An Expensive Pleasure
Sophie, again? How much longer can this go on? I feel like I work just for your cat!
The cat, whom Sophie was desperately trying to coax into his carrier, twisted free from her arms and dropped to the floor with a dull thud, then dashed off into the halls corner, moaning in a low, miserable tone. By the look of him, the catwhom Sophie had, ages ago, named the poetic Wilfredwas determined to sell his, in my opinion, rather unremarkable life for as much as possible.
Ages ago, because WilfredWilf, as Sophie fondly called himhad been with her for at least ten years. She never really knew his true age. She found him as a straynot even a kitten then, already an adult, if still sprightly, or so the vet had told Sophies mum at the clinic.
Back then, it was Sophies mum, Margaret, who had rushed with her daughter to the vet, clutching the cat swaddled in an old baby blanket.
Please save him!
Where on earth did you find this creature? The young vet wrinkled her nose. Hes a right mongrel.
What does it matter? Hes my cat! Help him! Cant you see hes suffering? Am I paying with Monopoly money or something? Worse than all those with their pedigreed cats?
Margaret was so fierce in that moment, the vet thought better of arguing. And rightly so.
Margaret Jane Armstrong was stubborn as an ox. Well, what choice did she have? Try raising a child on your own, look after two oldies, and do it all on a nursery workers pay. Makes you tough, dont it?
Margaret could stand up for herself, thats for sure. She was also incredibly kind. Children and cats she adored, and at times, even dogs, though she had an odd, long-held fear of them.
She never let anyone take liberties. Not with the nosy neighbours in the block, not with parents whose little ones she cared for, not with strangers who, every now and then, figured this delicate, solitary woman would be easy pickings.
But Margaret had a knacka way of handling things so that, without raising her voice, shed find the perfect argument, and suddenly the person in the wrong would start down another path altogether. Instead of shouting matches and showdowns, Margaret would take whoever was upset aside, andmiraculouslytheyd end up telling her about their troubles, about how hard life was, and she would simply listen, nod, and wait. Afterwards, thank-yous and apologies were routine.
Margaret didnt really know how it worked. She just had that rare knack for truly hearing people. Maybe thats why it workedwith strangers, anyway.
With family, it was another story.
Her husband had bolted barely a week after their wedding. Margarets own mother liked to joke, Blimey, that was quite the stretch for a man!
It stung, but Margaret suspected her mother was right. No one could run a home with a ninny like her. After all, her husband had left with a smirk: Youll never be a proper womannot in a million years.
Of course, Margaret was upset.
But a couple of months later, she found out she was expecting, and the world righted itself. She was a woman, after allmen dont get pregnant.
Margaret looked forward to her daughters birth more than Christmas, even more than her own birthday. In her quiet life, holidays were few and far between. This was something special.
Her mother was not pleased with her determination to have the child.
Why put yourself through this, Margaret? Its a burden. Youre young, good-looking enough, and you might have prospects. If you have a child, what then? Youll be living on baked beans and toast! And youll doom the baby to the same. Children are an expensive luxury, Margaret. You dont see it now, but you will!
Mum, didnt we live like that?
Exactly, darling! And what was so good about it?
Margaret mulled it over. She was used to listening to her mother, but this time something deep inside her rebelled against so obvious a solution.
Every time she thought of not having the baby, a darkness settled over Margaret, suffocating her. How could she do away with something already inside her? Not even the bump, but the knowledge that all shed been told was a lie. She could be not just a woman, but a mother, and someone wanted to rob her of that. She didnt even question that the decision was only hers to make; it was a defensive instinct, protecting herself, her future.
Her grandmother put an end to the debate. She showed up unannounced in town, adjusting the headscarf she wore only on special occasions, and proclaimed:
Have the baby, Maggie! Ill help.
But Gran, what about Granddad? He cant manage in the country on his own.
Hes tough, my love. Hell manage, or Ill bring him here.
A neat, embroidered bundle landed on the table, and Margaret recognised her grans favourite old tea towel, stitched by her when she was little.
Recognise this? Go on, open it.
Margaret had never seen so much moneynot before, not since.
He sold the old family housedevelopers want those fields now, theyre worth a fortune. And all our savings are here too. Enough for a little flat at least. The rest is up to you.
I cant accept this
You can and you will, Margaret. If not for yourself, then for your baby. Who else will see to her if not her mum?
