Keep the soul warm, Victor! barked Victor Thompson, tugging at the collar of his crisp white shirt. He snatched the tie from his wife Noras outstretched hand and fixed her with a stern stare.
What are you shoving at me? Hand over the one I brought back from London. Ive got a meeting with the board today.
Nora, without a word, fetched the requested tie and handed it over.
Ah, Im not in the mood for a knot, Victor muttered, raising his chin. He held his breath while Nora tied the tie in his favourite knot.
Glancing at his reflection, he huffed, adjusted the knot and gave Nora a condescending look, as if to say, Youll never get it right!
Take the eggs off the plate I dont want them. Bring coffee and toast, he commanded from the kitchen table. The coffees gone cold! You cant do anything right! irritation dripped from each syllable.
Just then his fiveyearold granddaughter Lucy appeared in the doorway, having arrived the day before with her mother for a weeklong stay. She leaned against the jamb, eyeing her grandpa with the seasoned judgment of a tiny critic.
Come here, Lucy dear, Victor cooed, reaching out. He settled her on his knee and whispered something softspoken, hoping shed snuggle up, giggle, and hug him. Instead, Lucy looked up, puzzled.
Grandpa, why are you talking to me like that? Only nice people speak that way.
Am I not nice? Victor asked, genuinely surprised.
No, not nice. Its chilly here, Lucy said, patting his chest with her tiny hand. She slid off his knee, trotted over to Nora, pressed a quick kiss to her cheek and chirped, Good morning, Gran.
Victor, still bewildered, barely heard the distant hum of a car. The driver was already waiting at the buildings entrance. He rose from the table, slipped on his freshly polished shoes, buttoned his coat and, clutching his briefcase, headed for the door.
Dont expect me for lunch. I may be late tonight, he shouted as he hurried out.
Descending the stairs, he mused that everything felt the same as alwaysbursting with energy, ready to move mountains for his subordinates. Any order from the top was obeyed, deadlines set, results checked. He told himself there was no need to worry how his team would manage; the work had to be done, even if it meant staying at the office round the clock. The worlds troubles were nobodys business.
Yet something gnawed at his spirit. Lucys words. It hurt to hear such blunt honesty from a tiny human.
Whats the matter, you little brat? he grumbled, stepping over the landing. Im not rude, Im strict! My job cant tolerate weakness, otherwise everything will crumble, at home or at work!
Between the second and third floor he spotted a twomonthold kitten huddled under the radiator, eyes wide with fear as people bustled past.
Someones left a mess in the hallway. Ill tell the caretaker to get it out! he muttered, though no caretaker was in sight, despite the fresh overnight snow coating the pavement and lawns.
Lazy! he exclaimed, stopping at the entrance, waiting for his personal driver, Volodymyr.
Office! he snapped at Volodymyr, frowning as he slipped into his thoughts.
Nobody could ever tell me that, he thought. Why? Because theyre scared. But Lucy isnt afraidgood on her! A babys mouth says the truth, doesnt it? Shes called me out on my coldness. Im not always this way; life made me this, but underneath Im a decent fellow wishing everyone well. He tried to convince himself, but it sounded a bit forced.
The roads are slick todayice everywhere, Victor suddenly said to Volodymyr, who looked up in surprise; the boss rarely used a friendly tone.
Its nothingour tyres are studded, and the pedestrians will feel it. The frost is biting though.
A few casual words later, Victors mood lightened. He peered out of the car at the chilly wind and shivering commuters at the bus stop.
Volodymyr, looktheres our girl, Lizzie from the procurement department, he pointed at a young woman barely older than his own daughter. Lets give her a lift.
Yes, sir, Volodymyr replied, pulling up beside Lizzie.
Lizzie, hop in before you freeze solid, Victor said, trying on a friendly smile. Lizzie returned the grin and slid into the back seat, her sparkling eyes instantly brightening the cabin.
What are you hiding in your coat? Victor asked.
Its this, she said, pulling a tiny shivering kitten from her lapel. I was waiting at the stop and it kept darting between people, rubbing against shoes, whimpering. It was freezing, and nobody seemed to care. I tucked it in my coat to warm it up. After my shift Ill take it home; my son will love it.
How old is your son? Victor inquired.
Hes turning seven today, just started Year 1. Hes quite independentdoes his homework, heats his own lunch.
Victor remembered how, earlier that month, hed forced the entire procurement team to work overtime for no pressing reason. So Lizzies lad was probably home alone then, he mused, feeling a pang of guilt.
Alright, Lizzie. Youve rescued a catconsider yourself on a halfday leave for your good deed and your sons birthday, Victor declared magnanimously. Make it a celebration. Ill explain everything to your manager. Volodymyr, lets get her home.
Oh, Victor, youre so kind! Lizzie beamed. Do you like cats too?
Do nice people have to love cats? Victor chuckled.
Not always, but anyone who loves cats is bound to be decent! she replied confidently.
As they neared the office, Victor asked his driver, Do you have a cat?
Two, Volodymyr replied with a grin. Two mischievous little furballs.
The workday proceeded in its usual brisk fashion, and during lunch Victor managed a casual chat with his deputy, Harold.
Youve got grandchildren, dont you? Victor asked.
Two, Harold said, winking. Little rascals!
They love you, I bet?
Of course! Harold laughed, squinting with pleasure. When they visit, Im not moving an inch. What dont we get up to together?
Youve got a cat at home, right?
How could I not? She runs the house! Harold exclaimed.
Victor raised an eyebrow.
That evening, after sending Volodymyr home, Victor climbed the stairs to his flat. Between the second and third floor, near the radiator, the same tiny kitten was curled up on a fresh rag, a bowl of food and a litter tray beside it.
Good grief, Victor sighed. A little creature, and no one gives a toss. Now youll have to winter here like a stray? Come with me, youll get nannies and a playmate.
He scooped the kitten into his arms, pressed it close, and rose onto his landing. The kitten purred, nestling against his chest, and a longforgotten warmth spread through Victors heart.
Grandpa! Lucy shrieked, spotting the kitten. I asked Gran to take it, and she said youd say no.
Why would I say no? Absolutely not, Victor replied, kissing Nora on the cheek. Just give it a wash and well think of a name.
An hour later, the kitten, now christened Whiskers, perched on Lucys lap while she sat on Victors. Lucy leaned against her grandpa, beaming.
Grandpa, its not cold here any more, she whispered, her hand resting on his chest. Its warm. Lets keep it like this, okay?
It will be, Victor promised. Now that theres a cat, itll never be cold again.
