When his wife saw who her husband had brought home this time, she burst out laughing so much that the three kittens, drawn by the commotion, scuttled behind her legs in terror. The mother cat, spotting her little ones, wriggled free from the mans hands and immediately began licking them all over.
Phil, who drove a small delivery vanone of a fleet parked behind a warehouse on the edge of Norwichhad received his usual list of addresses and jobs for the day. The depot was nothing special: a crowded car park, a break room with questionable sandwiches, and a punch-in/punch-out clock that seemed to judge you for every minute late.
He slid into the battered seat and coaxed the ageing Ford Transit to life. The van, with the charm only British engineering of a certain era could muster, clattered and wheezed like an asthmatic hedgehog. At lunch, Phil switched off the engine, already halfway to the promise of a cup of milky tea, when he heard an odd, perturbed squeak from the bonnet.
Brilliant he muttered, glancing at the other drivers, already tucking into their egg mayo sandwiches. Bracing himself, he opened the bonnetand nearly dropped his tea. There, nestled on the radiator fan like a greasy raisin, was a tiny black kitten, covered in oil and wailing in indignation.
Phils knees went a bit rubbery. He picturedbriefly, with horrorwhat might have happened if the vans mechanical bits had gotten hold of this small, squeaky guest. Carefully, he scooped up the kitten, shut the bonnet, and drove home with his unexpected passenger.
At home, Sarah unleashed the full force of her opinions.
Phil Collins! Have you lost your marbles? Didnt you check the van before hitting the road? What if youd done the poor thing in? If you pull a stunt like this again, you can sleep in the shed, you hear me?!
Phil tried to defend himself, gesturing helplessly, while the kitten settled into Sarahs arms, purring like a mini engine of its own. It was promptly whisked off to the bathroom for de-oiling. From behind the door came cooing, the sort usually reserved for Colin Firth movies, and, suspiciously, the sound of little shampoo kisses.
Phil sighed. He genuinely couldnt remember the last time anyone had addressed him with such affection. Realising his memory wasnt up to the job, he sloped off back to work.
The next day, spooked by yesterdays surprise, he checked the vans insides before setting off. Nothing. Then, for good measure, he crouched to peer under the vanand there, as if on cue, sat a ginger-and-white kitten, looking delighted. As soon as Phil leaned closer, the kitten bounded over, mewing its little head off. Another rescue, clearly. He could already hear Sarahs voice, so he headed straight home.
Sarah didnt scold him this timenot in the slightest. She looked at him as though hed finally stopped losing socks in the wash after twenty years.
Well done, love, she said approvingly, and swept the kitten off for bath number two, with yesterdays kitten following like an apprentice.
The day that followed was nothing short of spectacular for Phil. He felt a contentment and confidence he hadnt known since his own kitten days. That night, dinner was for four: Sarah, Phil, and two kittens who were determined to colonise Sarahs lap, scrambling and purring while she laughed, the sort of bell-clear laughter Phil had fallen for all those years ago.
Come sunrise, Phil checked under the van once more, pulse racing.
Oh, for Petes sake, he sighed.
There was a third kittena grey one this time, with stylish white patches. It too found itself scooped up and carted home.
That evening, Sarah announced she was taking Phil to see a fortune tellera proper” British medium with more scarves than sense. After peering at Phils palm, she declared him to be hexed, jinxed, and on the hook for at least £400.1 and a months worth of spiritual detox.
By the next morning, Phil was quite frankly afraid to look at the van. Steeling himself with a cigarette and existential dread, he peered under it. Gazing back was a large, dignified grey cat with the unmistakable sway of a mother; her milk-laden tummy the giveaway.
What now? Phil asked the universe.
The cat, unphased, meowed and bounded into the cab as soon as he opened it. When he carried the mother cat inside, Sarah laughed so uncontrollably that the three kittens, racing in at the noise, dove beneath her feet in panic. The mother wriggled from Phils arms and straight away resumed her motherly duties, washing her fussing brood.
Phil watched the reunion like hed accidentally tuned in to a soap opera.
What on earth is she up to? he asked Sarah, still baffled.
Sarah rolled her eyes fondly. Oh, darling, are you really that daft? Shes sorted her kittens, found herself a cushy billet, and landed on all four feet. Thats proper feline logic, that is.
With a wry shake of the head, Sarah stroked the mother cat and mused, In all my days, Ive never seen a plan carried out so cunningly. Only a cat could come up with it.
Towards the weekend, Sarah marched up to Phil and announced, Youre off fishing! Dont give me that look, youll enjoy yourselfor at least stay out from under our feet. Im having the girls round.
Phil, gobsmacked, wondered whether this was good or bad, but as with many things in married life, his opinion barely registered.
Just before he left, Sarah kissed him.
I always knew you were a star, she said.
Phil stepped onto the porch and took in the peaceful road.
Blimey, its lovely out here, he whispered. Why didnt I notice before?
The birds were singingfrom the branches, and, somehow, inside him too.
Meanwhile, Sarahs friends arrived, each with a bottle and a snack for backup. Soon, the mother cat was stretched out, queenly, at the centre of the table. The women poured the bubbly and raised their glasses:
To the wise woman who can organise both her children and her life in grand style!
No one remembered the next toast, but the mother cat blinked slowly on the tablecloth, purring her contentment. Shed landed in a home where she was truly welcome.
On the sofa, the three kittens napped in a cuddly pile, snoring little kitten snores.
And so, my friends, Ill finish with a toast of my own:
Heres to all clever women, and to their husbands, truly fortunate to live in their orbit.
And may that fortune find you too.