That bundle was the final drop in the bucket between Margaret and her own mum.
Oh, I see When I asked for money, what did you say, Mum? You laughed me off. And now, its fallen from the sky? How nice for you.
Gran chased Margarets mother from the room and they had it out.
But Margarets mother wouldnt be persuaded. She couldnt understand why, with her daughters odd behaviour, fortune had smiled on herhelp, support, even a place of her own. What more could one want!
Margaret never understood what was so awful about her. Shed made mistakes, suremarried who she didbut as Gran said, If you cant pull the cart together, both horses are at fault.
And him a stallion! Ought to try twice as hard. Dont fret, darlingyouve got your whole life ahead.
Margaret never said anything about her age, but she thanked Gran endlessly.
Gran found them a smashing flat. Four bedrooms in an old Victorian terrace, in need of repair but an absolute gem. With the help of a team of cheerful lads from the local builders, Gran had it fixed up in months. Margaret tiptoed into her new room, saw the little cot, and burst into tears.
What are you crying for, dear? Time to celebrate! Gran said, drying her nose and leading her off to conquer the new kitchen.
Sophie was born early, but all was well. She grew into a charming, sweet-natured girl. Margaret, whose own mum had given her a tough time, swore shed never do the same to her daughter.
Grans your favourite now! Of course she is! She bought you a flat, helps with the baby, while meyou lot never even let me through the door to see my own granddaughter!
Mum, you can visit anytime, as long as you dont start shouting. Sophie gets frightened.
Oh, really! All because Im a bit loud?
No, Mum, you shout a lot Margaret nearly cried.
Her own mum refused to hear a word of it.
Well see how you like it when your own daughter turns on you!
She wont! Suddenly, Margarets old tears were gone.
She will! Its down to how theyre raised! I spoiled you, and now you treat me like thismy own daughter! Dont need your mum anymore, do you?
Thanks, Mum, Margarets voice levelled.
What for? Her mother calmed, confused by Margarets tone.
For the lesson, Mum. I know now what not to do! Thank you for saving me from the same mistake.
What are you rambling on about now? her mother cried, but Margaret no longer listened.
Her one clear thought: I wont be that kind of mum.
Easier said than done.
Margaret wasnt always sure she was getting it right. Sophie wasnt a difficult child but had a stubborn streak. Even as a little girl, she knew her own mind and could get her way, one way or another.
Mummy, can I have a sweet?
Sophie, after lunch.
But cant I have one now?
No, darling.
All right! Can I have two after lunch if I eat up nicely?
Margaret laughed; after lunch, Sophie would get her two treats once she pushed aside her empty plate.
Well done!
Tiny moments, but it all added up to Sophies character. She learned quickly that tantrums got her nothing, and she could even calm down Gran, giving her a sweet smile:
Gran, dont get angry, its not pretty! Youre lovely, and you dont want wrinkles, do you? Come here!
Whys that? Gran quieted, leaving off her scolding.
Sophie would settle Gran in a chair, climb into her lap and gently trace the corners of her eyes and forehead.
See? All smooth! Youre beautiful again.
Margaret would chuckle seeing Gran melt under Sophies touch, but wisely kept quiet.
Over time, the family found its balance.
Margaret worked, while Gran and Granddad (who eventually sold up and moved in) looked after Sophie.
They managed.
It got hard when Gran fell ill. The doctors frowned, made no promises, but Margaret knew what was coming.
Gran, should we go to London for help?
No need, Margaret. Ive lived my life, and Im not afraid to go. I just hate to leave you and your granddad. Dont leave him alone!
Dont say that!
Well, perhaps youre right. Ignore me, love.
And that was when Sophie brought home the cat.
The day Wilf came into Margarets home, she almost lost her daughter. Sophie left school as usual, took the familiar path homeand vanished.
Granddad, rushing after her, missed her by mere moments.
How could a child disappear on a straight path of a few hundred metres? It was a mystery!
Everyone searched: classmates, neighbours, Margaretpulled from work, Granddad, and even Gran.
But Sophie came home herself, just as Margaret was preparing to call the police, her face streaked with tears, contorted with pain and empathy. Margaret said nothing, just grabbed the ever-ready blanket, bundled up the battered cat Sophie held, and asked:
Are you all right, darling? Are you hurt?
No! Mummy, its him! Hes hurting, not me!
And off Margaret dashed.
