eaten, I cleaned my whiskers thoroughly, while I watched Claire tidy up. I was learning more about Claire every day. Despite the fact that she seemed depressed, she was also very clean and tidy – that explained my horrible bath. She wouldn’t even leave an empty glass on the side in the kitchen. Everything was washed up, and put away. She was the same with her clothes. The house was immaculate, and she cleaned all surfaces frequently. More than was necessary, I thought. She had bought me special bowls to eat from and she’d place them on the floor for me, but when I’d finished dining, she would scoop them up and clean them immediately, and then she would spray and clean the floor. I was a pretty fastidious cat when it came to personal hygiene, but being with Claire made me clean myself more than usual; I didn’t want her to think I wasn’t worthy of her spotless house. And I especially didn’t want another bath.
Every day when she got back from work, which she had told me was in a big office, doing something called ‘Marketing’, she would shower – she was always moaning about the dirt in London – then she would change into pyjamas, pour herself something to drink, and go and sit on the sofa. She would then normally start to cry. It had become a set routine in the short time that I’d been here.
She did eat, but very little, and I couldn’t help but notice that she was really quite bony, the way I had been when I’d first arrived here. I knew I needed to try to get her to eat more food but I had no idea how. She seemed to drink quite a lot from a fancy glass, though. She always kept a bottle of wine in the fridge and she would empty it almost nightly. It made me think of the homeless people who had threatened to eat me. I know she wasn’t like them, but Button had explained the human concept of being drunk and I think Claire spent most nights a little bit so. After all, it was usually after a couple of these drinks that she would start crying. And although I would always comfort her when she did this, whatever I did, I couldn’t get her to stop. It made me sad, because all I wanted to do was to make her smile or at least put a stop to her tears.
So far, I had tried playing ‘hiding behind the curtains’, to make her laugh, but she had acted as if I was invisible. I even fell off the windowsill once in my attempt to cheer her up and she didn’t notice that either, despite the fact that I yelped in pain. I tried crying with her; purring, nuzzling into her with my little warm head, giving her my precious tail to play with, but to no end. When she got very sad she would shut everything out, including me.
At night, when she went to bed, I would go and sleep on an armchair next to her. She put a blanket on it for me, so it was perfectly comfortable, and it meant I could keep an eye on her. I would doze a bit but for most of the night I would watch her sleep, trying to make her feel that she wasn’t on her own. When her alarm went off in the morning, I would gently jump on her and lick her nose. I wanted her to feel loved when she opened her eyes every day, just as I did.
But still, I felt sad myself, sometimes. Worrying about Claire was emotionally tiring, but I hoped that if I just stuck to my plan to help her, somehow I would know what to do; the answers had to be there somewhere.
We had just gone into the sitting room that evening; her with her glass, me with my catnip toy that she had kindly bought me, when the doorbell rang. She looked a bit surprised as she went to open the door. I followed her protectively, touching her legs as she walked. A man stood on her doorstep. At first, I wondered if it was the man from the photo, but on closer inspection it wasn’t, although I did recognise him from some of the pictures. It was Tim, Claire’s brother. She didn’t look very happy to see him, though.
‘Didn’t take long for you to embrace the cliché,’ he said.
‘What are you talking about?’ she snapped.
‘Single women and cats. Sorry Claire, only joking.’ He smiled, but she did not and neither did I; we both stood aside and let him in. We followed him into the living room.
‘What are you doing here, Tim?’ she asked, as she gestured for him to sit down. I stayed by her side.
‘Can’t I visit my sister?’ he replied. He tried to stroke me but I arched myself away from him; I wasn’t sure if he was friend or foe. ‘Who’s this?’ he asked.
‘Alfie, he came with the house. Anyway, why didn’t you tell me you were coming? It’s not as if you could have been just passing.’
‘I’m only an hour and a half away, Claire, and it was a spur of the moment thing.’
Claire seemed to be scrutinising him as she sat down in an armchair. I jumped onto her lap, trying to give Tim a haughty look, although I’m not sure I pulled it off. Sometimes it’s hard being as cute as me; people and cats don’t take me seriously.
‘Why didn’t you call me, at least?’ she pushed.
‘OK, let’s cut to the chase. I’m guessing you’re not going to offer me a drink?’ he asked. She shook her head resolutely.
‘Mum asked me to come. She’s worried about you. You know, it’s only been six months since Steve left you. You sell up and move a four-hour drive away from your home and Mum and Dad; from your friends and your job, to London – not exactly a friendly city – where you’ve never lived, and don’t know anyone. Of course we’re worried. Worried sick. And Mum is beside herself.’
‘Well you can stop worrying. Look at me, I’m fine.’ She looked and sounded angry.
‘Claire, I am looking at you, and you seem anything but fine.’
Claire sighed. ‘Tim, I needed to get away, can’t you try to understand? Steve left me for another woman and they live down the road from my old house, not to mention near Mum and Dad. I couldn’t bear to see them every day, which I would have done if I’d stayed. I think you should all be proud of me. I gave him the quick divorce he wanted. I didn’t make a fuss. I sold our home, got myself a really good job, and bought this house. I did all that while my heart was broken into a thousand pieces.’ She stopped and wiped the tears from her cheek. I nestled into her as much as I could.
‘And that is great, Claire,’ Tim sounded softer too. ‘But we’re worried about how you really are. You’ve done amazingly, but you’re unhappy and Mum feels that you’re too far away. Can you just do me a favour and go home for the weekend soon, just to reassure her?’
I thought that it might be a good idea; Claire would see her family and it would give me a chance to explore further, without having to worry about her. Was I being selfish? I hoped not.
‘Listen, Tim, I’ll make a deal. I’ll go home one weekend if you promise to tell Mum that I seem all right to you.’
‘OK Sis, I’ll do that, but you know what? Can you at least make me a cup of tea before I start the long drive back?’
I decided to make friends with Tim when I realised he was an ally for Claire. We played with some of my toys together and I liked the way he got down on his hands and knees to fuss me, not minding that he looked daft. I rolled on my back, with my legs in the air and let him tickle my tummy; one of my favourite things ever. And while we played, he asked me to look after his sister and I tried to convey to him that I definitely would. I felt the weight of responsibility but I was ready for it. After we waved him off, I wondered if I could sneak out and go and see if Jonathan was home, but instead, Claire picked me up and carried me up to bed.
I
