An Expensive Indulgence

A Costly Pleasure

– Sophie, again? How many times? I swear, I only work to keep your cat in biscuits!

The cat Sophie was desperately trying to coerce into the carrier wriggled free, landing with an impressive thud before slinking into the shadowy corner of the hallway, groaning pitifully, like an opera ghost. Judging by his mournful expression, the catwhom Sophie, long ago and in a fit of romantic fancy, had named Mr. Darcywas determined to sell his insignificant, according to Edward, feline life as dearly as possible.

Long ago, indeed: for Darcy, whom Sophie affectionately called Darce, had been with her for the better part of a decade. How old the mongrel actually was, Sophie never really knew. She had scooped him up off the pavementnot a kitten, mind, but very much an adult, albeit with youthful eyes, as the vet told her mother the day he joined the family.

That day, Margaret, Sophies mother, burst into the surgery cradling a blanket-wrapped Darcy like found treasure.

Please, you simply must help him!

Where on earth did you pick up this creature? the young nurse wrinkled her nose as she accepted the trembling cat. Looks like a right alleyway tom!

What does that matter? Hes mine now, and poorly! Cant you see hes suffering? Or do my pounds not spend as well as those who come through with their pedigrees?

Margaret was so fierce that the nurse thought better of protestingand rightly so.

Margaret Elizabeth Carroll was a famously stubborn woman, courtesy of life itself: try raising a child on your own, caring for two aged parents on a nursery school salary, and see if you dont grow fangs. She could defend herself well enough, but for all her sharpness, Margarets heart was kind. She loved children, adored cats, and was even tender towards dogs, though she had always been somewhat wary of them.

She never let upwhether it was the neighbours, the parents of the little ones she taught, or the odd stranger who mistook her solitary stance as an easy mark. She never raised her voice, but always found words to flick a switch in even the most determined adversary; next thing you knew, the row turned into a quiet conversation in a corner, with the shouter confessing all, looking for sympathy. Margaret just listened and nodded and waited. Eventually, the sternest hearts softened, offered apologies, and shuffled off, grateful.

How Margaret did it, she never quite understood herself. It was a knacka listening that ran deeper, born from real attention rather than a need to be heard. But that rare gift worked only one way: Margaret could charm any stranger, but somehow always failed to connect with those nearest her.

Her own husband had taken off within a week of the wedding. Margarets mother said hed lasted longer than shed expected, which stung, though Margaret grudgingly accepted she might not be the stuff of a picture-perfect household. Her ex-husband had left her with a parting shot:

Youre as much a woman as I am a prima ballerina!

Margaret was wounded, but then found out she was expecting, and that soothed the ache. Whatever he said, she was going to be a motherand men certainly couldnt do that.

The arrival of her daughter felt like the only real holiday in years; celebrations had been rare in her quiet life.

But her mother refused to indulge Margaret’s sense of responsibility.

Why burden yourself, Margaret? Youre young, decent enough to look atpossibly even with a future. But children? Theyre a costly pleasure. You’ll be living on pasta and tinned tomatoesand the child too. You’ll see soon enough.

But didnt we live on much the same? asked Margaret.

Exactly, darling. And look how that turned out for me!

Margaret considered it; she was used to obeying her mother. But this time, something deep inside bristled at the logic. The thought of not having the baby pressed darkness right down on her soul; how could she get rid of something that was now part of her? She felt she was being asked to cut away a piece of her future, her very self.

It was her grandmother who settled it. She rolled into town unexpectedly, a festive scarf on her head, and declared: Have your child, Margaret! Ill help.

But Gran, what about Granddad? Who will look after him in the village all alone?

Well manage, love! And if not, hell come here to us. Look!

As she spoke, she laid a neat, old bundle on the table. When Margaret untied it, she found far more money than shed ever seenher grandfather had sold the ancestral home for a tidy sum, now stored away for Margarets future. There was enough to buy a small flat.

Gran, I cant

You can, Margaret! Not for you, then for your child! Who else will care for her, if not her own mum?

This gift was the last straw for Margarets mother; she was furious, but nothing could change it now. Grandma coaxed the best deal out of the estate agent, securing a small, four-room flat in a handsome but faded terrace; it needed work, but a jovial, dark-eyed team sorted that out in no time, with Grans brisk oversight.

The first night in her own room, with the cot in place, Margaret burst into tears.

There, there, silly girl! Time for joy, not tears! Gran chided cheerfully, tugging her into the new kitchen to put her at work.

Sophie arrived a little early, after a flutter of nerves; but the girl grew strong and sweet. Margaret swore, after enduring so many biting words from her mother, that she would never treat her own child in kind.

Of course, Gran is closest to your heart nowshe bought you the flat and helps with the baby! And me? Im not even let over the threshold to see my granddaughter!

