THE BRIDE
Violets breath caught as she peered through the kitchen window, her fiancés face twisted with rage as he struck little Maisie, who had accidentally trodden her mucky paw on his fresh white trainers. Daisy tried to leap to her friends defence, but caught a hard blow across the snout from the heavy leather lead. Now she understood at last why her cats and dogs so fiercely disliked Martin.
Violet sat at the window, lost in thought as the winter dusk settled over Manchester. Window lights flickered to life across the street. She paid them no mind; whether it was day or night made no difference to her. Her mind was a whirlpool of worry.
On the surface, she had everything: a spacious flat, a proper NHS job, and all the outward signs of a comfortable life. Yet still, romance eluded her. Time ticked on; all her schoolmates were married, raising children, and here she wasalone.
Would she, an intelligent and pleasant woman, spend her days as a spinster? What was it she lacked? She turned to her furry companions pressing close, the only ones who seemed to understand her silent sadness.
Her parents had died youngone after the otherleaving Violet in Grans care. From then on she was determined: she would become a nurse. She didnt make it into university, but was accepted to nursing college, and now worked long hours as a paramedic.
Gran had moved to a cottage in the countryside ages ago, giving Violet the chance to find her own happiness. But love had never quite worked out.
As a child, Violet dreamed of both a cat and a dog, but her mothers severe animal allergies scuppered those plans. Once, Violet brought home a stray kitten, cheeks flushed with prideher mum had an asthma attack that very night. The tabby, Toffee, ended up living with Gran.
After her parents were gone, Violet rescued a tomcat, Whiskers, from behind a takeaway. She wanted a dog too, but Gran was wary of taking on more responsibility.
Now, instead of a partner, Violet had five loyal friends without whom life would be unbearable. Daisy, the mongrel, had been a shivering puppy lurking by the Tesco entrance, chased away by bored security guards. Violet whisked her away in her shopping bag and hurried her home.
Daisy turned out clever and boundlessly energetic, earning her nickname for dashing about like a bulleta perfect match for sedate old Whiskers.
That wasnt the end. Soon Maisie, a dachshund, joined the clan. Her owners moved to swankier digs and decided shed spoil the expensive new carpet, so they dumped her out in midwinter and left. Maisie, stout-legged and wise-eyed, spent a whole week whimpering at the old door, until Violet rescued and nursed her frozen ears.
Maisie became the epitome of a domestic dogcalm, prudent, and dignified beyond her years. On cold walks, Violet lovingly tied a chunky woollen scarf around her neck. Maisie wore it gladly, trundling along like a miniature strict grandmother, to the amusement of all.
The grandest of Violet’s pets arrived on her own: Lady Catherine, the cat. Hurrying out to an early ambulance shift, Violet nearly tripped on a ball of snow and ice that revealed itself to be a starving queen. Violet ushered her in, gave her cheese and ham sandwiches, and taped a note on the lobby noticeboard: Please, dont throw this cat out! I’ll collect her when Im off shift. Violet, Flat 7.
Returning that afternoon, Violet immediately dubbed her Lady Catherineon which, to her delight, the cat responded. Lady Catherine was imposing despite her misadventures, and quickly asserted herself as head of the household, enforcing cleanliness and order. At night, shed patrol the flat, keeping her new family in line.
Last of all came Patch, saved from a brutal crow attack in the city park. Quiet and shy, Patch never argued or fought, accepting anyones leadership. The five former strays formed a secret alliance, each striving to please their mistress.
Violet adored her little gang, though she knew many a serious-minded suitor would balk. Gran, ever pragmatic, cautioned her, Oh, Violet, love, that’s an awful lottwo dogs, three cats. Some men might not fancy that at all, even if your place is roomy. Not everyone loves animals as you do, and most cant be bothered with the mess.
Well, if thats the case, Gran, then hes not for me.
And so it came to pass. Violets first real romance, just as she started nursing, ended because Anthony hated pets. She didnt lose sleep over him.
Then came Martincharming, with swimmers shoulders and a swimmers grin, a county champion no less. He knew how to court a woman, sometimes even walking Daisy and Maisie for her. Talk of marriage followed.
But over time, her animals grew wary. Daisy rumbled at Martin, Maisie shrank behind Violet, barking nervously. The cats kept their distance, and Lady Catherine hissed if he tried to touch her.
That afternoon, dicing onions in the kitchen, Violet fled to the balcony for air and saw Martin, face contorted, lashing out at Maisie. Daisy dived to help and got whipped, hard, with a lead.
She raced outside, snatched the leads out of Martins hands, and wordlessly struck his knuckles with them.
Violet! Are you mad? That hurt!
