What Will Dad Say? Father’s Fashion Choices

You know how it always feels when you walk into a flat and its dead quiet? Thats exactly how Frank felt when he popped his head into the little council house on the edge of London. Are they all asleep? he muttered to himself. From the kitchen emerged his palelooking wife, Lisa, and their daughter, Ethel, looking like theyd just seen a ghost. And perched on Ethels lap was the tiniest kitten, its whiskers trembling.

It was dark, but the kitten wasnt scared of it any more itd gotten used to the gloom. He knew his mum would be back soon, feed him, lick him from the tip of his tail right up to his little snout, then curl up beside him, purr a lullaby and make the darkness feel safe.

Only this time Mum was late. Not like her at all. Even though the cellar was always halflit, the kitten had learned to tell time by the drip of the pipe. Normally, when Mum left, hed curl into a ball, cover his nose with a paw and drift off. When he woke, shed already be there, or would appear before he even got hungry.

But today was different. Two hours had slipped by since hed opened his eyes, and Mum was still nowhere.

Did she forget? Did she ditch him? thoughts like that never crossed the kittens mind. Maybe somethings happened. If that were true, it could only mean one thing: his time was running out.

There was plenty of water in the cellar a pipe had cracked the day he was born, leaving a fresh puddle under it. Food, though, was a different story. There was none, so Mum had to go hunting every day.

The kitten hopped out of his warm cardboard box, padded over to the wall and stared up at the only little hole that let a sliver of light into the cellar. The hole was tiny, and because it was surrounded by thick brambles outside, it was basically pitch black, just a heavy, unsettling dimness.

He tucked his hind legs under him and tried to jump up to that opening, hoping Mum would appear, but he was still too small. He tried again and again ten attempts, none worked.

Just as he landed on all fours after another failed jump, the cellar door creaked open with a dreadful squeal. He froze, hoping to stay unseen, but the old lady who lived in the block, Mrs. Whitaker, stepped in first, followed by two burly men squeez­ing through the narrow doorframe.

Look at these lazybones! I told you there was a cat in the cellar. Lets catch em and get em out! one of them shouted.

Its just one now, but in six months therell be twenty, the other replied. What are you here for, arguing? Just grab it and throw it outside!

The men scattered around the cellar, trying to corner the kitten. They kept stepping out for a smoke break, and only when Mrs. Whitaker got involved did they finally snatch the little thing.

You cant do anything without Mrs. Whitaker, she scolded the men, who happened to be her sons.

They tossed the kitten out, slammed the cellar door shut, and plastered the little hole in the wall so tightly that even a fly couldnt get through.

Get out, get out! Mrs. Whitaker barked. Dont ever come back!

The kitten bolted to the nearest safe spot, looked back at the place hed been born, and started to whimper. He had nowhere to go now, and Mum was still missing.

He stared at the world with wide eyes, suddenly noticing a whole new side of it hed never imagined. Beyond the dingy cellar, there was bright light, fresh grass, people strolling, birds singing, and odd creatures with round legs and glowing eyes roaring somewhere in the distance.

He saw cats that reminded him of Mum, but she wasnt among them. He let out a tiny meow, then a louder one, hoping Mum might hear. No one seemed to care. The cats turned, gave him sympathetic looks, and moved on.

Then Mrs. Whitaker, whod always hated cats, shouted at him, I told you to get out of here! Her voice was harsh, but she was old and a little unsteady, leaning on a cane.

The kitten turned and ran, not really knowing where to go, just away from that shouting voice. The citys streets blurred past trees, hedges, cars, buildings and his little head started to spin. He stopped, panting, as a group of adults smiled at him, while children pointed and begged their parents to take him home. One mum asked her son, Would you give up your tablet for a kitten? The boy shook his head, chomping on a chocolate ice lolly.

The kittens nose twitched a delicious smell drifted over. It was coming from a fivestar restaurant called Grandmas Kitchen. The aromas of roast, boiled fish, oysters and mussels made his stomach rumble. He slipped through a narrow gap in the back door, into a room stacked with cardboard boxes. One of those boxes became his temporary hideout.

Just then two blokes walked in the owner, Mr. Clarke, and his assistant, Arthur. Frank, your cookings brilliant, but you need to tidy up this kitchen, Clarke grumbled, eyeing the mess.

