1. SOLOMON�S TALE

FINDING ELLEN

I sat down in the middle of the road to think about why I had left home on that summer morning.

I was only a black kitten, eight weeks old, but I had a tough decision to make. Should I stay in my comfortable home and live a boring predictable life, or should I set out on a long journey to find the person I loved best in the whole world? Her name was Ellen, and I had been Ellen�s cat in another lifetime, when she was a child. She�d called me Solomon and I was her best friend. I wanted to find her again.

Suddenly a lorry was coming towards me. The road underneath my paws started to tremble. I could feel it vibrating along my tail and tickling the fluff inside my ears.

It loomed closer. Two glaring eyes, a forehead made of glass, and a name emblazoned across its chin. SCANIA. It had massive wheels and was roaring like fifty lions.

Hypnotised, I stared into its eyes, thinking that if I acted like an assertive tiger, the lorry would stop and let me finish washing my paws.

My angel didn�t usually shout at me, but she did now.

�Run Solomon. RUN!�

I took off so fast that I left skid marks in the gravel. As I sailed into the hedge, the lorry thundered past in a gale of gritty air. Hissing, it pulled over, stopped, and was finally silent. A man climbed out and disappeared into a nearby building.

Being a very nosy kitten, I crept out to inspect the giant lorry while it was quiet. I sat in the road and looked at it. The sky darkened and icy hailstones came pinging down into my fur. Underneath the lorry was a good place to shelter. The wheels were hot and I sat close to one, watching the hailstones bouncing on the tarmac. I�d been outside for a long time and I needed to sleep.

I crawled into a hole at the front of the lorry. Inside, it was toasty warm. The stink of oil, the heat, and the chorus of hailstones made me drowsy. I curled up on a little shelf close to the engine, wrapped my tail around the tip of my nose, and fell asleep.

Hours later, I was jolted awake by an ear-splitting clatter. Every bone in my body was being banged up and down as the engine hammered into life. Terrified, I scrabbled to get out but saw only a chink of speeding wet road. I climbed higher, onto an oily ledge, my white-tipped paws ruined and stinking. Through a crack in the metal was a view of fields and bridges racing past.

I clung there, trying to communicate with my angel. But all she said was,�your journey has begun, Solomon�.

I understood.

And I remembered how, before I was even born, I had agreed to make the perilous journey to find Ellen.

It all began when I was a shining cat, living in the spirit world between lifetimes.

In the spirit world we cats are shining cats, and we live in a way that is impossible on earth. We are invisible to human eyes. There is no meowing or yowling, but we do purr, and we communicate by telepathy. Lots of other creatures live there, shining dogs and shining horses, even shining guinea pigs. There are shining people too. No one argues. There is no pollution, no illness, and no war.

Ellen�s mum had died when Ellen was young, and now she lived in the spirit world with me. She knew how much Ellen missed her and it was her idea to send me.

�I�d like to send Ellen a cat,� she said, �a special cat to love and support her. She�s going to need it with that husband of hers.�

My response was immediate.

�I�ll go.�

Ellen�s mum took me onto her lap, where I did lots of purring, and together we sent the idea out into the light. Then we waited until an angel appeared.

Thousands of angels live in the spirit world, and they are all different. Some of them are immense and glittering warriors of light. Others change colour like holograms. My favourite ones are the comfort angels who are more like people, and their robes are soft and swishy. They shine so brightly that their faces are almost invisible.

The angel who came to us introduced herself as the Angel of the Silver Stars. I�d never seen her before, but as soon as her twinkling robe billowed around me I felt special.

�I�ll be your angel for this lifetime, Solomon,� she said. �It will be a tough assignment, but I will be there to advise you about the choices you make. Of course you will make mistakes, but that is part of your learning, and I will still be there for you. My light is so bright that I become almost invisible on earth, but if you remember to look at sparkles whenever you can, you will see me, especially if you study the sunlight glittering on water.�

�I�ll remember,� I said, and hoped that I would.

�There will be times when you are upset or lost or hungry,� said my angel as she covered me in stardust. �That�s when you might forget me, but I�ll be there, and from time to time other angels will come to help the humans in your life. But don�t expect it to be easy.�

It didn�t sound difficult to me, since I already loved Ellen. My mind was buzzing with excitement at the prospect of going to earth again. There would be tins of Kitekat, and cosy fires, and all those mice. I couldn�t wait.

�You�ll have to be born as a kitten in the usual way,� said the Angel of the Silver Stars. �I�ll help you, but you must help yourself too. It�s not just about Ellen. You�ve still got stuff to learn.�

�I�d like to be a majestic tomcat,� I said, �with a really powerful purr. Black and glossy, with white paws and a white chest. And please will you send me to the right address? Last time it involved being dumped at the RSPCA before Ellen found me.�

�This time you will have to find her,� said the angel. �You must learn to use your psi sense.�

�Psi sense?� I asked.

�Humans call it Sat Nav,� said the angel with a smile. �Are you sure you want to go, Solomon?�

Nostalgically I gazed around at my beautiful home in the spirit world. I loved being a shining cat. Here, you could justbe. No one would chuck you out in the rain, or cover you in flea powder.

Then I remembered Ellen�s house, with its sunny windows. My favourite cushion was there, made of amber velvet. And the stairs were my best ever playground. Ellen had a cosy kitchen and a cherry tree in the garden.

I�d been Ellen�s cat when she was a child, and she�d loved me more than anyone else in her life. She wouldn�t go to sleep unless I was there, purring on her bed, and when her mum had turned out the light and gone downstairs, Ellen would turn it on again and play with me. When we were tired, Ellen showed me her secret diary, and read it to me. She had a lovely musical voice, and I was the only one who heard it because Ellen wouldn�t talk to people very much. She wouldn�t do her homework or tidy her bedroom. All she wanted to do was dance, and play the piano.

The best memory I had of Ellen was the way she shared her musical gifts with me. Early in the morning she sat down at the piano, on the velvet stool, and she was so small that her feet didn�t reach the floor.

�Come on, Solomon,� she�d say, and smile as I jumped up to lie on top of the shiny piano. I liked to be there and see the light in her eyes as she played, and watch her come to life. She played on and on, with her tiny hands dancing over the keys, her blonde hair bouncing. The music gave me abuzz, up my spine and along my whiskers. At those times there were always angels shimmering around us.

Her mum would come in with Ellen�s school bag and coat over her arm. �It�s time for school.�

�I don�t want to go there, Mummy.�

�You�re going.�

�But I want to finish playing this tune, Mummy. I made it up and Solomon loves it.�

�Ellen, it�s TIME FOR SCHOOL.�

I had to watch helplessly as the light drained away from Ellen. Her small face tightened, her skin paled and her eyes clouded as she closed the lid of the piano.

�Listen to me, Solomon,� my angel said, and I focused on her again.

�Ellen is grown up now. She�s not the child you remember.�

�So what�s the problem?� I asked.

�I must warn you that Ellen is in such a state that she may not be able to look after you properly,� said my angel. �She has a little boy who is just toddling, and a husband who shouts at her, and they are in desperate trouble.�

�I want to go,� I said firmly.

My angel hesitated, as if she wanted to tell me something else.

�And,� she whispered, �there�s Jessica.�

�Jessica?�

My angel was silent. She looked at me lovingly with her silver eyes.

