Helen, I said. This is Mr.erIm sorry, I dont know your name.
Gibbons, Sep Gibbons. They called me Septimus because ah was the seventh in family and it looks like ahm going thatsame way 'cause weve got six already. These are our two youngest.
The two boys, obvious twins of about eight, looked up at us solemnly. I wished my heart would stop hammering. Mr. Gibbons thinks Oscar is his. He lost his cat some time ago.
My wife laid down the plates. Oh oh I see.
She stood very still for a moment, then smiled faintly.
Do sit down. Oscars in the kitchen, Ill bring him through.
She went out and reappeared with the cat in her arms. She hadnt got through the door before the little boys gave tongue.
Tiger! they cried. Oh, Tiger, Tiger!
The mans face seemed lit from within. He walked quickly across the floor and ran his big work-roughened hand along the fur.
Hullo, awd lad, he said, and turned to me with a radiant smile.
Its im, Mr. Herriot, its im awright, and dont e look well!
You call him Tiger, eh? I said.
Aye, he replied happily. Its them gingery stripes. The kids called im that. They were broken-hearted when we lost im.
As the two little boys rolled on the floor our Oscar rolled with them, pawing playfully, purring with delight.
Sep Gibbons sat down again.
Thats the way e allus went on wi the family. They used to play with im for hours. By gaw we did miss im. He were a right favourite.
I looked at the broken nails on the edge of the cap, at the decent, honest, uncomplicated Yorkshire face so like the many I had grown to like and respect. Farm men like him got thirty shillings a week in those days and it was reflected in the threadbare jacket, the cracked, shiny boots and the obvious hand-me-downs of the boys. But all three were scrubbed and tidy, the mans face like a red beacon, the childrens knees gleaming and their hair carefully slicked across their foreheads. They looked like nice people to me. I turned towards the window and looked out over the tumble of roofs to my beloved green hills beyond.
I didnt know what to say.
Helen said it for me. Well, Mr. Gibbons. Her tone had an unnatural brightness. Youd better take him.
The man hesitated.
Now then, are ye sure, Missus Herriot?
Yes yes, Im sure. He was your cat first.
Aye, but some folks ud say finders keepers or summat like that. Ah didnt come ere to demand im back or owt of thatsort.
I know you didnt, Mr. Gibbons, but youve
had him all those years and youve searched for him so hard. We couldnt possibly keep him from you.
He nodded quickly. Well, thats right good of ye.
He paused for a moment, his face serious, then he stopped and picked Oscar up.
Well have to be off if were going to catch the eight oclock bus.
Helen reached forward, cupped the cats head in her hands and looked at him steadily for a few seconds.
Then she patted the boys heads.
Youll take good care of him, wont you?
Aye, missus, thank ye, we will that.
The two small faces looked up at her and smiled.
Ill see you down the stairs, Mr. Gibbons, I said.
On the descent I tickled the furry cheek resting on the mans shoulder and heard for the last time the rich purring.
On the front door step we shook hands and they set off down the street. As they rounded the corner of Trengate they stopped and waved, and I waved back at the man, the two children and the cats head looking back at me over the shoulder. It was my habit at that time in my life to mount the stairs two or three at a time but on this occasion I trailed upwards like an old man, slightly breathless, throat tight, eyes prickling. I cursed myself for a sentimental fool but as I reached our door I found a flash of consolation. Helen had taken it remarkably well. She had nursed that cat and grown deeply attached to him, and Id have thought an unforeseen calamity like this would have upset her terribly. But no, she had behaved calmly and rationally. You never knew with women, but I was thankful. It was up to me to do as well. I adjusted my features into the semblance of a cheerful smile and marched into the room. Helen had pulled a chair close to the table and was slumped face down against the wood. One arm cradled her head while the other was stretched in front of her as her body shook with an utterly abandoned weeping. I had never seen her like this and I was appalled. I tried to say something comforting but nothing stemmed the flow of racking sobs.
Feeling helpless and inadequate I could only sit close to her and stroke the back of her head. Maybe I could have said something if I hadnt felt just about as bad myself.
You get over these things in time. After all, we told ourselves, it wasnt as though Oscar had died or got lost againhe had gone to a good family who would look after him. In fact he had really gone home. And of course, we still had our much-loved Sam, although he didnt help in the early stages by sniffing disconsolately where Oscars bed used to lie, then collapsing on the rug with a long, lugubrious sigh. There was one other thing, too. I had a little notion forming in my mind, an idea which I would spring on Helen when the time was right. It was about a month after that shattering night and we were coming out of the cinema at Brawton at the end of our half day. I looked at my watch.