FRIENDSHIP
They have known each other for what feels like a hundred years, and now Peter Collins stands before John Stephenson, begging for a favour.
John, I get it, but think about your age. Where would I put you? You were a senior manager, and Im asking you to be a porter? Peter smiles at the silverhaired man.
John nods slowly. Hang in there, John Ill call if something worthwhile comes up. Dont get down, mate! Well push through! he shouts as he leaves.
It isnt the first rejection this fortnight. John has grown accustomed to the polite refusals, learning to keep his temper in check, though at first the disappointment hits him hard. As the saying goes, a friend is proved in hardship. John Stephenson has spent his whole career in senior positions, surrounded by many acquaintances. When trouble hits, however, he finds himself alone.
Just as often, the new boss brings his own crew, and John is gently but firmly asked to submit a resignation on his own accord. Retirement is only months away, yet nobody seems to mind. Suddenly he is without a prestigious job and without income
But John refuses to wallow. In Manchester he knows plenty of people he has helped before with jobs, studies and other problems.
Kirby wont turn me down! I helped him a long time ago, John tells his wife, Emily, as he heads to yet another interview.
He returns home looking grim and silent. Even the friends name sounds like a joke, he sighs.
Emily reads the worry in his eyes. Alright, John, sit down and eat. Whatever happens, its for the best, she says, setting plates on the table.
John nods and spends the evening scrolling through his phones contacts, recalling the best friends he once relied on.
Help arrives unexpectedly just as John is about to give up. His former driver, now the director of a small meatprocessing plant, offers him a job.
I can take you on as a supplies clerk. Its busy work, but youll manage, he says politely to his old boss.
John is grateful for any work and starts the next day.
The modest plant sits on the outskirts of the city. Behind a steel fence, two sturdy workers unload a lorry full of meat. Nearby, a small clowder of local cats watches the ritual like a sacred ceremony.
John smiles at the striped felines, their whiskered faces turning in unison as they escort another portion of delicacy.
Later, he learns that the whole site is guarded by a gang of cats that wont let strangers near. Theyre a bit wild and not overly affectionate. Every time he passes, he tries to pet a tuxedostriped cat, only to be met with a hiss or a swift retreat.
Those fierce little lads, John laughs, watching chef Zara carry away the leftover lunch for her crew.
Yes, theyre not easy to handle. Even the kittens are scrappy, she nods toward a pair of striped youngsters darting among the older cats.
Soon John settles into his new role and learns the names of all the cats. They, in turn, begin to trust the greyhaired man, remembering how often he slipped them bits of food. Though he doesnt keep pets at home, John loves animals and always tries to help them.
Whenever he steps out for a cigarette, the cats circle him cautiously, eyes fixed on his hands, hoping there might be something tasty for them.
Six months drift by unnoticed.
Autumn follows the hot summer, bringing damp winds and grey rain. The cats stay hidden, appearing rarely in the yard, but they never miss a meal.
One day a lone kitten appears on the plants grounds. He keeps to himself, shunned by the resident gang but not attacked. Small, skinny, black with a patch of missing fur on his back, he instantly melts Johns hardened heart.
John steps out after lunch, the cat group sprawled on the sunwarmed planks, when a tiny black ball on thin legs darts straight at him.
Meow, the kitten croaks and sneezes.
Whats this little marvel? John asks the cats.
They stare indifferently. The newcomer is clearly not one of their brownstriped lot, whose eyes are a yellowgreen. The kitten rubs against Johns leg, purring.
You see how gentle he is, John laughs, petting the kitten.
Looks like someone dropped off a stray. Our own lot keep their distance, but hes taken a liking to you, remarks Zara, the kitchen maid, stepping in.
John eyes the gang warily; they could easily bully the youngster. He goes inside, pulls out a piece of sausage, and hands it to the kitten, placing small treats a short distance away for the other cats. They scramble greedily for the food, while the kitten lingers, rubbing against Johns hands before finally nibbling.
Now thats a softie, John sings, meeting the kittens delighted gaze.
He names the kitten Patch and makes feeding him the first thing he does each morning before heading off to work.
What are you bringing lunch for? Emily asks, amused.
Its just a tiny, funny little thing, John replies, a little embarrassed.
Maybe youll bring him home? Emily suggests, knowing John generally opposes indoor pets.
No, why would we need a cat? she replies.
Just you know, John shrugs.
One bitterly cold morning, as John walks to the plant, a familiar voice calls out, Oi! John, hows it going?
He turns to see his longtime friend Peter, hurrying toward him.
Found a job yet? Peter asks, extending a hand.
John looks at him coldly, nods silently, and keeps his hand in his pocket, already aware of the true cost of their friendship.
Crazy bloke, Peter mutters, hopping into his car to avoid the chill.
Patch perches, puffed up, on a small board by the warehouse entrance. His black coat looks like tiny needles against the frost.
Dont they let you in? Little beast, John growls toward the insulated cat shelter where the gang huddles.
From inside, yellow eyes flash, trying to gauge whether a human will feed them or stay away.
Later that day, the radio announces a heavy snowfall heading for the city.
Did you hear? Theyre saying the snow will be massive tomorrow. How will you get to work? a driver jokes.
The shift ends, and the driver offers John a lift home. The sky is already overcast, and the first flakes drift onto the pavement.
Actually, could you drop me off at the plant instead? John asks suddenly.
The driver shrugs, turns the wheel, and says, Back to work, eh, John?
He drops John at the fence, but John is already lost in thought.
He darts across the snowcovered yard, the thin white blanket muffling his steps. He calls, Patch, patch, patch! but the kitten doesnt appear. The resident cats watch him nervously from the shadows, while two crows perch on the fence, curious about the commotion. Snow continues to fall, thickening.
Patch! Where are you? John shouts, scanning the ground.
The gang, sensing the storm, retreats into their shelter, curling together for warmth, realizing they wont get any food from a man out in the cold.
John turns away, heading back home.
By morning, as the meteorologists promised, the city is buried under snow. Residents comment, Blimey, thats a proper snowstormhavent seen anything like it in ages. John barely makes it to work, arriving a few minutes late, like everyone else. The groundskeeper has cleared the paths, and the cats peek out of their shelter, hopeful for a treat.
John lays out a plate of bits for them. Here you go! Patch sends his regards, he says warmly, watching the wild bunch keep a cautious distance.
A sudden rush of joy fills him, like a child sliding down a hill with his mum and dad. Perhaps the snows magic brings it out.
Earlier, the mischievous kitten had finally emerged from his hiding spot at the very last moment, when John turned around. John couldnt believe his eyes, rushed to the little creature, and hugged him tightly.
Good lad, Patch! You finally showed up, mate! he repeats.
The kitten yawns, sneezes, and clings to Johns trousers with tiny claws, as if terrified of losing him.
Emily doesnt even seem surprised when she sees John at the doorway with the new family member.
Decided to keep him, did you? she teases.
Yeah. I cant have him out there in this snow, John admits, setting the tiny furball on the floor.
The kitten sniffs around, his whiskers twitching as he explores his new territory.
John watches the little creature, his eyes sparkling. Emily wraps her arms around her usually stern husband, knowing better than anyone the kindness that lies beneath his gruff exterior.
Patch perches on the windowsill, staring out at the endless white drifts. The man who chose him as a friend returns, walking through the deep snow, his steps confident.
Their bond, between a big man and a tiny cat, is different from any human friendship, but John and Patch both understand theres no room for betrayal, deceit or flattery. Thats why its worth waiting for and believing in.