�I�m sure Solomon will be fine,� said Ellen�s mum. �He�s a healing cat. And he�s brave and cheeky too. He�ll be OK.�

When the time came for me to be born, I watched my angel dissolve into a kaleidoscope of sparks. The silver stars turned hazy, and suddenly I was whizzing through space. The light crackled like fire, and I burst through the great golden web which separates the spirit world from the earth. It was a brilliant ride.

Then everything changed.

I was no longer a shining spirit cat. I had to be compacted to fit inside this tiny sausage of a kitten, which had just been born. All I could do was wriggle and squeak. My eyes wouldn�t open. My legs wouldn�t walk. I couldn�t see what colour my fur was. It was devastating. Why did I agree to do this? I wasn�t a proper cat. I was a sausage.

But I wasn�t alone. Four of us lay there in a purring heap, all silky and rhythmic. The power of the mother cat enveloped my whole being as she licked and suckled me.

Nine days later, my eyes opened to see the edge of a basket close to a warm stove. I saw my paws and they were glossy black with white toes, just as I�d requested. Big feet were walking around, two in slippers and two in boots, and hands kept coming down to gently stroke our tiny heads. It wasn�t Ellen, but I kept faith that she would come and choose me.

My early kittenhood was happy. Right from the start I was picked up and held tenderly against massive chests, with hearts beating so slowly I thought those humans would die between beats.

�He�ll be the last to go, that little black one with the white paws. They always choose the pretty ones first.�

�Yes well he�s the runt of the litter. He�s so small.�

The runt of the litter! Me?! That couldn�t be true.

Soon we had turned into proper little cats, bouncing like tennis balls, climbing up curtains and under chair covers, with the humans laughing at us. But I was impatient to grow up and get to Ellen.

�He�s got a wistful look, that little black one.�

Looking out of the window was my obsession, waiting for Ellen to come down the road. People began to arrive to choose kittens, and each time my whiskers stiffened to attention.

�Hide!� said my angel sharply one afternoon. It was the first time she had spoken to me since my birth, so my reaction was fast. Through a hole in the fabric, I shot into the dusty innards of the armchair to listen to the latest arrivals.

�I would have loved a black one.�

It wasn�t Ellen�s voice.

�We have got a black one somewhere.�

�Try under the chair.�

They slid the chair back, with me clinging well concealed inside, but they didn�t find me.

Finally the visitors took both the remaining kittens, and when I emerged there was no one to play with. I was eight weeks old, and about to grow up in a hurry.

Ellen didn�t come. Days and weeks went by and still there was no sign of her.

I stopped eating. Food was of no interest to a cat with a mission. The window was the only place to be, watching for Ellen.

�He�s sick.�

�Take him to the vet.�

They did, and that was my first experience of the cat basket, a terrible cage that squeaks and bounces you up and down. Being a wise cat, I sat quietly, thinking how pointless it would be to waste my energy trying to escape.

The vet held me firmly by the scruff while he ran his thumbs over my body. He squeezed my paws and all along my tail. Then he forced my mouth open to look inside. I noticed his fingers smelled like the kitchen floor. He put me down on a cold table and said something very insulting to a proud young cat like me.

�Of course he�s the runt of the litter.�

�But he�s very loving. He�s got a really special personality. If no one chooses him, we�re going to keep him.�

My mum cat bullied me into eating, but still I pined for Ellen. Exploring the garden and seeking out high places to sit and watch for her became my favourite pastime.

Seeing my angel was more difficult now that I was in a body. To see my angel on earth I had to concentrate on ignoring everything else, but even then it was disappointing to see her so mistily.

�It�s no good just waiting, Solomon,� she said. �Use your psi sense.�

Midsummer morning was overcast and dark. I closed my eyes and used what the angel had called my psi sense. Immediately Ellen�s location was obvious. She was due south of here, and it was surprisingly easy for me to sense the direction. The distance came more slowly, chilling me with the realisation that Ellen�s house was hundreds of miles away. I looked at my delicate white-tipped paws and twitched my long whiskers.A hundred-mile journey was some challenge for the runt of the litter. That description stirred up enough anger to fire me into action. Without a backward glance I trotted down the road, to the south.

And that is how I ended up inside the engine of a lorry.

I had nothing to eat for hours and hours. Too scared to sleep, I used every thread of strength to stay on the vibrating shelf. The alternative was to fall onto the speeding tarmac, or to be mangled by the engine. The fumes and noise gave me a terrible headache. My skull felt like an eggshell. I was cold and starving.

The hissing wheels sent filthy spray splattering in and soon I was wet through and spiky-looking. Ellen would not want me, I thought in despair. I was hardly cuddly and appealing.

It was dark when I felt the lorry slowing down. Exhausted, I now lay stretched out limply, at the mercy of every bump in the road, and when at last the lorry stopped, I just lay there, drinking in the silence and stillness. I hurt all over.

I dragged myself out. My legs were wobbly, and it was still raining. The lorry had parked outside a supermarket, but there were houses nearby. I sniffed the air. I could smell the delicious scent of a cake baking. Using my senses, I knew this was coming from Ellen�s kitchen.

Trotting from one garden to the next, I made my way along the road until I came to an iron gate set deep in a thick hedge. I could smell the sparrows who were snuggled up in there, lucky things. They were asleep while I was wide awake, covered in oil, shivering and homeless. Now the rain was pelting down, covering the road in puddles. My little paws were drenched and freezing cold. Flashes of lightning and echoing booms of thunder frightened me as I cowered under the hedge. There was no way through, so I squeezed under the gate. Despite the rain I knew I must go out into the middle of the lawn to attract Ellen�s attention, and came face to face with the four staring windows and big brown door of a house.

�You have to meow as loud as you can. Now,� said my angel.

So I did. Feeling small and dirty and spiky, I let rip with the meows. I wouldn�t have believed an exhausted kitten could make such a noise. My voice echoed all over the housing estate, and soon a window opened above me, and a face looked down. It was her. My beloved Ellen.

�What on earth is going on?� Ellen leaned out and saw me. Terribly ashamed of my appearance, I stuck my tail up, which is a cat�s way of smiling.

�Oh look, there�s a tiny kitten! I�m going down.�

Ellen picked me up and cuddled me against her heart, I could feel its soothing rhythm through my fur, and she could evidently feel mine for she said,�Your little heart is racing! Where have you come from?�

I turned my peagreen eyes to gaze into hers. They were smoky blue in the summer darkness. Ellen still had long hair the colour of barley, just like I remembered. I patted it with my paw, intrigued to find it had become crinkly and fuzzed out around her head. Love glowed in her eyes, but her cheeks were thinner, and her hands felt different as she stroked me. They were tense and quick, less inclined to linger, and the healing light which used to shine around them was clouded. She seemed stressed, as if she had no time to use her healing gift. I knew that a storm was gathering, a storm right inside of Ellen. She was in trouble. And I was there to help.

From now on, it was my job to protect Ellen and to stay by her side through thick and thin. This was my first chance to try and ease her pain and so, with exquisite slowness, I turned my head sideways to touch noses.

�Oh you little darling!�

That was the moment of bonding. As the clock struck midnight the rain began to fall in long needles of silver. Many times after that night I heard Ellen tell people how she had found me on midsummer night in a thunderstorm.

�What a scruffy little object!�

A man stood there, emanating resentment, and outside that was a hard cocoon of humour. He didn�t fool me.

�You must bond with Joe too,� said the angel.

I hesitated, feeling afraid of the huge pink nose on Joe�s face. What if it sneezed? But I managed another nose touch and eye gaze. He did like cats, and he was stroking me gently. But I was not comfortable with those gingery eyes. They were too bright. Bright but not smiling.

