Arthur Clarke was never hated at the depot, but people kept their distance. A sensible bloke, an experienced lorry driver, diligent to a fault, yet utterly antisocial.
No one wanted to partner with him, and he liked it that way. One foreman gave him a curt wave and sent him on his way. The other longhaul mates nicknamed him Gloomy. The moniker stuck; they called him that even when they could barely recall his actual name.
The load this round was nothing out of the ordinarya familiar route, a standard freight. Keep your eyes on the road, Arthur, theyd say. He obeyed, eyes fixed ahead.
Then, by the hard shoulder, something alive slithered through the grass. He thought to drive past; after all, roadkill was common enough. Yet something in his gut urged him to stop the rig and investigate.
A massive, striped tomcat lay there, hissing as if ready to sell its life for the price of a single breath. The old wives tale about cats having nine lives seemed cruelly literal here; the beast was barely clinging to life, a claw twisted, fur matted with blood.
Whats your luck, you miserable moggy? Arthur asked, leaning over the animal.
The cat snarled, a hoarse meow that seemed to say, I dont need your help. Keep moving.
Arthur recognised a flash of his own stubborn youthhis late grandmothers cat, the one hed curled up beside on the stove as a boy, listening to the soft purrs that once soothed him. Those warm memories resurfaced.
Im no vet, but youre not getting any better on your own, Arthur said. Theres no shelter around here. Let me take you to a clinic.
He lifted the wounded cat gingerly, placed it on the cab floor, and the animal settled, as if conceding that the worst might already be done.
Diverting from the highway, Arthur rolled into the small market town of Ashby-de-la-Zouch and found the only veterinary practice for miles. The dourlooking vet, Dr. Hughes, glanced up as Arthur entered, cat in arms, and the few waiting patients made way.
Lucky you, lad, the vet said. Well clean you up, splint the legthen youll be back on the road.
Ive got a job to get to, Arthur protested. I cant stay.
Theres no animal shelter, Dr. Hughes shrugged. You cant rehome a cat that size. Hes not a kitten, hes a fullgrown tom.
The cats green eyes locked onto Arthurs, and something tightened in his chest. Was he to abandon a creature that had already come so far?
Fine, Arthur muttered, and the vet led him to the back office.
Two older women chattered in the waiting room.
Bettys daughter came round again, hiding from her own husband, one whispered.
Poor thing! Shes a proper angel, and the manGod help himkeeps giving her a hard time, the other replied sympathetically.
Arthur let their gossip drift by. Everyones life had its own messes.
A nurse handed the cat to Arthur. Take him home and keep an eye on him. Hell be fine in a few weeks, once we remove the splint.
Thanks, Arthur said, cradling the animal as he headed for the door.
He had no idea what to do with the unexpected gift perched on his lap, but his schedule was already blown. First, he had to deliver the load; the rest could wait.
He secured the cat on the sleeper berth and set off again.
A few miles later, a woman waved frantically from the roadside, a frightened little girl clinging to her skirts.
Sorry, I dont pick up passengers! Arthur barked. That was his rule, after all.
A soft Meow! echoed from behind.
Awake? Arthur asked, halfamused. What do you want?
Meow! the cat persisted, tail twitching.
Probably need a lift, Arthur mused. Good thing you warned me, or Id have left you stranded.
He pulled over, let the cat out onto the grass. Instantly the animal lifted its tail, confirming Arthurs suspicion.
Hey! Where are you off to? the woman and girl shouted as they sprinted toward the lorry.
Before Arthur could even start the engine, the woman, breathless and clutching the girls hand, reached the truck.
Please, dear, take us with you! Its only about thirty miles to the next town, she pleaded, tears glistening.
The little girls eyes were red from crying, her cheeks wet.
Im not a taxi driver, love, Im a longhaul, Arthur said, trying to be gentle. Take the bus instead!
We missed our only bus, the woman sobbed. Well pray for you forever if you help us!
The cat, now limping slightly, padded over to the girl, rubbing against her leg. She knelt, stroked his fur, and the cat began to purr.
How about I give you a lift and you keep the cat? Arthur offered. Hes attached to you already.
The womans face softened, tears spilling over.
Id love that. I work at a vets office, so I know animals, she said. I dont know where well stay, though. My aunt lives in nearby Northampton; maybe she can take us.
Arthur watched the girl dandle the cat, her golden curls trembling. He remembered a gossip from the clinicthis was probably the same Evelyn whose husband was a brute. He didnt press the issue, just nodded.
Alright, hop in, he said.
Lets go, Milly! the woman shouted, calling her daughter by name.
Arthur helped the cat into the cab, and the little procession shuffled into the cab. The woman sank into the passenger seat, the girl perched behind her.
Ill pay you, I promise, the woman insisted, but Arthur only grunted.
Fine. The cat liked you, so youre decent folk. Give him a thankyou.
Thank you, kitty! the woman whispered. Whats his name?
