Vinnie

Whiskers

Sarah, have you lost your mind? The matron will have your head for this!

Oh, Margaret, what was I supposed to do? Leave him out in the cold? Hes alive!

He may be alive, but if you keep him, I cant say the same for you.

Maggie, my love, you cant be serious! Its just a kitten, not a tiger. Let him stay, at least for a little while?

Why are you trying to convince me? Margaret laughed, stroking the tiny ginger head of the unexpected guest. Do you think I dont feel sorry for the poor thing? Where did you find this half-starved scrap? Hes all bones, probably sick too; look, he can barely keep his head up. What a prize!

I found him just now! Sarah, snatching Margarets long hand-knitted scarf from the peg, wrapped the little one carefully. I was coming off my shift, walking through the park. There he was, sprawled in the path. Hard to tell if he crawled out of the bushes or someone just dumped him there. He was almost buried in snow. I wouldnt have noticed if it werent for his ginger fur. I picked him up he was stone cold, barely breathing. For a moment I thought hed already gone, but then I realised he was hanging on. I grabbed him and ran the whole way back to the halls. Sarah chuckled as she poured milk into an enamel mug to warm up. Mrs. Edmonds looked scandalised when I dashed by. Mouth wide open and all.

Then youd better expect a visit. Oh, Sarah, shell give you a roasting! Remember when she caught Lydia sneaking in a cat? Nearly kicked her out, saying pets were forbidden in the halls, no respect for rules!

Maggie, you wont tell, will you? Sarah called worriedly from the doorway. If she turns up when Im not here, please, just hide him for me! Ill only be a moment warming this milk.

Oh, off with you! Margaret swept up the scarf and kitten, shaking her knitting clear from her basket. Know nothing, see nothing, say nothing and thats my story! she sang, winking at Sarah as she closed the basket. Go on, dont worry!

When Sarah left, Margaret peeked into the basket, shaking her head.

Well, arent you just a stroke of luck, you ginger cheeky-fellow Keep breathing, little one! Sarahs a kind soul; shell shed tears for a month if anything happens to you. I hardly need that!

The kitten said nothing. He just lay there, breathing shallowly, eyes closed, unmoved by Margarets words.

The room slid into dusk, shadows lengthening across the floor as the evening settled. Margaret sat in the stillness, not wanting to turn the lamp on just yet. She loved this time of day so much evening left ahead. None of that rush after a late shift, home and straight to bed. No, tonight was hers; she could read, or gossip with Sarah, ask after her romance with Michael. Margaret sighed. Lucky girl, Sarah handsome fellow and a wedding on the way. Margaret had no-one; whod want a tall, strapping lass like her? Sarah, with her delicate looks and mermaid eyes, braids to her hips a beauty, no mistaking. But Margaret, called a hearty Amazon by her grandmother, had grown up restoring order among her three mischievous brothers with a single look. Theyd all grown now; the eldest even married already, to a lovely girl. Margaret had just visited their wedding back home in the village. And here was she, alone again. She didnt fancy any of the city lads she stood head and shoulders above most, broad shouldered and sturdy. Where would she find a man to match? Perhaps Granny was right, inviting her home, but what would she do in the countryside? Most of the young men were long gone, only the farm work left. Havent I got more ambition than that? Here at the mill, people respect Margaret, shes valued. They even gave her a voucher for her last holiday. She shook off the melancholy thoughts. Marriage can wait; surely there must be someone out there for her.

Sarah soon bustled in, searching for a pipette to feed the kitten, who was far too weak to lap from a saucer. He kept butting his nose against it, no energy to drink. Margaret set aside her book, took the ginger scrap, and said:

Leave him to me, go on!

With a careful squeeze, she opened his mouth and sternly said:

Come on, eat up! She didnt rescue you just for you to starve in our room!

Coughing and spitting, the kitten started to feed.

They named him Whiskers. Mrs. Edmonds remained blissfully unaware for almost a year, until she caught sight of a ginger streak leaping through the open window one morning.

What on earth is that?!

Her cry raised the roof of the whole dorm.

Oh, Mrs. Edmonds, please! You never even knew he was here! And hes ever so clever keeps the mice away!

Mice? There are no mice! This is a model residence!

