I see you, dont hide. What are you doing in our stairwell? The cat glanced up guiltily, silently shifting its frost-numbed paws at the edge of a puddle formed from the ice melting off its matted fur.
No one remembered exactly when this scruffy stray had first appeared in the courtyard. It lived quietly, almost invisibly, like a shadowa beautiful but dirty, half-starved thing. The only thing anyone recalled was that it had turned up in spring.
A girl had fed it when she could, looked after it as best she could: leaving the cellar door ajar in the cold, laying out old clothes for bedding, once even smearing green ointment on its paw when she spotted a wound.
So the cat carried onsilent, cautious, nearly unseen.
Then one day, it watched as the same girl, dressed in white with flowers in her hair, stepped out of the stairwell on the arm of a man in his Sunday best. People surrounded them, laughing, applauding. Everyone piled into ribbon-decked cars and drove off. After that day, the girl was never seen again.
The cat was left alone. Hunger drove it to the bins at nightquieter in the dark, with a better chance of scavenging something before the strays returned. The most important thing was avoiding those vicious dogs. It survived like that until the bitter frosts set in, and the new caretaker chased it from the cellar, locking the door tight.
Where could it go? Half-frozen, it tried slipping into the stairwell. But no one wanted it theresome shooed it away, others kicked and shouted. No one would let the shivering creature inside.
One desperate evening, it crept into the stairwell of the five-storey building at the end of the row. Too weak to fear or hope, it didnt care anymorejust so long as it didnt freeze to death that night.
The first to notice was Elizabeth Stevens, known to everyone as Auntie Liz. She lived on the second floor and was checking her postboxwaiting for the rent bill. Stern but fair, she was respected in the neighbourhood. No one dared argue with her, not even the residents committee.
The cat, having slipped in unseen, hunched by the radiator at the turn of the stairs, barely breathing. Its fur was icy, its eyes pleading and exhausted.
I see you, dont hide. What brought you here? Frozen and starving, arent you? Liz snapped.
The cat lifted its gaze guiltily, barely shifting its stiff paws as the ice beneath them thawed.
Well, what am I to do with you? Wait here.
She knew hunger. During the war, her legs had barely carried her, yet she trudged up to her flat and returned with a bowl of food, water, and a moth-eaten old woollen cardigan.
Here, eat up. Poor thing, dont worryI wont take it from you, she sighed, watching as the cat gulped down the liver-laced barley.
She spread out the cardigan, then turned back, completely forgetting the rent bill
The cat, warm for the first time in ages, decided this was home now, and the stern but kind woman was its owner.
To avoid being driven out again, it behaved quietly and obediently, as it had long ago in its past life as someones pet. Auntie Liz even gave it a nameMaisy.
Not everyone welcomed the new tenant. The Pastons came down from the third floor. Edward stopped in front of Liz, eyeing the cat with disdain.
Whats this, a zoo?
His wife, wrapped in an expensive fur coat, pinched her nose theatrically.
Eddie, that cat stinks!
Get rid of it, he ordered.
Liz straightened up.
Why should I? Its not bothering anyone. It stays.
Fine, Ill call the council. Theyll take it away, and youll get fined. This is common property!
Lovely. And Ill report you to the fraud office. Let them see how a warehouse manager lives like a lord, smuggling out shortages every day. The neighbours will back me up. Hurt that cat, and youll regret it.
After that, the cat was left alone. Even the usually menacing bulldog, Rocky, walked past as if he hadnt noticed.
Weeks passed, and everyone grew used to Maisy. But Liz knew it wasnt safe. Though the cat stayed close, it was still a stray at heart.
She considered taking it in, but Maisy avoided the flats, as if frightened. Something terrible must have happened to it.
Liz didnt push. She hoped one day it would step inside on its own.
And sure enough, whenever she closed the door, Maisy would follow, watching, listeningbut never going far
Then, in February, during a blizzard, Liz woke gasping for air. Pain shot through her chestshe couldnt even cry out. Everything blurred, as if fog had swallowed the room
The neighbours were roused by Maisys desperate yowling. The cat clawed at the door, tearing at the faux leather.
People rushed out, knockingno answer. Then Nina from the third floor came down.
Ive got a key. Liz and I agreed
They opened the door. An ambulance was called. Maisy wouldnt leaveit crouched under the bed, wailing.
Liz had no family. The war had taken them all. She was alone
But the neighbours visited her in hospital, bringing little gifts. Each time, shed say only one thing:
Look after my Maisy. Feed her. Let her back in. She saved my life
Three weeks later, on a March morning, Liz came home. Maisy was waiting at the door, as if it knew
Liz held out her arms.
Come on, Maisy. Lets go home.
And together, they stepped inside. That evening, Liz held the cat for the first time. It purred, pressing close.
Its all right, Maisy Weve a little life left in us yet.
