An Expensive Pleasure
– Sophie, again? How many times? I feel like I work just to support your cat!
The cat, whom Sophie was trying to wrestle into his carrier, twisted himself free, thumped onto the floor, then crawled into the corner of the hallway, letting out guttural and woeful cries. Judging by his behaviour, the cat who Sophie had romantically named Dickens long ago had decided his life was worth haggling for, at least in my opinion.
Long ago, since Dickenswhom Sophie affectionately called Dickiehad been part of her life for almost a decade now. Sophie could never quite remember how old the cat truly was. Shed found him on the street as an adult, not a kitten. Even then, as the vet at the clinic told Sophies mother, Martha, he was a young but fully grown tom.
Martha had raced to the clinic with the cat wrapped tightly in an old baby blanket, Sophie at her side.
– Save him, please!
– Where on earth did you find this creature? the young nurse at the desk recoiled. Hes just a stray!
– What difference does it make what he is? Hes my cat! The poor thing is sufferingcant you see that? I have money just like anyone else who comes with a pedigree cat. Or is mine not good enough for you?
Marthas anger wasnt something the nurse wanted to deal with, rightly so.
Martha Anne Williams couldve taught a stone to stand its ground. Shed had to raising a child alone, caring for two elderly parents, and surviving on a nursery school teachers wage was no small feat. If you can do that, youll grow a fierce set of teeth!
She never let herself be pushed around, yet she was genuinely kind. She adored children, cats, and occasionally, despite having always been a bit wary of them even dogs.
No one got away with nonsense around Martha. Neither the neighbours in the block nor the parents of the children in her group; even strangers who sometimes mistook her quiet independence for an easy target.
Yet somehow, Martha managed to do all this with a special knack. She didnt raise her voice, she didnt argue, but always found the perfect argument that switched something in her opponents head, and suddenly the heated confrontation turned into a quiet chat in the far corner. And just minutes earlier, those who were shouting at Martha would sit, unloading their troubles, speaking of how hard everything was. She would just nod and listen, let them finish, and before long, people would thank her, apologise, and go about their business.
How it worked, Martha never understood. She had a skill for listening really listening not just waiting for her turn to talk.
Still, this gift only took her so far. Martha could find a way with outsiders, but when it came to her own family, it all fell apart.
Her husband left her a week after the wedding. Her mother would joke for years afterward, saying, Thought hed last longer, honestly.
It stung, but Martha admitted her mum had a point. With a woman like her, meek and naive, you couldnt exactly build a strong familythats what her husband had spat at her as he walked out the door: Youre no more a wife than I am a ballerina.
Of course, Martha was upset. But, two months later, she found out she was expecting a baby, and, in a strange way, felt reassured. She was a woman after all; men cant have babies.
Shed looked forward to her daughters birth more than Christmas or her own birthday. Her quiet, humble life hadnt held many celebrations, but this was differentthis was something special.
Her mother couldnt understand it though.
– Why do it to yourself, Martha? Its a burden! Youre still young, not bad-looking, and you have some prospects, at least. But have a child? Youll be living on toast and tinned beans! And poor Sophie will too! Children are an expensive pleasure, Martha! You dont understand now, but you will.
– Mum, isnt that how we lived?
– Exactly, Martha! And what good did it do us?
Martha thought about it. Shed always done as her mother said, but this time, something inside her resisted.
Just thinking about giving up the baby weighed on her so much she felt she could hardly breathe. How could she destroy something growing inside her not even a child yet, just the hope and belief that all those harsh criticisms were wrong? She could be a mother, not just a woman, and she couldnt let anyone rob her of that. In that moment, she went on the defensivenot just for her baby, but for herself, too.
What tipped the scales was her grandmother. Out of nowhere, Gran appeared in her best headscarf, the one she only wore on proper occasions, and simply said:
– Have the baby, Martha. Ill help.
– But what about Grandad? How will he manage on his own in the village?
– Hell manage, love, hes tough! If not, well bring him here.
A smart, neat bundle appeared on the table. Martha recognised Grans beloved old tea towel.
– Go on, open it!
Martha had never seen so much money, before or since.