Oh, youd be surprised, Margaret said with a wry look, folding her arms across her ample chest and nudging Whiskers behind her with her foot. Even our mice are top class: sleek and well-fed. Whiskers marches them all in a row beside my bed nearly every morning. Next time Ill show you. Or perhaps invite the mill manager for a look as well?

Margaret! Mind your tongue! Mrs. Edmonds glared, then her gaze softened as she turned to Sarah. Your doing? And what about when you marry what then? Will you take him?

I don’t know. Sarah hugged the cat. He loves me, but he really thinks Margaret is his mistress. Hell miss her terribly

Goodness me! Mrs. Edmonds chuckled, looking at bewildered Sarah. You speak of him like a husband! Hes just a cat he’ll be happy wherever’s home.

Ive tried with him, but he always runs to Margaret. Sarah handed Whiskers over and threw an arm round Mrs. Edmonds. So, can he stay?

Oh, you sly thing! Mrs. Edmonds wagged a finger. Hed better be neither seen nor heard! Or well all be out. And rightly so.

Sarahs wedding was celebrated in grand fashion, and Margaret found herself alone with Whiskers. Oddly, the days seemed to move slower, a touch lonelier. Mrs. Edmonds didnt rush to find Margaret a new roommate. The old halls were nearing their end; the girls all hoped for rooms in the new blocks being built nearby, though work started and stopped frequently. Margaret joined the others at weekends to help with the construction, wandering the echoing new corridors, trying to picture what it would be like once finished. It was on one of those days that she stumbled upon her supposed destiny.

Alexander, like her, was not local. He’d cared for his parents to the end, then moved to the city with nothing but determination. Life was much fuller here, with plenty of pretty girls about but Alexander was looking for a wife, and not just any wife: one with prospects, a room or a family to help. Margaret fit none of these boxes. But when that tall, striking woman glanced down at him and swept past, he was utterly captivated.

His awkward attempts at courting made Margaret laugh at first.

Good heavens! What could I do with him? Id be patting the top of his head! He comes up to my chin! Wheres he off to? she giggled, telling Sarah, who stopped by one afternoon.

Margaret! Honestly is height all that matters? Whats he like, really?

I honestly dont know, Sarah, Margaret would reply, growing thoughtful.

She watched as Sarah, heavy with her first child, struggled to her feet, pausing to stroke Whiskers, sprawled beside her, now nearly as round as a loaf.

Is it much trouble? Margaret fetched a honey jar her brothers had sent.

Oh, not so bad. Its strange, though, Sarah replied. Feels like standing on the train platform, all packed to go somewhere wonderful. You just want the journey to begin. She took the honey, kissed Margaret, and waved to Whiskers on her way out. Goodbye, Whiskers. Look after her!

Whether it was Sarahs swelling tummy or Margarets own lingering loneliness, soon Alexander became a regular visitor. Whiskers took an instant dislike. The cat arched and hissed whenever Alexander appeared, then retreated to the window ledge, lashing his tail, ready to pounce. Margaret would open the sash and shoo him out, knowing hed come slinking back late, prowling the room in the dark, refusing food or affection. She couldnt understand him.

Jealous, perhaps? shrugged Margaret when Mrs. Edmonds asked, for Whiskers would visit her when Alexander called.

Maybe he senses something. Youd best watch yourself, Margaret. He might just want a bit of fun and be off, and then where will you be?

No, Mrs. Edmonds. Hes not like that, Margaret replied firmly.

Ah, dear girl Mrs. Edmonds sighed, but let the matter rest. Take care, its your life.

In the end, both Whiskers and Mrs. Edmonds were right.

When Margaret first noticed she wasnt herself sour milk, and mushrooms gone off she thought nothing of it. But after a fortnight of fatigue and hunger, bumping into Sarah with her pram on the street, she suddenly realised.

Margaret! How could it happen? Sarah gasped. Whens it due? Have you told him?

Margaret stood in a daze, her mind whirring. Over it all, like a faint bell, she heard Mrs. Edmonds’ warning:

Ah, dear girl Take care

That soft voice snapped her into action. Glancing at Sarahs worried face, she hurried home. She had to tell Alexander. Carefree days were over. The future loomed.

But apparently she was facing it alone.