�He�s covered in black stuff!�

Ellen put me down quickly and there were smears of oil from the lorry over her pale blue T-shirt. I paraded into the kitchen leaving little dark paw marks, my tail up straight with a kink at the top.

�What a skinny little tail,� said Joe.

�He�s in such a mess, poor little thing.� Ellen was nearly crying as she realised the state I was in. �Let him eat something first. Then I�ll give him a warm bath and dry him off.�

Joe groaned.

�Here we go again,� he said. �I suppose you�ll be up half the night pampering him. I�m going to grab another beer and head back to bed.�

He opened the fridge and took out a black and gold can. I meowed, thinking it was going to be milk for me. Then he said something alarming.

�Don�t let Jessica see him. She�ll have him for breakfast.�

Who, I wondered, was Jessica? A dog? A cross neighbour? Another cat?

A cold feeling of betrayal washed over me. In the kitchen was a dish with�PUSSY� on it and some half-eaten food. I collapsed on the floor, my heart pitter-pattering against the blue and white tiles. My bones ached and my wet fur felt heavy. The burning taste of oil was on my tongue. I felt like giving up.

After coming all that way, Ellen already had a cat.

Another cat had got there first!

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ANOTHER CAT GOT THERE FIRST

After a horrible bath, a long drink of milk and a good night�s sleep, I was feeling more positive. Especially when I awoke to find myself lying on the amber velvet cushion.

�Cats always love this cushion,� Ellen had said, putting me on it so gently after she had dried me with a fluffy towel. �It belonged to my mum. You go to sleep little cat, and in the morning we�ll find out who you belong to.�

But first, there was Jessica.

Jessica was the naughtiest cat I�d ever met. She was black and white, silky and cute with pink pads which she enjoyed flaunting, making out she was washing them. But when I saw her challenging buttercup eyes, I fell in love with her instantly. I felt intimidated by her, and a bit jealous; I could sense that she was tough and powerful, but she was gorgeous too, and I wanted her to be my friend. I could see that behind Jessica�s confident exterior was a charming little cat who wanted to be loved. Already my mind was planning how to befriend her. I wanted to curl up with her in her basket, and feel her sleek warm body against mine. But I was still a kitten, and right now I longed to be allowed to play with her. Being bossed around by Jessica would be hard, but give me six months and I�d be the boss, and, hopefully, her lover.

�You wretched cat. GET OUT!�

What a shock. Could that really be Ellen�s sweet soft voice shrieking like that? At me? Kittens can move even faster than cats, and I shot straight under the piano, despite being mid-yawn.

I stayed under the piano and watched the commotion as Ellen evicted Jessica and cleaned up the mess she had made in bringing a dead bird through the cat flap. This was the first of many such episodes. Jessica was outrageous. She tore up carpets, shredded furniture, and bolted her food, especially if she�d stolen it. And if she was shut outside she would rap imperiously on the window, and glare with square eyes until she was let in. Worst of all, she scratched Ellen�s young son John and made him cry, and the crying started Ellen worrying. Then Ellen�s worrying sent Joe into a temper.

On that first morning I felt clean and optimistic. This was my old home where I�d shared Ellen�s childhood. My desire to see the stairs was overwhelming and I longed for Ellen to open the door into the hall. Persuading humans to open doors is achieved by sitting elegantly close to the door with your chin tilted up. Keep gazing at the handle and eventually they will get the message. It�s telepathy at its most basic.

�He wants to explore.�

Joe opened the door for me. He obviously liked cats.

Walking into the hall was breathtaking. I remembered the fun we�d had in this lovely house. Those incredible stairs were still there, and they were perfect. To a kitten born in a bungalow, stairs were the ultimate in dry cat gymnasiums and power perches. The best spot was the post halfway up where the stairs turned left. From here you could see out of the landing window, sunbathe, and get attention from whoever came up or down. The scent told me that Jessica had already claimed it, and I soon discovered how cheekily she sat there, reaching out a draconian paw to swipe anyone who failed to acknowledge her as they passed by.

Jessica didn�t want to share the stairs with me at first, but she couldn�t resist showing off, streaking upstairs like a rocket. There she liked to lie in wait for me with her chin on the carpet and do a star-shaped pounce at me which was scary. The adrenalin was addictive. As I settled into my new home, Jessica and I would spend wild evenings pelting up and down stairs with flat ears and loopy tails, our flying paws thundering on the carpet. �Mummy, LOOK!� John squealed when we started chasing each other up and down, making all three of them laugh at us, until the house was full of flying cats and giggling.

The happiness filled the walls with diamond stars and, when we finally slept, the house hummed contentedly.�It�s just the fridge humming,� Jessica said, but I knew it wasn�t. Jessica was a switched-off adult cat. She had disapproving whiskers. I was young and still attuned to the spirit world. Happiness was definitely a cloud of singing stars, an energy you could generate.

As much as I loved my new home, naturally I was jealous of Jessica. Day and night my brain echoed with the thought, I am Ellen�s cat. Not you. It�s all wrong. Being an advanced cat, I tried to stay cool, but it hurt.

Seeing Jessica on Ellen�s lap was almost more than I could bear. One day, whilst Jessica was curled up on her knee, I sat on the floor and stared at Ellen, feeling jealous and lonely. Her eyes shone back at me thoughtfully, and she reached down and lifted me up onto her shoulder.

�Are you a jealous little cat?� she crooned. �There�s no need to be, darling. I love you to bits and I hope you can stay with us.�

I heard Jessica growl, but Ellen just stroked her until she was quiet again.

�You�re very beautiful,� whispered Ellen, looking at me. �And you�re like the cat I had when I was a child. Don�t you worry, you little sweetheart, I�m going to look after you, and there�s enough love for both you and Jessica.�

After that, I felt much better. I purred and buried my face in the soft glittery scarf Ellen was wearing.

My best move was making friends with John. He hated Jessica and screamed if she went near him, and he even ran away from strange cats in the street, running as fast as his little legs would carry him. Jessica had made him frightened of all cats.

So I spent a long time purring and rubbing against John as he sat playing on the floor. I never messed with his Lego or ran off with his teddy bear like Jessica did. I didn�t want to make John cry, so I approached him gently, always purring, and one day he stretched out his little hand and touched my fur. I crept close and pretended to go to sleep curled up against his legs, still purring of course. John kept very still and began to stroke me.

�Nice cat,� he said to Ellen.

�He�s not like Jessica. He�s a kind, loving cat,� Ellen said, and after that John wanted to hold me and even play with me. I�d made a big effort to be good, and it was worth it.

�We�re going to keep you, little cat,� Ellen told me joyfully a week later. �No one has claimed you. We�d better give you a name.�

I looked squarely into her eyes and radiated�Solomon� to her. To my surprise she got it right. Ellen really was quite psychic.

�I�ll call you Solomon,� she said, �because you�re so wise. You are exactly like the cat I had as a child, and he was called Solomon. You don�t make trouble like Jessica. I�m so glad we can keep you.�

In that golden moment I understood the wisdom of the angel. She had planned for me to take that long journey and arrive on Ellen�s lawn looking pathetic. Even if I�d been born in the same street, Ellen would not have come looking for me since she already had Jessica. Appealing to Ellen�s motherly need to shelter a lost kitten had ensured me a place in her home and in her heart.

