“Look at that frightful thing!” Emily beckons Sophie over to the window. “He’s just sat there, staring!”
Sophie stretches, fishing beneath the table with her foot for her missing shoe. This blasted dress codewith its heels and pencil skirts! Neither item is to her liking, but she must look the part. And after all the work she put into landing her dream job, what else can she do? It took Sophie over a year of sending off CVs and second-guessing herself before they finally offered her an internship. Shed have worn anything to get a foot in the doorheels included.
She still recalls how her mum, Helen, nearly burst with pride when the acceptance letter arrived. Theyd shrieked like little children around the living room as Sophie danced, letter aloft. Then off they’d gone to the shopping centre, searching for Sophies first ever business suit and the obligatory court shoes. Of course, Sophie had other shoes at homeones shed worn to her school leavers dobut all too girlish for the City. Helen insisted on classic black courts, and Sophie spent ages in front of the mirror, wondering what had changed inside her.
Strange, isnt it? Helen teased, watching Sophie pace in her new shoes. Thats called feeling like a woman. You wont always be running about in trainers.
Its… odd, Sophie replied, unsure if she liked this new, unfamiliar feeling. But goodness, how uncomfortable! Feels like something out of a medieval torture manual!
Youll get used to it! Actually Helen called over a shop assistant, whispered something, and soon a pair of cushioned insoles appeared. They made things a touch easier.
The person who invented these should have got a knighthood, dont you think, Mum?
Im not so surebut we ought to thank them all the same. Helen slipped off the shoe she was trying and put it back on the rack. Stylish… and practical, which matters just as much.
Sophie only sighed. Mum would never buy anything for herself; money was always tight, and today was Sophies day. No point in coaxing her, so while Helens back was turned at the till, Sophie snapped a quick photo of the lovely shoes her mum had admired. A perfect present for Mums birthday. All she needed now was the money.
What a curious thing, money. When youve got it, it vanishes almost instantly!
As far back as Sophie can remember, money always caused more worry than joy in their house.
We’re in a spot of bother, love, Helen would say, laying her wages out on the kitchen table.
This usually meant gran needed medicine or Aunt Lizs husband was causing fresh anguish and they had to help.
Helen set aside a little until she had some for this or that, and Sophie arranged the rest into a small pile of crumpled notes.
Well then, lets do some sums!
Sophie became so adept, she decided to be an accountant. It always worked out: enough for food, a few nice bits to wear, and even their summer holiday, which Sophie saved for all year in a biscuit tin, tucking away a little from every one of Helens paydays.
Not St Ives, but Weymouthll do nicely! Sophie would skip in front of her mum. Sea, sunshine, and at least a hint of crab!
Sophie!
Oh come on, Mum! Theyre so cute!
Helen only hugged her daughter.
Youre my little mermaid! Sorry I cant give you more
Dont be daft, Mum! Weve got a whole weekus two together! Pasties, piers, and the sea! What could be better?
So theyd rummage out faded swimsuits to see if new ones were needed. Aunt Lizon another calm streak with her husbandwould sew a sundress for Helen and shorts for Sophie. And off theyd go to the sea.
After an afternoon of paddling and diving, Sophie lay basking like a seal and watching the world go by. There was the gran, stuffing fruit into her granddaughter; the newlyweds, wrapped up in each other; the family of five, barely noticing the rest of the world as they bickered and bonded. More often than not, the father kept order among the three boisterous boys.
Sophie never knew her own dad. Helen avoided the topic, always answering questions briefly. But on her fourteenth birthday, just as the sun set over the coast, her mum sat Sophie beside her and explained everything: the whirlwind romance, her early pregnancy, Dads panic at the idea of responsibility, how Sophies gran, Edna, kicked Helen out for shaming the family.
So what did you do?
I went to my granddadyour great-grandfather. He was a tough old chap, but he took me in. And after you arrived, he became a whole new man. Shame you dont remember himhe adored you. Maybe because hed never let himself care for anyone before. With your great-gran, it was never love, just dutyget married, have a child, look after each other. Odd, really, but they chose it. He always knew she didnt love himmarried at nearly thirty because her parents insisted. He was a proper man-about-town in those days, searching for a wife.
Thats scary, Mum
It was, Sophie.
Did you love Dad? Sophie glanced sideways, seeing her mothers expression change; all colour washed away, the pain underneath rising unexpectedly like the tide.
Still, Helen hugged her daughter and nodded.
I did. I suppose I still do, in a way. Which hurts, Sophie, but I wouldnt wish any of it awaynot if it meant missing out on you. Some people never feel that splitlife before and after love, breathing cause your hearts full, not just your lungs. Its worth it, even if its not forever. Im grateful it happened.
