Timba Comes Home (6 page)

Rick allowed a silence, and it was full of messages, like the silence of the Spirit Lion.

‘And are you always going to be bad, Leroy?’

‘No. When I grow up I’m gonna change the world . . . like the White Lions . . . only no one believes me. I’m gonna go to Africa and save all the animals.’ A fire burned
in Leroy’s aura, courage from long ago, and Rick sat there nodding thoughtfully. He unfolded his long legs and stood up, crossing the room in two hungry strides. My heart went cold as he
opened my cage. Surely he wasn’t going to give me back to Leroy?

‘Come on, beautiful Timba,’ he said, and scooped me into his luminous hands. ‘I want to see you hold him, Leroy . . . gently and lovingly. Can you do that?’

My plans to scratch and bite melted away when I saw Leroy’s smile of delight. I heard myself purring and felt his heart race with joy as he held me close. Around his hands the light shone
gold. It was transformational. The whole child shone with happiness . . . just because of me. I was powerful!

The new purr I had developed in those few days was a precious key that could unlock the hardest of human hearts, and a new skill was being born in my mind . . . bonding. So far I hadn’t
bonded with anyone except Vati. I searched Leroy’s eyes and saw the radiant soul beyond the angry boy. My cute little tail went up and I moved up over his school jumper to his face and
touched noses. He giggled as my whiskers brushed his cheek, and I knew I had given him something beyond price.

‘Stroke him this way,’ said Rick. ‘The way his fur grows. It’s comforting for him, and it keeps his fur smooth and glossy.’

‘I never knew that.’ For the first time Leroy stroked me the way I liked it, head to tail, firmly yet softly, quite differently from how he had ruffled and tweaked me before.

‘That’s brilliant,’ said Rick, and turned as the door opened. ‘Ah, here’s your mum.’

I felt Leroy tense defensively. The magic moment of bonding disappeared under a rolling cloud of worries. What had I done? Abandoned my plan to scratch and bite, and bonded with the boy who had
hurt and frightened me. Was I crazy?

‘We’ll lend you a cat cage to take him home in,’ said Rick, and he gave Leroy a book with a kitten on the front. ‘Can you read, Leroy? This is a really good book . . . it
tells you how to care for a kitten. Here, put Timba in the cage and you can take him home.’

What had I done? Well, I could still run away, I thought, at the first opportunity. Just wait till they open that door . . . I’ll be gone down the street, and this time NO ONE will catch
me.

The evening passed without incident. Leroy watched me constantly. He even sat beside me on the floor as I ate my supper, with his own plate of food in his hand. He let me wash,
and then played with me, chuckling in delight at my performance with a fuzzy ball tied on a string. I enjoyed it. We watched each other’s faces and I learned to guess when he was going to
move the string, and he learned that I liked it best when he moved it slowly. He gave me a white ping-pong ball which was brilliant fun. Light and fast, it sped across the floor and Leroy’s
laughter was encouraging. ‘Timba’s playing football!’ he squealed.

The atmosphere was altogether lighter and more carefree. In a few hours of happiness, trust began to grow. Maybe it would be OK. I was stronger now. My back legs felt like frustrated springs and
my mind alert and mischievous. Leroy wasn’t quite equal to another kitten, but he was getting there.

Janine was oddly quiet. She seemed preoccupied, and she didn’t shout at Leroy once, but stared at the television.

‘I’m going to bed now, Mum. Timba’s tired,’ he said.

‘Yeah. OK. Night night.’

Surprisingly she didn’t try to stop him taking me to bed, and I spent a peaceful night, glad to be close to the breathing warmth of another being. We slept together, a troubled boy and a
lost kitten, under the wings of his angel.

Sitting on the windowsill in the glow of dawn, I turned to look back at Leroy’s bedroom, and got a shock. There were pictures all over the walls, and at first they looked like scribbled
lines and splodges, but suddenly I saw they had eyes. Fierce yellow eyes, watching me. And teeth! Long, hooky fangs and gaping jaws. Spooked, I sat bolt upright, too scared to move, hoping that a
hard stare from Solomon’s best kitten would make them leave me alone.

‘What are you looking at, Timba?’ Leroy must have sensed my fear. He got out of bed and picked me up. I was like a wooden cat in his arms, still trying to outstare those creatures on
the wall. ‘Don’t be scared,’ he said, ‘those are my pictures of lions. Mum won’t let me have paper, so I draw them on the wall. I get into trouble for it, but I
don’t care.’ He carried me over to the biggest one and patted the wall to show me the lion wasn’t real. ‘See this one, Timba?’ he said. ‘See this big word coming
out of its mouth? It says “ROAR”, and I did a load of Rs to make it loud.’