Just a cat, Arthur shrugged. We met on the road today.
Youre a good soul, she said, eyes shining. Whats your name?
Arthur Clarke, he replied gruffly.
Im Evelyn, and this is my little Milly, the woman answered.
Will your aunt take us? Arthur asked, halfamused.
I hope so, Evelyn sighed.
Give her a call, Arthur suggested, leaning forward.
Evelyn blushed and whispered, No phone my husband smashed it when we fought
Arthur opened the locker, handed her a spare mobile. She murmured a hurried explanation to her aunt, words like husband, runaway, and cat slipping through her teeth.
Shell take us, but not the cat, Evelyn said apologetically.
Milly burst into tears, clutching the cat.
Come on, little one, youll be safe, Arthur said, patting the cats head.
He drove them to the outskirts of Northampton, where Evelyns aunt, Mrs. Whitaker, opened the door.
Ah, youre the ones with the cat, Mrs. Whitaker said, eyes softening as she cupped Millys cheek. Come in, youre welcome.
The cat, now calm, curled up on Millys lap. She kissed its whiskered nose, then, suddenly, lunged forward and wrapped her arms around Arthurs neck.
Dont hug him, love! Evelyn shrieked, flustered.
Her fathers gone, thats why she clings, the aunt muttered.
Arthurs heart thumped. Hed long ago decided against a family of his own, yet this tiny, curlhaired child was tugging at something deep inside him.
Will you come back? Milly asked, looking up at him with huge, hopeful eyes. With the cat?
Ill try, Arthur managed, his voice catching.
Milly sighed, ran inside, and the scene faded as Arthur climbed back into his cab, the cat nestled beside him.
The road stretched ahead, but the image of the little girl and her desperate mother lingered in his mind.
Where do these brutes come from, thinking they can bully the weak? Arthur muttered to the cat. The animal let out a disdainful meow, as if in agreement.
If only I could tell them not to raise a hand on women and children, Arthur ranted, shaking his head.
Meow! the cat replied, as if adding its own sharp teeth to the argument.
For the first time on the road, Arthur felt the cats presence calming him, giving him someone to talk to.
He recounted his childhood, his stint in the army, his cynicism about politics. The cat listened, occasionally letting out a sharp mew that seemed to endorse his views.
On the shoulder, a wrecked car drew a crowd. Two men shouted, one stepped onto the road waving his arms.
Need a hand? Arthur called, opening the passenger door.
The scene exploded. One man drew a pistol; a stray catlike projectile whizzed past Arthurs head.
The tabby leapt, claws out, latching onto the armed mans face. The gun clattered to the ground. Arthur lunged, snatched the weapon, and shouted, Hands up!
Get the cat off me! the second attacker roared, brandishing a knife.
Arthur, with the cat still clinging to his shoulder, shoved the second assailant, sending him sprawling. He dove back into the cab, shouting, Move!
He dialed the local police on the spare phone, the number memorised from his licence. Within half an hour, the officers arrived, cuffing the two crooks.
Caught em, didnt you? a traffic warden named Sergeant Collins joked, patting Arthur on the back. Youve got a real hero on your hands there.
Hero? Arthur laughed weakly. I just got a cat and a load of trouble.
The states got a few longhaulers on its payroll, the sergeant grinned. You didnt have to bring a wounded cat into this, though.
Arthur looked at the cat. The cat looked back.
My mate, Arthur said firmly. Hes my codriver.
The sergeant chuckled. Lucky you have a partner that fights like that.
Arthur nodded. Lucky indeed.
The story of Arthur and his daring cat spread through the transport forums. Drivers recognised the striped beast, waving when they passed, thanking him for the rescue.
Three weeks later, when the splint came off, Arthur turned his rig toward Ashby-de-la-Zouch, the town where hed first taken the cat to the vet.
He pushed open the clinic door and froze as Evelyn emerged, eyes locked on him.
Ah, its you, she breathed, a smile flickering. I had a dream Id see you today.
Dreams do funny things, Arthur replied, unsure how to continue. You and Milly okay?
Fine, she said, shaking her head. My aunt loves us, and Ive filed for divorce. My husband hes gone.
Arthur felt a sudden surge of protectiveness. Youll need someone to look after you, he said, voice softening.
Evelyns eyes widened. Would you could you stay?
The cat, perched on his lap, gave a decisive meow.
I have a daughter too a little girl Ive never had a chance to be for, she whispered.
Im not a poet, Arthur admitted, but I know this meeting wasnt by chance. Think about it. Ill look after you both.
The cat twitched its whiskers in agreement.
Ill think about it, Evelyn promised.
A month later they were married in a modest church, Arthur trading his longhaul routes for a job driving a mobile veterinary unit.
The striped catnow known as RoadBuddystill lives with them, watching over Milly and occasionally sighing as he remembers the open highway, curled up on the wide sofa.
Romance may fade, but the road still needs its guardians. And it helps that there are wise cats to keep watch.