Chapter 9
Carrie and Poppy came downstairs to open up the shop on Tuesday, to find Michael waiting outside.
“Is everything OK?” Carrie asked, opening the door.
“Where’s Layla?” asked Poppy, looking behind him in hope of seeing her friend.
“She was picked up by her mum a while ago,” said Michael, answering Poppy first. “They’ve gone out shopping for the day. I’ll pick her up this evening.”
He turned his attention to Carrie. “Tabitha didn’t come home last night. You know what wanderers cats can be, but Tabitha likes her home comforts and it’s not like her. I don’t suppose you’ve seen her?”
“No, I haven’t, but I’ll call you if I do. She’d normally be round here as soon as we open to take up her position in the armchair. She’ll be back soon.”
“Do you think she’s lost?” asked Poppy, her little face falling.
“I bet she’s just been out wandering around and having a great time, and she’ll be home as soon as she’s hungry,” said Carrie.
“She’ll probably walk in the door any minute now, extra grumpy because she hasn’t had her breakfast,” Michael added. It was so sweet of him to be comforting her daughter when he was worried about his pet.
“Tabitha will be starving. Have we got some food for her, Mummy? She’ll need her breakfast straight away if she comes here!” Poppy worried.
“How about I bring some of her favourite cat food round in case she turns up here?” offered Michael.
“Yes, please. But are you sure you know which is her favourite?” Poppy asked.
“Of course I am!” Michael pretended to look shocked. “It’s a really stinky fish one which is twice the price of any others.”
Poppy wrinkled her nose which made Michael smile. “I’d better go and open up my own shop.”
“I’ll call you if she shows up,” reassured Carrie, placing her hand on his arm.
“Thanks,” he said, looking down at her hand. Her heart rate seemed to ramp up as he placed his own over hers, before saying, “And I’ll let you know if she comes home before visiting you.” Their eyes met for a moment before they parted and he headed back next door.
“I hope Tabitha’s all right,” said Poppy.
“She is,” reassured Carrie. “Cats like to go wandering around and then they just turn up like nothing’s happened, not understanding why everyone’s making such a fuss of them. Why don’t you go and make her chair all comfy for when she arrives?”
Poppy hurried off to complete her task.
Carrie prayed Tabitha was just busy exploring. She was such a grumpy thing but Layla and Poppy, and even Michael, loved her.
She opened the shop and tried to carry on as normal, keeping one eye on Poppy, who was definitely quieter than usual.
“Mummy? Can I have some paper to draw on?”
“You’ve got through your drawing pad already?” Carrie said distractedly as she opened the post.
“I’ve been drawing pictures of Tabitha, for if we need to call the police to help find her and they want to know what she looks like.”
Poppy came over to the counter with her pad.
“Oh, Pumpkin, they’re lovely, but Tabitha will be fine. I bet she’ll love to see these drawings though and you’ll be able to show them to her as soon as she saunters in. I’ll just get you some more paper from the office.”
The door to the office was ajar. As Carrie pushed it to open it further, she heard a tiny squeak. Spotting a rustling coming from inside a large cardboard box which had contained a shipment of books, and which had yet to be broken down, she knelt down gingerly and checked inside.
“Er, Poppy!” she called. “Come in here, Pumpkin. I’ve found Tabitha.”
Poppy came rushing in. “Careful, darling. She’s in this box, but I don’t think she’s very well. Can you sit next to her and talk to her quietly while I call Michael?”
* * *
Michael closed up his shop immediately and was in the office within minutes. The three of them peered into the cardboard box.
“Is she all right?” Carrie asked. “Her breathing seems funny.”
“Um, Carrie . . . I think she’s in labour,” Michael replied.
“In labour?”
“Yes. As in having kittens.”
Poppy’s eyes went wide.
“I thought she was just fat! Sorry, Tabitha,” said Carrie.
“I told you she wasn’t fat, Mummy,” reprimanded Poppy.
“I’m sure she forgives you,” Michael reassured Carrie. “I can’t believe I missed it. I just figured she was being fed by someone else.”
“Are you certain she’s in labour? How can you tell?” Carrie asked.
“I grew up on a farm. And, yes,” he said, stroking Tabitha’s head, “I’m certain. So much for being spayed, eh? I bet it was that ginger tom from down the road.”
“Should we get her to the vet?”
“I don’t think she’d be too impressed at being moved at the moment. If we get worried, we’ll call the vet straight away, but she seems comfortable.”
“Do we need to do anything?” Carrie asked, looking around the office like she might spot some cat labouring device handily lying around.
“The most important thing is that we keep quiet,” Michael said, pointedly. “She needs to be able to get on with it.”
