A Major Problem
A ROMANTIC SHORT STORY BY EIRIN THOMPSON
What could go wrong for Cara? She only had two things to do to help her gran…
When Gran went off to see her friend, Hazel, she asked me to come and look after her place while she was away.
“You can do what you like, as long as you remember two things for me.
“Number one, take in a parcel I’m expecting with parts for my knitting machine,” she told me. “Number two, and more importantly, don’t let anything happen to Major.”
Major was Gran’s cat. A spoilt feline who dined on roast chicken and smoked fish, he was the apple of her eye.
I was more sceptical.
It struck me that Major was a crafty so-and-so who could take up a whole sofa by stretching out languidly, and he had Gran wrapped round his little paw.
Still, I liked the prospect of living on my own for a day or two.
I got on well with Mum and Dad, but it would be nice to have a bit of space to myself.
“Since I’m working from home anyway, I’ll just set up my laptop on your kitchen table, so it’s no problem to listen out for your delivery,” I told her. “And Major will be perfectly safe with me.”
I drove Gran to the station to catch the train.
“Have a lovely time,” I told her as I waved her off.
“Thanks, Cara,” Gran replied.
I picked up some groceries and went back to make myself a nice lunch.
But in the kitchen, Major immediately started to cry.
“I’ll feed you after I’ve had something to eat,” I told him, slicing some cheese.
I tried to sit down with my rather lovely sandwich, but Major wouldn’t let up with the meowing.
“All right,” I conceded. “I’ll feed you first and then I’ll eat.”
I looked through the various collection of tins and pouches that Gran had left for him.
“All the priciest brands, I see,” I told him.
I scooped some lamb casserole cat food into his dish by the fridge.
He continued crying, refusing to touch a morsel.
“What is your problem?” I asked him.
Major went and stood by the place where I’d been cutting the cheese.
“You don’t want cat food – you want cheese?”
He began to purr.
“You’re some cat,” I remarked, then cut him a tiny chunk.
Once I’d finished lunch, and Major had devoured both the cheese and the lamb casserole, I set up my laptop and got to work.
Major curled up on his blanket in his basket.
Five minutes later, the doorbell rang.
I saved my work and padded down the hall.
“Can you just sign here, please?” the delivery woman asked, handing me an electronic notepad.
“Certainly,” I replied, setting Gran’s parcel in the porch.
“Is this your little chap?” the woman continued.
Following her gaze, I found Major had slipped out past me and was sitting in Gran’s flower-bed.
“I’m looking after him for my gran and I wasn’t meant to let him out,” I admitted. “I’d better try to pick him up before he goes any further.”
I walked slowly towards Major, trying to make my voice soothing.
“Come on, little guy. Let’s pick you up for a nice, big cuddle.”
Major sat where he was until I was within centimetres of him – then he bounded off, over the wall and on to the footpath.
“Oh, Major!” I fumed.
“It looks like you’re going to have a job getting that one back under lock and key,” the delivery woman commented. “Sorry, I have to press on and leave you to it.”
Before she could disappear, however, Major jumped up on to the bonnet of her van.
I made my way alongside him. Maybe I could just sweep him up in my arms.
Once again, I was thwarted.
As soon as I came close, Major leapt from the bonnet of the car on to the trunk of the tree just beside it, then scrambled up into the branches.
The delivery woman shook her head and drove away with a smile.
“Major! Come on down,” I coaxed. “I’ll get you some more cheese.”
I could plainly see Major sitting high up in the branches, not looking remotely interested in climbing down to join me.
It was sorely tempting just to leave the stubborn little rascal up there on his own, with nothing to eat and no blanket – see how he liked that.
But what if he took it badly and didn’t ever come back?
Then it looked like hope was in sight.
Major started picking his way through the branches and heading downwards.
He only got so far, though, and then he began climbing down a little, then retreating back up.
He did this four times before I realised what was wrong.
It had been all very well when the delivery van was there as a springboard, but now that it was gone, getting down the final stage was too daunting for him.
“Oh, Major!” I cried. “Don’t tell me you’re stuck!”
What should I do? I racked my brains, but anxiety was starting to fog my thinking.
Suddenly, I remembered that Gran had a kitchen step – perhaps if I brought that under the tree and stood on it I could reach the cat.
“Hang on. I’ll be right back,” I promised, then dashed into the house.
The step only raised me about a foot off the ground.
I held my arms up to Major and called him again, but he just meowed sadly and wouldn’t even attempt to jump down to me.
I looked at the nearest branch – could I pull myself up into the tree?
It wouldn’t be easy, but I should at least try.
One, two, three – disaster!
The kitchen step flew out from under me, but I managed to scramble my feet against the trunk and pull myself up with my arms, and there I was, sitting on the branch.
