A Costly Pleasure
“Clara, not again? Really? How long is this going to go on for? Feels like Im working just to keep your cat fed!”
The cat, which Clara was desperately trying to wrangle into his carrier, twisted nimbly out of her grasp, tumbled to the floor with a soft thud, then scrambled into the corner of the hallway, his low, mournful yowls echoing through the house. From the look of him, the catwho bore the rather romantic name of Byron, bestowed upon him by Clara long agohad decided his sad little life was going to be a dear price for anyone to take.
Long ago, indeed, for Byronwhom Clara affectionately called Bazhad been her companion for nearly a decade. No one knew his true age. Clara had found him on the street. Not as a kitten, either; Baz was already a grown but young cator so the vet assured Claras mother when she carried him in, wrapped in an old baby blanket.
Claras mother, Edith, had rushed to the clinic with her, clutching the bundled cat close.
“Please, help him!”
“And where did you find this creature?” The young woman behind the desk wrinkled her nose. “Hes just an alley cat!”
“What does that matter? Hes my cat now! Cant you see hes in a state? Why are you waiting? Does my money not count here? Is it not as good as the fancy cat owners?”
Edith was so fierce in her defence that the receptionistwiselychose not to argue. She had good reason: Edith Helen Reed was as stubborn as they come. Such was liferaising a child alone, caring for aged parents, all on a nursery nurses wage. No wonder shed grown a backbone.
Edith could always stand up for herself, but she was gentle too. She loved her daughter, and all animals (even dogs, despite her secret childhood fear of them). No one got an easy pass from her, not the neighbourhood gossips, not parents at her nursery, not even strangers who took one look at a petite, solitary woman and saw an easy mark.
But Edith had her own waynever shouting or arguing, but always finding the one point that turned a row around. More often than not, someone whod come at her full of anger would suddenly find themselves pouring out their troubles to her, sheepish and defeated. Shed nod and listen, comfort them quietly. Often, they left apologising, even bringing her presents in thanks.
She never quite understood her gifthow she always knew just what to say to reach someones sore spot, to make them listen. Maybe it was because she truly listened first, never tried to shout anyone down. Who can say?
Yet this magic of hers never quite worked with family. Her husband vanished a week after their wedding. Her mother liked to joke hed lasted longer than most would havehurtful, but with more than a grain of truth. Edith, after all, wasnt easy: as her husband put it, “Youre as much a wife as I am a prima ballerina.”
She was heartbroken, but then, weeks later, she discovered she was pregnant, and suddenly things made sense again. She was a woman, after all; men cant carry life.
Edith counted down the days to the birth of her daughtermore than Christmas, more than her own birthday. Life had never offered her much to celebrate, but this was something.
Her mother didnt share her excitement.
“What do you need this for, Edith? A burden! Youre young, pretty enough; youve got prospects. But a baby? Youll be just scraping by on pasta! And youll doom the child to that too! Children are a costly pleasure, Edith. You might not understand now, but one day you will!”
“Werent we just as poor, Mum?”
“Exactly, Edith darling! And what good did it do?”
Edith hesitated. Shed always obeyed, but now, something deep within her rebelled. The thought of not having her child suffocated her; she couldnt breathe. It wasnt about the tiny, formless babe inside herit was about her right to be more, to be a mother as well as a woman. Someone wanted to take that from her. She didnt think about having the choice; she simply knew her integrity, even her future, depended on that child.
It was Grandma who settled the matter. Out of the blue, she appeared in town, adjusting her Sunday-best scarf, and declared, “Have the baby, Edith. Ill help you.”
“But Granwhat about Granddad? Hes on his own in the village!”
“Hes tougher than you or I. Hell manage; and if not, well bring him to stay with us.”
She placed a neat little bundle on the table. Edith recognised her grandmothers best towel, sewn long ago as a name-day present.
“Remember this? Open it up.”
Edith had never seen so much money in her life. “Granddad sold our house. The new roads going right through the village. Lands dear now. This is all our savings too. Enough for a flat, even if its small. After that, youre on your own.”
“I cant”
“You can! Not for yourself, for the child. Who else if not you, the mother?” So, the matter was settled. It led to a proper row between Edith and her mumher mother fuming that shed never been given a similar offer when she needed help, but Grandma stood firm.
Grandmas shrewdness made finding a flat a breeze. She ran rings around the estate agents, haggled fiercely, and got them a good-sized four-roomer in a tatty but solid old block. With the help of a lively crew led by a gloomy foreman and Grandmas stern supervision, the place was transformed in a couple of months.
“Why are you looking at me, love? All those years of barrow-selling on the market werent wasted! Selling cabbages for a profit is harder work than you might think!”
Edith loved the flat. When she tiptoed through it for the first time, seeing the new cot in her daughters room, she burst into tears.
“What are you crying for, silly thing? Be glad!now come, lets tackle the new kitchen!”
Clara was born a little early, but healthy and gentle. Edith, seared by memories of her own mothers harshness, vowed shed never treat her daughter that way.
“Your Grannys closer to you than I am now! Of course she isshe bought you the flat, helps with the baby. But me? You never even let me in!”