– Grandad sold the old house. Theyre building a motorway through the village. The land went for a good price, and all our savings are in there. Its enough for a small flat. After that, youre on your own.
– Gran, I cant
– You can, Martha! Take itfor your little one. Who else will look after him if not his mother?
That bundle was the last straw, breaking open years of tension between Martha and her mum.
– So thats how it is. When I asked for help, you had nothing! But now, you come bearing gifts? Well, fine, what more can I say?
Gran sent Martha out and had a long talk with her daughter, but Marthas mother still couldnt accept it. She couldnt understand why, with all her strange behaviour, Martha suddenly had everything support, money, even a place to live. Youd think it was winning the lottery!
Martha never understood it, either. She hadn’t strayed, wasnt reckless. Shed simply fallen pregnant from her husband. As Gran had said, If the horse stumbles, both are at fault.
– And he likes to think hes the stallion! Dont fret, Martha youre still young.
Martha kept her peace but never stopped thanking her grandmother.
They bought the flatold, a bit battered, in need of a refurb, but the important thing was that it was theirs. A merry team of builders, guided by a stern foreman but most of all by Grans unyielding determination, got everything sorted in a few months. When Martha tiptoed into her room to see a cot set up, she burst into tears.
– Dont cry, silly! Be happy! Come on, lets try out the new kitchen!
Sophie was born a little early, but she was healthy, sturdy, and unexpectedly gentle. Martha, having grown up with criticism from her mother, vowed never to treat Sophie that way.
– Gran has become your favourite! Of course, she bought the flat, looks after the baby and what about me?! You wont even let me spend time with my granddaughter!
– Mum, come by whenever you want. Just dont shout, please! You scare Sophie.
– Scared? Shes a baby, Martha! The worlds upside down for her! What have I done?
– Its just you dont speak to us, you yell
Her mother wouldnt listen.
– Well see what you say when your daughter does the same to you!
– She wont!
– She will! Its all about upbringing! I spoiled you and now lookits all Martha, Martha! And you treat me like this! She doesnt even need her own mother anymore!
– Thank you, mum, honestly.
– For what?
– For teaching me what not to do! Now I know for sure.
– What rubbish!
Martha didnt argue any longer. All she could think was, I wont be that kind of mum!
Easier said than done.
Martha never knew if she was doing everything right with Sophie. Sophie wasnt a spoilt child, but she knew her own mind, even from a young age.
– Mummy, can I have a sweet?
– After lunch, Sophie.
– Not even one?
– Not now.
– All right, Mummy. Can I have two after lunch? Ill eat up!
Martha laughed, giving in after Sophie polished off her plate.
These little moments formed Sophies character. She quickly figured out that tantrums led nowhere and managed even to calm down her fiery Gran, sidling up with innocent eyes:
– Gran, dont get cross. Itll give you wrinkles! Youre much prettier when youre happycome here!
– Why? Even Marthas mother, momentarily silenced, would pause her tirade.
Sophie would pull her into a chair, climb onto her lap, and trace her grans forehead and cheeks with a chubby finger.
– See? All smooth again! So pretty!
Martha chuckled, wise to just let it be.
Gradually, things settled in the family.
Martha worked, while Gran and Grandadwho had finally sold his plot and moved to townlooked after Sophie. They managed well as a team.
The hardship hit when Gran fell ill. The doctors looked grave, making no promises, but Martha knew what was coming.
– Gran, maybe we should try London for specialists?
– No point. Ive lived a full life. Im not scared to gojust to leave you and Grandad behind. Dont leave him alone!
– Dont say that!
– Really, dont mind me, love.
It was during this time that Sophie brought the cat home.
The day Dickens turned up in their flat, was the day Martha nearly lost her daughter. Sophie had left school as usual, turned onto the street towards homeand vanished.
Grandad, who sometimes went to fetch her, missed her by minutes.
Where could a child vanish on a straight road just yards from their house? A mystery!
Everyone searchedher classmates and their parents, older students, Martha who abandoned work, Grandad, even poorly Gran.
But Sophie appeared herself.