The clinic was nearby, but even so, it was long enough for Margaret to realise: the cat had found a home, and Sophie had no intention of giving him up. That meant Margaret had just inherited another mouth to feed.
Luckily, it wasnt too bad; some local dogs had roughed Wilf up but not beyond repair. The vets stitched him up and handed the ginger ball back.
Here you go! Hell need his shots after he heals. For a so-called house cat, hes lived rough! Not even a collar.
Margaret noddedthen blanched at the bill.
For this, I could buy a pedigree! she muttered under her breath as she paid.
That evening, emptying her purse, Margaret totted up her budget and frowned.
She wouldnt make it to months end. There were more medicines needed for Gran, the cat, and a birthday just around the cornerSophies, and Margaret tried to make birthdays special since her own childhood birthdays had often passed unremarked.
Mummy, is it all right if I ask you something? Sophie crept into the kitchen, long past bedtime, and hugged her mother.
Yes, darling?
Dont get me any presents, okay? Let me keep him. He can be my birthday gift
Margaret hugged Sophie tight, and looked at the grey bundle tucked at her feet. Shed tried to settle Wilf in a box, but he insisted on curling up by her, head pressed into a slipper, purring against the old fridge.
No need to sayWilf stayed.
It was quite something how that ragtag street cat, within months, morphed into a proper house pet. He was never any botheradored the old folks, shadowed Gran constantly.
And, odd as it seemed, Wilf started to change the lives of those whod welcomed him.
After paying for his treatment, Margaret had had enough. She didnt want to scrape by on her nursery workers wage and two state pensions any longer. Still, she hesitated to take the plungefearful of losing her safety net. And thenWilf arrived.
She quit her job. Terrifying, but she did it. A friend recommended her as a nanny, and she scolded herself for not doing it sooner.
From then on, Margaret never struggled to find work. Each family passed her along like a family heirloom and with every new recommendation, her pay increasedparents well knew the value of a trusted nanny.
And Margaret, coming home at night, always scratched Wilf behind the ear hed once had stitched up.
Wilf, thank you! If not for you
Wilf would purr, tap her hand with his paw, and glance at Sophie. He loved the older mistress, but belonged heart and soul to the younger. He spent every possible moment with Sophie, except for the times Gran called him away. The rest belonged to his girl.
He was with her through school, helping with homework by sitting on the table, keeping her books steady. He was there when Sophie, weeping, sat outside Grans door, quietly saying goodbye to the woman whod made her life possible.
He was there, too, when Granddad passed away not long after.
He was there when Margaret unexpectedly met someone goodand, after much deliberation, remarrieda man who truly appreciated her. He even charmed her mother-in-law, who now glided from her block with a box of bedding plants proclaiming to the neighbours:
My son-in-laws hereoff to the allotment with me!
By this time, Sophie was at college, fiercely independent. She and her stepdad got along, but she preferred to stay in the flat shed grown up in.
Thats where she brought her boyfriend.
Blimey, Sophie, your place is massive!
Oh, get on!
So much space!Oi, whats that?
A hissing, angry blur shot from Sophies bedroom, launching itself at Ben, who jumped up on the sofa, flailing to avoid the cat.
Get it away! Get it away!
Sophie calmed the cat, but the relationship between Ben and Wilf never recovered.
Ben couldnt stand the cat, and did his best to shoo Wilf whenever Sophie wasnt looking.
A year later, Sophie and Ben married. Now officially husband and wife, cracks appeared. Ben was forever critiquing Sophie in ways that would have left Margaret incandescenther daughter now heard the same words Margaret once had.
What kind of woman are you, Sophie? This isnt stewits red soup! Dont you know how to cook? Hardly wifely material, are you?
Gran had taught Sophie to cook; calling her a dunce in the kitchen was ridiculous.
Ben generally had little to pick atuntil Wilf gave him cause.
Whats wrong with him?! Ben stared at the vets bill. Sophie, have you lost your mind? I dont spend this much on myself! This is just a ball of fluff!
Ben, Wilf isnt just a ball of fluff. Hes family!
Mine? Never! I dont want animals like this for relatives!
What are you saying?
You heard! If it happens again, Ill chuck him out myself!
Sophiewhod just found out, that morning, she was pregnantfell silent, deciding to talk to Ben later.
But Wilf, old as he was, had another accident, and Sophie once again readied the cat carrier. Thats when Ben, back from his morning run, found her.