“Mum, no ones stopping you. Just, please, no scenesClara gets scared.”
“Scared! The worlds upside-down to her; shes a baby! What scares hermy voice?”
“You dont speak, Mum, you shout” Edith nearly wept. The person she loved most simply wouldnt listen.
“Wait till your girl talks to you like that!”
“It wont happen,” said Edith, her voice suddenly calm.
“It will! Its all in the raising! I pampered you, and now lookmy dear little Edith, and she treats me like this! Sat right on my head!”
“Thank you, Mum,” Edith replied, her voice completely steady.
“For what?”
“For teaching me what not to do. Im gratefulyouve saved me from making your mistake.”
“Youre talking nonsense, as usual!” But Edith didnt listen any more. All she thought was, “Ill be a different mother.”
Easier said than done.
Edith often doubted herself, but Clara was not a fussy child. Even as a youngster, she knew her mind, and would gently but surely get her way.
“Mummy, can I have a sweet?”
“After lunch, darling.”
“Really none at all?”
“Not before lunch.”
“Alright then! Can I have two after I eat nicely?”
Edith laughed, always granting the second sweet if the plate was clean.
Bit by bit, Clara learned drama didnt payand shed even manage to pacify her fussy grandmother with a sly smile:
“Granny, dont get cross! Its not prettyand you are pretty. Mustnt get wrinkles! Come here.”
“What for?” Ediths mother actually grew quiet as Clara clambered into her lap and smoothed imaginary creases from her forehead and eyes.
“See, now? Lovely and smooth. All better!”
Edith watched, hiding a smile, as her mother melted each time.
Gradually, things settled down. Edith worked while Grandma and Granddad (who had finally retired and moved to town) took care of Clara. Life wasnt easy, but together they managed.
It grew tough when Grandma fell ill. The doctors were grave; Edith knew what was coming, though she hoped against hope.
“Granny, shall we go to London for a specialist?”
“What for, love? My times come. Im not afraid of leaving, only afraid of leaving you and Granddad. Hes sad, you knowdont leave him alone.”
“Dont be daft, Mum!”
“Ah, ignore me, love!” It was just then that Clara brought home the cat.
The day Baz arrived was the very same day Edith almost lost her daughter. Clara left school, walked home as usual, and simply vanished. Her granddad missed her by mere moments. Where could a child disappear, walking the straight path from the school gates to their front door? It was a mystery.
Everyone searchedclassmates, parents, Edith (rushed from work), Granddad, even a visibly unwell Grandma. But in the end, Clara came back of her own accord, her face streaked with tears and twisted with worry and pity. Edith didnt scold; she simply wrapped the nearly lifeless cat in a blanket and asked:
“Are you alright, sweetheart? Are you hurt?”
“No, Mummy! Hes the one whos hurt, not me!”
And so, to the vet they went.
Baz had been saved from a pack of dogs by plumbers working in the schools basement. He was battered, bitten, exhaustedbut alive. The vets fixed him up and handed Edith her purring bundle.
“Now, get his jabs sorted once hes strong. You say hes your pet, but hes not even got a passport!”
Edith nodded, but nearly choked at the bill. “For that money, I could have bought two pedigrees,” she muttered as she paid, but pay she did. At home, counting her pennies, she realised things were tight. She needed medicine for Baz, more for Grandma, and Claras birthday was right around the cornerno small matter.
Clara slipped into the kitchen, well past her bedtime, and hugged Edith. “Mum, I dont need a present. Please, can I keep him? Hell be my gift”
Edith held her close, gazed at the furry creature curled at her feet, and gave in. As for Baz, he had no intention of leaving. No box for himhed stubbornly clamber out and curl up next to Edith, his head nestled against her slipper, purring like an ancient fridge. There was no question: Baz was here to stay.
And, against all odds, the ragged stray adapted quickly. He never caused trouble. He adored the old folks, hardly leaving Grandmas side. In his own peculiar way, he started changing the lives around him.
After Bazs medical bills, Edith had had enough. She was tired of scraping by on her nursery nurses wage and two pensions. It had taken the cat for her to take a leap: she quit, terrified, but got a job as a nanny for a lovely family through a friend. She reproached herself for not doing it sooner.
Work stopped being a problem. Families passed her number on like treasure; with each new position, her pay climbed, because everyone knew finding the right nanny was everything. Each night, shed come home and scratch Bazs now-healed ear.
“Thank you, Baz. If it werent for you”
Baz would purr, giving her hand a gentle tap with his paw, before glancing at Clara. He loved his older mistress dearlyyet he belonged to Clara. He spent all his time with her except when Grandma called him away. Otherwise, he was Claras constant shadow.
As Clara grew, Baz was always there – on the desk as she did her homework, paw on the corner of her workbook, helping in his way. He sat with her when she quietly cried at Grandmas sickroom door, and again, months later, as they mourned Granddad, peacefully gone in his sleep.
He was there when, at long last, Edith met a kind manand, after much thought, married him. He saw her new husband, Lawrence, for the man he was, someone who cherished Edith for all she was, and who would not let anyone, not even her mother-in-law, wrong her. Lawrence quickly won over Ediths mother, offering her rides to the allotment in his carkit cub in tow.
