Solomon's Kitten (15 page)

I responded by showing the family how to have fun. I didn’t need TV or a computer. A cardboard box was my favourite, and TammyLee made one with little doors and holes I could pop in and
out of and dark corners where I could hide toys and treasures. That summer, I developed a lot of new skills. Like opening zips on handbags. A zip made me dance with excitement if it had a toggle I
could pull. The fun was in discovering the amazing stuff inside handbags . . . soft things and shiny things. Lipstick cases were what I liked. Those were fantastic to chase across the floor and
under the sofa.

Best of all were the squeals of laughter from visitors when I cheekily opened a new handbag, put my paw inside and took things out. If there was a money purse, I pulled it out between my teeth,
as if it was a piece of chicken, and that always raised the loudest laugh. Then I circled round it, working out how to get it open, and I usually succeeded. The pound coins were brilliant for
batting across the polished wood floor. I meowed at TammyLee, until she picked one up and cleverly made it spin or roll for me to chase. But after one incident, I wasn’t allowed the bits of
crackly paper. I’d shredded a banknote and even Amber had disapproved.

‘You’re pushing your luck,’ she said. ‘I used to chew shoes and books if I could get one, and once, Max actually growled at me, as if he wanted to be a dog, and he
smacked me with his newspaper. Money, and shoes, and books are important to humans.’

Summer rolled on, and Amber and I were carefree and happy. TammyLee was on holiday, and she took us out every day to the park and along the river.

I still loved the river, despite my ordeal, but now I was very, very wary. The sound of boys’ voices made me hide, or run to TammyLee, who could carry me. Amber chased any dogs who barked
at me, and I soon worked out a route high in the trees, as if I were a monkey, running and leaping through the branches. It was great.

I hoped that one day, we would meet Kaye and Rocky. I watched women with pushchairs from my perches in the trees. I planned to go racing over to them, and sit on Rocky’s lap. Then TammyLee
would have to collect me, and she’d meet Rocky.

But it didn’t happen. Kay and Rocky were nowhere to be seen.

Everywhere we went on those days of golden sun, TammyLee carried in her heart the shadow of her lost baby, and the guilt of what she had done. It was hard for me to keep believing I could bring
them together.

‘There is a plan,’ my angel said. ‘You don’t need to do anything, Tallulah. The love you are giving is precious and healing for TammyLee.’

I’d established a place in the garden where I talked to my angel regularly. It was under an apple tree, where I often settled down in the dappled sunlight to sleep and to listen to the
buzz of wasps clustered around the fallen apples.

‘Watch the swallows,’ my angel said, ‘and when you see them gathering on the wires, they are leaving and, this autumn, everything will change, not just for you, but for the
whole community. There will be a time of change, a time when you must stay indoors, away from the river.’

‘Why?’ I asked, puzzled. ‘I like the river and so does Amber.’

‘It looks tranquil now,’ said my angel, ‘but in the winter it will roar like a lion, and the water will be tawny gold and foaming, like the mane of a lion.’

‘But why?’

‘Because it will be winter.’

Winter. I remembered winter in Gretel’s garden. The soil knobbly and locked together with ice crystals so that I couldn’t scratch it up when I needed to. The lawn with blue shadows
on crisp white grass. The trees coated in ice. The birds desperate and hungry, easy to catch. What did winter have to do with a lion?

‘Be happy while you can,’ said my angel. ‘Before the winter, TammyLee will have something very hard to deal with. It could go either way . . . like when you were ill, you were
caught in the golden land between life and death, a land that sparkles and sustains, but sends you back to live your life and do the task you agreed. Believe me, TammyLee will need your
love.’

‘So . . . lots of purring, and stay away from the river. Is that it?’ I asked.

‘That’s it, for now.’

Soon after I had watched the swallows leaving on their long journey, I noticed a change in TammyLee’s routine.

She had started college, part-time, training to be a hairdresser.

‘Wasting your life. Wasting it,’ Max ranted at her. ‘Doing people’s HAIR, for goodness’ sake. Subscribing to vanity. When you were bright enough to go to
university.’

At first, TammyLee argued with him, but mostly she rolled her eyes and ignored him.

‘I can’t wait to get away from Dad,’ she told me in private, ‘get my own flat and have some peace. I only stay here because of Mum. She needs me, and I love her,
Tallulah. I wish she could get better.’

