An Expensive Luxury
– Emily, not again! How much longer is this going to go on? I feel like I work just to support your cat!
I let out a deep sigh as Oliver who Id been trying rather unsuccessfully to coax into his carrier slipped free, landed with a thud on the hallway floor, then shot under the stairs, growling miserably. Judging by his mournful eyes, my cat, whom I’d once named after the storied author ‘Hardy,’ was doing his utmost to make his last stand seem as dramatic and costly as possible.
Frankly, Ollie, as I tenderly called my furry companion, had been with me for ten years. His true age was still unknown; I plucked him straight from the street, and even then, he wasnt a kitten. Mum was told at the time by the kindly nurse at the Richmond Vet Clinic that he was still a young adult.
That day, Mum and I had burst into the clinic clutching a scraggly, well-wrapped cat in a threadbare baby blanket.
– Please, help him!
– Where on earth did you find this creature? The vet wrinkled her nose. – Hes a proper alley cat!
– Thats got nothing to do with it hes mine now. And hes suffering! Cant you see? Or do you think my money isnt as good as the owners with their posh Persians?
Mum was fuming; the nurse wisely offered no argument. And I am glad she didnt.
My mum, Margaret Brown, is the definition of stubborn. Life leaves you no choice, really she raised me single-handed, looked after her parents, and managed all this on a nursery nurses wage. You grow a thick skin in the end.
She always stood her ground, never shouting or causing a scene, but always just managing to find the right words to turn any disagreement into an entirely different conversation from confrontation to confessional, in the blink of an eye. So many times, I watched in awe as the angriest parent or neighbour opened up to her, unburdening their troubles, and always, by the end, thanking her for listening.
Mum was gifted that way: she truly listened. Her kindness was legendary adored by kids, cats, and even the odd dog, though she had always been nervous of them since childhood.
But her gift had its limits. Strangers she could charm family, not so straightforward.
Dad left a week after the wedding, and my gran used to joke that hed stuck around for an eternity, really. Mum admitted there was some truth in that. You cant make a family with someone as impractical as me, shed say. When Dad left, he sneered, Youre about as much a woman as I am a ballerina!
Of course, Mum was upset. But then she found out she was going to have me, and her spirits lifted. If anything, shed been looking forward to my arrival more than any birthday or Christmas shed ever had. Life before I came was a quiet, fairly dull series of barely-noted birthdays and holidays. Becoming a mother was everything.
Gran didnt support Mum when she said shed raise me on her own.
– Why would you do this, Maggie? Dont saddle yourself. Youre young, pretty; youve got your whole life ahead of you! Have the baby, and what? Live on baked beans for twenty years? Children are an expensive luxury youll get it someday!
Mum grew thoughtful. She usually took Grans word as law, but this time her heart opposed reason. The thought of not having her baby overwhelmed her with black dread. Destroying something growing inside felt impossible. For the first time in her life, she understood that being a mother mattered more than anything anyone could say to her.
Gran put an end to Mums doubt. She showed up from Devon, wearing her church headscarf, and declared:
– Youll have the baby, Maggie. Ill help.
– Gran! What about Granddad? How will he cope?
– Dont fret. Your Granddads sturdy. And if it gets too much, hell come up with us.
Gran pulled a neat bundle from her bag I recognised her best linen tea towel, beautifully embroidered. Inside, more money than Mum had ever seen.
– We sold the old house theyre building the new bypass through the garden. Plus our savings. It’ll get you a place, nothing grand, but enough. After that, youre on your own.
– I cant, Gran
– Yes, you can, Maggie. Not for yourself, for your child. No one else will do it.
The gift caused the final rift between Mum and Gran.
– When I needed money, you said there was none. Now you sweep in like the Queen, handing us a silver platter? Wonderful. What else is left to say?