Mum
Yes? Helen kept her gaze on the horizon, just a glowing rim of day.
Did you ever… I mean, you were young, and you had me
No! Helen pulled her close. Never. You were a gift, Sophie. The best part of anything good that ever happened to me.
And Gran?
She did, yesbut she was thinking of me, not you. She wanted me to finish school, to be married before having a baby, not out of wedlock. She didnt know you then; I was still her little girl. Her generation all said the same. So did the doctorstherell be other children, plenty of time. But what does the right time even mean? For you, there never would have been a right time. That frightened me more than anything. Lets not dwell on it, eh? I forgave your gran long ago. When you were two, you were terribly illhorrendous fever, the childrens ward was shut with a bug, and the GP said to nurse you at home. The doctor and nurse did what they could, but I was running on fumes, splitting myself between you and great-grandad, who was bedridden. You wouldnt eat, and then he wouldnt eithersaid he wouldnt have anything until you got better. I didnt call my mumshe turned up anyway, let herself in and found me a wreck, with the place in a state. She scrubbed the place, made food, coaxed you and great-grandad to eat, and put us all to bed. When I woke up, there she sat, rocking you in her arms, crying quietly in the chair by the sofa. And youslept as soundly as you hadnt in a week. That was the turning point. Neither of us talked about it that day. Didnt need tothings got better after. And I knew shed love you in a way she maybe never could with me. You know that, dont you?
I do.
Thats why you must remembereveryone makes mistakes, Sophie! No ones a saint. You can write someone off for slipping up, as if forgetting you could do it too, or you can give them a chance to put things right. Doesnt always work, of coursea bit like Aunt Liz and her husband. Hes a rotter, and she keeps forgiving. Thats not right either. I wish I could explain it better.
I get it, Mum. Dont worry. Sophie snuggled against her and closed her eyes. And thank you!
For what, Sophie?
For having me!
Youre welcome! Helen tapped Sophies nose, just like the old nursery days. Ding! Is Sophie home?
Home!
Youve a telegram.
Read it out!
You are very much loved. STOP. Will you reply?
Likewise. STOP. Mum?
Yes?
You cant live without love, can you?
Never! Everyone needs someone to loveand someone wholl love them back, or at least, to love for loves sake. Thats what keeps the world turning. When you love, youre alive. When youre loved, you breathe it in. Thats all the meaning there is. Do you see, Sophie?
I think I do
Twelve years have slipped by since that conversation, but its still fresh in Sophies mind.
Abandoning her shoe search, she tiptoes barefoot and in stockings to the window.
What do you see there?
Over therelook at that poor creature!
The cat is truly a rum one. His fur is patchy and thin, with bare pink skin peeking through. His tail shudders with a visible crook, and one ear is nothing but a ragged remnant. The other is battered, and dark blotches mark his scrawny, almost storybook body. Sophie spins around, grabs her office pass, raincoat, and darts out.
Emily, watching Sophie swaddle the unfortunate cat in her coat as she sneaks him past reception, shakes her head in astonishment before, unable to resist, making the shes barmy gesture.
Are you sure youre all right? Why would you take in thatmonstrosity?
Sophie empties a spare paper box, sits the cat inside, and offers water from a plastic cup.
Drink up, old boy! Thats all I have for now. Well head home soon and Ill give you a proper meal.
Are you listening to me? Emily recoils, eyeing the bedraggled beast. Why THIS cat? Hes obviously ill! If you want a pet, get a kitten! Something small and sweet and easy. Why all this trouble?
Because, Emilyhes missing the most important thing in life.
What?
No one loves him. No one ever will. Therell always be homes for the cuddly kittens. But this one? Who cares about him?
Well, youve got a pointno one! But why should you care?
Sophies eyes twinkle as she drapes her scarf over the box and dashes off to wash her hands.
The rest of the day passes quietly. The cat dozes in his box; the women rush to wrap up their report before the deadline.
It isnt until late, as Emily sweeps up copies for the boss, Mr. Graham, that the chaos begins. Mr. Graham is every girls office crushyoung, sharp-suited, charming, and still singlewhich means Emily and her colleagues compete for his attention. Sophie doesnt bother. Its not that she finds Mr. Graham unattractivefar from it. She just cant imagine someone like him noticing her, not with the roster of knockouts in the office and, as she suspects, beyond. Shes never been painfully shy, but standing near him in his tailored suits makes her self-conscious. What chance does she have next to Emilysix-foot, with that models figure and glossy hair? She feels a bit like a quirky gnome by comparison.