Sorry, Margaret. Cant be sure its even mine, can I? Alexander shrugged, brushing the angry cat away and kicking him hard. Get lost!

Yet Whiskers twisted and managed to sink his teeth into Alexanders leg, and the yell the man let out made Margaret, quite unexpectedly, laugh bitterly:

Drop him, Whiskers! Youll make yourself ill biting rubbish like that. Off with you, Alexander, we dont need that sort in our house.

She sat for a long time after, bolt upright in her chair, staring at the door that had banged shut behind Alexander. Whiskers circled her legs, then leapt into her lap a rare treat and purred quietly until she nudged him off.

Weve grieved enough. Thats that. I want tea. Hot and strong.

Margaret registered her son in her own name. Steely-eyed, she told the clerk filling in the birth certificate:

There’s no father. Never has been. He has his mother. Isnt that enough?

Sarah prepared a layette, and Mrs. Edmonds pulled strings to find a good pram and made several visits to the mill manager, petitioning for a better room. But with the building work stalled again, he could only shrug:

Wish I could help, truly. For now, youll have to manage.

No matter how she tried to seal up the drafts, Margarets room was always cold. She didnt turn Whiskers away from her sons side; for some reason the old cat decided this tiny, wailing bundle was his to care for. He curled close, warming the baby, who quieted as soon as he felt the soft ginger fur. Watching their unlikely friendship, Margaret would chuckle, giving Whiskers extra treats, though money was tighter than ever. Without her brothers help, shed have been lost completely. Alexander vanished, leaving the city, and Margaret was glad of it she wanted nothing from him, not even painful memories. She kept only the best: her boy.

When Margaret left the maternity hospital, her whole family descended on her in force.

Look at those cheeks! A proper sturdy lad! Margaret, hes just like you!

Margaret listened, overwhelmed with relief she was never one to cry, but now tears threatened. Not one word of reproach from her kin; the contrary, even. Her elder brothers wife hugged her in the kitchen and whispered:

You did right, Meggie. Now youll never be alone. The right man will come along, dont you worry. Not all men are scoundrels. Dont worry about your boy well help, youll see. Hell grow up strong, I promise.

And her family kept their word. Every fortnight, one brother or another would visit with baskets and bags. Margaret would unpack the gifts, wiping grateful tears away. How little it really takes to be happy simply knowing youre not alone, that youre loved and will be helped, and that your child, come what may, will be cherished. Margaret would scold herself for the tears, but rejoiced she wasnt alone.

Nursery proved a real ordeal for little John. He was often ill, and Margaret juggled work and home as best she could. If not for the support of Mrs. Edmonds and Sarah, she would have packed up and returned to her village. But she hesitated, unwilling to crowd her brothers family.

Sitting by her sons cot as he lay feverish and sprawled with heat, Margaret would sometimes think back on that failed romance and sigh not everyone is fated to meet a good man. These days, she knew exactly what she wanted from any man who might come into her life: none of Alexanders sweet talk and sighs. She wanted someone whod quietly make her tea, shoo her off to bed, and say

Go on, Ill sit with our lad.

Then, at weekends, hed take them to the zoo and buy John a balloon. Hed say her stew was delicious, fit a shelf that had lain in the corner for months, and simply be there. Always.

That, she reckoned, was family. Just as it should be.

Sleep would come upon Margaret uninvited, pressing away her troubles as she nodded off, head on the table next to Johns cot, limbs contorted awkwardly.

And it was one such night that everything changed for Margaret, setting the punctuation marks in the long, tangled tale of her life at last.

John had been ill for three days, his fever stubborn and Margaret exhausted. The doctor from the next street called daily, unasked, shaking her head after each examination:

Youre doing everything right. All we can do is wait. Hes a strong boy; hell pull through.

Margaret scarcely put her son down he clung weakly, dozing off then waking in tears with a sore ear. Mrs. Edmonds brought soup in the evening, hugging John and kissing his damp brow:

Hes burning up!

The fever wont break, Margaret said. No matter what I do.

It might be for the best, Mrs. Edmonds murmured, playing this little piggy with Johns fingers. Shows his bodys fighting. Thats what the doctor says.

I know, but it doesnt make it easier. I cant bear seeing him hurt.