Come by any time, Mumjust please dont shout. It frightens Sophie.

Shes just a little baby! What could possibly frighten her? My voice?

You bellow, Mum, you dont speak Margaret nearly cried.

Her mother refused to hear a word of it.

Well see how you feel when your Sophie speaks to you like this!

She never will! the words came out as a declaration.

She will, you wait! It’s all about how theyre raised. I spoilt you, now I pay for itand shell do the same, wait and see!

Thanks for the lesson, Mum. Now I know exactly what not to do.

Margarets resolve hardened: she would not be that sort of mother.

Easy to say. Harder to live.

She was never sure she was parenting Sophie right, as they say, but Sophie was no troublejust very clear about what she wanted.

Mum, can I have a biscuit?

After tea, Sophie.

Not even a little one?

No.

All right, but after tea, can I have two if I clear my plate?

Margaret always chuckled, giving in only once Sophies plate was clean. These little negotiations stitched Sophies character: she quickly realized that tantrums got her nowhere, so instead she learned to charm even Grandmother into compliance.

Gran, dont frown! Wrinkles arent pretty on you. Come here, let me smooth them out, Sophie would say, patting at frown lines until Gran was giggling.

And so, peace was patched together, the years flowing with learned kindness. Margaret worked, Gran and Granddad (who, after selling up, left the village and his old life) cared for Sophie, and the house was full.

It got harder when Gran fell ill. Doctors shook their heads, offering little hope, but Margaret knew what was coming.

Should we go to London, Gran? Get specialist care?

No, love. Ive lived, and Im not afraid of going. I just worry for youand Granddad, hes gone quiet. Dont leave him alone, promise?

Margaret blinked away tears. Stop. Dont talk like that.

But life will do as it does. And in that season of frailty, Sophie appeared with a cat.

Darcy arrived in their life on that surrealist day: Sophie, walking the familiar lane home from school, vanished into thin air. Her grandfather, who set off to fetch her, missed the child by a handful of heartbeats.

How could a child just disappear on a straight lane to her own door? It was a mystery for the ages. The whole neighbourhood searchedclassmates with parents, older students, Margaret, her father, even Gran but in the end, Sophie simply arrived home, face streaked with tears, clutching a limp, battered cat.

Are you all right, darling? Does anything hurt?

No, Mummy! Hes hurting, not me! she sobbed.

Sophies new charge, saved from a scuffle with dogs behind the school, was battered but alive. The vets magic was beyond priceand the bill nearly so.

You could buy a pedigree for that Margaret muttered, swallowing the cost.

Back home, with the last of her money spent, Margaret worried over how to get by to the end of the month. Medicine for Darce, for Gran, and Sophies birthday birthdays were sacred (Margaret, as a child, had rarely had gifts).

Mum, theres something Id like, Sophie whispered one evening, long past bedtime, hugging Margaret close. No presents for me this time. Can he stay? Hell be my present

Margaret gently agreed. She had tried putting Darce in a box at night, but he always climbed out to curl beside her, nuzzling her slipper and purring like a kettle on the ancient fridge.

Amazingly, this ragged nobody settled in quickly, never a nuisance, and he clung especially to the old folks. Something oddly magical crept into their lives as he did.

After paying for the veterinary rescue, Margaret had enough. She was done scraping by on salaries and pensions. Encouraged by the cats arrival, she finally quit her job, terrified but resolute, and found a much better post as a nanny with a good salary. Word of her gentle touch spread, and she was prizedpassed, child by child, from family to family, with her wages growing each time. Every night, she scratched Darcys healed ear in gratitude.

Thank you, Darce. If it werent for you

Hed give her paw a nudge, glance meaningfully at Sophie. He adored Margaret, but he was all for Sophie. Only Gran could tear him from Sophies side for any length of time.

Years rolled on. Darce was there for Sophies homework, sitting on her exercise book; he curled up outside Grans door on days of heavy sadness; he comforted her when soon after Gran, Granddad quietly slipped away too.

He watched on as, unexpectedly, Margaret fell in love and, after much thought, remarried. Her new husband, William, saw in her what shed hidden from herself and guarded her fiercelyeven making peace with Margarets indomitable mother by chauffeuring her to the allotment in his own car.

Sophie, now a college student, became fiercely independent. Stepdad and she got along, but Sophie chose to live in her childhood home, which, by English standards, was now delightfully old-fashioned.

It was to this flat she brought her chosen one.

Blimey, Sophiethis is a proper palace!

Oh, hardly!

And whatwho on earth is that?!

A hissing, yowling mass streaked from Sophies bedroom and threw himself at Harry, her boyfriend. Harry shrieked, danced about, trying to fend off the flying cat.

Get it offget it off!

Sophie got Darce under control, but a thaw between cat and boyfriend never occurred. The cat hated Harry, who, in turn, took every chance to chase him, careful that Sophie never saw.