She dashed in just as Martha was about to ring the police, her tear-stained face a mask of distress and pity.
Martha didnt scold, only wrapped the wheezing catbarely alivein Sophies blanket and asked quietly:
– Are you all right, love? Are you hurt?
– No, Mum, but he is! Hes hurting!
Martha rushed out.
The vet was only a street away, enough time for Martha to realise she now had a cat courtesy of Sophie, and it wasnt going anywhere. Meaning, shed have to find a way to care for this scrawny creature.
It wasnt as bad as feared. The dogs, which had cornered the cat by the school, hadnt managed to do too much harm. The cat was battered, bitten, but not broken. After a little veterinary magic, Dickens was handed over to Martha.
– Heres your cat. Dont forget his vaccinations! He looks like a stray you might say hes household, but he has no documentation.
Martha nodded, quietly gasping at the bill.
– Couldve bought a couple of pedigrees for that, she muttered, but paid up.
Back home, Martha emptied her purse, counted her cash, and sighed.
She was short until the end of the month. Shed need meds for the cat, Gran, and a birthday present for Sophie, whose big day was coming up. Birthdays mattereda lot to Martha, who didnt want her child to remember them with sadness, as she so often had.
– Mum, may I ask you something? Sophie crept into the kitchen, hugging Martha.
– What, love?
– I dont need any presents, really. Can I keep him instead? He can be my present
Martha hugged her in return and glanced down at the grey bundle curled by her foot. Shed tried putting Dickens in a box, but he insisted on pushing out and coming to snuggle against her slipper.
Of course, Martha agreed; Dickens stayed.
Odd thing, but the battered cat, streetwise and scruffy, soon settled into house life. He behaved himself, causing no trouble, and became particularly attached to the oldiesnever leaving Grans side, it seemed.
He started changing the lives of all whod taken him in.
Paying the vet, Martha realised shed had enough. Surviving on a nursery teachers wage and two small pensions was no life. It was time to act, though she’d always been afraid to risk the little she had. And thenwell, the cat…
She handed in her notice. It was terrifying, but soon she was working as a nanny for a well-off family, thanks to a friends recommendation, and kicked herself for not doing it sooner.
Never again did Martha struggle for a job. She was passed from family to family like a hidden treasure, as each child grew out of her care. Each move came with better pay, too, since having a trusted nanny is truly priceless.
Coming home each night, Martha would scratch Dickens behind his now-healed ear.
– Thank you, Dickie! If it wasnt for you
Dickie would purr in response, patting her hand with his paw, always glancing toward Sophie. He cared for Martha, but clearly belonged to Sophie, rarely leaving her side unless Gran called him.
He stood by Sophie through school, perching on her desk, helping with homework, comforting her quietly as she wept for Gran after she passed, and again for Grandad, who followed only a few months later.
He was there when Martha, unexpectedly, fell in love, married a good man, and never had to hear again that she wasnt enough. Marthas husband cherished her, fought her corner, and quickly won over even her curmudgeonly mother by offering the exclusive use of his car (with chauffeur) for trips to the allotment.
Sophie, now at college, suddenly became independent. She had a sound relationship with her stepdad but chose to keep living in the flat shed always called home.
Thats where she brought her boyfriend.
– Blimey, Sophie, this place is massive!
– Hardly.
– So much room! Oh whats that?
A hissing, growling furball hurled itself from Sophies bedroom, launching at her boyfriend, David, who leapt back in horror, dancing out of the way as Dickens tried to swipe at him.
– Get him away! Get him away!
Sophie intervened, but a frosty peace hung between David and Dickens from then on.
David disliked the cat, always shooing him whenever Sophie wasnt looking.
A year passed; Sophie and David got married. Now officially husband and wife, things started to sour. Davids criticisms soon echoed the ones Marthas mother used to throw her way.
– What kind of woman are you, Sophie? Is that supposed to be stew? This is just brown waterI swear you cant cook! Some housewife you are!
Sophies grandmother had taught her how to cookshe was making stews at tenso David had little else to complain about until Dickens gave him reason.
– Whats wrong with him?! David exploded, seeing the vet bill. Are you mad? I dont even spend that much on myself, let alone a cat!