One day, I had a terrible shock. I’d been off on my own all afternoon, catching mice, exploring other people’s gardens and going through their cat flaps. I could tell from the
shadows that it was time for the college bus to bring TammyLee home. So I hurried back. Instead of going under the gate, I climbed the high wooden fence, intending to sit up there and watch for the
bus.

I looked down into the garden, and a pair of insolent eyes were staring back at me. Sitting under the apple tree was a young man dressed in black, his bare shoulders gleaming in the sun. He was
eating an apple from the tree in loud bites.

I froze. It was HIM. Sitting in
our
garden, in MY favourite spot. What was he doing there?

Fear and anger kinked and coiled like two snakes in my mind. While he was there, I didn’t dare to jump down from the fence and I wanted to go through the cat flap and get my tea. I
couldn’t go home!

He looked up at me, and I saw guilt in his eyes. ‘Glad you survived,’ he said, and when I stared stonily back, he added: ‘I’m sorry, puss . . . sorry I did that to you .
. . I ain’t gonna ’urt you now. I’ve changed, see? Come on, get down.’ He clicked his fingers. ‘Puddy puddy puddy . . .’

I understood that cats were often addressed as ‘Pussy’, which was OK . . . but ‘Puddy’ was so insulting to my status as Tallulah. I added contempt to my stony stare.

With a casual flick of his wrist, he chucked the apple core against the fence with a bang. The red and white pieces scattered into a clump of asters, upsetting bees and butterflies who were
gathering nectar.

I wasn’t prepared to trust him, and I had a quick decision to make. Should I run down the road to meet TammyLee? Or save myself from this monster who had dropped me in the river? I knew I
could move faster than he could, but I was still scared that he would cross the lawn in long strides and snatch me from the fence. I had to get out of his reach.

I crawled along the fence like a caterpillar, my tail down, my claws clinging. Instinct made me move stealthily, so that nothing would want to chase me. One paw at a time, I reached the end of
the fence where it adjoined the house. I scrambled up some ivy and onto the roof. I’d never been on the roof, so I picked my way over the tiles, which were prickly with lichen. Flicking my
ears back to catch any sound from Dylan, I walked to the high ridge of the roof, stretched myself over a nicely rounded, sunbaked tile, and pretended to wash. It wouldn’t do to let that boy
see I was intimidated by him. Washing was the ultimate put-down, and a good way of observing him without seeming to do so.

He looked smaller, down there on the lawn, and kind of lonely. Why was he there? Was he waiting for TammyLee? And why wasn’t Amber barking? Then I remembered that, earlier in the day, Max
had gone off in the car with Diana in the front seat and Amber wagging her tail in the back. So I was alone in the place.

From the roof, there was a view of the road and the river glinting between the trees. I resolved to spend more time on this lovely roof, despite being dive-bombed by two jackdaws who
didn’t appreciate having me on their patch. Glancing down at Dylan sitting under the apple tree, I found myself fascinated by his aura. Unlike when I first encountered him, it was now
unexpectedly bright. Mostly blue and green with an outer edge of gold. Being a healing cat, I examined it in some detail, looking first at the area where his heart would be, and it was dark with
pain.

I saw that Dylan was carrying the loneliness of anger. He was so angry that the friends he needed wouldn’t go near him.

‘You are doing brilliantly, Tallulah.’ The voice startled me, and I was surprised to see my angel on the roof with me. I’d been so focused on Dylan.

‘Just don’t ask me to go down there,’ I said.

‘I never ask you to do something unless I know you can,’ said my angel. In that moment, my spiritual vision was full on, and even the trees had webs of light around them. I gazed at
my angel, remembering that she was the Angel of Secrets.

‘Is something going to happen?’ I asked.

‘Wait and see. Sit up and look majestic,’ she advised. ‘And remember . . . Dylan has an angel too.’

I fluffed my fur and sat up, aware of the radiance around me and the sunlight shining on my white chest, my eyes golden and alert.

TammyLee paused at the garden gate, staring at Dylan sitting under the apple tree. Her face hardened with rage, and she burst through the gate in a fury.

‘What the HELL are YOU doing here?’

Dylan didn’t move. Only his foot started to tap-tap at the grass. His eyes burned blue as he looked steadily at TammyLee.

‘GET THE HELL OUT of my garden!’ she screamed, and flew at him like a fighting cat, attacking him with her bag. It glittered wildly as she swung it at his head. Dylan put his hands
up to defend himself, but he didn’t fight back.

