An Expensive Pleasure
Clara, not again? How many times? I work just to keep your cat in comfort!
The cat Clara was desperately trying to coax into its carrier managed, once more, to twist free, land with an undignified thud, and slink into the darkest corner of the hall, emitting long, mournful yowls. Judging by his look, the cat Clara had long ago christened with the highly poetic nameByronwas determined to make his insignificant, in Denniss view, life as costly as possible.
It had been long ago, for Byron, or Baz as Clara called him with affection, had lived under her roof for nigh on ten years. No one knew his real age, not even Clara. Shed taken him in from the streets. He wasnt a kitten either; already a full-grown, though still young, tomcat as the vet at the surgery had told Claras mother.
It was at that surgery that Margaret, Claras mum, had rushed in with her daughter, tightly cradling the sorry-looking cat in an old baby blanket.
Please, save him!
Where did you find this thing? the young vet recoiled. You know hes a stray?
What does it matter what he is? Hes my cat! Just help him, cant you see hes suffering! So why stand about? Is my money any less than someone who drags in some fancy-bred Persian?
Margaret was so fired up at that moment that the young vet clearly reasoned it was wiser not to cross her. And quite right, too.
Margaret Fletcher had a reputation for stubbornness. And well she might! Try raising a child on your own, with no support and two elderly parents to care for. All that on a nursery teachers salary. Thats enough to make anyone hold their ground!
Margaret always stood up for herself, theres no denying that. Yet she was kindshe adored children and cats, and on occasion even dogs, though shed been wary of them since childhood.
She never gave anyone an easy ride, not the neighbours, not the parents of the children entrusted to her care, nor even strangers who occasionally assumed a single, delicate-looking woman was easy pickings.
But she had her way of handling things. She never yelled or scolded, but always managed to find the right words to flip the switch in an argument, sending things off in an entirely unforeseen direction. Where tempers should have flared, instead shed draw someone aside, and soon enough, the very person whod moments ago been berating her would begin to unburden themselves. The floodgates of hardship would open, and Margaret would simply nod and listen, offering gentle sympathy until, eventually, they thanked her, apologised, and went on their way.
How she did it, nobody could fathomMargaret herself least of all. She just knew how to listen, truly listen, not to shout over people but to genuinely try to understand them.
Yet this gift never quite translated to her own family life.
Her husband had up and left after barely a week of marriage. Margarets mother used to joke that hed lasted longer than anyone could have expected.
Painful, but, Margaret conceded, possibly fair. You couldnt build a family with a scatterbrain like her, she thought. Her husband said as much on his way out, grinning in her face: Youre as much a woman, Margaret, as I am a ballerina!
Of course, she was devastated.
But a couple of months later she realised she was expectingand her spirits lifted. Woman, after all! Men dont have babies, do they?
Margaret had looked forward to her daughters birth with more anticipation than she had ever felt for Christmas or her own birthday. Gala days were few and far between in her unremarkable life, but suddenly there was something truly momentous to await.
Her mother, however, did not share her enthusiasm or her sense of responsibility.
Why do this to yourself, Margaret? Its a burden! Youre young, quite pretty, even have a few prospects. You have a child and youll be eating nothing but beans on toast! And so will your child! Children are an expensive pleasure, Margaret. You dont realise it yetbut you will!
Mum, havent we always lived like that?
Exactly, Maggs! And what goods come of it?
Margaret thought it over. She was used to obeying her mother, but something inside her baulked at such an obvious solution.
The very thought of not having the baby would send her into a black pit of despair, suffocating and frightening. How could she put an end to what had already, in her heart, started? It wasnt even the tiny being she could barely sense, but keeping a promise to herself: she could be not only a woman, but a motherand she would defend that. It seemed she was fighting not just for the baby, but for herself, for her integrity and her future.
It was her gran who broke the deadlock. One day out of the blue she turned up in town, adjusting her best Sunday scarfa treat reserved for special occasionsand pronounced:
Have the child, Maggs! Ill help!
But Gran! What about Granddad? Hell never manage on his own in the village!
Dont you worry, petal. Hes as strong as an ox. And if he struggles, well bring him to town too, mark my words!
With that, Gran placed an immaculately wrapped bundle on the table, and Margaret instantly recognised the table runner shed embroidered as a child for her beloved grans birthday.
Go on, open it!
Margaret had never seen nor held so much money before or since.
Your granddad sold the old housetheres a new road going through the village, lands worth a fortune now. And all our savings are here too. Enough for a proper flat, mind you, not a palace. After that, youre on your own.
Gran, I cant accept
Of course you can! If not for you, then for the baby. Who else will care for them if not their mum?
That bundle of money was the straw that broke the camels back between Margaret and her mother.
So thats how it is… When I asked you for help, Mum, what did you say? You had none, told me not to expect a penny! And now Gran turns up like a fairy godmother? Fine, nothing more to say!
