**Help**
Bad. Really bad. And bitter, bitter and painful, painful and just plain unfair.
No tears left to cry.
Why? Why would he do this to me?
Seven years. Seven happy years.
Hand in hand, never a harsh word, and then… just like that, he walks out. Nonot walks, *scurries* away like a coward.
The phone wont stop ringing. Who on earth? Oh. Mum.
“Hello, love… Love, what are you up to?”
“Nothing, Mum.” Must keep the voice steady. Must not crack.
“Well, thats good. Youre not crying over that useless lump, are you? Honestly, not worth the salt in your tears.”
“Useless in England, useless in Timbuktu,” Mum chuckles, clearly pleased with her own wit. “Listen, darling, I wanted to invite you to the cottage this Friday. Auntie Margots coming, and shes bringing her nephew, Jeremylovely lad, bit of bad luck in life. *Hes* wonderful, but his ex-wife? Absolute nightmare. Thank goodness he got rid of her.”
“Strangled her, did he?”
“*What?* Who strangled who?”
“Well, you said he got rid of her.”
“Oh, for heavens sake! Dark humour now, is it? Good, good… Laugh it off, love. When that rat Colin left meremember that story? We were at music school together, me on cello, him on French horn. Adorable boy, floppy blond hair, just gorgeous… I was *mad* about him. And thenughhe ran off with that clarinetist, Natalie. Oh, the *drama*. I skipped lessons, wandered along the Thames, even considered throwing myself in”
“Mum… Im not really in the mood for this.”
“Oh? Right, right. So, Friday then? Well expect you.”
“I dont know, Mum. Maybe.”
“*Maybe* isnt an answer, Lily. Promise me.”
“…Fine. Ill come. Briefly.”
“Brilliant. Love you, darling. Dad sends hugs tooyes, Michael, I *told* her you love herLily? Lily, you hear me? Dad loves you, I love you”
Burrow into the duvet. Lie there in the dark. No tears left. Just one question.
*Why?*
The phone again. Sister. Ignoring her would mean a full-scale family alert.
“Hello.”
“Sis, whats up? You crying?”
“No. Why would I cry? My husband just left me, no big deal. Only the man I planned to have children with, the one whod seen me through everything.”
“Good riddance! Blubbing over that waste of space? When Dave dumped me, I thought Id *die*. Remember Dave? Proper fit, that one. Six months together, head over heels… And look at me now, eh? Point is, were going campingcouples tripand guess what? Simons wife just left *him*. Decent bloke. Maybe you two could…?”
“Tanya, I”
“Think about it, yeah?”
Cold. So cold it *hurts*. Eyes swollen shut.
Phone. Grandma. *Oh, help.*
“Hello…”
“Lily, sweetheart. Come round. Ill make your favourite scones, hot chocolate, maybe even a wee sherry, eh? Grandad can toddle off to the shed. I *know* how you feel. When that Nigel left meoh, the *agony*. Started smoking, I did! Briefly. Then your grandad swept me off my feet…”
“Thanks, Nan. Ill… think about it.”
And so it went. Call after call, each relaying their own tragic abandonment.
By evening, when Lily finally dozed off*ding-dong*.
Not answering.
*Ding-dong. Ding-dong. Ding-dong.*
Fine. She trudged to the door.
No one there. Just as she turned
“Honestly, blocking the hallway. Some of us have places to be.”
Lily looked down.
*What in the?*
A procession filed in.
“*Hic*… Who are you?”
“Who do we *look* like? Cats.”
“Wh-what cats?”
“*Assorted*. Were here to help. Now shut the door before you catch cold.”
“Were family. The Whisker family.”
“Mum, check her headlooks poorly. Son, pulse. Daughter, put the kettle on. Sit, sit.”
Dazed, Lily obeyed. The cats scurried about with alarming efficiency.
“Granny Whisker, she needs a story.”
“*Purrr*, my dear… Let the bad float away, let the good come stay… Dad Whisker, tuck her in. Aunt Whisker, fluff the pillow. *Kitty*, put that downLily, take your phone off him.”
In a dreamlike haze, Lily watched as little Whisker Jr. snapped a selfie on her phone.
“Grandad, rub her paws. Uncle, her feet.”
And so they did. Lily slept.
Morning came. Oddly… lighter.
No sign of the Whiskers. Mustve been a dream.
Outside, golden autumn sun. Funnytook leave just to weep. Friday already? Cottage trip.
At the doorstepa tiny *mew*.
A lone kitten. Whisker Jr.
“Wheres your lot, then?” Lily scooped him up. No answerjust pitiful squeaks.
No time to ponder. She tucked him under her coat. *Sort it out later.*
Unseen, the Whiskers high-fived (paw-fived?) and trotted off to their next rescue mission.
At the station, a lost-looking blokefirst time in the countryside, clearly.
“Need help?” Lily asked.
“Erm, Sunnybrook? Bit turned around…”
“Same way. Ill show you.”
They chatted. Maxnice namecarried her bag. By Sunnybrook, they were laughing.
Reluctant to part, Lily stalled. “Which house?”
“Number 37?”
“Waityoure Aunt Margots nephew?”
“And youre Aunt Lizs daughter?”
Grinning, they walked through the gate.
“Whove you been cuddling all this time?” Max teased. “Not pregnant, are you?”
“My… son.”
“*Son?*”
“Meet Whisker Whisker!”
“*Whisker Whisker?*” Max arched a brow.
“Got a problem with his surname?”
“None at all. PleasureMaximilian Alexander… Whisker.”
As relatives gaped, Lily and Max dissolved into giggles. At their feet, the kitten tilted its head.
***
A fat grey tomcat scowled from the windowsill.
“Disgraceful. Two months old, and theyre dragging him about like luggage.”
Once, *he* was the kitten.
Lily still wonderedhow *had* Whisker Jr. taken that selfie?
She and Max debated theories. (She still thought it a dream.)
Then *he* showed up.
Ex-husband. Champagne in hand, chocolatespitiful attempt at reconciliation.
Lily was out. Whisker Sr. answered.
“Can I *help* you?” (A voice like gravel.)
The man froze.
Whisker flexed a claw. “Run along. And stay away from *our* Lily.”
Thenbecause he was still a kitten at hearthe peed in the mans shoe.
*Good morning, dears!*
*Hurrystorytimes nearly over, or the Whiskers will come…*
*Hugs,*
*Waves of love and cheer.*
*Always yours. *and if you listen closely when the wind rustles the leaves, you might just hear the soft patter of tiny paws, the whisper of a purr, the giggle of a woman who finally remembered how to smile. The cottage is warm now. The kettle sings. Whisker Whisker sleeps sprawled across two laps, and no one thinks twice about the way the cats always seem to know when someones hurting. Some rescues are loud. Some are quiet. This one wore fur, had nine lives, and arrived exactly on time.*