Arthur, Im too busy without help, Frank replied, wiping his hands on a rag.

Dont worry, weve advertised for a second hand. In the meantime, sort this out. Ten minutes, then Ill check. And remember, never argue with me, or else he warned.

Frank scooped up the nearest box and tossed it near the rubbish bins. As he did, a faint meow sounded. Did I crush something? he wondered, picking up the box. Inside was the kitten, eyes wide.

Hope its not a rat, Frank muttered, remembering his childhood fear of rodents. He stared at the tiny creature, bewildered.

Where did you come from? he asked, halfjoking. The kitten just mewed.

Frank didnt usually keep pets hed even told Lisa that they didnt need a dog or cat, despite her pleading. But seeing this starving little thing, he felt a surge of pity. He diced up some leftover turkey with his signature sauce, fed it to the kitten, and the little fellow gobbled it down in seconds.

Just then Clarke swung back, eyes narrowed. Whats that box? Did you forget something?

He nudged the box with his foot, and the kitten yelped, Meow! Clarke snapped, A cat in my kitchen? Ill fire you on the spot this is a health hazard!

Frank tried to explain, but Clarke was already shouting for the kitten to be thrown out. Reluctantly, Frank carried the box to the bins, doublechecking the kitten was ok, then set the box aside and rushed back to the stove, preparing more dishes for paying customers.

He thought about slipping the kitten into the back storeroom, but the risk of being caught was too high. He loved his job, the pay was good, and he didnt want to lose it all. Yet the poor little cat tugged at his conscience.

Later, a raggedlooking delivery boy rummaged through the bins, tossed some scraps into the very box Frank had left, and lugged it back toward the cellar where the kitten had been chased out earlier.

He set the box down, and as the boy tried to pull food out, he got a sharp tap from Clarkes cane. Youll pay for that! Mrs. Whitaker shrieked, brandishing her cane like a torch.

The boy muttered, Even a bite of foods a battle here, and fled, dragging the box. It slipped from his hands, and Mrs. Whitaker stumbled, landing awkwardly on the pavement a perfect boomerang effect.

Just then, a little girl named Annie, whod been sent by her mum to take out the rubbish, walked past. Mrs. Whitaker grabbed her hand, pleading, Girl, could you please take this box with you? Im heading home with a sore back.

Annie, who didnt like the cantankerous old lady, agreed just to avoid more nagging. She tossed the rubbish into the bin, and as she lifted the cardboard box, she heard a soft scratching inside. Peeking in, she found the kitten, eyes bright with hope. Oh my gosh, youre exactly what I wanted! she squealed, clutching the tiny furball.

She raced home, kitten in her arms. Her mum met her at the door and said, What will your dad think? but Annie was already smitten, determined never to let anyone hurt her new friend.

Meanwhile, Frank had finished his shift, changed out of his work clothes, and headed back to the block as dusk fell. He rummaged through the same cardboard boxes near the bins, hoping to find his little guest. None held the kitten. He turned the flashlight on his phone, whistling a playful tweetweetwee into the night.

Two resident alley cats darted out, but the kitten was nowhere to be seen. Defeated, Frank trudged home, feeling a knot of guilt tighten. What a mess Ive made, he thought, my daughters been asking for a cat for three years, my wife doesnt mind, and Ive just tossed the poor thing away.

His conscience gnawed at him, and for the first time in his life he considered having a drink, but hed always been a teetotaler his parents had raised him that way. He swallowed his remorse, promising himself hed face his family later.

He sent a quick text to his wife, Lara: Im home soon we need to talk seriously. He hoped the conversation would set things right.

Back at the flat, the silence was still there. Lisa and Ethel emerged from the kitchen, pale as before, each holding a trembling kitten in their arms. Their mouths fell open in surprise. Lara, trying to sound calm, started, Frank, you wanted to say something

Frank, eyes wet, scooped the kitten up, hugging it close. Tears streamed down his face. The family stared, mouths agape, not expecting this sudden outburst after his ominous text.

Nothing much to say, really, he replied, just that Ive been a fool. Im making dinner for you all now. He whisked the kitten into the kitchen, where the smell of his special turkey sauce filled the air.

And just like that, the Rudd family got themselves a new little member. The kitten now had a warm lap, a full belly, and a whole lot of love. It turned out that sometimes the biggest messes bring the sweetest surprises.