Gran then shooed Margaret out and had it out with her daughter.
But she never managed to convince Margarets mother. She refused to see how, despite all Margarets supposed shortcomings, everything a woman in her condition could desiresupport, a home, real helphad landed right in her lap. Not even winning the lottery would match it!
What exactly was so wrong in Margarets behaviour? She hadnt been reckless, she had a child by her husband, which was hardly a scandal. As her gran rightly said, If the cart tips, its not one horse to blame but both! And as he was a stallion, he ought to have pulled twice as hard, not run off!
About her age, Margaret said nothing. She just never tired of thanking her gran.
The flat was boughtan old, draughty place, four rooms, in need of repair but a palace by Margarets standards. Gran, whod made a living haggling at the town market, saw to the negotiations herself and bullied the agent into an excellent deal.
Dont look so shocked, love! Its harder to get top price for carrots than it is to weed them. All those years on the market werent for nothing, you know.
The place was transformed in months by a cheerful team under Grans gimlet eye and a very stern foreman. When Margaret first crept into her own room, where a cot was already set up, she burst into tears.
What are you blubbing for, daft thing? Smile! Now come and try out the new kettlelets tackle this kitchen!
Clara arrived early. Margaret was beside herself with worry, but all was well. Clara grew up healthy, sturdy, and astonishingly sensitive, though perhaps it was just as well given what her own mother had put her through.
You only love your gran because she bought you a flat and cares for the child! But me? You never even let me over the threshold to see my own granddaughter!
Mum, you could always visit. Just please, no rowsClara gets frightened.
Oh, does she now! She doesnt know which way up is up! What could scare her? Me, speaking a bit loud?
Mum, you shout you really do and Margaret was close to tears.
Her own beloved mother would not listen.
Well see how you like it when your own daughter talks to you this way!
She never will! Margarets tears suddenly dried up.
Oh, she will, just you wait. Its all a matter of how you raise them! I spoilt younow look at me! All I ever heard was Margie, Margie! And now, this is how my beloved daughter treats me! She walks all over me! Doesnt need her mum anymore!
Thank you, Mum, Margaret said quite serenely.
For what? Her mum was thrown.
For the lesson. Now I know exactly what not to do. Thank you for sparing me the mistake.
What are you babbling on about? Her mothers patience snapped, but Margaret was beyond caring.
The thought rang in her head: Ill be a different kind of mother!
Easier said than done.
Margaret never felt sure she was getting it right as she tried to build the right relationship with her daughter. Clara wasnt spoilt nor difficult, but she had a will of steeleven as a child, she knew what she wanted and how to get it.
Mummy, may I have a sweetie?
After lunch, Clara, love.
Not even one?
No.
All right, Mummy but after lunch, could I have two? Ill eat up properly!
Margaret laughed at her little trickster and always gave her two when the empty plate was pushed away.
Well done!
It was in these small moments that Claras character was formed. She quickly learnt that tantrums got you nowhere, and even managed to curb her lively gran with innocent words and doe eyes:
Granny, dont be cross. Its not prettyand you are so pretty! Look, no wrinkles if youre not frowning, come let me help!
Why? Even Margarets mum would hush, and quieten down.
Clara would settle her in the armchair, climb into her lap, and gently smooth her brow and the corners of her eyes.
There, all better! You look lovely!
Margaret would chuckle, seeing her mother melt under Claras small hands, but she wisely kept silent.
In time, the family settled.
Margaret worked, while Gran and Granddad, whod left his smallholding to move to town, kept an eye on Clara. They all managed together.
Things grew difficult when Gran became ill. The doctors gave little hope, but Margaret understood enough.
Gran, shall we go to London? Get you looked at by the very best?
Why, love? Ive lived my life. Im not afraid for mejust for you. And your granddad, poor thing. Hed be lost without medont leave him.
Oh Grandont say that!
Ah, nonsense! What am I talking about ignore me, love!
It was around then that Clara brought home the cat.
The day Byron appeared was also the day Margaret lost sight of Clara. Shed left school as usual, turned down the path leading homeand vanished.
Granddad, usually prompt, missed her by minutes.
How could a child disappear on a straight path just yards from home? It was a mystery.
Everyone searched: her classmates and their parents, older students, Margaret (summoned urgently from work), Granddad, and even Gran.
In the end, Clara found her own way home.
She arrived just as Margaret was preparing to contact the police, her face streaked with tears, contorted by pain and pity. Margaret said not a word, only grabbed the old blanket, wrapped up the gasping cat, and asked softly,
Are you all right, darling? Does anything hurt?
No! Mummy, hes the one hurting! Not me!
And Margaret rushed off.