“Right . . .”
“If we’d known in advance, we could have made the box more comfortable for her.”
“Does she have a basket at home that she likes? If it was put next to the cardboard box, then she could choose to move into it if she wants,” Carrie suggested.
“That’s a good idea,” Michael said. “I’ll carry the box through to my house and put it next to her basket.”
“You said we shouldn’t move her!” said Carrie immediately. “She’s in labour!”
“I’ll be really careful,” he promised.
“No, leave her here,” Carrie said. “I’ll keep the office door closed so it’ll be quiet and I’ll let you know if there’s any development.”
“I can’t expect you to look after my labouring cat! And you’ve got a bookshop to run.”
“You told me she needs to be left in peace. Seriously, you can’t move her now.”
“I can look after her,” said Poppy. “Tabitha really likes me.”
“She does,” agreed Carrie, “but I’m afraid you’re too little to do that by yourself.”
“Poppy can help me look after Tabitha,” said Michael. “If you don’t mind me taking over your office as well as my pet.”
“Of course, I don’t,” said Carrie.
“I’ll put a sign on the shop saying I’m in here and I’ll bring my laptop so I can at least answer emails and maybe bid on some books.”
“Great,” Carrie said. “We’ll keep an eye on her while you get your stuff.”
“Thank you. I’ll only be a few minutes. Call me if you’re worried.”
“I will, she’ll be fine. Are you sure there isn’t anything we should be doing for her?”
“Just keep her warm and comfortable. I’ll get a pouch of her food and her water bowl in case she wants it.”
Michael left to get his and Tabitha’s things and Carrie took the opportunity to have a quick Google to see if there were any suggestions to make the poor cat more comfortable.
It seemed Michael was right and that the best thing to do was to leave the cat in peace. But maybe some relaxing music . . . she got the laptop from behind the counter and found a ‘Six hours of relaxing music for mindfulness’ playlist which she started playing on low.
Tabitha seemed to glare at her, but Carrie knew she must have imagined it.
“Now, Poppy darling, Tabitha needs quiet and calm, OK? It’s really important for her, so if you need to be noisy or run around you must come out of the office and go into the garden. Can you do that?”
“I can, Mummy.”
“And you need to give her some space. She probably won’t want you stroking her very much.”
Poppy nodded. “Is Tabitha really going to have kittens?”
“Apparently so,” said Carrie.
“How many kittens is she going to have?”
“I’m not sure. I guess we’ll just have to be patient.”
Poppy gave herself a little excited hug. “I can’t wait to tell Granny. She’s not going to believe it!”
“She’s really not,” said Carrie with a sigh.
“I can’t imagine you’ll be wanting to go to holiday club this afternoon, will you?”
“No, thank you. I want to look after Tabitha.”
“That’s fine, Pumpkin.”
The bell over the door dinged and a couple of women came in. Carrie went to help them, leaving the door ajar so she could hear if there was a problem.
Michael returned while she was still serving. She gave him a smile as he went past her into the office laden down with a large box full of work and cat things. He gestured to check closing the office door was OK, and she gave him a nod.
Once the bookshop was empty again, Carrie knocked softly on the office door.
Poppy opened it with her finger on her lips. “You can come in,” she said, solemnly, “But you need to be quiet.”
“I promise,” said Carrie, fighting back a smile at how seriously her daughter was taking her duties.
Michael was sat at the desk with his laptop open in front of him. Carrie couldn’t make out what was on the screen, but it looked more like something Poppy would enjoy than anything he was doing for work. “You’ve put music on for the cat?” The corners of his mouth were twitching.
“Yes,” admitted Carrie. “I thought it might relax her.”
“I think that’s the cutest thing I’ve ever heard,” Michael said. Carrie felt herself begin to blush and looked away from Michael to check out Tabitha’s birthing set-up.
He’d set her basket down next to the box she’d settled in and placed a small bowl of cat food and another of water in with her.
“What about a cat litter tray?” Carrie asked. “Will she need one . . . during . . .”
“That’s a good point . . . I’d better go and fetch one. She usually prefers to go outside, but she won’t be able to here. I’ll just be a minute.”
“Can I come and help?” asked Poppy.
“Yep. I think I’ve got some biscuits you can carry back for me.”
Michael and Poppy left and Carrie sat down on the swivelly office chair.
“So, you’re about to become a mother, eh?” she said to the cat. “I’m sure you’ll be very good at it. And sorry again for thinking you were fat. I bet you have a lovely figure usually, and it’ll bounce right back.”
Tabitha shuffled around so she was facing the other way and closed her eyes.
“I guess you really would rather be quiet,” said Carrie.