Simone
Well, what do we have here? Whose creature are you, then?
Dennis crouched down at his flats door. A bedraggled tabby arched its scrawny back, hissing with what little reserve of energy it had, fur bristling along a near-barren tail.
Fierce one, arent you? I see your point. Look, chap, do you mind if I nip inside? Just back from work, Im famished and fit for nothing but bed. Where did you come from?
The cat shrank at Denniss voice, then made a half-hearted swipe at him with a paw, though it was clear even that demanded effort. Dennis only smiled, taking in the pitiful attempt at menace as the visitor struggled to stay upright on the mat.
Whats wrong with your paws? Dont care for the look of you, old boy. Somethings not right here. Youre ragged, skin and bone Pitiful, really. Hold on! Am I not allowed to pity you? Trying to be friendly here!
Somehow, the creature mustered its last ounce of resolve for one more attack, just managing to hook Denniss shoe and collapse into stillness with a faint growl, incapable of more.
Got it. Tell you what, mate, let me feed you? Mum always said, A hungry companion is no company at all. She was a wise woman. Why not heed her advice, eh?
Peeling the cat gently from his shoe, Dennis transferred the limp ball of fur from one hand to the other, dodging the feeble claws. But the cat didnt even attempt to defend itself, just hung there, a weary scrap no longer hissing.
Poor thing. Lifes given you a right knocking about, hasnt it? Dennis fished for his keys and opened the door. Come in, then, if you must.
The flat greeted its owner with stale silence. Dennis had grown to hate coming home. His mother was gone, and living alone in a big three-bedroom place felt oppressively empty. Hed shut the doors on his parents bedroom and the lounge, living only along the thin corridor between his own room, kitchen, and bath. The mess mounted because there was no one left to tidy up for. Out of habit, he still washed up after himself, as his mother had taught him.
He missed his mother with a kind of desperation. She was not just his parent but his closest friend, the only person he could trust with every worry or secret. It hadnt always been that way, but in recent years, no one meant more.
His father had left the family when Dennis was thirteen. That cut deep, and his father wanted nothing more to do with him, having started anew with another family and another child. Denniss world crumbled, and for years, every bitterness and rage was unfairly unloaded on his mother. She endured it, comforted him, even put him to bed silently one night when he came home drunk, weeping quietly as she stroked his damp hair. That was when Dennis first realised he was blaming the wrong person, that only she was truly there for him, the only one who really needed him.
That realisation sparked a long road to reconciliation with himself, with his mother, with the world and she was always there, supporting him.
Mum
It had been just half a year since she died, and he still struggled to accept she wouldnt be there, drying her hands on her apron at the door, pulling him down into a hug, kissing his forehead in the same old way, checking for a fever, and asking:
How are you, love? Hungry?
What wouldnt Dennis give to experience that again, even for a moment?
But Mum was truly gone, and he hadnt even said a proper goodbye. When the ambulance came for her, coughing so desperately he could hardly bear it, he never imagined it was the last hed see of her he realised too late.
Theyd both fallen ill nearly the same week, despite all precautions: masks, gloves, antiseptic in every pocket when leaving the flat. But Dennis had it worse, fever refusing to subside, his mind muddled by the pain, and the ambulance Mum called wouldnt take him.
Hes young. Hell manage. Not critical. Besides, he could pick up something worse in hospital. Wait it out a couple days, see if it eases.
She stayed up watching him night after night, administering jabs, medicine on a schedule, neglecting herself entirely. Dennis improved; she worsened. Now it was his turn to care for her, but it quickly became clear her illness was nothing like his. He called for an ambulance himself, and this time the medics didnt pause for an instant.
Very serious. Were taking her in.
That was the last time Dennis saw her.
After the forty-day mark, he found a letter shed left for him in her bedside table. Mum always preferred ink and paper to gadgets. She had only a handful of correspondents her sister and a couple of old friends across the country but she sometimes wrote to Dennis, too.
Easier to say what I think, love. Conversations can run away with you, but with a letter, you have time to think and put it right.
He kept all her letters, though rarely re-read them for lack of strength. Yet he knew the last one nearly by heart.
Mum always knew him better than he knew himself. She knew his girlfriend, Beth, would leave eventually. She was right about Denniss sorrow, warned him against foolishness.
Dennis, darling, take care of yourself. As long as you remember me, Im still here. And if your children remember, Ill live all the longer. They may never meet me, but youll tell them about me, wont you? Let them be, love, your little ones, stubborn as you I adored your stubbornness, even when it meant smashing your nose and running to me to be comforted. Dont forgo the future because of someone else. Build your own happiness. It may take time and trouble, but its worth every ounce of effort. If Beth stays, perhaps shes the one; but I doubt it. Theres care and habitual comfort, but not love. If she chooses to leave, wish her well. Value her gift of time everyone who spends time on you thinks you matter. Give as much as you can, and dont squander it. Youll know you did right.
She was right. Beth left two months after his mothers death.
She didnt abandon him at once. She did everything she could to support him through those painful weeks, but in the end, left.
She hadnt been there when they fell ill. Beth had gone home to her parents and couldnt return for a spell. When she finally did, she held his hand while he struggled to face the chasm left by Mum.