I couldn�t believe that this slim, stressed woman with dark circles under her eyes had once been a free spirit, a happy child who would dance barefoot on the lawn or who loved putting on her beloved pink ballet shoes and twirling all over the house, over the beautifully polished wood floors which were now covered in a tatty old carpet. I�d encouraged her by scampering about, making her laugh while she was dancing, and watching her eyes sparkle with creative energy.

I wondered why Ellen never danced now. She didn�t play the piano either. One day when Joe was out and John was asleep, I sat on it and just looked at Ellen. I knew she was telepathic so I sent her my thoughts. It worked.

�Are you trying to tell me something, Solomon?� she asked.

I put my chin on the polished top of the piano and I could sense the silent strings inside, waiting to be played. I dreamed of the rippling music Ellen used to play when she was a child, and sent the dream into her mind.

She looked at the clock, then sat down and opened the lid. I was thrilled. My fur tingled as I waited for the music to begin.

It didn�t work out as I�d expected.

Ellen sat there with her long fingers over the black and white keys, frozen and silent. Then, she slammed the lid down and burst into tears. She flung herself onto the sofa, sobbing and sobbing.

Horrified, I crept close to her, purring and licking the tears from her hot cheeks. It was all I could do.

I wanted to understand, so I remembered my previous life and why Ellen had cried when she was a child. When Ellen was ten years old, I�d wanted to give her a present to show how much I loved her. I knew she liked robins because there were cards all over her bedroom with pictures of them. So early one morning I headed out into the frosty garden and caught one for her. As I ran up the stairs with the robin�s soft body in my mouth, I was excited. It was the first bird I�d ever caught, and I was going to put it right on Ellen�s bed for her. A real robin!

Ellen was sitting up in bed, waiting for me as usual. I put the robin down with the greatest care on the duvet in front of her and sat back, satisfied with my act of giving.

But instead of saying thank you, Ellen burst into tears. Her mum came running in and gasped when she saw the robin lying on her little girl�s pink duvet.

Ellen cradled it in her small hands, sobbing and sobbing.�Look at his lovely colours,� she cried, stroking the robin�s breast with one finger. �His breast is orange, not red. Look at his tiny feet all curled up. And he feels so warm. Look at his beak, and his sweet little face. Oh Mummy, he�ll never sing again will he? He�s dead.� Ellen howled in grief. �I can�t make him fly again.�

She looked up and saw me sitting there.�You horrible cat, I HATE you. Go away!�

Her mum picked me up.�That�s not fair, Ellen. It�s natural for cats to catch birds, isn�t it, Solomon? He thought he was bringing you a present.�

She tried to take the robin away, but Ellen sobbed even harder.�No Mummy. I�ve got to look after him, even if he�s dead.�

Later, I watched in astonishment as she wrapped the dead robin in layers of rainbow tissue paper and put him in a cardboard box. When her mum wasn�t looking she took the bread knife from the kitchen, dug a hole in the ground under a rose bush, and buried the gift-wrapped robin. Ellen didn�t stop crying all day, but she did forgive me when I cuddled up to her, purring. It taught me a lesson I would remember forever.

But I didn�t understand why she was crying now, over the piano! I soon found out though when Ellen began to talk to me quietly, her speech interrupted by sobs.

�I love music so much, Solomon. But I can�t do it now. I�m too exhausted. Music feeds my soul you see, and I can�t do it in fragments of time. It has to betotal, so that I disappear into it. And I�ve got painful memories of it too. Mum was always pushing me to perform for people, and she�d get so angry because I just couldn�t. I used to freeze. Then she would punish me by locking the piano, or taking my ballet shoes away.�

We both looked up at the pair of faded pink ballet shoes hanging under the mirror on the wall.

�It was the same with ballet. She and my teacher wanted me to perform. And it wasn�t aboutperforming, Solomon,� she said passionately, stroking my fur very fast. �It� it was aboutjoy. Like you and Jessica when you play on the stairs. It�s pure joy and fun.�

I sat up and looked at her for a long time, trying to show her that I understood. I kissed her on the nose and purred into her soft ear. That made her smile, and she said,�Were you that cat, Solomon? Were you?� I did a loud purr-meow. �I do believe you are the same cat, come back to me. We�ll be friends forever, Solomon, won�t we?�

She got up and walked over to the piano.

�Maybe I will play a bit � for John,� she said, and stroked the lid thoughtfully. �And for you. But there�s not time right now.�

I knew Ellen was unhappy. Often she�d sit in the garden so tired that she would almost fall off her chair. She coped patiently with John�s lively, bubbling personality. She was always there for him, playing with him, reading him stories and laughing with him. Ellen�s mother love was too strong for her own good. If John hurt himself she panicked, and if he was ill she always thought he was going to die. She worried about him so much.

�Why isn�t she happy?� I asked my angel one morning. I�d climbed onto a post in the garden to catch the morning sunshine on my fur.

�She�s frightened.�

�Of Joe?�

�Yes � but she is also frightened of being homeless and starving. Because she is a mum, she�s very vulnerable, she has to protect and feed her child and provide a home for him. The man is not wise. He�s getting into debt.�

When the angel explained to me what debts were, the anxiety started. I could losemy home. I was still only a kitten. Who would feed me? Would I be able to stay here and become Jessica�s lover?

Then the angel used the word�repossession�, and explained what that meant. Bailiffs could take Ellen�s lovely home away, and evict the family into the street.

I climbed down from the post feeling old and responsible, a big burden for a kitten. I didn�t want to talk to the angel any longer. Being spiritual seemed increasingly irrelevant in this earth life. Survival was paramount. It went something like this: get Kitekat. Keep warm and dry. Keep fur clean. Don�t go on other cats� territories. Be assertive with dogs. Stay out of Jessica�sbasket. Get humans to open doors for us. Resist climbing the curtains. Forgive humans when they step on you. Resist thieving cheese off the table even if Jessica does it. And so on. It didn�t seem to leave much time for loving Ellen.

But love was all I had to offer.

So I swanned into the kitchen with my fur radiating love, and enjoyed eye contact with Ellen. She scooped me up at once, hugging me against her heart. Alarmed to hear the heartbeat unusually loud and fast, I leaned my cheek against her chest and purred endlessly. As I turned my head, I saw Joe standing on the other side of the room, arms folded, his eyes glittering with menace.

�Anyway Solomon LOVES me,� Ellen said defiantly to Joe. His aura was dense with anger and prickly like a teasel. I could feel its destructive power in Ellen�s pretty kitchen. John was sitting on his plastic tractor in the doorway, looking anxiously at his parents.

I tried to stay calm while Ellen clutched me too tightly as Joe shouted at her. He sounded like a dog barking in a concrete kennel. The pain in my ears was terrible, but I concentrated on purring, knowing I was protected by angelic light. The shouting filled the kitchen and spread through the house like smoke, going under doors, into corners and up the stairs. It permeated everything; the apples in the fruit bowl, the cosy cushions, the clocks, the bright sunny bedrooms. Then it exploded into the street in a shower of glass.

�No Joe. Stop it. JOE!� Ellen screamed, and put me down. I ran under a chair, terrified by the crack and crunch of Joe kicking the front door with his boot. His ginger hair and red face made him look like a man on fire, and his eyes were bleak slits of pain. Saliva gathered at the corners of his mouth.

�Shut up! Shut up screaming you silly cow or I�ll give you something to really scream about.� Joe turned on Ellen, muscles quivering, breathing fast, his skin sweating.