Gran dismissed Mum, but couldnt sway her view. Mum would never understand why fate had finally bestowed a home, support, money essentially all a mother in her shape could want. Shed carried herself properly, hadnt got up to mischief. Bad luck wasnt hers alone. As Gran put it, If you cant pull a cart together, both horses are to blame.
The flat Gran found was perfect four rooms, a bit shabby, but with her market wisdom she haggled a good deal. The local workmen cheered up the place, Gran ever the forewoman, and when at last the childrens cot was set up, Mum cried.
– Dont cry, silly goose! Gran told her briskly. Get in the kitchen and make a pot of tea.
I arrived early, but healthy. Tenderness ran in the family though Mum, having suffered from Grans sharp tongue, promised never to treat me the same. Gran became my second mother, while Mums mother grew more distant.
– Of course Grans your favourite bought the flat, babysits you. What about me? Im not even allowed in to see my own granddaughter!
– Mum, come, by all means! Just dont shout. You scare Emily.
– Shes a baby! She doesnt know the difference. Besides, I dont shout, Margaret
– Mum, you do you shout, and it frightens us all.
Mum felt all the more determined to be different. She never caved, even when unsure what was truly right (parenting rarely has clear lines). I was a strong-willed child I always asked for extra sweets with battered pleases and thank-yous, and Mum always made me finish my tea before doling out my prize. These moments built my sense of fairness.
I quickly learnt sulking achieved nothing. Even Gran was not immune to my charm.
– Gran, dont be cross frowning gives you wrinkles. Come here!
Id smooth her forehead with my tiny fingers, and she’d laugh and tell me I was a proper little diplomat.
Our family life fell into a rhythm. Mum went to work; Gran and Granddad (who eventually left the country and joined us) kept house and minded me. When Gran fell ill, the world shifted. Her illness frightened us all, but she simply said, No fuss Im not scared to go, just scared to leave you. We coped because we had each other.
It was around then that Oliver entered our lives.
The day I found him, I nearly didnt make it home myself. Id left school, ducked along the alley, and vanished. Granddad missed me by minutes. For hours, the neighbours and Mum scoured the estate. But I appeared finally, wild-eyed, clutching an almost lifeless cat.
Mum asked no questions, simply scooped the bundle up and rushed us to the vet.
Oliver survived battered, bitten by the neighbourhood dogs, but whole, and our family could officially count a cat amongst its ranks. The vet handed him back with a jab and a strict warning to get him vaccinated. Mum whimpered at the bill, but paid anyway.
Back home, as she emptied her purse, she realised shed barely any money to last through the month. Oliver needed more medicine, as did Gran, and I had a birthday coming up. Mum remembered her own joyless birthdays and wanted mine to always be filled with wonder.
Thats when I crept into the kitchen late at night.
– Mummy, can I ask for a present? Please, can I keep the cat? That can be my birthday gift.
Mum hugged me and looked at the small grey bundle dozing at her feet. Shed tried putting him in a box, but Oliver insisted on curling up next to her especially when I was near.
So, Oliver stayed. The stray alley cat soon picked up house manners and attached himself inseparably to Gran and Granddad. He began to change our lives, in odd little ways.
Realising she was exhausted working as a nursery nurse for peanuts, Mum quit her job. It was terrifying, but she became a nanny. Word of her kindness spread, and each new family passed her name along and her wages grew. By then, the grateful scratches behind Olivers ears became a nightly ritual.
– Ollie, thank you. If it werent for you
Oliver would nuzzle her hand, always keeping an eye out for me. We grew up together he kept me company with my homework, sat beside me when I cried over Gran, and when Granddad too slipped away quietly months later.
Life found its pace; Mum eventually met someone wonderful Mr. Watson, a gentle, understanding man who valued her in ways shed never expected. Even Mums mum, after a diplomatic offering of Mr. Watsons car and chauffeur services, warmed to him.
Mums life had found its centre, and by now, I was ready for college. My stepfather and I got on, but I chose to stay in the old family flat that patchwork legacy Gran and Granddad had given us.
