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“Come on, Janey! We’re almost there!” Phryne’s panting voice echoed back from the walls of the alley, and Janey clutched at the stitch in her side.
“Phryne, wait! I can’t run as fast as you!” She could feel the sharp metal tang of overwork at the back of her throat with every breath as she dug deep for one more burst of speed.
Phryne had woken her this morning early, before the heat of the Collingwood summer could rise to unbearable levels, saying she had a surprise. Phryne always had the best surprises. Janey had scurried out of bed and into her clothes, staying quiet because their parents were still sleeping, and Papa hated it when they woke him early. Mama didn’t mind so much—if Papa wasn’t home, Mama liked it when Janey crawled in beside her for a cuddle when Phryne was feeling prickly—but Janey hated to wake her. She worked so hard.
They’d made it out to the street just as the sun was rising, spilling pink and orange across the dingy neighborhood as if it was dressing up for a fancy party. Dark windows reflected the light like jewels, and Janey had paused for a moment to imagine the scene, with the shadowed side of the street as the men in their dark tuxedos and the light side women in beautiful gowns, hands clasped, twirling to music she could nearly hear.
“Are you all right?”
Janey looked up at her sister, only then realizing that she’d stopped running and bent at the waist, one hand on her knee and the other at her side, trying to pull breath into her lungs.
“Just… give me… a moment,” she gasped.
“Honestly, I’d think you’d be faster by now,” Phryne said, her chiding tone belying the soft circles her hand made on Janey’s back.
Janey grinned up at her, noting the pink and gold headband of sunlight that rimmed Phryne’s dark hair. Her sister was so pretty, with her green-blue eyes, golden dusting of freckles, and dark, thick hair. Everyone said that Janey was the beauty of the family, citing her long blonde plaits, blue eyes, and clear skin, but Phryne’s beauty was special. More intense, somehow. Like her personality.
“And I’d think you’d know by now that you have to go a little slower when I’m here.”
Phryne blew air between her lips in a “piff” that communicated her opinion of slowing down for anyone, ever, but then she smiled.
“I know you’ll rise to the challenge someday,” she said. “Now, are you ready? The surprise is just here, around the corner!”
Janey straightened, hand pressed to her stomach, and nodded. “Show me this all-important surprise, Miney.” Phryne wrinkled her nose at the nickname, bestowed when Janey was small and her favorite word was “mine.” It had extended to the big sister she adored, going from “Fynee mine” to “Fynee miney” before being shortened. These days, Phryne considered herself too grown, at twelve, for nicknames, especially now that she knew that her name had been a mistake. As far as Janey was concerned, Phryne’s name was perfect, and the fact that their father had been drunk when filling out her sister’s birth certificate had been a stroke of luck. Being who she was, Phryne was determined to make the most of every opportunity, and if she had the chance to rub their father’s nose in his shortcomings, she leapt at it.
“Come on, slowpoke,” she said, catching Janey’s free hand in her own. “Come see.”
Raising her finger to her lips to indicate that they had to be quiet, Phryne led Janey around the corner and over to a group of rubbish bins in the corner of a small courtyard. Guiding Janey gently in front of her, she indicated the gap between the bins and the wall. Janey crept closer, turning a questioning look on her sister as she began to hear small noises from behind the bins. Phryne gestured that she should get closer, a smile spreading her lips and shining in her eyes.
Janey gasped when she made her way into the gap beyond the bins, her heart hiccuping in her chest. There, nestled into an old orange crate that had been padded with a ratty blanket, was a ginger cat, three kittens—two gingers and a calico—nursing at her teats. The kittens were only a few days old, their eyes still closed, but they were determined. Small squeaks of hunger and satisfaction escaped them as their tiny paws kneaded at their mother’s belly, and Janey covered her mouth, her eyes welling with tears.
“They’re so precious,” she whispered, mostly to Phryne, though the mama cat met her eyes as she said it.
“Move in and sit down,” Phryne whispered. “Mama is tensing up. We don’t want to worry her.”