A year on, they married. But something soured. Harrys criticisms echoed those that once stunned Margaretcomplaints about the stew, Sophies efforts, her very womanhood.

Cooking was hardly an issueGran had taught Sophie to cook before she could even reach the hob. But then there was Darce.

Whats wrong with him now?! Harry exclaimed, staring at the new veterinary bill. Sophie, are you mad? I dont spend that on myself! Hes just a furry lump!

Darce is not a lump, hes family.

Not my family. I dont need furry in-laws!

How can you say that?

Next time, hes out the door! Useless moggy!

Sophie stayed silent. Shed found out only that morning she was expecting, and resolved to talk it through with Harry. But an old cat has old cat problems. The next morning, after another accident, Sophie was cleaning up for the vet when Harry, back from a jog, caught her at it.

He launched his trainers at the wall. Enoughthrow that animal out! Im not spending all my money on a sick cat! Out of my house!

Only if I go too, Sophies composure, usually steadfast, broke. Was it nerves, or a hormonal storm?

Then you both can go! Why should I put up with this?

Something snapped in the very air, finally and completely. Sophie, until that moment desperate to keep her family together for their future child, suddenly saw she wanted anything but that now.

She didnt even remind him the flat belonged to her. Off-handedly, she took his keys from his pocket, put her own in the lock, and said quietly, Im expecting. Im not supposed to be upset or argue. The cat understands that. You dont. Please go, Harry. When youre calm, maybe we can speak. But living together now… forgive me, I cant. If you can cast away someone whos been beside me most of my life, just for being ill and inconvenient, what happens if I ever become a burden? My feelings dont matter to you. Am I right? We had good times, but now there are too many bad. I have to say goodbye. Pack your things laterIve got to take Darce to the vet. Hes suffering, and thats my responsibility. That is the right thing.

Harry didnt protest. He shoved his gym bag over his shoulder and slammed the door.

Sophie knew he hadnt even heard about the babyhe was too distracted by the prospect of evicting the cat. Taking the carrier, she knelt, invited Darce in, and asked, Ready? Lets get you sorted. Time to look after our health.

Darce recovered. Of course, he was now quite ancient, and Sophie had reason to bring out the carrier more than onceallowing her future little girl to gently pet his tail, a privilege he would grant only her. He would become the best of nannies, pressing a lazy paw against the pillow until giggling sleep overtook the child.

Sophie never considered naming her daughter Margaret, though the resemblance would have been uncannybut her mother advised otherwise.

Talk to Harry. This is your child together. You wont live together, but thats forever. Youve worked so hard to maintain at least a semblance of peace. Now do even more, for her sake.

Sophie listened, surprising her now ex-husband.

Thats unexpectedly sensible of you, Sophie.

I suppose Im maturing. So what do you think?

I thinkI thank you. Truly.

For what?

For not letting your pride get in the way of our child. I want to help.

And Harry kept his word.

Little Alice grew up in two homes, blissfully unaware of the strange logic of the adult world. Two beds, two favourite bunniesone at Mums, one at Dads. There was Grandma Margaret, and there was Valerie, her paternal grandmother; but the love was singular and shimmering, and Alice swam in it, sure that those who loved her must, at some level, be connected to one another as well. That small, important wisdom filtered up from Alice to each grown-up, much as Sophie had managed in her own childhood, binding all and dissolving old quarrels.

As for Darcy, ancient and sunken-eyed, only he knew the truth behind the little girl; but he kept silentnot because he couldnt speak, but because there simply wasnt any need.

After all, everyone knows itto have a gentle mother-cat is to have gentle kittens.

And as for Aliceshe had that in abundance. One day, she would cradle her own baby, stroke its cheek just so, as her mother and her grandmother before her had done, and whisper,

Hello, my little one. Ive been waiting for youYou are home.

For in that flatsunlit and weathered, secrets tucked in every nook, and saucepans still echoing Grans laughtersomething gentle had indeed endured: the battered armchair where Darce dozed, now undisturbed; the scent of lavender; the hush that descended at evening when love, worn quiet and steadfast, threaded mother to child and child to mother.

As Alice nestled in Sophies lap, Darcys old collar looped around her wrist, she asked, Mummy, will he dream of us, when hes gone?

Sophie, brushing back a wild curl, smiled. Hell dream of us, love. And well dream of himso nothing gets lost. Thats what families do.

Alice pressed close, safe in the heart of her storya lineage built neither by blood nor by permanence, but by kindness chosen again and again, no matter the cost.

Outside, twilight gathered. Somewhere, in the tangled garden behind their steadfast little flat, a cat-shaped shadow flitted through lemon balm and mint, light as hope itself. And within, three generationsplus one well-loved ghostsettled in for the evening, together and utterly at peace.

Home, at last.