Soon, I brought home my own partner.
– Blimey, Emily! This is massive.
– Its really not!
– Loads of space! Wait, whats that?
A hissing, spitting ball of fur rolled out from the bedroom, launching straight for James. He shrieked, dancing around, while Oliver made a show of attacking the trespasser.
James never liked Oliver, and Oliver returned the sentiment. James was sly, often accidentally shutting doors or nudging the cat away, though never in front of me.
A year later, we married. But something frayed between us James began to scold me with lines hauntingly close to those my mum once suffered.
– Emily, what kind of wife are you, really? Is that meant to be stew? It’s more like dishwater. And you can’t cook what’s the use of that?
Food, I could cook. Gran had taught me to make a solid stew when I was barely ten.
Then James started in on Oliver.
– How much did this cost? He blanched at the vets invoice. – Youre mad! I’ve never spent this much on my own health, let alone a mangy cat!
– James, Olivers a part of our family.
– Whose? Not mine. And I wont have it!
– How can you say that?
– I said one more vet trip and hes gone, do you hear me?
That morning, Id just learned I was expecting. I was silent, thinking Id talk with him later. But Oliver, now ageing, again missed his litter tray, and I readied him for the clinic. James strode in from his morning run fitness was the only religion he observed and seeing the carrier, exploded.
– Stop. Thats enough! Time to get rid of that animal. Im not shelling out for a useless ball of fluff. Out with it!
– Then out with me as well.
For once, I surprised myself with how calm I sounded.
– So be it! Im not putting up with this any more.
In that moment, something cracked. The air between us changed; I realized, suddenly, this wasnt how I wanted to raise my child.
I said nothing more. Instead, I tucked my hand into his jacket pocket, pulled out his keys, and opened the door.
– Im pregnant. I cant argue or stress, for the babys sake. The cat understands that. You clearly dont. Please go. When youre calm, well talk. But living with you… sorry, James, I won’t. If youre willing to throw out a creature whos been my companion longer than you, what can I expect when you tire of me? My feelings mean nothing to you. Am I right? We’ve shared good times, and I thank you for them. But now there are too many bad ones. That’s too much, for me and probably for you too. Please go. Take your things later. I have to get Oliver to the vet now. He needs me. And Im responsible for him. Thats that.
James stormed off, not realising Id told him about the baby hed only heard the cat needs to go.
With that, I set down the carrier. Oliver climbed in with no fuss.
– Ready? Lets go. Time for something new starting with your health.
He recovered, though age would tell. I often ferried him to the vet, but in time, the only small hand allowed to tug his tail would be my daughters. Oliver would let her do anything shed be his world.
And there couldnt be a better nanny for my daughter. He cuddled her, sending her into giggles, just as Mum and Gran used to do for me. For a moment, I wondered about naming my daughter after Gran, but Mum advised otherwise.
– Speak to James. Shes both yours. You wont live together, but this little wonder will forever be yours. Youve tried to keep things civil. Now do more it wont be easy, but its for her sake.
I followed Mums advice, surprising James.
– Wow. Never thought you had that sort of wisdom.
– Well, Im learning. What do you think?
– I think… thank you, Emily.
– For what?
– For not letting your pride matter more than whats best. Ill do my part.
And he did.
Our little Alice ended up with two homes, never quite sure why adults insisted things work that way. She had two beds, two much-loved bunnies (one at his, one at mine), a Gran Margaret and a Nana Valerie, and love that poured from all sides. To her, love made people a family, and it would be Alice who reminded all of us, grown up as we were, of what mattered most.
Only Oliver carried the whole truth in those sage old eyes. But hed never say a word because it was already perfectly clear.
If mummy cats loving, her kittens will be too. And Alice had all the love she needed. One day, shell cradle her own baby, stroke a tiny cheek, just like I and my mother, and say:
– Hello, my darling. Ive been waiting for you…