Janey looked closer and saw that Phryne was right. The ginger cat had shifted, lifting her shoulders from the blanket, her eyes on Janey. Making small shushing noises, Janey moved in farther, wedging herself into the small space and making room for Phryne to crawl in beside her. The mother cat’s gaze locked on Phryne, and Janey swore a spark of recognition lit the animal’s eyes. She let out a soft questioning “mow?” and Phryne smiled.
“Yes, I’ve brought you something,” Phryne whispered, digging into her pocket. She drew out a grubby handkerchief and unwrapped it, revealing a chunk of the fish they’d had for last night’s supper—there hadn’t been much to begin with, so how Phryne had managed not to eat what looked like half her portion, Janey had no idea—and a bit of cheese.
Handing the cheese to Janey, Phryne turned to drop the fish near the mother cat’s head. “That’s all right,” she whispered, “we won’t hurt you or your bubs.”
The cat sniffed at the fish, her eyes darting to Phryne before she dug in, taking bite after bite until nothing but the oily traces remained. After licking the blanket thoroughly, the cat looked up again at Phryne, who gestured to Janey.
“Go on, give it to her,” Phryne whispered. “She’ll start to trust you if you feed her.”
Eyes wide, Janey held the bit of cheese out, feeling the switch of the cat’s attention to her as almost a physical sensation. Laying the cheese in the same spot where Phryne had put the fish, she withdrew her hand, though her fingers itched to touch the animal’s fur.
“That’s it,” Janey said softly as the cat sniffed the cheese, pink nose twitching and whiskers quivering. “It’s just a little something. You need to keep up your strength for feeding those bubs.”
With a wary glance, the cat began to eat, and Janey grinned, her eyes meeting Phryne’s.
“Talk to her now,” Phryne said, “and maybe she’ll let you touch.”
Janey nodded, focusing back on the little family in front of them.
“You’re so brave and strong, chickie,” she crooned quietly, “caring for three bubs all alone. Look at the home you’ve made them, warm and cozy.” As Janey continued to speak nonsense, her tone soft and loving, Phryne reached out to run her fingers down the mama cat’s head, crooking one finger to scratch beneath her ear. Janey followed suit, gently stroking her fur, her fingernails leaving wavy trails with each small pass.
The cat began to purr, the sound catching roughly, as if she was out of practice, and Janey shot Phryne a delighted glance. Phryne was smiling, her eyes warm with pleasure at Janey’s excitement.
“I thought about bringing them closer to home,” Phryne whispered, “but I wouldn’t want father to know about them. He’d find a way to make a profit.” She shrugged, her hand moving carefully down the cat’s back. “They’re safer here.”
“I’ll help you take care of them,” Janey said, her fingers moving under the cat’s chin now that the cheese was gone. She watched, rapt, as the cat closed her eyes in pleasure. When Janey drew her hand away slightly, the cat’s eyes slitted open, and she sniffed at Janey’s wrist where it protruded from her smock. With another small “mow,” the cat nudged her head against Janey’s hand, ending with a tiny, rough swipe of her tongue.
“What should we call them?” Phryne asked as Janey acquiesced to the cat’s request and began to stroke her again.
“You haven’t named them yet?”
“Of course not, silly,” Phryne said. “I was waiting for you!”
“Then I think her name should be Mo.” Janey said, her smile growing.
“Mo?” Phryne laughed her surprise, bright and contagious. “Why Mo?”
“Because,” Janey said, “then the bubs can be Eeny—” she pointed at the first ginger, with its white-tipped tail and paws “—Meeney—” she pointed to the second ginger “—and Miney.” Her finger stroked the back of the tiny calico, which grunted as it continued to suckle. “Because this one stands out. Just like you.”
Phryne’s eyes were bright, but Janey knew that she wouldn’t let any tears fall. She’d learned not to, long ago. With a nod, Phryne wrapped her arm around Janey’s shoulders and leaned in.
“Mo it is, then.”
Janey laid her head on her big sister’s shoulder, feeling safe and secure as she watched the mama cat nuzzle her little ones. They might not have much, but they had each other, and that was all they needed.