When she left, it was gently done as gentle as could be. Remembering his mothers words, Dennis managed not to hold a grudge. They parted well, but it brought little comfort. Dennis blamed himself, blamed Beth, blamed his mother for dying so soon; blamed the world that the pain simply wouldnt ease.
He went to work, did what was required, bought groceries, even attempted to cook. But if he just about managed his work, his efforts in the kitchen were woeful. Often enough, the results ended up in the bin, Dennis making himself tea in his mothers old mug and sitting on the balcony for hours, watching the city lights, wondering what was next.
Maybe thats why the appearance of this brazen stray unexpectedly cheered him. At last, there was a task, a living presence to anchor him, something to stave off another descent into regret.
The cat perked up the moment Dennis set down a saucer of milk. The sausage from the fridge was ignored, the cat disdainfully pawing at it as if to bury the offensive food.
Well, youre not easily pleased, are you? I wouldnt eat that either, mind. Dennis removed the spurned sausage, watching as the new guest hungrily lapped at the milk. Good? Sorry, but its all I have for now. Stay if you want
Even Dennis was surprised to hear himself say it.
They were both strays, after all; Dennis alone, forgotten except by a distant aunt, and the cat with neither home nor human who cared.
We make a decent pair, you and I he reached out gently, resting a hand on the bony back, and felt the cat only flinch, receptive to the long-forgotten touch.
The milk gone, the cat glanced up with a look that made Dennis certain a second helping would be welcome. As it vanished, the cat startled Dennis by trotting to the front door and yowling at the top of its lungs.
Friend, you seem ungrateful! Dennis shrugged, his spirits deflating. Just found himself a companion and already the creature was running off Maybe thats lifes order, he thought bitterly.
Off you go, then he opened the door, watching as the cat calmly padded outside Come back if hunger strikes. Therell always be milk here.
Not a glance was spared. The cat disappeared down the stairs without a backward look.
Didnt even glance back
Dennis shut the door, resignation settling in. Another evening of solitude What number was that now? Didnt matter, he supposed. He could go out, meet friends; life allowed that once more. But the desire was gone. Since his mothers death, hed realised that even the closest of friends drift off into their own lives, forgetting you as if youd never existed. Beth was the only one who still rang, her calls brief and to the point.
Dennis knew she planned to marry now, her new suitor much more suited to life a good position at a reputable firm, a house in the country, exactly the things needed for a settled, dreamy life. He didnt begrudge her. Life was for living no rewinds or second chances.
He sat on the balcony, finishing cold tea, thinking it was time to step out of the gloom. Enough lurking and grieving. His mother would never return, the clock ticked on, and if he didnt seize life soon, he might lose it altogether, left only with other peoples lit windows, cold tea, and a kind of chill that slowly froze the heart.
The summer breeze danced with the curtains which, he realised, needed a wash while teenagers played a battered guitar in the courtyard. Dennis sighed, set the mug aside, and padded to the kitchen. As he reached for the tap, a sound made him pause.
It came from the corridor, a scratch and thud against the door someone, or something, seeming to insist rather than plead for entry.
He peered through the spyhole: nothing. Only the empty landing.
Madness come calling, is it? he muttered, but still unlocked and flung open the door.
What could frighten him now, after what he’d already faced?
The cat, who had been scratching at the door, lost balance but quickly steadied itself, then, to Denniss utter astonishment, picked up a tiny kitten by the scruff and hauled it into Denniss flat.
Well, now! Thats a surprise
Dennis bent down to receive the offering. The kitten, feeling the warmth of human hands, wriggled and mewed.
Youre not a tom at all, are you? Youre a she-cat! he quipped at the guest circling his legs. What am I supposed to do with this lot?
The cat didnt dignify his uncertainty with a response, just turned and disappeared downstairs. Before Dennis could gather his wits, she was gone.
Brilliant! And what about your kits? Where are you off to?
He had his answer soon enough. Hardly had he closed the door than the familiar scratching returned. The cat was back again, another tiny kitten in tow.
By the time she brought the third, Dennis simply sat on the staircase, waiting. Here, at last, was change, long postponed. What it promised he knew not, but it was enough simply to feel it stirring, prodding him to rediscover something forgotten the art of smiling.
The kittens squirmed in his hands, nose-diving into his palms, their stubby tails sticking up comically. The cat returned with a fifth, seating herself beside Dennis, an unvoiced question in her golden gaze.
What now? he shivered, the stare unnerving. Is this really what you want, unloading your brood at my doorstep?
She blinked, and Dennis could have sworn she smiled. With a stately stretch, she led the way into the flat to survey this new haven.
He gathered the wandering kittens into a clump and followed.
The cat, wholly at ease now, toured the corridor, peered into his room, prodded with her paw here and there, then continued into the kitchen.
I get it! Dennis set the kittens on the floor and grabbed a saucer. Well have a proper tidy, dont worry. Children in the house youre right! Ill fix up something for you too Ah, wait! I know!
His mothers old shopping basket, unwittingly preserved, came in handy. An ancient wool shawl, from when he was little and Mum would wrap it round him after earache compresses, lined the basket.