Hell recover! But if you wear yourself out, hell stand little chance. Eat and rest. Morning is wiser than evening.

Margaret nodded, preparing a compress, while Mrs. Edmonds quietly left.

Whiskers curled up next to John in his cot, flicking his tail just out of reach of the little boys grasping fingers. Soon, playing tired him out and John fell asleep beside his feline nanny. Margaret hesitated, then decided not to disturb them.

Touching the cold soup pot, she carried it to the kitchen to reheat. She was standing by the stove when a crash sounded, followed by Johns wail. She dropped everything and rushed back. Throwing open the door, she froze in terror, then snatched up the stool and leapt to help her cat.

An enormous rat fought for its life on the floor. Whiskers darted around it like lightning, though hed already suffered: one ear shredded, his side bleeding. Margaret raised the stool, but Whiskers twisted and, launching himself, sank his teeth deep into the rats throat. So strong was his grip that she couldnt free him even after the rat was dead.

Whiskers, dear boy, its over, let go! You did it!

The cat let out a strange, childlike sob and released his prey, limping at once to the cot where John, terrified, screamed. Margaret raced over and then she saw it. Another rat, smaller but monstrous in her eyes, cowering beside her son. She snatched John up, flung open the door, and shouted:

Help!

Within the hour, swaddled tight, John was off to Mrs. Edmonds flat. The kind woman handed over her own keys and promised to see to Whiskers.

Outrageous! Rats! Here! They just laid poison, and now this? Mrs. Edmonds raged at the injustice. She ran the dormitory with pride, but there was little she could do with the crumbling old building.

After tidying Margarets room, Mrs. Edmonds carried Whiskers to her office, dressing his wounds.

Heroic old boy, Whiskers! I was right to let you stay! Not many cats like you.

Whiskers lay there, barely moving, refusing even to clean himself. When he turned down food, Mrs. Edmonds grew truly concerned. Morning came, she handed over her shift and fetched Margaret, telling her how poorly the cat was.

Will you watch John? Margaret dashed about gathering her things. Where do I take him? Is there a vet nearby?

Good girl, get yourself there its not far, just off the next street. Ask for the vet. Go!

And so Margaret all but ran the distance. Whiskers lay sprawled on the rug by her bed, paws stretched out, barely breathing.

Whiskers! Hang on, my lad! Ill be quick, I promise!

She hurried into the veterinary surgery, brushing past a young woman in a white coat.

I want your best vet, right now! Please!

The girl looked set to argue but changed her mind, indicating a bench by the wall.

Wait there, please.

Margaret sat clutching Whiskers, counting each shallow breath, nearly ready to storm into the back. At last, the door opened in ducked an enormous man.

What’s the trouble here? His deep voice was so unexpected that Margaret was slow to answer.

She quickly handed Whiskers over.

Its my cat

Who did this to him? He lifted Whiskers as though he weighed nothing, examining the wounds.

Rats.

Doesnt look like a stray; hes well kept.

Hes mine.

And where did he find rats? Do you let him out?

No, happened indoors.

Well, fancy that.

Will you carry on asking questions, or will you help him? He saved my son! Please! Do something!

Theres no need to shout. Names Charles. And you?

Margaret!

Good, were acquainted. For the future, I prefer calm patients. Now lets see to your hero!

Years later, a large ginger cat would quietly patrol the childrens room, checking every corner before leaping up into the little bed next to the sofa where John slept. Little Alice, feeling the warmth beside her, would turn in her sleep and run her fingers through the thick fur. Whiskers would start to purr, humming his secret song, and the girl would drift deeper into sleep, not noticing her parents enter after him. Margaret would fix the blanket over her son, pull up Alices slipped sock, then rest her head gently on Charless shoulder.

Best nanny there could be, Charles, dont you think?

Couldnt ask for better, hed reply, scratching behind Whiskers once-torn ear. Worth his weight in gold, your Whiskers.

He already is, Margaret would reply. He positively glows.

Whiskers would nuzzle her palm, then stretch out next to Alice, one paw draped over her. Margaret would turn out the night lamp, beckon her husband, and softly close the door. Her children had never feared the dark for Whiskers was always there beside them. And with Whiskers about, there was never anything to fear.