Chapter 41: The Cats

After the men and the removal van had gone the family had a cold snack, their first meal at Sefton Drive. They knew it would take days to sort everything out but they were happy. The modern kitchen was ready for use. There was a gas stove for boiling water and an oven for cooking. The electricity was switched on at the mains. Electric lights in all of the rooms! The upstairs bathroom had a toilet, a hand-basin and a bath. Michael was strong enough to press the handle down and could flush the toilet. Margaret made the beds. Gordon lit a fire. No cellar! An outside coal house was already filled with the coal.

Michael and Gwyn enjoyed running up and down the stairs which went up from the hall. It made a good echoing noise when they stamped their feet on the bare wood. They explored the garden. Some of the grass was taller than Gwyn.

When they returned indoors Margaret and Gordon were arguing about the cats. "What are we going to do with them? If we let them go outside too soon, they might run away."

Gordon was adamant, "They'll have to take their chance. Put some food out with them. They'll not stray. They know where they're well off. They didn't get lost when they first came to Edward Street did they? They're not stupid."

The animals were put outside the back door. They were shown their saucers of milk and scraps of meat. Mr Burt the butcher had saved a quantity for them. Margaret had brought a full bag with her.

As Gordon had forecast, all of the cats survived. None went missing.

Jesse was still allowed to sleep with Gwyn. The others came and went as they pleased during the day and spent their evenings with the family, in front of the fire. It was domestic bliss for all.

They had the females spayed. "If we don't have them fixed, we'll be overrun with kittens before we know where we are," said Gordon. The cats soon recovered and were none the worse for their operations.

In June, one cat -- Felix -- disappeared. They thought that he was lost forever. Gwyn was upset and cried, but the other cats definitely weren't worried: at the beginning of November, on a cold evening, he reappeared.

Humans and cats were all warming themselves by the fire when they heard a loud miaowing from the outside windowsill. Michael drew back the curtain and there was Felix. He was rubbing himself up against the window and demanding entry.

Michael opened the window and the cat jumped in to a chorus of greetings. He went round and round the humans from one lap to another, purring away. It was as though he'd never been absent. Gwyn was overjoyed.

It was a pattern repeated every year for four years but then, on the fifth autumn, during the war, he didn't come back, disappearing forever. Gordon tried to console Gwyn. He was on leave from the Air Force and made up some stories called The Adventures of Felix, making out that Felix was still alive. "He's having all sorts of adventures out in the big wide world," he told Gwyn. "He's a bit like me being away in the Air Force."

"But you come on leave to see us Dad. Felix never comes."
"That's because he's needed where he is. He can't be spared. He's vital to the country's war effort."

Michael quite enjoyed hearing Dad tell Gwyn all that. He still liked stories. But he knew this one wasn't true. Now that he was older he'd learned some of the differences between fact and fiction. He maintained that the very best of his stories had a peculiar truth of their own. It was the sort that spoke to the heart rather than the brain.

He was sure that Felix was dead. That was a shame, because he'd had the softest fur of all the cats and he'd liked to be the one on Michael's lap.

But Michael also knew for certain that the cat would live on in their memories forever. He asked Gordon, "Dad, is it true that if you remember something that's dead then it isn't really dead at all?"

"Sort of," replied Gordon. Thinking about his dead father, he went on, "In any case, you must remember it's very important not to forget people and animals you've known and loved. Loving them keeps them alive inside of you."

Michael had a vision of the dead cat scratching him, miraculously alive inside his stomach!

"You ruin that cat," Margaret used to say to Gwyn, when she caught her giving Jesse the cream off the milk. Michael was annoyed. It was the cream which he liked on his porridge.

"It's a wonder he doesn't scratch you," she scolded when she caught Gwyn trying to put Jesse in her toy pram.

"He's my baby!" retorted Gwyn.

There was a low boundary fence all the way round their garden. It was easy for the children to climb over it and go exploring in the woods. One or more of the cats would go with them. The children picked wild flowers. Gordon pointed out toadstools to them and warned, "Never touch those. They're poisonous. And keep away from the nettles! Or you'll be stung!"

What was to be the new school's playing field still resembled a meadow. All of that first summer, it was filled with wild flowers. Butterflies flitted about. Bees and other insects buzzed and droned through the air or alighted on the flowers of their choice.

Life for the cats and life for the humans was idyllic. All the children lacked were other kids to play with. The expected new neighbours had been delayed. Michael and Gwyn did not have any new friends until after Christmas.

However, Rob, Rosa and the new baby, Lily, moved to the bottom end of Ryelands in August, on Torrisholme Road near the railway bridge. Their new dwelling was only a short distance away across the school field. Another hundred yards and you were nearly there.