‘Calm down, will you?’ he said.

‘Don’t tell ME to calm down. What are you doing here? And where’s my cat? You’d better not have hurt her. If you touch my cat EVER AGAIN, I’ll bloody kill you. Get
the FUCK out of our garden.’

She swung the bag at his head and her precious mobile flew out and landed on the lawn. She snatched it up.

‘I’m phoning my Dad, if you don’t go.’

Dylan’s eyes were so powerful that when he turned them to look at something, everyone else would look at it too. So TammyLee followed his stare, and saw me sitting majestically on the
roof. I meowed at her.

‘The cat’s OK, see? I ain’t touched ’er,’ said Dylan.

TammyLee had her keys in her hand and I could see she was working out whether to run into the house and slam the door, or run away, or stay there. She stood glowering down at Dylan, her boots
planted wide apart, her hair twinkling with skeins of tiny stars she had woven into it.

‘You know I do kick-boxing,’ she said, ‘and I don’t want to have to use it on you.’

‘Yeah. It don’t faze me, babe.’

‘And don’t call me “babe”.’

Dylan stretched out his hand to her. ‘Will you sit down? Please, TammyLee. For five minutes? I didn’t come here to make trouble. I got something to say to you. Please?’

‘Why should I?’

‘Why shouldn’t you? Don’t worry, I ain’t gonna touch you, babe. I’m just asking you to listen. Please, TammyLee. I promise I’ll go away, if you will just hear
what I have to say.’ He lowered his voice and it was barely audible.

‘Go closer,’ said my angel. ‘Be brave, Tallulah. TammyLee needs you.’

When I saw TammyLee sit down on the grass beside Dylan, I meowed, and made my way down the roof. There was a silence as both of them watched me make a scary jump onto the fence.

‘Tail up,’ said my angel, and I managed that as well. But I wasn’t going to jump down into the garden.

TammyLee got up and came to fetch me. I cuddled into her, purring and kissing her hot face, but I was tense with fear as she sat down next to Dylan.

‘Go on then . . . say it,’ she demanded.

‘Look . . . I’m sorry.’ Dylan’s eyes looked down at the ground. ‘I don’t know what got into me that day. I apologise, unreservedly, for what I did to the cat.
I don’t suppose you’ll ever forgive me . . . but there you are, I’ve said sorry and it wasn’t easy.’

‘Hearts and flowers!’ said TammyLee, sarcastically. ‘Why don’t you say sorry to the cat? She’s called Tallulah, and she’s a rescue cat and she . . .
she’s my best mate.’

Dylan nodded. He tried to make eye contact with me, but I refused it. He tried to touch my fur, but when I felt his finger, I tensed. My claws dug into TammyLee’s pink top. I stopped
purring and growled like a dog.

‘She doesn’t trust you. Best leave her alone,’ said TammyLee, and she stroked me until I relaxed. ‘If you knew what she’s been through, you wouldn’t have been
so cruel, Dylan. And look what you’ve lost . . . the love and friendship of a beautiful cat. That’s something precious to me.’

‘Yeah, I get it.’ Dylan tore a leaf from a nearby plant and began to shred it. ‘Pity you don’t feel the same about babies.’

TammyLee stiffened. ‘What d’you mean by that? I love little children.’

Dylan raised his eyebrows. He was ominously silent for another painful minute. We all listened to my purring, and the chattering of sparrows. We watched a butterfly feeding on a rotten apple,
its wings like jewels in the dappled sunlight. Under my paws, TammyLee’s heart began to thud at double its normal speed.

Then Dylan dropped his bombshell.

‘I want to know what happened, TammyLee. What happened to our baby?’

‘What baby?’ she fired, lifting her chin defiantly. I could feel the lies queuing up in her mind.

‘Don’t pretend you don’t know,’ Dylan insisted, his voice quiet.

‘I
don’t
know.’

‘The baby we made together, that day we skived off the school harvest festival. Come on, TammyLee . . . you told me at the end of term that you were pregnant. Come on, admit it.’

TammyLee was holding me with one hand and ripping up blades of grass with the other. She pursed her lips and refused to look at Dylan.

‘Look, I know I did a stupid thing,’ he said, ‘when you said you were pregnant – I couldn’t get my head round it and I walked away. And you screamed after me.
Remember? You said you never wanted to see me again.’

‘I was fourteen, and I didn’t want sex with you, Dylan.’