�We can�t afford a new door, Joe. Don�t do this, PLEASE!�

�And why can�t we afford a new door?� Joe raged. �Becauseyou insisted on giving up your job, didn�t you? Selfish cow!�

�I wanted to look after John whilst he�s little,� said Ellen, glaring right back at Joe. �You promised me you were going to get a job, didn�t you?�

Joe hunched his shoulders and clenched his teeth. He towered over Ellen, shuffling closer and closer.

�Shutup,� he hissed, �or I�ll smash that smug face of yours and then I�ll get some peace from your endless nagging, woman.�

Ellen went quiet. She went limp against the wall, and slid to the floor, her hands over her ears. Joe stamped his foot, and grinned when she jumped. It startled me too, so much that I wailed in fright. I thought Joe was going to kill my lovely Ellen.

I had to do something.

So I walked out from under the chair and sat between them, facing Joe. I yowled and looked right into Joe�s eyes, a hard cat stare, a power stare that I didn�t know I had until that moment. I could feel my angel filling my aura with a burning light.

�Don�t get nasty,� she said. �Just sit there.�

Joe turned and left, slamming the door so hard that the whole house vibrated and the remaining shards of glass crashed into the hall.

�I�ll kill the pair of you,� he bellowed as he headed out.

Ellen picked me up and wept into my fur.

�What are we going to do, Solomon? What are we going to DO?�

I just kept my head down and carried on purring into Ellen�s heart. She seemed frozen. Nothing I did made any difference. Perhaps that first row was the most difficult, at least it was for me anyway. And through it all Jessica was out in the garden, shamelessly chasing butterflies. For once I envied her ability to detach herself from family upsets. I made a mental note that detachment was a skill to be acquired in another lifetime. Right now I felt hopelessly inadequate, especially when Ellen put me down and picked up John, who was crying.

�What did Daddy do?� he was wailing.

�He kicked the door in.�

�It�s broken!� John wailed even louder. �And the foxes will get in.�

�We can mend it darling. Calm down. Daddy�s gone out now.�

�Has Daddy gone away forever?�

�No.�

�He said he was.�

�He won�t. He�ll be back. You�ll see,� soothed Ellen, but her eyes were sad and frightened.

�Jessica�s got a butterfly!� shrieked John. He wriggled out of Ellen�s arms and both of them rushed into the garden. I didn�t understand why Ellen felt she had to rescue a butterfly when her own wings were broken.

Exhausted by the rowing, I crawled onto my favourite cushion to doze through the morning. Blessed sleep took me quickly into the spirit world.

�How are you doing, Solomon?�

The sight of my angel�s beaming face stopped me moaning too much. The feelings of inadequacy and the pain in my ears melted into a stream of bright stars that healed my confusion. It was hard, my angel agreed, but warned me it would get worse, and in between the bad times I must concentrate on eating, playing and building myself into a strong cat.

Refreshed and brave again, I awoke at noon to the silence of an empty house. I yawned and stretched, and walked into every room with my tail up, expecting to find Ellen. Even Jessica was nowhere to be seen. A plate of cat food was in its usual place in the kitchen so I ate most of it, thinking it had an odd metallic flavour. Rabbit, it said on the tin. Tin-flavoured rabbit. Well, it was different.

I considered braving the cat flap, but it was too heavy for a kitten like me, only three months old, and it had a way of snapping shut on my tail. I decided to go upstairs to look for Ellen.

The hall was full of broken glass, and the door had been mended with a piece of cardboard and parcel tape. John�s room was empty, and so was the bathroom, but Ellen�s bedroom door was shut. I sat outside it staring, trying to use my psi sense to find out if she was inside, but apparently she wasn�t. A few meows brought no result so I ran downstairs and jumped onto the lounge windowsill, and there, to my amazement, was Ellen. My fur stood on end, my tail bushed out like a bottlebrush. What I saw was so strange.

Ellen was inside a silver door, about the size of the puss flap. She had shrunk to the size of a blackbird. I stared and stared, not daring to move in case it happened to me. It was definitely Ellen. She had blonde hair and she was smiling, her eyes were full of light. Then I noticed something that made my fur even stiffer.Only her head was there in that silver door, the rest of her was missing. Spooked, I looked carefully behind the silver door andnothing was there. I tried to touch noses with her but a glassy screen was across the door. I sat down, feeling I mustn�t take my eyes off her, and waited for her to come out.

I heard the puss flap slam and Jessica came in with a dead starling in her mouth. She dumped half of it in the kitchen and half of it under the sofa before seeing me up there staring at Ellen in the silver door.

�What are you all blown up about?� she asked. �You look like a hedgehog.�

�Something terrible has happened to Ellen.�

Very few cats ever master the art of laughing. I certainly couldn�t. But Jessica knew exactly how to curl up her mouth, spark her eyes and roll on the floor as if she were laughing.

�That�s apicture,� she explained. �It�s not really Ellen. It�s a flat image on a piece of something.�

�I don�t understand.�

�Humans havelots of them.� Jessica sounded bored and scathing. �Haven�t you ever noticed them? Look at that flat barn owl on the wall. And there are flat rabbits on the wall in John�s room. And there�s a flat horse at the top of the stairs. I don�t bother looking at them any more.�

I did look at the flat barn owl and felt quite spooked by it, and angry with Jessica for laughing at me. I pounced on her from the windowsill and we wrestled, squealing on the floor. Then she chased me up the curtains. At that moment, in walked Ellen� thereal Ellen, not the flat version. I was pleased to see her but she was not pleased to see me at the top of the curtains. That was our ill-timed mistake. The skin around her eyes looked red and her aura was dark. I wanted to love her but she shooed me into the garden along with Jessica, and a few minutes later half of the dead starling came sailing out too.

I hated Jessica for getting me into trouble. Hate was something I should not be feeling. It wasbad. It upset my stomach and clouded my vision so that I couldn�t tune in to my angel. Mist surrounded me. Earth mist. Hate mist. How to get out of it, I didn�t know.

In this environment I could soon have lost touch with my mission and become a boring old cat who just ate, slept and survived. I walked into the road and considered leaving. The problem with leaving is that you are likely to regret it and go back, which is even more difficult. And embarrassing, I thought, when the car returned and Joe got out, shamefaced, and padded slowly up the path, a bunch of roses in his hand.

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THE BAILIFF

Jessica hated the postman. She acted like a guard dog, lying in wait for him under the bushes by the front door, and pouncing on his shoelaces whenever he came near. On wet days she sat on the stairs glaring at the letterbox, and as soon as the postman pushed letters through onto the mat, she shredded them with ferocious claws. If Ellen didn�t get to them first, Jessica would then use the pile of torn paper as a litter tray. Her rage was infectious. Ellen and Joe, and even little John, screamed at her, and Jessica would disappear under the sofa at speed.

She�d got a private collection of toys under there, a dead mouse, a blue and yellow Lego man, a shoelace and a Dairylea cheese portion pilfered from the kitchen table.

One morning Jessica furiously attacked a crackly brown envelope that Joe obviously wanted.

�You DEMON cat!� he roared, purple in the face as he dangled the shredded letter in his hand. As usual, he turned on Ellen. �You would have to choose a manic moggy like her wouldn�t you? Well I tell you now, that cat is going down the RSPCA.�

�No Joe,� pleaded Ellen. �We promised to look after her, and anyway she can be a sweet little cat sometimes.�

�Sweet little cat! She�s rubbish. And we can�t afford to feed one cat, leave alone two.�

They were chilling words. I gazed at Joe from where I was sitting quietly on the windowsill enjoying the morning sun. Keeping calm wasn�t easy, but I was managing, even when I heard the dreaded RSPCA word. Later I padded across to the sofa and coaxed Jessica out. Her eyes were huge and black, but she emerged and sat beside me in our favourite chair.

