I was standing. Its lid was damaged at one corner, revealing the polythene bags full of food waste underneath. I sniffed the air, detecting the unmistakeable aroma of tuna mayonnaise, and my stomach rumbled in response. Uncertain what to do, I twitched my tail. The dustbin was only a few paces away, but dare I risk a repeat of last night’s ambush by whichever cat ‘owned’ this alley? Still weakened from yesterday’s encounter, I would be in no state to defend myself.
A gust of wind wafted the scent of tuna in my direction and my mind was made up. Nancy had helped me to perfect my scavenging technique, so I knew it wouldn’t take long to do what was needed. I ran over to the bin and dropped to my haunches, crouching low to the ground. I felt my leg spasm in pain as I sprang upwards, but I made a perfect landing on top of the lid, feeling the bin’s contents give slightly under my weight. I balanced on the edge of the dustbin and batted at one of the bags until my claws caught and I could rip it open. There was a satisfying splattering sound as a mound of sandwich filling dropped onto the ground. I hopped down and greedily set about eating the pile of tuna mayonnaise. After my recent diet of mice and shrews, it tasted delicious. Savouring the feeling of having a full belly, I turned to leave the alley, and almost jumped out of my skin at finding myself face-to-face with a black-and-white tomcat.
12
The tomcat stood at the alley’s entrance, frozen in mid-step with one paw hovering above the ground. His expression suggested surprise rather than hostility but, with last night’s trauma still fresh in my mind, I immediately braced myself for a fight. Arching my back and fluffing out my tail, I growled deeply and hissed, warning him to back off. The tomcat tilted his head to one side, observing my display of aggression with curiosity.
‘Good morning,’ he said, his green eyes looking at me calmly. ‘Have you finished?’ He glanced over my shoulder at the dustbin. His unexpected politeness disarmed me and, unsure whether I could trust him, I maintained my defensive pose and let out another growl. A smile flickered across his eyes and he sat down on the path, casually lifting a paw to wash his face, as if to suggest that he was happy to wait. I sized him up while he groomed himself, seemingly oblivious to my presence.
His sleek fur was black all over, but for a patch of white on his chest and the long white whiskers which framed his square face. He was long-legged and rangy, clearly in his physical prime. As he continued to ignore me, my feeling of alarm began to turn to embarrassment – my terrified response was beginning to seem like something of an overreaction. I self-consciously relaxed my back and lowered my hackles, but in spite of my efforts to control it, my tail remained in its voluminously fluffy state. I saw the tomcat glance at it as he washed, and I felt mortified, as if it somehow gave away my inexperience and vulnerability. He seemed to sense my awkwardness and averted his eyes, turning away to lick his back while I tried to regain my composure. It was only when he stopped washing and looked at me expectantly that I realized that he had asked me a question and was still waiting for a reply.
‘Yes, I’m finished,’ I stuttered. ‘I hope I didn’t eat your . . .’ I tailed off apologetically, painfully aware of the incriminating smell of tuna that was emanating from my whiskers.
‘’S’all right,’ the cat replied, ‘plenty more where that came from.’
He stood up and walked towards me. I felt my fur bristle in alarm, but he maintained a respectful distance as he walked around me, on his way to the dustbin. While he began to root around in the bin’s contents, I retreated further down the alley to observe him from behind a pile of cardboard boxes. He was in good condition, not scarred and battle-torn like the ginger cat, and seemed too friendly to be an alley-cat. But if he was a pet with a home, what was he doing scavenging for food in a dustbin?
When he had finished eating, he wiped his whiskers with his paw, before sloping off in the direction of the churchyard. As he passed my hiding place he looked towards me and nodded once, as if to let me know that he had known I was there all along. He didn’t break his stride, however, and continued to the end of the alley before disappearing into darkness beneath the conifers.
For a few moments I stared down the empty alley, my heart sinking as I realized that, once again, I had misjudged the situation and made a fool of myself. The tomcat’s behaviour seemed to throw all of my newly acquired assumptions about alley-cats into disarray. My initial relief that our encounter had passed without confrontation soon gave way to frustration that, in my panic, I had forgone the opportunity to ask his advice. Part of me wanted to run after him – to tell him how I had ended up here, and to ask him what I should do next. But the events of the previous twenty-four hours had taught me to exercise caution. The tomcat might have allowed me to eat from a bin in his alley, but I didn’t want to push my luck by pestering him for help.
Drowsiness was beginning to spread over me, as the soporific effect of my meal took hold. The cardboard boxes provided surprisingly effective insulation against the draughts that whipped down through the alley, and for the first time since arriving in Stourton I felt a sense of well-being. Listening to the magpies chattering in the nearby churchyard, I curled up and fell into a deep, restorative sleep.
I was awoken by the sound of the church bells, and I lifted my head to listen as they chimed six times. Night had fallen and I could make out the muffled sound of the church organ drifting through the air. My fur prickled as I heard the rattling of a key in the back door of the café. I peered round the edge of my cardboard shelter and watched as a woman stepped outside, clutching a black polythene bag. From my hiding place I could not see her face, only that she had shoulder-length blonde hair and was wearing a light cotton jumper and jeans. She lifted the lid of the dustbin and tossed the bag inside, trying in vain to press the lid shut on top of its overflowing contents. She shivered in the cold, before rushing back inside and slamming the door shut behind her.