Lucy woke up with a jolt, certain someoneor somethinghad nudged her. She glanced at her alarm clock: one in the morning. What is it now, Lucy? Why cant you sleep? she muttered to herself. Everythings fine. The flat is silent, the neighbours are clearly snoring away So what woke me up? Then it hit herthe kitten! Honestly, how unlucky. Shed been walking home from Sainsburys, and there it was, plonked on a bench. If he hadnt started squeaking like a malfunctioning fire alarm, she mightve walked straight past. But the little thing was so piercingly plaintive, it was impossible to ignore. A perfectly ordinary ginger kitten. Clearly someone put him up thereno way he scrambled up that high on his own. Lucy had walked on by.
Someone else will pick it up, there are kind souls in this world, shed told herself. She couldnt bear the tears and heartbreak anymore. Losing a beloved pet was too muchher old cat Monty had passed away only three months earlier. Lucy had rescued Monty as a kitten when she was still slogging through her GCSEs, and theyd been inseparable for 15 years. The pain was only just beginning to ebbshed had to lock her heart and march on by. And here she was now, lying awake at one in the morning, mind spinning. Did someone take him? Her conscience felt prickly and unsettled. Lucy closed her eyes, trying to summon sleep, but sleep had packed its bags.
Ill only have a quick look and get it over with, she rationalised, pulling on her tracksuit and raincoat. Surely someones taken him by now.
It was a proper English October outside, all puddles and fine drizzle. Absolutely bleak. The bench was deserted.
This is what they mean by a restless mind gives your feet no rest, Lucy grumbled. Just to round off this midnight nonsense, she called out, Kitty, kitty!
She didnt get a meow. Instead, she heard, Woof! Grr. Woof! Lucy whipped out her phone and shone its torch towards the pile of crispy leaves. Curled up inside was a scruffy little dog, staring at her with terrified eyes. And hiding beneath the dog, woken (and thoroughly disgruntled), was the same ginger kitten.
Well, Lucy, youve really done it now, she sighed, scooping up the chilly kitten and pulling him close. He smelled spectacularly of damp grass. Oi, rescue dogare you homeless too? Lucy asked. The dog gave a shy wag. Come on then, you pair of misfits, lets head home. Dont dawdle, doggo. The dog trotted after her obediently. And now, of course, the rain had stopped even pretending and was thoroughly pelting it down.
A car pulled up by the kerb just as Lucy contemplated dripping directly into a puddle. The driver swung open the door and grinned, Hop in, loveyoull catch your death out here! And bring the dog, too.
What, are you a doctor or something? You dont mind fur on your upholstery? Lucy quipped.
No worries, he laughed. Im a vet, actually. On my way home after a late shift. Where to? Lucy mumbled her address, and off they went, tyres splashing.
You werent far off about me being a doctor, he smiled. I do surgeryjust on different sorts of patients. Had an emergency at work tonight. What got you out in this weather? After hearing Lucys tale, he gave her a warm grin. Im Michael, by the way. Day off tomorrowI could pop over and help you bathe this motley crew, maybe drop off some food. If youd like.
Im Lucy. And yes, I could certainly use a bit of professional help. I havent even checked if theyre boys or girls yet, let alone come up with names.
It was practically morning by the time kitten and dog had shared a bowl of milky soup and curled up together to sleep in old Montys bed by the radiator. The dog dreamily yipped now and then. Lucy, too, was drifting offbut then she remembered Michaels promise to visit, and was suddenly fixated: make an apple sponge or a cheese and onion pie for tea? Shed only just brought back a great basket of apples from her mums allotment; now the kitchen boasted an intoxicating apple fragrance.
Apple sponge it is, Lucy decided, smiling to herself as sleep finally claimed her.
And thats how my parents met. By the time I arrived, our dog Alfie was already four, and he and Ginger the cat lived a long (by pet standards) and joyous life with us. Im quite sure theyre together still, curled up on a soft cloud somewhere above, living the dream.
Every autumn, the moment the apples are just right at the allotment, Mum bakes her apple sponge. Only ever with apples. Dad says that in 26 years, hes never once tired of it. On the contraryhe reckons it gets better every year.