�I love you,� I said. �And Ellen does too. But why must you tear up letters like that?�

Jessica said something surprising.

�I only tear up the brown ones. They�re bills, and they make Joe bad tempered. Actually he tears them up himself, I�ve seen him doing it. And he hides them from Ellen.�

Jessica fascinated me. One morning I sat and watched her in the garden. She spent half her time airborne, doing reckless leaps from the garage roof to the cherry tree, then clambering up through the branches. Next she sat on the high wall and batted at swallows. The tiny birds dive bombed her, almost clipping her with a blade-like wing as they twisted out of her reach.

�Do you wish you were a bird?� I asked her.

�No.� She waited until I�d climbed through a prickly bush to the top of the wall to be with her. �Tiresome teenage kitten,� she growled, lashing her tail at me. She took off down to the lawn, leaving me marooned up there, meowing. She slipped through the cat flap and I figured she would be in the kitchen eating frommy dish. Moments later she emerged with a big brick of cheese in her mouth.

�YOU PIGGING CAT!� Joe burst into the garden and saw Jessica�s tail disappearing under the shed. �Why do I bother giving you a home? I worked my hands to the bone to pay for that cheese and you go and nick it. Thieving moggy. You�re nothing but trouble.�

He seized a broom and banged on the shed with it. But Jessica didn�t come out. I saw Sue-next-door peering through her curtains, and I wondered where Ellen was. I felt scared on top of the wall, with Joe�s voice booming all over the garden. I wanted Ellen to come and coax me down.

Horrified, I watched Joe lie down and ram the broom handle under the shed. Jessica would be killed. The shed was creaking and rocking as Joe attacked it. I looked up at Sue-next-door, who was standing firmly at the window with her arms folded, and I sent her a silent meow. She responded by rolling her eyes.

Jessica popped out from the other side of the shed, still with the cheese in her mouth, and streaked across the lawn. I saw a flash of white paws and pink pads as she cleared the fence into Sue-next-door�s garden. Joe hurled the broom after her with such force that it snapped a row of tomato plants which Ellen had been growing against the sunny fence. A hot, dusty smell rose from them and green tomatoes rolled over the grass.

Joe stood there, his aura steaming. His face was red and his hands trembled. Slowly he walked over and picked up a green tomato, and looked at it in silence. He picked up the two halves of the broom, tried unsuccessfully to fit them back together, and stalked back towards the house. He walked right past me but didn�t look up, and I saw big fat tears on his furious cheeks. I sensed his pain.

I wished Ellen would come back. But she didn�t. Instead, a purple silence filled the garden.

Jessica had called me a�tiresome teenage kitten� but that wasn�t true. I was a healing cat. If I saw tears on human cheeks I had to do something. So I climbed down through the prickly bush, and trotted into the house with my tail up. I could tell where Joe was by the sour smell of beer. He was slumped in a corner by a pile of magazines, wiping his tears with the back of his hand, sniffing and slurping from a can. I ran to him as if he was my best friend. Being careful not to scratch him, I walked nicely along his leg and up his torso to his heart. It was bang-banging in there, and his arms were shaking. He looked at me in surprise.

As soon as we had eye contact, I gazed into his soul and purred. I licked the salty tears from his face, but more of them came zigzagging down.

�Oh Solomon,� he whispered. �How can you love a bad-tempered bastard like me?�

I purred louder, stretching my paws over his heart, and rubbed my head against his bristly chin.

�The truth is, Solomon,� he said, �I don�t like myself one bit. Everything I do goes wrong. I�m no good. In fact, I�m bloody doomed.�

I pretended to go to sleep and let him talk, his hot hand smoothing my fur, and after a while he quietened down and my angel came close, shining her light over us as we dozed in the chair.

�You�re doing a great job, Solomon,� she said.

After Joe�s outburst I needed another cat to curl up with. Jessica didn�t come back until it was dark and everyone had gone to bed, even the swallows. Moonlight spilled in through the window and polished her sleek fur as she came in. I ran to meet her. She condescended to touch noses with me, and I got to look into her eyes. In the night they were deep saucers of green, and her whiskers glistened magnificently each side of her little pink nose. To me she was exquisitely beautiful. Why didn�t she want to be friends with me?

I followed her to her basket, but she wouldn�t let me in there. Sensing she was tired, I sat watching her. All I wanted was to curl up against her silky warmth.

�Go away,� she hissed. �You smell like that sour stuff Joe drinks.�

�I�ve been lying on him,� I said. �Healing him.�

Jessica looked at me out of slitty eyes.

�Traitor,� she said. �You should have been scratching him after the way he treated me.�

�I don�t scratch humans. I�m a healing cat.�

�Poof!� Jessica curled up into a silken mound and closed her eyes as if I wasn�t there. Confused, I watched her go to sleep, and respected her peace. I didn�t dare to even put one paw inside her cosy basket; I spent the night hunched on the cold floor just to be near her.

In the morning her eyes were buttercup yellow again, and when she yawned, I saw the curl of her tongue and the pink roof of her mouth. She looked surprised and not pleased to see me there. We touched noses and it made me buzz all over with excitement. Her eyes hardened and she hissed at me, but not before I�d seen the sadness that lurked behind those golden eyes. Sadness � and anger. I wanted to know where it had come from, but Jessica wouldn�t talk to me.

I�d fallen in love with a cat who didn�t want me.

One evening Joe came through the back door with a bottle of wine and a pizza in a box. He had a rare smile on his face.

�Where did you get this?� Ellen asked.

�Stop frowning, Ellen,� Joe said, and he fished into his back pocket and took out some cash. �I�ve got a JOB!�

�Ajob? Oh wow, that�s amazing.� Ellen�s face lit up with a happy smile. She gave Joe a hug and pushed his hair out of his eyes. �Doing what?�

�Don�t get too excited, it�s only casual work � in the bar at the pub. Three nights a week.�

�Great,� said Ellen, �but ��

�Don�t give me that face, Joe said. �I won�t be drinking ifthat�s what you�re worried about. I�m going to look aftermy family.�

Ellen sighed and opened the big pizza box.

�Hmm. Yum. Do you want a little bit, Solomon?�

The times when Joe went to work were peaceful for us, golden summer evenings in the garden, with John, Jessica and me racing around while Ellen worked on a little flower bed. On wet evenings I managed to persuade her to play the piano again. John got so excited, dancing and squealing and singing little songs. Even Jessica enjoyed it and she came and lay beside me on top of the piano, feeling the ripples of music and watching Ellen�s aura brightening as she played.

�Will it be all right now that Joe has a job?� I asked my angel. For a moment she was silent. Then she looked at me sadly and new colours flickered in the light that shone around her; deeper blues and purples.

�No,� she said. �It�s too little, too late.�

Summer passed and the lawn thundered with falling apples. Ellen and John walked round the hedges picking lush blackberries and putting them into bags, and I insisted on going with them, always with my tail up very straight.

�Like a snorkel,� Ellen laughed as I dashed through the long grass.

But she didn�t like me following her to the shop. After my trip in the lorry, traffic really scared me, and if I tried to follow Ellen along the main road it involved panicky dives into strange hedges and gardens. I followed Ellen everywhere. I would not let her out of my sight. Sometimes she shut me in and then I sat at the window like a sentry awaiting her return.