– David, Dickens isnt just a cathes family!
– Says who? Not mine! I want nothing to do with him.
– What are you on about?
– What you heard. If this happens again Ill toss him out myself!
Sophie, whod only that morning learned she was expecting, said nothing. Shed talk to David later.
But Dickens, now elderly, had another mishap with the litter box, and Sophie had to get him to the vet again. David, just back from his daily run (he was obsessed with his health, eating right, jogging, forever nagging Sophie that she didnt appreciate how important well-being was), went ballistic when he heard.
– Enough! Its time we got rid of this animal! Im not wasting money on that useless throw! I want him out!
– Only if I go too! Sophie, usually calm, snapped. Maybe it was the hormones, or maybe shed finally had enough.
– Then both of you! Im done! Why should I put up with this?
Something shifted in the air between them, fatally altering the thread of their marriage. Sophie, whod once thought she wanted to raise her child in a complete family, realised this wasnt what she wanted at all.
She didnt mention that it was her flat. She didnt even argue.
Instead, she slipped her hand into Davids coat pocket, fished out the keys, opened the door with her own, and turned to him.
– Im pregnant. I cant be stressed or upset, and the cat understands that, even if you dont. Please leave. Now. When youve calmed down, we can talk about it. But as for living togetherthats finished. If you can chuck out someone whos been part of my life for so long, someone old and ill, just because hes inconvenient, whatll you do with me when youre tired of me? My feelings and needs dont matter to you, do they? Well. We had good times, David, and Im grateful for them. But now, theres too much bad. And thats unnecessary. For both of us, I think. So off you go. Get your things later, if you need to. Right now, I have to take Dickens to the vet. He needs me, and its the right thing to do.
David didnt argue. He dumped his gym bag of stuff by the door and stormed out.
Sophie knew telling him about the baby hadnt made a dent. He hadnt even registered itall he could think about was the cat.
So, she put the carrier on the floor, waited for Dickens to climb in (now he didnt protest at all), and asked,
– Ready? Lets go. Time to make some changes, starting with your health.
Dickens recovered. Of course, age would take its toll and Sophie would be back and forth to the vet, waiting for the day Dickens would let her daughter touch his tail the only person ever allowed such familiarity.
And Sophies little girl would have the best nanny going, as Dickens gently curled up beside her at bedtime, laying a velvet paw on the giggling childs pillowa carbon copy of Martha, and so much like her grandmother that Sophie almost named her the same, though Martha talked her out of it.
– Talk to David shes your child together. You wont live as a family, but this miracle belongs to you both. Youve worked hard to keep things civil; now its time to do more. Itll be difficult, but its for her.
Sophie took her mothers advice, surprising her now ex-husband.
– Well, I never noticed you being so wise.
– Perhaps Im growing up. So what do you say?
– I say Thank you. Really, thank youfor putting the child first and not your pride. Ill help, Sophie.
And David kept his word.
So little Alice would live between two homes, never quite understanding why adults do things their way. Shed have two beds, two favourite bunnies (one at Dads, one at Mums), and two much-loved grandmothers: Martha, and Davids mum, Valerie. But there would be one love for her, all-encompassing. And as far as Alice was concerned, if these people loved her and wanted her happiness, then surely they loved each other a little bit too. And somehow, that simple but powerful thought, Alice would share with everyone, much as her own mother did as a child, uniting the family and helping them forget past hurts.
Only the old cat knew the real truth about Alicebut hed never tell. Not because he couldnt speak, but simply because he didnt need to.
After all, its plain to seeif a mother cat is gentle and loving, her kittens will be, too.
And little Alice was just that, through and through. One day, shed become a mother herself, lean over her own childs cot, run a gentle finger across a soft cheekjust as her mother had done, and her grandmother before herand whisper,
– Hello, little one. Ive been waiting for you
Life in England, Ive realised, isnt so much about money or even easebut about the love youre willing to share, and courage to stand by those you care for, even when it costs you. Sometimes, the most expensive pleasures aren’t things at all, but the small, priceless bonds that shape us forever.