It was just a short walk to the vet. In those moments, Margaret realised she now had a cat. Clara had claimed him, and whatever happened next, this feeble creature was now their responsibility.
Things werent as bad as feared. The catsaved from a mauling in the schools basement by some plumberswas battered and bitten, but with care hed recover. Soon enough the vet handed back the patched-up animal to Margaret.
Here you are. Be sure to get his jabsonce hes better. You say hes already a house cat, but hes turned up like a proper tramp. No microchip at all!
Margaret nodded, stifling a gasp at the bill.
You could buy two pedigree kittens for that she muttered hollowly, but paid up.
Back at home, after counting out her last notes, Margaret pondered the household budget. It wouldnt last the month. She needed more medicine for both Gran and the cat, and Claras birthday was loominga momentous occasion. Margaret, whod seldom received gifts for her own birthday, did her best to make sure her daughter never remembered such days with disappointment.
Mummy, might I ask something? Clara, supposed to be asleep long since, slipped into the kitchen and hugged her tightly.
What is it, love?
Dont get me any presents, please? May I just keep him? Let him be my present
Margaret hugged her daughter back, glancing at the grey ball curled at her feet. Shed tried to settle the cat in a box, but Byron persistently emerged and returned to her side, gently butting his nose into her slipper before purring away on the old fridge.
Needless to say, Byron stayed.
Remarkably, that scruffy creature, once a stray, soon became quite at home in the warm flat. He was no trouble at all to Margaret or Clara, and adored the old folksespecially Gran, whom he wouldnt leave even for a moment.
More than that, he began to change the fortunes of those who had taken him in.
Paying the vet bill, Margaret decided enough was enough. It was time to move beyond scraping by on a nursery wage and two state pensions. Shed always been afraid to make the leap in case she lost what little they hadbut, somehow, the cat gave her courage.
She handed in her notice, terrified but resolute, and took a job as a nanny with a lovely family, thanks to a friends recommendation. She soon scolded herself for not doing it sooner.
From then onward, she never struggled for work. Families recommended her so highly that when one child outgrew her care, another was waiting, and each time, her pay rose. Those who entrusted their children to her understood what a gift a great nanny really was.
Evenings, at home, shed always give Byrons long-healed ear a scratch.
Baz, thank you! If it wasnt for you
Byron would purr, patting Margarets hand, glancing then at Clara. He adored the older mistress but devoted his time to Clara wherever possible. Only when Gran called would he ever leave her side.
He was with Clara through primary school, sitting on her desk, pinning her notebooks with a paw to help with her homework.
He was there as she sat quietly by Grans room, wiping tears and saying her silent goodbyes to the woman who had made it all possible.
He was there when, just after Gran, Granddad quietly passed in his sleep.
He was there when, out of the blue, Margaret met someone wonderful, andafter years of doubtmarried again, finally free of the old refrain that she was not enough. Her new husband treasured her for everything shed once hidden even from herself, defended her from all comers, even her own mother, who was soon won over herself when gifted the use of her son-in-laws car, with driver.
Margarets mum now emerged from her building with a crate of seedlings, announcing theatrically to the neighbours, My son-in-laws come to take me to the allotment.
By then, Clara was at collegeconfidently independent, having quickly made peace with her step-father. She chose to remain in the flat she grew up in.
It was there she brought her beau.
Blimey, Clara, this is quite a palace!
Oh, hard to say
So much space! Oi, whats this?!
A hissing, indignant ball shot from Claras bedroom, launching itself at Dennis, who yelped and danced about, dodging the old cats furious leaps.
Get rid of him! Get rid!
Clara tamed the situation, but Byron never warmed to Dennis.
Claras boyfriend detested the cat in returnhed chase the creature away at every opportunity, always when Claras back was turned.
A year passed; Clara and Dennis wed, but something in the relationship soured. Dennis developed a habit of critiquing Clara, enough to leave Margaret dumb with shock. Her own daughter now heard the very words that had once been levelled at her.
What kind of woman are you, Clara? Is this your stew? Its just watery slop! You call this cooking? Some wife you make!
Clara had learnt to cook from Granshed mastered her first stew at tenso hopeless she was not.
But Dennis could find no faultuntil Byron gave him one.
Whats wrong with him now?! Dennis balked at the latest vet bill. Clara, are you mad? I spend less on myself! Hes just a bundle of fur!
Dennis, Byron isnt just a bundle of fur. Hes family!
Whose family? Not mine, thats for certain! No way! I want nothing to do with this mongrel!
How can you say that?
Just as you heard! I see this again, and Ill throw him out myself!
Clara, only that morning having learnt she was expecting, bit her tongue and resolved to talk later.
But Byron, now an old boy, again had an accident and she prepared another trip to the vet. Thats when Dennis, fresh from his morning runfitness was Dennis’s religioncame in.