Ellen was changing. Often she was angry and frightened, and exhausted by the frequent rows with Joe. But she always welcomed my love, and the supply of Kitekat continued. I was cuddled and brushed and sprinkled with flea powder. She even gave me vitamins and the occasional egg. I grew into a glossy tomcat.

It was a cold winter night when Jessica finally let me into her basket. I held my breath and stepped in gingerly. Hardly daring to hope that this was happening, I silently eased myself close to her. She�d had a bad day and I knew she needed me, as I needed her. For once she didn�t push me away. She growled a little, and purred with me, and I sensed her silent need for a friend, a friend who loved her no matter what.

Blissfully, I lay against her warm silky coat and let the stars of happiness cluster around us. After that night we always slept together with our soft paws intertwined. Jessica liked to lie with her chin on my neck and I loved to feel her there. Together we made a kind of music, love music made of little purrs and sighs and squeaks. Sometimes I slid my paw around her glossy back, and when the morning sun shone through the window, I lay dreaming, watching the colours of the sun glint on her black fur.

Winter passed, and when spring came I was the boss cat. Jessica was now very flirty with me. She provoked me into wild chases, through the raspberry canes and up the cherry tree and over the garage roof. We mated all over the place, on the neighbour�s lawn, in the vegetable garden, even in the middle of the road. But the best time was on top of the tumble drier in the utility room, when it was running. Ellen opened the door and saw us. We froze, squared our eyes, and continued. Ellen got the message, smiled and left us alone.

A month or so later Jessica became fat and heavy with my kittens.

Soon she was too fat to crawl under the sofa. Being pregnant calmed her down. It calmed everyone down, including me. Jessica was contented. She left the postman alone, set up a new refuge for herself under Ellen�s bed, and on a hot night in June, Jessica gave birth all by herself to three silky kittens. My children.

Ellen immediately moved them all downstairs to a basket in the kitchen, but Jessica insisted on moving them back, carrying each kitten in her mouth carefully up the stairs. She always left the little tabby one until last. It was a girl kitten, fluffy and very beautiful with tinges of silver and gold in her fur.

�This is a special kitten,� said my angel, �she�s come here to heal, like you, Solomon.� So, in those moments before Jessica came back for her, I gave the tabby kitten lots of love and purring. One day she opened her baby blue eyes and looked at me as if she wanted to fix me in her memoryforever.

It was the last happy day I remember. The house felt sunlit and peaceful. Ellen and Joe were friends, and John was playing happily in the garden.

And that was the day the bailiff came.

I was feeling fragile because a few days ago Joe had taken me to the vet who had put me to sleep and done something to me to stop me making any more kittens. It was painful, and humiliating, and I felt depressed afterwards, despite understanding the reason. I�d agreed this in the spirit world. Being a full tomcat would distract me from my true path. I had agreed to love Ellen and help her through a difficult time, but if I�d knownhow difficult it would be then I might not have volunteered. Ellen had let me have my fling with Jessica first. She�d wanted Jessica to experience the joys of motherhood and for John to see the kittens born and growing up.

That was Ellen�s idealistic dream.

On that warm June day my angel had alerted me at dawn. She�d shown me a picture of a man in a grey suit inside a large building with �County Court� carved in stone letters over the door. The man had been writing Ellen�s name and address on a form. My angel told me that today he was coming to our house. Ellen didn�t know. I had to be there. To stay calm and keep purring. �Remember you are a healing cat,� she said.

Joe had gone out and I had to sit up all day watching, even though I wanted to lie down after what the vet had done. By lunchtime I was worn out. No one had come. Ellen was pottering about the garden while John was splashing and squealing in a big water tub on the lawn. Eventually I fell asleep, curled up on the sunny doorstep. In my dreams bees were humming over the flowers, swallows twittered overhead and the long grass at the edge of the lawn was full of chirping grasshoppers. As I dreamed about the spirit world another sound dragged me back, heavy footsteps coming nearer. I opened one eye and saw a pair of gleaming shoes on the doorstep.

�Hello puss!� A man�s hand reached down to stroke me. The bailiff!

Compared to a tiger a cat is very small. So it�s no good acting like a tiger and attacking people. Cats have to be subtle and artful.

I displayed my hostility to the bailiff, completely ignoring him by staring into the distance with no response to his attempt to stroke me. After what the angel had said, it was surprising to find the bailiff was an ordinary human. But he was acting sinister.

His neck was locked stiff, his eyes icy cold and his heart encased in metal. I could hear it ticking as he knocked at the door.

Ellen opened it, carrying John who was wrapped in a blue bath towel. Her innocent eyes looked enquiringly at the bailiff.

�Double glazing?� she smiled. �No thanks.�

�Mrs King?�

�Yes. That�s me. And this is John.�

John didn�t look happy, even though Ellen was bouncing him about to try and make him laugh. His solemn eyes caught mine. He knew. The bailiff�s frozen aura was obvious and menacing to him.

�Mrs Ellen King?�

�Yes.� The smile was shrinking on Ellen�s face.

�And your husband is Mr Joseph King?�

�Yes?�

The bailiff showed Ellen a card.

�I�m a bailiff from the county court. I have a warrant to enter your property and seize goods to the value of seventeen thousand pounds, a debt your husband owes to the bank.�

I watched Ellen�s aura splintering. It was alarming. John chose that moment to start crying, and this upset Ellen. She screamed at the bailiff and her eyes were two cracks of blue fire.

�How dare you come here, threatening us? Can�t you see I�m a mother with a small child? It�s notmy debt, it�s HIS! I know nothing about it!�

I wormed my way into the hall and sat at Ellen�s feet, puffing myself up protectively. How I wished I was a dog, an Alsatian or a Rottweiler. It�s terrible having to hiss when you want to bark.

The man kept coldly repeating the same words, his voice a monotonous chant against Ellen�s hysteria and John�s crying. However, as Ellen�s distress grew, it was John who calmed her down by putting his fat little arms around her neck.

�Mummy, talk nicely.�

Ellen�s legs were shivering. The bailiff�s gleaming shoes were squeaking across the doormat. My angel stood in the hall with a golden sword in her hand but no one except me could see her. Jessica was bolting upstairs with yet another kitten swinging from her mouth.

�Ellen doesn�t have to let him in, Solomon,� said the angel, and for a moment I feasted on the glorious sapphire light from the angel�s eyes, and basked in the energy streaming from the golden sword. I felt happy to see the angel here in our house, protecting Ellen. Happy, and then sad again, devastated that Ellen couldn�t see the angel and wasn�t comforted by any small gesture from me. The limitation of being a mortal cat was more painful than I could bear. In the pain of my helplessness I did a dreadful thing. In front of the angel, I ran away.

In bitter shame I climbed as high as possible, up the garden wall, across the garage and onto the roof. With my tail dragging, I crept up the tiles and sat against the chimney staring far away across the fields to the dark blue hills. I wanted to go home to the spirit world. Seeing the angel had unsettled me, and made me homesick.

The sun warmed the brick chimney, and scorched my glistening black fur. My whiskers felt hypersensitive, and the tips of my ears burned. I, Solomon, was a failure. Being a cat was too difficult. Sometimes my sleek black body was enjoyable, when it belted up and down stairs or flopped blissfully into a chair, especially when Ellen was stroking me. But inside I was a big shining lion of a soul, too big to fit inside a small black cat.

When I heard Joe�s car squealing to a halt outside the house, I sat up anxiously. He got out with a slam that sent flakes of rust flying from his car. His brows glowered at the bailiff�s shiny van in passing, and his aura was purple.

