Sorry, but I cant help you anymore
After receiving a lengthy shopping list from his wife, John Wilkinson slipped on his coat and headed out the door, clutching the paper between his fingers. He climbed into his battered old Ford Escort, settling behind the wheel and switching the engine on, letting it idle to warm upwinter mornings in Manchester could bite with a sharp chill, the thermometer flirting with minus ten, and there was no point trying to drive before the car was ready.
As he waited for the engine to thaw, John ran through his errands in his headfirst the local market, then Sainsburysand considered the last item on his wifes list: something nice for tea. Sandra hadnt specified what she fancied. Now John was wracking his brainspick the wrong thing and Sandra would let him know, and then hed have to pop back out all over again.
Just as he was about to pull away, John noticed someone bustling out of the neighbouring block of flatsa young woman, clearly in a rush. She was fiddling with the top buttons of her coat and kept hitching up a sports bag slipping from her shoulder. Her name was Emily, a relatively new tenant whod only moved in about a month ago, renting from Miss Turner, a friend of Sandras.
A couple of weeks back, Miss Turner had rung up John in the early evening. John, could you pop round and have a look at the kitchen tap in my flat? My tenant says it wont shut off. Im out of town, and even if I was around, I wouldnt know where to start. If it needs swapping, could you do that and Ill give you the money later?
Of course, Janet, no problem, John had replied. Being retired meant he was happy for any bit of activity, and besides, hed been in building his whole lifeno tap could outfox him. Money wasnt the point for John; he just liked a chance to help out. Over the years, hed fixed sockets, replaced the bathroom mirror, and solved minor issues for Miss Turners tenants.
That time, the old tap really was beyond saving, so John drove to B&Q, bought a reliable new one, and fitted it himself. This one should give you no trouble, Emily, hed said with a smile, tightening the last nut. Are you planning to stay in our patch long, or just passing through?
Emily had only shrugged. Depends. If I dont find a rich fiancé soon, I might be here a fair while longer.
Youre a lovely lass. Im sure youll have plenty of admirers, John chuckled.
Thanks, Emily said, a little shy. Then hed spotted a grey kitten weaving around her feet.
So, youre a cat person?
Not exactly. My colleague gave him to me, says kittens bring luck.
They do, John had grinned. We had a cat, Matildalived nearly twenty years with us. There were times when life was tough, but when Matilda curled up and purred, it made everything easier.
Well, Max is only causing me sleepless nights, Emily muttered. He never stops running about!
Hell settle down, John assured her. Kittens are bursting with energy, thats all.
Once the tap was sorted, John went home and told Sandra about Emily and her kitten. They chuckled, recalling stories about Matildas mischief.
Now, watching Emily fumble with her buttons, John wondered if he should offer her a lift, if she was heading the same way. He wound down the window and called out, Morning, Emily! All alright? Need a lift anywhere? Im off to the shops for Sandra.
Emily looked surprised, then relieved. I ordered a taxi, but it never showed, she said, shifting her bag.
Where you off to?
Industrial Roadother side of town. Buses dont go there, just taxis, but none are available.
Thats quite a hike. Got urgent business, have you? John asked.
Sort of Emilys eyes lowered.
Tell you what, John said after a moment. Hop in, Ill run you over there. Got a soft spot for helping neighbours.
Emily hesitated, then got in quickly, clutching her bag to her chest. Will you take me back too? she asked anxiously. Just need to drop something with a friendI wont be long, and my phones nearly dead.
Of course. Ill wait, John replied, sliding the car into gear.
***
Half an hour later, John parked on Industrial Road. Here we are, then, he said.
Wont be a minute! Emily promised, and hurried round the corner behind one of the flats.
Seven minutes passed. John decided to stretch his legs and see what was taking so long. Rounding the corner cautiously, he spotted Emily bent over by a large wheelie bin, wrestling with her sports bag. Something small and grey was clinging desperately inside.
When John drew closer, he saw it was Max, the kitten. Emily was trying to tip him out, but he clung stubbornly to the fabric, mewling pitifully.
Come on! Just let go, will you! Emily snapped, clearly frustrated. Youre nothing but trouble.
With an exasperated huff, she dragged Max free and tossed him onto the snow. The kitten shivered and sat hunched as Emily zipped her bag and turned to leaveonly to stop short when she saw John.
Emily! What on earth do you think youre doing? John glared. Why bring Max all the way here to abandon him?
Emily stared back, unable to meet Johns gaze. Then, suddenly, she eruptedblaming Max for her ruined shoes, her lost sleep, and her nerves.
Cant you see? she cried. Hes just too much!
John shook his head. Im sorry, I dont understand. You cant just dump a pet out in this coldits a death sentence, especially here with all the stray dogs about. If youre done with him, why not find him a new home? Or put a notice up online, or ask your colleague to take him back. You could have even asked me.
Emily snorted. Would you have taken him? Youre not exactly young anymorewhat would you do with a kitten?
Id do my best! John replied firmly. You chose to cast him off like an old shoe, and you nearly made me part of it. That, I wont have.
John stooped to pick up Max, who clung to him as if to life itself. Without another word, he strode back to his car, kitten in his arms. Emily, still blinking with disbelief, followed after him.
As John opened the drivers door, he turned to her. Im sorry, Emily, but after this well, I cant take you home. Youll have to make your own way. Maybe youll have time to think about whats right. Theres a bus stop a few blocks that way, or you can try hailing a cab. Just watch out for the dogs.
Emily stared as John settled Max onto the passenger seat and drove off. She stood in the cold, her cheeks burning.
***
Back in Sainsburys, John carried Max on one arm as he browsed for something tempting for tea. The kitten meowed and pointed a paw towards the bright display of cakes.
Good choice, Max, John chuckled. A cake it is.
At home, John told Sandra the whole storyhow hed tried to help his neighbour, how Emily had tried to dump her kitten, and how hed left her to find her own way back. Maybe I was wrong, Sandra, but I couldnt just let it go, he finished, watching as his wife cradled Max in her arms.
You did the right thing, love, Sandra smiled. Thank goodness you were there. Emilys a grown womanshell manage. Besides, look at Max. Hes safe now.
After that day, whenever John bumped into Emily on the street, she would turn away stiffly. He never pressed her, though he sometimes wished shed understood. Even a simple apology would have shown shed realised her mistake, but it never came. In the end, she moved out not long after. Miss Turner soon found new tenants.
Whatever happened to your last tenant? John asked Miss Turner on the phone one day.
Oh, Emily? She left without much warninglost her job, couldnt pay the rent, and mentioned something about not finding the right man. Last I heard, shed gone back to her mum in the countryside.
Truthfully, John didnt care to know how Emily was getting on. What mattered was that Max had found a warm home. With Max joining their household, John and Sandra found their days less lonelyand it almost felt as though their hearts had grown twenty years younger.
Sometimes life puts us to the test, forcing us to choose between easy indifference and doing the right thing. Its in those moments that our true character comes through. Remember, kindness shown to those who depend on usbe they people or petsalways comes back to make life richer and warmer in return.
