I see you, dont hide. What are you doing in our stairwell? The cat looked up guiltily, shifting its frost-heavy paws at the edge of a small puddle formed from melting ice clinging to its fur.
No one remembered exactly when this scruffy stray had appeared in the courtyard. It lived quietly, almost invisibly, like a shadowa beautiful creature, though dirty and thin. The only thing anyone recalled was that it had turned up in spring.
A girl named Emily sometimes fed it when she could, doing her best to care for it. In the cold, shed leave the cellar door ajar if it wasnt locked, lay out old clothes for bedding, and once even dabbed green ointment on its paw when she spotted a wound.
So the cat livedsilent, cautious, nearly unseen.
Then, one day, it watched as that same girl, dressed in white with flowers in her hair, stepped out of the building arm-in-arm with a man in a smart suit. People surrounded them, laughing and clapping. Everyone piled into ribbon-decked cars and drove off. After that day, Emily was never seen again.
The cat was left alone. Hunger drove it to the bins at nightit was quieter in the dark, with a better chance of scavenging something before the strays returned.
Above all, it had to avoid the vicious dogs. That was how it survived until the bitter frosts came, and the new caretaker chased it from the cellar, locking the door for good.
Where could it go? Half-frozen, it tried slipping into the stairwell, but no one wanted it theresome shooed it away, others kicked and shouted at it. Not a soul would let the trembling creature inside.
One desperate evening, it crept into the stairwell of a five-storey house. It had no strength left to fear or hope. It didnt care anymorejust as long as it didnt freeze to death that night.
Mrs. Elizabeth Stevensknown to everyone as Auntie Lizwas the first to notice. She lived on the second floor and had just gone to check the post, waiting for her rent bill. She was a stern but fair woman, respected by everyone in the building. No one dared argue with her, not even the residents committee.
The cat, which had slipped in behind someone, curled up by the radiator at the turn of the stairs, barely breathing. Its fur was icy, its eyes full of exhaustion and pleading.
I see you. Dont hide. What brought you here? Youre frozen and hungry, arent you? Auntie Liz scolded.
The cat lifted its gaze, barely moving its stiff paws as the ice slowly melted beneath them.
Well, what am I to do with you Wait here.
She knew hunger. Her legs, weakened by wartime rationing, could barely carry her, but she trudged up to her flat and returned with a bowl of food, water, and a moth-eaten old wool jumper.
Here, eat. Poor thing, dont be afraidI wont take it away, she sighed, watching the cat gulp down buckwheat and scraps of liver.
She laid out the jumper and turned away, completely forgetting about the rent bill.
The cat, now warm for the first time in weeks, decided this was homeand the stern but kind woman was its owner.
To avoid being chased out again, it behaved quietly and obediently, just as it had in its old life, when it had once been a pampered pet. Auntie Liz even gave it a nameMolly.
But not everyone was pleased. The Pembrokes from the third floor came down, and Mr. Edward stopped in front of Auntie Liz, eyeing the cat with disapproval.
Whats thisa zoo now?
His wife, wrapped in an expensive fur coat, pinched her nose theatrically.
Edward, that cat stinks!
Throw it out! he ordered.
Auntie Liz straightened.
Why should I? Shes no trouble. She stays.
Fine, Ill call the council. Theyll take it away, and youll get fined. This is a shared space!
Brilliant. And Ill report you to the fraud office. Let them look into how a warehouse manager lives like a lord, carting off supplies every day. The neighbours will back me up. Harm this cat, and youll regret it.
After that, they left Molly alone. Even the usually menacing bulldog, Duke, walked past her as if she didnt exist.
Weeks passed, and everyone grew used to her. But Auntie Liz knew Molly wasnt truly safe. Though the cat stayed close, she was still a stray.
She thought of taking her in, but Molly avoided the flats as if frightened of them. Something terrible must have happened to her before.
Auntie Liz didnt push, hoping one day Molly would dare to enter on her own.
And she was right. Every time the door stayed open, Molly crept closerwatching, listening, but never going too far.
Then, in February, during a blizzard, Auntie Liz woke in terrorshe couldnt breathe. Pain shot through her, too sharp to even cry out. Everything around her blurred.
The neighbours were woken by Mollys desperate yowls. The cat clawed at the door, tearing at the vinyl with her claws.
People rushed out, knocking, but there was no answer. Mrs. Nina from the third floor hurried down.
Ive got a spare key. We agreed on it, Liz and I.
They opened the door. An ambulance was called. Molly refused to leaveshe crouched under the bed, mewing pitifully.
Auntie Liz had no family. The war had taken them all. She was alone.
But the neighbours visited her in hospital, bringing little gifts. And every time, she only said one thing:
Look after my Molly. Feed her. Let her come back. She saved my life.
Three weeks later, on a March morning, Auntie Liz came home. Molly was waiting at the door, as if she knew.
The woman held out her arms.
Come on, Molly. Lets go home.
And together, they stepped inside. That evening, for the first time, Auntie Liz held her. The cat purred, pressing close.
Its all right, Molly Weve got a little more life in us yet.