Oh! When I looked down, the ground seemed to be very far away and my head started to swim.
Don’t look down, Cara, I told myself. Focus on Major.
I peered up to see where he’d got to, and he came weaving down to greet me.
“I couldn’t leave you up here all by yourself,” I told him, stroking between his ears. “You might have been frightened.”
Then, just like that, Major turned around and, tail first, started reversing down the trunk.
In seconds he was on the ground and trotting up Gran’s garden path.
“Why, you…” I began.
Now all I had to do was get down myself.
But I felt quite sick when I so much as looked at the drop.
I was stuck, I realised. I had no idea how to get down.
What could I do? I resolved to wait for a passer-by and ask for help.
Exactly how they would assist me, I wasn’t sure. Perhaps I was a case for the fire brigade.
It felt like hours, but it was only around five minutes before a man came by on the footpath.
“Excuse me,” I called to him.
The man looked around, puzzled.
“I’m up here,” I added.
He looked up.
“I wonder if you could help me,” I began. “I seem to be stuck.”
The man couldn’t help smiling.
“Oh, dear. You’ve climbed this tree and now you can’t get down. I see,” he remarked.
“I was wondering if perhaps you could ring the fire brigade for me.”
“The fire brigade?” He grinned. “You’re sure about that? You’re not all that high off the ground.”
“You want to try looking at that from my perspective!” I snapped. “From where I’m sitting, it’s a very great height.”
“Are you frightened of heights?” the man asked.
“Not of heights, but of falling on to the footpath and breaking my neck, I am!” I replied.
“Well, hold on for a moment and I’ll see what I can do,” the man said. “I’m Corey. What’s your name?”
“Cara. And, whatever your plan is, could you hurry up, please?”
Corey disappeared for a moment then reappeared with the most welcome sight – a ladder.
“If I prop it up against the tree and hold it, can you manage from there?” he asked.
“Of course,” I replied.
But to climb down the ladder I needed to turn myself around on the branch.
When I tried, I found I couldn’t.
“Oh, no!” I wailed. “I really am stuck! I’m too scared to move.”
I thought Corey might get cross with me, but he didn’t.
“Look, I’m going to have to fetch a neighbour to hold the ladder, and then I’ll come up and get you.”
“Can you be quick?” I wailed. “I’m starting to feel sick.”
Corey held me firmly as he turned me on the branch and got my feet on to the nearest rung of the ladder, which Mr Featherstone was steadying at ground level.
He guided me every step of the way, and boy, was I glad to touch the footpath with my feet!
“I feel like I should be wrapping you in a foil blanket and giving you hot, sweet tea to drink,” Corey joked.
“What on earth made you feel like climbing a tree? Most people are done with that by the age of eleven.”
“I didn’t climb it for fun!” I protested. “My gran’s cat ran up there and couldn’t get down.”
“So I need to fetch the cat now, too?” Corey asked.
“No – Major’s long gone. He found his way down quite quickly once I was up there.”
“Major?”
“That’s his name – short for Major Tom, since he’s a tom cat.”
“In my experience, cats very rarely get stuck anywhere,” Corey said. “They are accomplished escape artists.”
“In your experience?” I queried.
“I’m a fire fighter, and we do sometimes get called out for cats stuck up trees, though rarely for their owners.
“The pets almost always get down themselves before we arrive on the scene, and then the families are terribly embarrassed.”
I felt my cheeks redden.
“I’m terribly embarrassed,” I admitted.
“I know. It’s cute.”
I didn’t know how to respond to that, although I’d noticed that he was pretty cute himself.
“I have to find Major now, for Gran. I’m house-sitting for her.”
“I don’t suppose that’s him on the window-sill?” Corey pointed.
“Oh, Major! There you are.”
Before I could worry about him going off again, Corey had scooped him up.
I swiftly opened the front door and set Major inside.
When I explained to Corey how he’d got up the tree in the first place, by using the delivery van as a step, Cory nodded.
“It’s a pity you didn’t have a vehicle of your own – you could just have parked it under the tree.”
Why couldn’t I have thought of that and saved myself a great deal of embarrassment?
If Corey saw my blush as this dawned on me, he didn’t mention it.
Instead, he invited me out for a coffee.
“There’s a nice place by the towpath, the Lock-keeper’s Café,” he suggested.
I’d already taken in Gran’s delivery, and Major had had plenty of attention for a while.
I decided that I would tuck him up in his basket and leave him to it.
“Only if you let me buy the coffee to say thank you for getting me out of the tree.”
Corey smiled.
“She’s kind to animals and she doesn’t forget a good turn. I knew this was my kind of girl.”
“See you at three?” I asked.
“I don’t see any ‘major’ problem with that,” he replied.
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