Now Ediths mother would sweep out of her building with seed trays in hand, announcing to her neighbours, “My son-in-laws come to drive me to the garden!”
By then, Clara was studying in college, grown and independent, but she chose to stay living in the old flat she called home. It was there she brought her own chosen one, Ben.
“Blimey, Clara, this is a palace!”
“Oh, come off it!”
“And look at all the space! Oiwhats that?”
A hissing, spitting ball of fur shot out of Claras room and leaped at Ben, who shrieked and hopped around trying to evade Baz’s claws.
“Get him away from me! Get him away!”
Clara calmed the cat, but relations between Ben and Baz remained icy. Baz couldnt stand him. Ben would chase Baz off whenever he got the chance, always ensuring Clara wasnt looking.
A year passed; Clara and Ben married. But something in their marriage turned sour. Ben found fault in the way Clara did everythingher cooking especially.
“What sort of wife are you, Clara? Is this meant to be stew? Looks like muddy water! Cant you even cook?”
Claras grandmother had taught her to cook long before she was ten; she was certainly no fool in the kitchen. When that failed, Bens scorn found its new target: Baz.
“Whats wrong with him?” Ben blanched at the vet bill. “Are you mad, Clara? I dont spend that much on myself! For a mangy fleabag?”
“Baz is not just a fleabag, Ben. Hes family.”
“Family? Hes not mine! I want no part of it!”
“What are you on about?”
“You heard! If this happens again, Ill throw him out myself!”
Clara had just, that morning, found out she was expecting a baby. She bit her tongue and said nothing, deciding to talk to Ben later.
But Bazan old cat nowhad an accident again, and Clara had to get the carrier ready for another trip to the vet just as Ben returned from his morning run.
He was obsessive about his healthearly runs, proper mealsand forever nagged at Clara for not doing the same. “Health is everything!”
When she told him Baz needed more treatment, Ben threw a trainer against the wall in a fit.
“Enough! Were getting rid of that animal. Im not spending another penny on a useless beast! Out he goes!”
“Then youll be rid of me too!” snapped Clara, usually calm, suddenly fiercewhether from frayed nerves or the baby’s influence, she couldnt tell.
“Fine by me! Im fed upwhy am I supposed to put up with all this?”
Something shifted between them, irreparably this time. Yesterday, she wanted to patch things up, keep her family together for the babys sake. Now, she knew she could not.
She didnt remind Ben this was her home. She didnt mention that kicking her out, along with the cat who had guarded it all these years, was out of the question.
Clara said nothing. She simply took Bens keys from his jacket pocket, held them tightly, opened the door, and faced him.
“Im pregnant. I shouldnt be upset, and I cannot argue. The cat understands this. You dont. Please go. Leave now and, when youre ready, well talk. But I cant live with you anymore. If you so easily dispose of someone whos spent most of my life with me, if you can throw out Baz when he needs you most, what will you do when you grow tired of me? You dont care about my feelings; am I right? We had good times, Ben, and I thank you for them. But now theres too much unhappiness, and thats more than enough. For me, for you. Take your things later. Now, I have to go. Baz needs to see the vet; hes unwell. He needs meand Im responsible for him. Thats how it must be.”
Ben didnt argue. He stuffed his documents and jacket in a bag and slammed the door behind him.
Clara knew hed not even heard her news about the babyhe was too obsessed with the cat to listen.
That day, Clara set the carrier on the floor and waited. Baz, now resigned, climbed in without fuss.
“Ready? Lets go. Time for a changestarting with your health.”
Baz recovered. Of course, age would take its toll and there would be more vet trips, more times when Claras little daughtera giggling image of Edithwould stroke his tail in the carrier. Baz allowed no one else such liberties, but to Claras daughter, he permitted anything and more.
For years, she would have no better nursemaidnone could settle the child as swiftly as Baz, whod press a gentle paw to her pillow, calming her laughter. The girl so resembled her grandmother that Clara almost named her Edith too, but her mother persuaded her otherwise.
“Talk to Ben. Shes your child together. You wont live as one family, but the child will always bind you. Youve worked at keeping things civil; now do more. It wont be easy, but for her sake, try.”
Clara listened, to Bens surprise.
“Its strange; Id never seen that kind of wisdom in you.”
“Well, Im growing. So, what do you say?”
“I say Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For not making it all about you. Ill help, Clara.”
Ben kept his word. Little Alice had two homes, two beds, two favourite stuffed rabbitsone at Mums, one at Dads. Two grandmothers: Edith, and Bens mother, Joyce. But love was one and the same, and Alice was sure of this: if these grown-ups all loved her and wanted her happiness, then they werent strangers to each other. This small but powerful idea began with Alicejust as it had long ago with Clarabringing the family together and making old wounds fade.
And only old Baz knew the real truth about this little girl. But he shared it with no one, for there was no need.
For anyone can seea mother cat gentle and loving will raise her kittens just the same.
And for Alice, that was exactly as it should be. One day, she too would welcome her own child, lean over the crib, stroke their cheek as her mother did, as her grandmother did before her, and whisper,
“Hello, little one. Ive waited so long for you”