Hurt? So its all right for them to hurt, but not you? How dare you hit my animals? Am I next in line for your temper?
Oh, it was nothinga tap. Teach them not to muck up my trainers.
Get outnever come back!
Fine, whod want to live in this menagerie anyway? spat Martin, laughing cruelly, Scroungers, the lot of them!
Violet grieved for her shattered hopes, haunted by Martins words. A whole year wasted, only to discover his cruelty too lateshed never truly known him.
Another year passed. Just as she reconciled herself to lonely contentment, love struck unexpectedlyand hard. She met Jonathan Clarke, consultant in trauma surgery, during a night shift at A&E, when fate threw them together over a car crash victim. Their eyes met, and Violets heart skipped: instantly, irreversibly smitten. Shed never believed in love at first sightuntil now.
Jonathan made use of his professional privileges to get her number and called the next evening. They began to meet in earnest.
Violet could see he was seriousa tall, reserved man, given to listening more than he spoke. She was both exhilarated and terrified, wondering if, once again, it would all slip away. This time, she chose to hide her pets. Shed confesseventually, after the wedding.
Half a year went by. Jonathan introduced Violet to his sister Sarah and her husband. He drove her to Berkshire to meet his parents. She introduced him to Gran.
Violet had visited Jonathans bachelor flat countless times, but found excuses not to have him over, blaming visiting relatives or bouts of flu. Eventually, even she admitted it was too suspiciousshed either have to tell the truth or string the lie along.
She made her decision. All the pets, with their baskets and bowls, she carted to Grans. Daisy and Maisie were used to visits; the cats loved Gran, who already cared for Toffee. Gran was resolutely unimpressed.
Violet, you cant start a marriage on a lie. Dr Clarkes a good man. What if he finds out?
Gran, I cant cope without himor them. What if he leaves because of them? Ive got no choice.
Well, all right. But come round every day to see themnot just at weekends. But I warn you, thisll end in tears.
Every day, Violet hurried to visit her gang. Jonathans suspicions vanished; he soon proposed, slipping a heart-shaped amethyst ring onto her finger.
I should warn youmy dowrys not exactly spectacular, Violet laughed, flushed with happiness.
Wedding plans swelled to fill every hour. After a heavy shift at the ambulance station, Violet promised Gran shed pop by that eveningthere was the dress, the restaurant menu, the jewellers. She and Jonathan barely had time to catch their breath.
They made it home, needing to finalise guest lists and banquet choices. Over a late lunch of tea and cakes, they jotted down names.
Jonathan gathered the bin rubbish, but the kitchen bin overflowed. He went to empty itand out tumbled empty cat and dog food packets.
Whats all this, then?
Oh, nothing, Jon. Ill explain later, Violet stammered, changing the subject.
Meanwhile, Gran let Daisy and Maisie have a run in the snowy garden. The postie arrived with the pension. Gran hurried her in, leaving the gate and front door ajar. Lady Catherine, Whiskers, and Patch slipped into the open, joining Daisy and Maisie outside. Only Toffee remained inside, watching bemused. After convening briefly, the furry crew trotted out onto the street, with Daisy leading and Lady Catherine bringing up the rear, eyes peeled for stragglers.
Onlookers stopped and stared as the odd little procession made its way across the crossingsMaisies scarf trailing at a rakish angle, drawing smiles from passing mums.
Upstairs, Jonathan heard scrabbling and a chorus of barks and meows. Opening the door, he froze as two dogs and three snow-spattered cats bustled inside, tails wagging expectantly.
What teams this then?
Violet rushed into the hall, dropped onto the shoe bench, covered her face, and started to sob in silence.
Violetare they all yours?
They were at Grans.
Daisy and Maisie immediately barked at Jonathan, defending their mistress, Lady Catherine arching her back and hissing.
You said you had no dowry, Jonathan murmured.
He put on his coat, wordlessly left, and drove off.
Violet phoned Gran to say not to worry. But inside, she felt emptyher lies had caught her at last. Face swollen and red from tears, she lay in the quiet, surrounded by her faithful crew.
Hours passed. A knock at the door. Jonathan stood on the step, arms full of fancy pet food. Smiling, he set everything down and popped back outside.
Dont close upIm just nipping to the car, he called.
Moments later, he returned, leading a dachshund in a red coat.
This is my dog, Molly. And this he bent to lift a ginger cat from under his coatis Matilda. Shes been with Sarah. Room for two more in the gang?
Years rolled by. Mr and Mrs Clarke often laughed about that wild winter, when Violets dowry nearly undid them. Sometimes they wonderedif not for their patchwork brood, would they, too, have missed their shot at a happy ending?