The cat watched with clear approval as he made up the nest.
Like it? Thatll do? He nudged the basket closer. She stepped forward, gently headbutted his hand in acceptance, then lifted the first kitten into the makeshift cradle.
Grand, then. Make yourselves at home. Im off to bed work tomorrow. Oh! Almost forgot!
Dennis placed an old tray next to the basket for a litter no newspaper, so napkins had to do. The cat eyed this suspiciously, but eventually made use of it and returned to her kittens, now dozing in their nest.
Clever girl! Shame youve no proper name Just calling you Cat seems poor form. Do you have a name?
She gazed at him, silent and inscrutable.
No matter, well think of something. How about Mitzi? Or Duchess?
She wrinkled her nose and hissed.
Message received! Ill keep thinking. Never had a cat before, only hamsters and fish. Bear with me.
She sat, dignified as a queen, and it brought to Denniss mind a song his mother often played odd, upbeat, catchy words looping in his head.
Simone! Fancy that?
The cat twitched an ear but held her tongue.
Taking it as agreement, Dennis flicked off the light and retired to bed. For the first time in ages, he wasnt frightened by the emptiness.
He woke to a peculiar sensation someone tickling his cheek, breathing in his face.
Beth?
A sharp, affronted meow was his only answer.
Simone was perched by his pillow, eyes intent. Dennis chuckled, realising hed best rise; she was as vigilant as his mother, who would hover beside his bed at dawn, the best alarm clock, knowing he’d be late otherwise.
Thank you.
He offered his hand; uncertain if she would accept. She butted his palm, then leapt down, beckoning him to follow.
All day, Dennis wore a smile. He had someone waiting for him now, and for the first time since his mothers passing, he looked forward to coming home. There were chores aplenty, of course: Simone had made it clear she wouldnt abide a mess. Hed need to tidy up and buy proper food. Milk alone would never do for a nursing mother.
On his first free Saturday, Dennis took Simone and her kittens to the vet, who looked her over and shook his head.
Young man, you cant treat a pedigree animal like this! Just look at the state shes in.
Shes pedigree?
Certainly! Even has a microchip. We could trace her owner. I suppose that isnt you?
No she found her way to me like this. No idea whose she was. And the kittens?
Their father clearly wasnt pedigree, but what a handsome rogue he mustve been! Look at them! Im not one for mixed marriages, but nature got this right.
Simone sat quietly, watching the examination, betraying nothing of her tale. Once, shed lived in a grand flat with a young mistress, a darling kitten with a pink ribbon a birthday gift, cuddled briefly for pictures then forgotten, cared for by the housekeeper, often with a swipe of broom or mop. She learned quickly people could be cruel; she was finally, in one fit of the masters temper, flung from an upstairs window when she annoyed him. Miraculously, the shrubs below saved her.
She didnt remember how long she lay in shock before dragging herself back to the block, sitting for hours until someone let her in. She searched for home for days until she spotted the housekeeper again, rushed to her only to receive a sharp kick.
Off with you! Ive had enough of your mess! Leave!
After that she was stuffed into a suffocating bag and dumped near the bins with a mutter:
Suits you better here!
She didnt stay at the tip, found shelter in a basement instead. There were mice, a tomcat who haunted her, and then kittens. She ate little, slept less, terrified to leave her kits even for a moment to find food, but when hunger drove her, she braved it, for herself and her little ones.
And so Simone went in search of a home.
Dennis wasnt her first attempt. Shed been rebuffed elsewhere again and again who would want a mangy, battered stray?
She arrived at Denniss at her wits end, hungry and anxious for her kittens. Thats why she was so fierce, so suspicious, angry to be rejected once more. But Dennis understood and somehow that was the beginning of something new for them both.
Simone didnt settle in straight away. She prowled nervously when Dennis was out, cautiously accepting his hand when he came home, each time with a little treat. The kittens grew, and she too calmed, as Dennis phoned her former mistress, only to be dismissed instantly:
I havent got any pets! Dont call again!
Simone never knew about the call, or that Dennis now regarded himself the rightful guardian of Simone and each kitten.
Nor did she know shed given Dennis something he was sorely missing the sense of being needed in this world.
In another year, the kittens would each find good homes, sent to families Dennis trusted. One would return someday with a warm-hearted woman who agreed to take care of Simones son. This bright-eyed young lady had hands as gentle as Denniss and handled Simones tests with good humour.
Simone accepted her; after all, she considered Dennis hers now, and wasnt about to let just anyone care for him.
One evening, Simone, now a matriarch, would cuff her grown son for scratching the new sofa, then leap onto Denniss lap on the balcony as he and his wife chatted quietly. Four hands would stroke her soft coat, and Dennis would start at the words his wife whispered in his ear, while Simone, content, rumbled her approval, understanding the message that had been shared with the man who had become her whole world.
About time too. Let love fill this house, and let Dennis have little ones of his own at last. After all, if he learned to love and cherish anothers brood, hed surely earned his own. And those little ones would be the happiest in the world, with Simone ever the queen watching over their upbringing.
