**February 15th**
I saw you there, dont hide. What are you doing in our stairwell? The cat looked up guiltily, silently shifting its frost-stiffened paws at the edge of a puddle formed by melting snow clumped in its fur.
No one could remember exactly when this scruffy stray had appeared in the courtyard. It lived quietly, almost invisibly, like a shadowpretty despite the dirt and gauntness. The only thing anyone recalled was that it had turned up in spring.
A girl had fed it when she could, done what little she could to care for it: left the cellar door ajar in the cold, laid out old clothes for bedding, even dabbed green paint on its paw once when she thought it was wounded.
So the cat carried onsilent, 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 on the arm of a man in a smart suit. Laughter, cheers, ribbons on the carsthen they were gone. After that, the kind girl was never seen again.
The cat was alone. Hunger drove it to the bins at nightquieter then, with a chance to scavenge before the strays returned. The most important thing was avoiding those vicious dogs. That was how it survived until the bitter frosts came, and the new caretaker locked it out of the cellar.
Where could it go? Half-frozen, it tried the stairwell. But no one wanted it theresome shooed it away, others kicked and shouted. No one would let the shivering creature inside.
Desperate, one evening it crept into the five-storey buildings stairwell. It had no strength left to fear or hope. It didnt carejust so long as it didnt freeze to death that night.
Elizabeth StephensLizzie to the neighbourswas the first to notice. She lived on the second floor, a stern but fair woman, respected by everyone. Shed been checking her postbox, waiting for the rent bill.
The cat, having slipped in unseen, had curled by the radiator, barely breathing. Its fur was icy, its eyes pleading and exhausted.
I see you. Dont hide. What brought you here? Freezing and hungry, arent you? Lizzie scolded.
The cat looked up, barely moving its stiff paws as the ice beneath them melted.
Well, what am I to do with you? Wait here
She knew hunger. Her legs ached from wartime privations, but she climbed to her flat anyway and returned with a bowl of food, water, and an old moth-eaten jumper.
There, eat. Poor thingdont worry, I wont take it from you. She sighed, watching the cat gulp down the barley and liver scraps.
She spread the jumper on the floor, then left, forgetting the rent bill entirely.
The cat, warm for the first time in ages, decided this was home now, and the strict but kind woman was its owner.
To avoid being chased out again, it behaved quietly, disciplinedlike a house cat from its old life. Lizzie even gave it a name: Molly.
Not everyone approved. The Pastons from the third floor came down, Edward wrinkling his nose.
Whats this, a zoo now?
His wife, wrapped in an expensive coat, pinched her nostrils. Edward, that cat stinks!
Get rid of it, he ordered.
Lizzie straightened. Why? Shes no trouble. She stays.
Fine. Ill call the council. Theyll take it, and youll be fined. This is common property!
Lovely. And Ill report how a warehouse manager lives like a lord on stolen goods. The neighbours will back me. Touch this cat, and youll regret it.
After that, Molly was left alone. Even the snappish terrier, George, walked past as if she didnt exist.
Weeks passed. Everyone adjusted. But Lizzie knew Molly wasnt truly safe. Though the cat stayed close, it was still a stray.
She considered taking her in, but Molly avoided the flats, as if afraid. Something terrible must have happened to her.
Lizzie didnt push. She hoped Molly would enter on her own.
And she didwhenever Lizzie left the door ajar, Molly would follow, watching, listening, but never venturing far.
Then, in February, during a blizzard, Lizzie woke gaspingpain tearing through her chest. The world blurred.
The neighbours were roused by Mollys desperate yowls, claws tearing at the door.
They knocked, calledno answer. Then Nina from upstairs arrived.
Ive got a key. Lizzie and I agreed
Inside, they called an ambulance. Molly wouldnt leavehuddled under the bed, mewing pitifully.
Elizabeth Stephens had no family. The war had taken them all. She was alone.
But the neighbours visited the hospital, brought little gifts. And each time, shed say:
Look after my Molly. Feed her. Let her back in. She saved me.
Three weeks later, on a March morning, Lizzie came home. Molly was waiting at the door, as if she knew.
Lizzie held out her arms.
Come on, Molly. Lets go home.
And together, they stepped inside. That evening, Lizzie held her for the first time. The cat purred, pressing close.
Its all right, Molly Weve got a little more time left.