He ate right, ran daily, and regularly reminded Clara that maintaining ones health was everything.
On hearing the cat needed more treatment, he furiously hurled his trainer at the wall.
Enough! Were getting rid of it! Im not wasting good money on that worthless fleabag! Outnow!
Only if you send me out with him! Clara, usually calm and steady, erupted. Whether it was nerves or hormones, who knew.
Fine then! Go with him! Why should I put up with any of it!
Something shifted between Clara and Dennis in a way that could never be undone. Where shed longed to raise their child in a full home, Clara now knew beyond doubt that this was not the family she wanted.
She didnt remind Dennis that the flat was hers, and that turfing her (and Byron, of all people) out of their own home was ludicrous.
She said nothing at all.
Silently, she reached into his windbreaker for the keys, closed them tight in her fist, and then opened the door with her own set and turned to Dennis.
Im pregnant. I cant argue and I cant be stressed. The cat understands. You dont. Please leave, Dennis. Go now. When you calm down, we can talk. But living with you I wont, Im sorry. If you so carelessly discard someone whos been at my side almost my whole life, if you could cast out a sick cat just because hes inconvenient, what happens to me when I become inconvenient? My feelings dont matter to you, do they? Thats it then. We had good timesIm thankful for them. But now its all gone wrong. Enough is enough, for both of us. Please go. You can collect your things some other time. I have to take Byron to the vethes hurting, and hes my responsibility. Thats just how it has to be.
Dennis didnt argue. He stuffed his gym bag with his documents and coat, slammed the door, and was gone.
Clara knew he hadnt even heard about the babyhe was too busy hating the cat to have listened.
She placed the carrier on the floor, waited as Byron entered itno fuss this timeand asked,
Ready? Lets go. Its time for a change. Lets start with looking after your health.
Byron ralliedthe years would catch up, and Clara would need the carrier more than once, waiting patiently as Byron deigned to enter and let a little hand stroke the tail. He allowed no such liberties except from one: Claras daughter, who would come to adore him beyond all else.
And for Clara, thered be no better nanny in the worldno one else could tuck her daughter up so swiftly, coaxing a giggling copy of Margaret to sleep with a gentle paw. The child would so resemble her grandmother that Clara nearly chose the name Margaret, but her mother dissuaded her.
Talk it over with Dennis. Its your child together. Even if you dont stay together, this little wonder will always be yours. Youve done so much to keep things amicable. Now do moreit wont be easy, but its worth it, for her sake.
Clara listened, to Denniss surprise.
Well, I never thought youd display such wisdom.
I must be growing, she smiled. What do you think?
I think I thank you! Thats what!
What for?
For not putting pride before our childs needs. Ill help you, Clara.
And Dennis kept his word.
Little Alice would split her time between both homes, never understanding why grown-ups turn life upside downbut to her, love was everywhere. Shed have two beds, two favourite rabbitsone at her fathers, one at her mothers. Shed have Gran Margaret and Nana Val. But love would bind them all, and Alice, bathing in it, would point out that if those who loved her wanted her happiness, then they must surely care for one another too. This small but vital insight would reach every adult, just as her mother had done in her own childhood, uniting them and washing away old wounds.
Only the old cat would know the whole truth of this little girl. Not because he couldnt speak, but because there was never any need.
Because, as everyone knows, kittens of a gentle cat always carry the mothers kindness.
And for little Alice, this was most certainly the case. One day, she too would bring new life into the world, stoop over a cot, trace a gentle finger over her babys cheekjust as her mother and grandmother did before herand whisper,
Hello, sweetheart. Ive waited so long to meet you.Youre safe now. And, you know what? Theres already someone here who loves you.
A soft, thudding leap onto the bed signaled Byrons gentle presence, slower now, but undiminished. His green eyes met Alices, unblinking and wise, as if to say: this is how families beginwith courage, with mistakes, with forgiveness, and an open heart.
As dusk painted long golden stripes across the bedroom wall, Alices laughter rosesmall, wild, and crystallineechoing through the home built on everyday miracles and the stubborn refusal to turn anyone away, be they battered stray, hopeful child, or even prodigal son-in-law.
Margaret, older but smiling, watched from the doorway. She caught Claras eye, and nothing needed to be said; the old promise was kept. Theyd held the line against bitterness and fear, choosing, even in hardship, the expensive pleasure of loving without conditions.
In the end, Byron curled up along Alices feet, his purr rumbling like distant thundera lullaby more powerful than any words. The cat whod once been a stranger on a cold street had become the heartbeat of three generations, his warmth tying together the patchwork quilt of their lives.
And when the house fell silent, and the little girls dreams wandered far, each soul resting under that roofor smiling down from memoryknew with gratitude the real treasure was not the flat, not the money, not even the luck that had brought them together.
It was the simple, steadfast miracle of loving and being loved in return.
