**Diary Entry**
Its bad. So bad its bitter, bitter enough to hurt, and the hurt makes me angry.
No tears left to cry.
Why? Why would he do this to me?
Seven years. Seven happy years.
We held hands everywhere, never a harsh wordthen suddenly, just like that, he vanished. No, not vanishedhe slunk away like a coward.
The phone keeps ringing and ringing. Who on earth?
Mum.
«Hello, love… love, what are you doing?»
«Nothing, Mum.» I force my voice steady.
«Good, good. Youre not crying over that fool, are you? Wouldnt want to waste tears on some idiot.»
«An idiots an idiot, even in Africa,» Mum chuckles, pleased with herself. «Listen, darling, I wanted to invite you to the cottage this Friday. Auntie Margarets coming, and shes bringing her nephewSimon. You dont know him, but I do. Lovely lad, really. Just had a rough go of it.»
«Such a shamehis wife was utterly useless. Thank goodness he got rid of her.»
«Strangled her, did he?»
«What? Who strangled who?»
«Well, you said he got rid of her.»
«Ugh, dont be morbid! Butha!thats good, love. Laugh it off. Helps, you know. When Keith Andrews dumped meoh, Ive told you this story, havent I?»
«We were at music school together. I played cello, he played French hornsuch a sweet boy, curly blonde hair, just adorable. I loved him so much, and the little wretch ran off with that clarinetist, Natalie. Oh, love, how I sobbed! Skipped class, wandered along the riverbank, even thought aboutwell, you know.»
«Mum… Im not really in the mood.»
«Oh? Right, right. So, youll come Friday, wont you?»
«I dont know.»
«Emily, thats not an answer. Promise me, alright?»
«Fine. Ill come. Not for long.»
«Good. Love you, darling. Dad sends his love toooh, yes, Michael, I told her!»
I curl under a blanket, lights off, face buried.
No tears. No strength left.
Just one question.
Why?
The phone again.
My sister.
If I dont answer, shell rally the whole family.
«Hello.»
«Sis, whats wrong? You crying?»
«No. Why would I cry? Just got dumped by my husbandthe man I was going to have children with, the one I thought Id grow old with. No big deal.»
«Good riddance! Snivelling over some tosser? When Jake dumped me, I thought Id die. Remember Jake? Gorgeous bloke. Dated six months, loved him madly. And look at me now!»
«Right…»
«Anyway, were going campingcouples only. And guess what? Olivers wife just left him. Nice chap. Maybe you two could hit it off? Your ex was always a prat anyway.»
«Em? You in?»
«Ill think about it, Sarah.»
«Think hard, Em.»
Cold. So cold it aches. My eyes burn, raw from crying.
Another call.
Grandma.
God.
«Hello…»
«Sweetheart, come over. Ive made your favourite doughnuts, got cocoa brewingwell even have a little drink, eh? Ill send Grandad to the shed. I know how you feel. When Colin Whitmore left me, oh, the misery! I even took up smokingbriefly. Then your grandad swept me off my feet…»
«Alright, Grandma. Ill think about it.»
All day, calls pour ineveryone sharing their own heartbreak stories.
By evening, I finally doze offuntil the doorbell rings.
Who now? Not answering.
But it keeps ringing. Relentless.
I drag myself up.
No ones there. Im about to shut the door when a grumpy voice pipes up.
«Oi! You blocking the way? Let us through! Typicaltry to help and this is the thanks we get.»
I look down.
Good Lordwhat?
Marching into my flat, single file…
«Uh… who are you?»
«Who dyou think? Cats.»
«Cawhat cats?»
«All sorts. Were here to help. Very poorly, you are. Now shut the doorlast thing you need is a chill.»
«Were family. The Catsworths.»
«Mum, check her headlooks rough. Son, pulse. Daughter, put the kettle on.»
I sit, bewildered, as they bustle about.
«Granny Cat, she needs a story.»
«Purrr, my dear… let the bad float away, let the good come stay… Papa Cat, tuck her in. Auntie Cat, fluff the pillows.»
«Kitten, behave. Put that downprecious, that is. Sweetheart, take the phone off him.»
Dazed, I watch as little Whiskers Catsworth snaps a selfie on my phone.
«Grandad Cat, massage her hands. Uncle Cat, her feet.»
They tuck me in, kneading gently until I drift off. The last thing I hear is the soft patter of paws.
In the morning, I feel lighter.
No sign of the Catsworths. Just a dream, then.
Outside, the sun risesgolden autumn. Funny, taking leave just to cry.
Friday. Promised Mum Id visit the cottage.
At the doorstep, a faint mewl.
A lone kittenWhiskers Catsworth?
«Wheres your family?» I scoop him up. No answer, just pitiful squeaks.
No one around. I tuck him into my coatcant leave him.
Unseen, the Catsworths peer from the corner, high-fiving before trotting off to their next rescue mission.
At the station, a young man glances around, lost.
«Need directions?» I ask.
«Brightwood. First time here.»
«Same. Come on.»
We chat the whole wayMax, he says, taking my bag. By Brightwood, were fast friends.
Reluctant to part, I hesitatethen
«Em, you know number thirty-seven?»
«Thirty-seven? Waityoure Auntie Margarets nephew?»
«And youre Auntie Lizs daughter?»
Laughing, we step through the gate.
«Whove you been cuddling all trip? Thought you might be expecting!»
«My… son.»
«Son?»
«Meet Whiskers Catsworth!»
«Catsworth?» Max grins.
«Problem?»
«None at all. PleasureMax Alexander… Catsworth.»
As our families greet us, were in stitcheswhile a tiny kitten tilts his head, watching us both.
***
A big grey cat perches on the windowsill, tail flicking.
«Where are they? Two months old and dragged all overdisgraceful!»
Once, he was small too.
Emily still wondershow did Whiskers take that selfie?
She and Max have theories. She thinks it was just a dream.
But *he* showed up once
Ex in tow, champagne in hand, chocolates in the other.
Emily wasnt home. They werent married yet, but close.
Whiskers answered, deep-voiced: «What dyou want?»
The ex froze.
Whiskers balled a tiny paw, pointing at the door.
«Run,» he growled. «And stay away from our Emily.»
Thencouldnt resistpiddled in his shoe.
What? He was just a kitten.
Good morning, loves!
Hurrystorytimes almost up, or the Catsworths will come…
Hugs,
Sending warmth and light.
Always yours.