The spooky feeling subsided, but I couldn’t ignore the lions. So many of them. I kept seeing different ones, and I crept around the floor, looking up at them, checking them out. Would I
have to live with these strange, unreal images?

Leroy picked up a box of pens from under the bed. ‘I’ll draw a picture of you, Timba!’ he said. And I sat mesmerised as he made black marks on a bare patch of wall. ‘This
is your thick fur . . . and now your whiskers.’ He did my eyes very big and coloured them yellow. ‘You’re very small, Timba,’ he said, ‘but I’ll look after you.
I won’t let the lions get you,’ and he took me back to bed for a cuddle.

He was trying so hard to be my friend.

In the morning Janine was still unusually quiet. Leroy fed me and got ready for school.

‘Look after Timba, Mum,’ he said.

Janine hardly glanced at him. ‘Whatever,’ she muttered, and I sensed something ominous about her silence.

I washed thoroughly and had a little play. Then I slept in a patch of sunshine that was pouring through the grubby window onto the sofa.

Sometime in the middle of the day, Janine picked me up and cuddled me. ‘Sorry about this, Timba . . . but you’ve got to go.’

Where had I heard THAT before? ‘Sorry about this . . .’

Then she put me in the cat cage and walked out into the street with me. I meowed in fright.

Now what?

Janine marched along in the sunshine, and went down the street where Leroy had pushed me in the trolley. She turned into the lane with the hedges, and passed the spot where we’d been
abandoned. Was she going to dump me in the hedge again? I began to feel angry. Hadn’t a kitten like me got any rights?

She walked on, looking at the ground, not seeming to notice the blue sky and the wind zigzagging through the cornfields. Past an isolated cottage where a dog was barking, and on towards a low
building with a flat roof and lots of glass. A group of women with pushchairs were outside the gate, but Janine tightened her lips and wove her way around them.

‘Can’t you stop that meowing?’ she hissed, but I wailed even louder. I was kicking up a fuss, telling the universe how these humans were messing up my life. The idea of being a
wild cat rather appealed to me now. Mixed up with the anger was a longing, an ache in my heart. I wanted to be free to explore the amazing world, to know its creatures, its plants and its
mysterious energies that cats can sense.

Janine took me into the building and immediately I recognised the smells of paper, polish and children. I remembered the rainbow auras and wanted to see them again. My meows had become hollow
cries resounding up and down the corridors. Leroy would hear me and come running, I thought.

‘Hello, Mrs McArthur. Have you come to fetch Leroy?’ said the school secretary.

Janine put the cat cage on the floor so that I could now only see feet and not faces. What an insult. How would she like it? I was getting more and more upset.

‘No . . . and I don’t want Leroy to know I’m here,’ Janine whispered. ‘But it’s urgent. I need to see his teacher right now . . . please. It won’t take
long.’

‘Angie can’t just leave her class, I’m afraid. Can you wait until home time? Then she’ll see you.’

‘I don’t want Leroy to know I’ve got the kitten. Can I sit in your office . . .with the door shut? He’s making such a row!’

‘Sounds like a big cat you’ve got in there.’

‘It’s just a kitten. Look!’ Janine held the cage up and both women peered in at my meowing face. ‘I don’t want Leroy to hear him.’

‘I should think the whole school can hear him!’

We waited, Janine getting increasingly nervous. Then a bell rang and I heard the sound of children. Somewhere among them Leroy would be grabbing his bag and setting off, expecting to find me at
home.

I recognised Angie’s brisk footsteps out in the corridor, and finally she was with us, looking in at me. ‘You little darling,’ she whispered and put her face close to the bars.
‘Hasn’t he grown!’ She turned to Janine. ‘So why have you brought Timba here?’

‘You said you’d give him a home,’ Janine said. ‘I’m really sorry but I can’t look after a kitten. Leroy is OBSESSED with him, and it’s causing nothing
but trouble. It’s not fair on the kitten. So, please . . . will you take him . . . otherwise . . .’

‘Otherwise what?’

Janine didn’t answer but stared at Angie. I knew what she was thinking. She was going to dump me somewhere. My meows turned into screams.