Now, Sophie keeps her head down, pretending not to notice Mr. Graham at all.
Excellent! Lets have a look.
He goes to step inside, moves the box asideand all hell breaks loose, sending the entire office, and soon the managing director, into fits of laughter after the fact.
Like an oily black shadow, the ragged cat bolts from the box, swiping at Sophies red silk scarf. It flies off as the animal leaps over Mr. Graham, up his shoulder, and onto the filing cabinet with a growl worthy of a motorbike. Shocked, Mr. Graham grabs Emilys arm and shields her from the monster.
What on earth is that?!
A cat! Emily seizes the moment, clings to her saviour, and points at Sophie. I TOLD Sophie it was a bad idea to bring an animal inside, Mr. Graham! Just look at it! See that thing in the dark and youll never sleep again!
The beast crouches above on the cabinet, lashing its tail and rumbling. Sophie, remembering shes once again barefoot, springs up as she talks softly.
Come here, love! Nobodys going to hurt you. There nowwhats got you frightened?
After a moment, the cat edges towards herthen Mr. Grahams hand carefully grabs him by the scruff, and passes him to Sophie.
I take it hes yours now?
He is! Sophie hugs the cat tight. Sorry, Mr. GrahamI know the office rules
You did. Five minutesmy office. Deal with your friend first, though. Cant have more scares like that.
Right you are, Mr. Graham! Good job you were here! Who else would step in to rescue two damselsmy hands are still shaking! Emily bats her lashes and presents her perfect manicure.
Something mischievous flickers in Mr. Grahams eyes, and then he straightens his jacket, heading out.
Ill be waiting.
Sophie tucks the cat under her desk for safety, scrambles back into her shoes, and braces herself. She really hopes she wont get sackedMums birthday is coming up and her savings arent nearly enough. It would sting to lose this job, especially after working so hard to get it.
She knocks timidly at Mr. Grahams door, head bowed.
Sorry, Mr. Graham
Have you named him yet? The playful tone makes Sophie look up.
I havent.
Here. He slides a business card towards her. Relief washes over Sophie: she isnt being dismissed.
Whats this?
My mates vet clinic. Theyre goodI take my cat there myself. You might need the help.
Thank you
One thing, though.
Of course?
Dont repeat what happened in my office. Not the kind of press I need.
Not a word, Sophie promises.
Ill talk to Emily myself. Off you goand best of luck. That cats going to be quite a handful, I reckon.
Ive never had a cat.
Well, prepare for adventure then! If you need advice, Im something of a cat expert.
Thank you!
No trouble. HonestlyIve never been so startled. One moment its a box, the next a wild beast explodes out. Maybe Emilys right, Ill stammer for weeks.
You wont! Sophie giggles. Youre quite the hero, remember?
Oh, I doubt that! But tell mewhy do you go barefoot around the office?
She blushes.
I cant stand heels! Trainers are my thing. The person who wrote up the dress code should have to try these on for a weekits only fair.
Harsh! Mr. Graham grins. Ill have a thinkthough perhaps not trainers. Off you go, then.
Sophie nods and slips out.
Back at home, Helen examines Sophies latest rescue, clicking her tongue and promptly setting to work on the new family member.
The cat is content. He sits quietly in a warm basin while Helen cleans his torn ear, then curls up on Sophies old hoodie that Helen has laid in a basket, moving aside her knitting.
What are we to do with this waif, eh?
Love him, Mum. Lets keep him?
I wouldnt say no. But Id be even more delighted if you brought home a certain someone elsea boyfriend, for example.
Mum!
Oh hush up! Im ready to be a gran, I can feel it!
Sophie strokes the cats battered head; he flops his bald patch into her palm as though hes found his home at last.
Ill give it some thought.
Three years later, Helen holds her first grandchild in her arms. She walks the sitting room, rocking the baby, gazing at her tired but glowing daughter asleep on the sofa.
The once-mangy catnow plump, glossy, unrecognisable as the sorry creature Sophie first brought homesettles next to Helen and watches in quiet awe.
What are you staring at, eh? See, weve got another member of the family now. Helen lowers the baby gently. Meet your accomplishment! If you hadnt startled his daddy that day, maybe Id still be waiting. So, thank you, love! Careful! She scolds as the cat stretches a paw, tucks the blanket over Sophies feet. Let her sleep. Shes worn out. First child, and her husbands away on businessnew job, new opportunities. Well manage, though, wont we?
The cat folds his paws neatly, flicking his damaged ear, and purrs in quiet agreement.
Happiness loves silence; best not to frighten it. Let it stay, just as it is.