He always kept fit, ate right, joggedconstantly nagging Sophie to see that health was everything.
When he found out Wilf needed more treatment, Ben lost his temper, threw his muddy trainers at the wall and snapped:
Thats enough! Its time to get rid of this animal! I will not spend another penny on a useless luxury like that! Out he goes!
Ill go with him! Sophie, usually calm and poised, eruptedall nerves and hormones.
Fine! Both of you out! Ive had enough! Why should I have to put up with this?
Something shifted between themperhaps permanently. Where Sophie had dreamed of preserving the marriage for the sake of the baby, she suddenly realised what she really wantedfreedom.
She didnt remind him the flat was hers. Didnt argue.
Instead, she slipped her hand into Bens jacket, pulled out his keys and placed them in her palm. She walked to the door.
Im expecting. I shouldnt get upset. Wilf understands that. You dont. Please leave, now. When youve calmed down, well talkbut I wont stay with you. If you could toss out the cat whos spent most of my life by my side, what would you do to me if you grew tired of me? You dont care about my feelings or needs. Isnt that right? We had good times, Ben, but now theres too much bad. Thats too much for me. Please go. Collect your things later. I have to take Wilf to the vet nowhes in pain, and I am responsible for him.
Ben didnt argue. He flung his gym bag over his shoulder, grabbed his jacket, and slammed the door.
Sophie knew her announcement about the baby hadnt registered; Ben had only one thing on his mindgetting rid of the cat.
She placed the carrier on the floor, waited for Wilf to enterhe did, this time without protestand said,
Ready? Lets go. Time to make some changes. Starting with your health!
Wilf recovered. Of course, age would catch up soon enough, and Sophie would have to bring out the carrier again. But someday, her daughterWilf would make her the only person he let do absolutely anything to himwould become his little shadow. The best nanny in the world, putting the child to sleep in five minutes, paw gently pressed to her pillow, giggling just like Margaret. Sophie would consider naming her daughter after Gran, but her mum would talk her round.
Chat with Ben. Its your baby together. You may not stay together, but this little one is here to stay. You worked so hard to keep up appearances; nows the time to do more. It wont be easy, but for your daughter, make the effort.
Sophie listened, much to her ex-husbands surprise.
Bit of wisdom I never noticed in you before, he admitted.
Well, Im growing up, I suppose. Sowhat do you say?
I say thank you, Sophie. Thank you.
For what?
For not putting your stubbornness before our childs interests. Ill help, Sophie.
And he would.
Little Lucy split her life between two homesone with Mum, the other with Dad. Two beds, two favoured bunnies, one for each house. A loving Grandma Margaret and Grandma Jane (Bens mum). But love was a shared thing, and Lucy basked in it, never doubting: if those around her loved her, they couldnt be enemies. That simple truth was passed between them, just as Sophie once had, healing old wounds as she brought them together.
Only old Wilf knew the full story. But hed never say a wordnot because he couldnt talk, but because there was no need.
After all, its obvious to everyone: if mum is kind, her kittens will be too.
And Lucy had all the right start in life. One day, shed bring a new soul into the world, trace a gentle finger along her babys cheekjust as her mother had, and her gran before herand say,
Hello, my darlingIve been waiting for youAs Lucy grew, Wilfs ginger coat dulled and his steps grew slower, but the old cat still occupied pride of place at every milestone. Birthday parties, new schools, holiday mornings he watched from arms length or from Lucy’s bed, eyes twinkling, tail flicking whenever laughter filled the flat. Sophie sometimes caught herself whispering gratitude to him late at night, as if he understood every word.
One autumn day, Lucynow sixfound Wilf curled up in the patch of sunlight by her pillow, peaceful and still, a tiny smile ghosting his whiskers. There were tears, soft and deep, but there was warmth tooa whole family gathered round, telling stories about a cat whod outlasted two marriages, four generations, and more than a dozen lost keys.
Margaret, hair now silver, wrapped a gentle arm around her granddaughter and whispered, He was expensive, wasnt he, love? But worth every penny.
Lucy nodded, clutching Wilfs old collar. Mummy, do you think another stray will ever find us?
Sophie smiled, heart full, and glanced at her mother. Oh, darling, in this house? I think kindness finds us again and again.
Some pleasures, after all, are never too expensive. And when you pay in lovecats, daughters, grandmothers all knowits always a bargain.