‘Oh darling! I can’t bear this.’ Angie opened my cage and took me out. ‘You’re so beautiful, Timba. It’s OK. It’s OK. Angie’s got you now, darling
angel!’ She kissed the top of my head, and at last I was quiet. Exhausted from crying, I clung to the cardigan she was wearing, and tried to burrow my way inside it.

‘Of course I’ll have him,’ she said passionately. ‘And it will be a for-ever home . . . even though I hadn’t planned on having a cat . . . my life is in a state of
flux right now . . . but I won’t let him down.’

‘Thank God for that,’ said Janine. ‘I wanted to do the right thing for Timba . . . he’s had such a rotten time. Between you and me, I think that Leroy would end up
killing him. We’ve had some real humdingers over it.’

‘You do realise,’ said Angie, ‘that Leroy is going to be totally heartbroken. He’s talked of nothing else but Timba. He WAS trying so hard to look after him. I’m
concerned for him . . . aren’t you?’

Janine shrugged. ‘That’s life . . . and he’s gotta deal with it.’

‘It’s a shame.’ Angie’s eyes blazed with concern. ‘Leroy is SUCH a creative child. Have you seen his art work?’

‘No. I don’t let him do stuff like that. He makes enough mess. You should see his bedroom. It’s a tip. And he scribbles all over the walls.’

‘Shouldn’t he be allowed to say goodbye to Timba?’ Angie asked. ‘He’s still here. I told him to wait in the playground.’

‘No. Please . . . I don’t want him to know.’

But as she spoke Leroy’s face appeared at the window, pressed to the glass. He looked at me in Angie’s arms, then down at the cat cage. Seconds later I heard running feet and he
burst through the door.

‘Why have you got Timba?’ he demanded. ‘He’s MY kitten.’

‘Timba is going to live with me, Leroy,’ said Angie firmly. ‘Your mum thinks it’s best for him.’

Leroy turned on Janine, his aura on fire.

‘You got no right to do that,’ he spat. ‘You got no right to take my kitten when I’m not there. I HATE you. I hate you all. And when I’m big, I’ll come and
get Timba back.’ He hurled his school bag across the room and charged out of the door. The sound of his crying rang in my head for hours.

‘He’s broken-hearted,’ said Angie, and she kissed my head again. ‘It’s not over, Timba, with Leroy. We’ve got to do something to help him.’

My expectations of life as Angie’s cat were based on my past-life experience of being a pampered cat in a luxurious palace, in a culture where cats were idolised. I
thought Angie would be drifting around in silken robes with nothing to do but cuddle me and play with me. Wrong! I expected to be the only animal in Angie’s life. Wrong! I assumed that in
Angie’s house I would never be frightened. Wrong!

The first thing she did was introduce me to Graham. Angie sailed down the hall with me tucked close to her heart. ‘This is the music room,’ she told me. ‘And this is Graham,
the love of my life. Hello, darling.’ She stood on tiptoe to kiss the man. ‘Meet our new kitten, Timba. Isn’t he GORGEOUS?’

I didn’t turn round to look at Graham. One glimpse of his frowning eyes had been enough. I tried to burrow inside Angie’s cardigan, while Graham stroked me with one finger.

‘He’s cute. Real chocolate box. Let me hold him.’

I wasn’t ready, but Angie carefully lowered me into Graham’s cupped hands. The frown disappeared as he felt my soft fur. I looked up into his eyes, and sensed a secret, something
Angie didn’t know about. It was dormant, like a hedgehog in winter, curled up, prickly and asleep. I knew that when it awakened Angie would be like Leroy . . . broken-hearted. Obviously she
needed a strong loving cat like me.

I survived the introduction, but what followed was something completely new to me.

‘Graham is a WONDERFUL singer,’ Angie said. ‘I hope you like music, Timba.’

‘Cats do,’ said Graham, and he handed me back to Angie. I stared through the window at an apple tree, and wanted to be out there on the grass catching insects and learning about the
world.

‘How’s the new song progressing?’ Angie asked. She looked up at Graham adoringly.

‘Have a listen,’ he said, and went to the super shiny black piano. He wagged a finger at me. ‘Don’t you ever scratch my piano, Timba.’

Angie slid her bust across the mirror-bright piano top, and gazed raptly at Graham. He played some notes, and I found them startling. Then he squared his huge shoulders, breathed in a bucketful
of air, and began to sing like a lion roaring. So, so loud. It terrified me. The sound came from deep in his being, and its power teased the sensitive hairs inside my ears. It was louder than a cat
could stand. It was like something reborn from the history of the earth, the howling of wolves, the boom of thunder, the wild cry of a vulture.