After he�d gone inside, an ominous silence followed, with not even a murmur of voices audible.

�Look at that cat on the roof!�

�Perhaps he can�t get down.�

The children were coming home from school, a group of them who often stroked me. Just now I really needed their love and it was tempting to go down. But the front door was opening and Joe appeared, looking like an unexploded bomb. The bailiff was with him, and Ellen was there with her shoulders hunched. She still had John�s towel in her hands, twisting it into a rope.

�We�ll expect your settlement in seven days,� the bailiff said, handing Joe a white paper. Joe passed it roughly to Ellen.

�YOU had better have this.�

The�you� was filled with hateful energy. Joe was on the brink of a storm. Sure enough, as soon as the bailiff had gone, the shouting began.

�YOU get inside!�

�It�s not my FAULT,� Ellen screamed as the door slammed shut.

I crept close against the chimney, moving around onto the cool shadow. Thunder always scared me. Now the thunder was inside the house. Even the roof trembled. People in the street paused to listen, turning frightened faces towards the house.

�He�s at it again,� said Sue-next-door to a woman who was walking past. She rolled her eyes. �Poor girl. I don�t know how she puts up with him, and she�s got that lovely baby too.�

It was worrying to think of little John in there. Maybe I should have gone into his bedroom and given him some love. And poor Jessica. How wise she had been to have her kittens under the bed. Ellen had moved them twice, and Jessica had determinedly moved them back again one by one. What guts. I imagined her cowering under the bed, suckling my children and reassuring them, during my lonely vigil on the roof. Jessica needed extra food and support at this time. Maybe I should catch a mouse and take it up to her. The sun was turning amber, it must be round about teatime.

�That cat�s still up there.�

�If he�s not down before dark I�m going to knock their door.�

The two women marched past with a dog trailing complacently behind. Gazing at the blue hills brought me to dreaming instead of worrying. In my meditative state I remembered the heaven world, and suddenly in my mind I was back there, sitting on iridescent cushions of grass and purring out millions of stars. Then I purred them in again. Power stars. Love that would be needed. And they were all for Ellen, every single one.

The sound of the front door opening jolted me back to earth. Joe was leaving� again. He was hurling books and clothes into the car, and pairs of boots and a kettle. There was no sign of Ellen. Not a sound. Not a cry from John or a meow from Jessica.

The car wouldn�t start.

Joe sat there fuming, turning the key repeatedly, but there was not a spark of life. I worried that Joe would go inside again and take it out on Ellen.

Eventually he started to push the car on his own. Curtains twitched at windows but no one came out to help. The car gathered speed down the sloping cul-de-sac, with Joe lumbering behind. Anger really fires humans into athletic improbability. In a jumble of legs and elbows Joe overtook the car and leaped into the driving seat. The car fired up with a bang, roared down the cul-de-sac, turned and roared back even faster, and was finally gone, almost airborne, heading for the motorway.

The first door to open was Sue-next-door. I hurried down from the roof to be with her as she tapped nervously on Ellen�s door. Sue�s legs had jeans and pink fluffy slippers. We both stared at the door, as if staring would make it open. The fur on my tail started to bristle because I was so anxious. It was embarrassing.

�Solomon, what a great big tail!� Sue had a kindly voice, very reassuring. She bent down to stroke me, but I couldn�t concentrate on responding. The silence from the house was so spooky.

�Supposing he�s killed Ellen,� I thought.

Sue was calling through the letterbox.

�Ellen! It�s Sue-next-door. Are you all right?�

We waited, listening intently, and at last there was a sound from inside the house, a tinkling of glass, and Ellen came slowly to the door. She stood there trembling, looking up and down at both of us with eyes like mouse holes.

�I�m all right,� she sighed and lifted her tired face into a defiant smile. �And I�m glad he�s gone!�

�Is John all right?�

�John is fine. Believe it or not he slept through it all.�

�Has he hurt you?�

�Not physically. He threatened to kill us both. But he loves John. He wouldn�t touch John. It�s me. He blames me for everything.�

Ellen began to sob from deep down in her stomach. Sue guided her to an armchair while I padded around with my tail up, inappropriately. Sue was comforting Ellen so I shot upstairs to check on Jessica.

Communal purring rippled from under the bed where she lay stretched out. All three of the kittens were vigorously suckling, their little pink paws energetically dough punching. Their heads were like wet pebbles with buds for ears. The little tabby and white one finished feeding first and she lay gazing at me with those blue eyes, opening her mouth and doing a squeak of a meow at me. She wanted to communicate with me.

Humans are lucky to be able to cry. Cats can�t do that. But in that moment I could have cried with overwhelming love and fatherly pride. I was a dad now, and the kittens would need me. There was so much to teach them, and I longed to ask them about the spirit world while it was fresh in their minds. My beautiful children. What an ego trip.

�Get out, Solomon.� Jessica growled at me. But she was too ecstatic to look fierce. She lay back, slitty eyed and purring, enjoying the experience of feeding my kittens. I retreated respectfully.

John�s bedroom door was open. He was asleep, so completely still that he seemed to be made of marble. I sat down by the cot and purred, enjoying the white mist of light that surrounded the sleeping child. It was particularly strong at the head of the cot, and intense concentration showed me the shimmer of an angel who was there guarding John.

Once more I left my earthly cat body and saw where John was in his dreamtime. He was playing in a meadow with a blue balloon on a string, and all around him flowers of light twinkled and glittered in the grass. An old man was with him, a dear round-faced man with tender hands, and beaming eyes which sparkled as John ran to him, laughing. John looked so different from the serious and often-troubled toddler he was on earth. In his dreamtime he was carefree and radiant.

Ellen found me asleep in John�s cot.

�You shouldn�t be in here, Solomon,� she said, and gently lifted me out. She couldn�t be cross with me when I cuddled up to her, purring, looking attentively into her eyes.

�Dear Solomon.� Ellen carried me over to the window and we stood admiring the evening garden, which was full of coral light and warbling blackbirds. Scents of newly mown hay drifted from the fields, and a midsummer moon was rising in the east.

�It�s one year since you came. Happy birthday Solomon,� said Ellen, and tears ran down cheeks which were already red from crying.

I wanted to tell her how much I loved this sunny house and express gratitude for such a lovely home. The sun-warmed stones and the soft lawn, the cherry tree, the nice people who walked past and stroked me. The puss flap and the wonderful stairs, the kitchen full of aromatic steam, the quiet corners where I loved to sit. And best of all, my special chair with the amber cushion. I wanted to say how sad it was that Joe had smashed yet another door, and broken Ellen�s china. But the house was still good. It was built upon an old cornfield and the spirit of the corn was still there inside its walls. The house was full of Ellen�s love and John�s playing, and now my wonderful kittens were purring upstairs. No matter what Joe did, the house would always be good. I�d lived two lives here now, and it was home.

These thoughts amplified my purring, during the time of sunset with Ellen. Sadly she couldn�t understand them, but I could understand her human speech and what she was saying came as a deep shock to me.

�We�ve got to sell our house, Solomon. We�re leaving,� she sobbed. �And I don�t even know if we can keep you.�

[��������: img_5]

LEAVING HOME

I didn�t want to share the dreaded cat basket with Jessica. Joe had caught her by the scruff, bundled her inside and slammed it shut before she could reverse out. Jessica was good at reversing. Now she was in a cage. She turned around and stared out at everyone, her beautiful eyes desperate. I sat close to the basket, kissing her through the hard iron bars, trying to calm her down, but she wouldn�t be pacified. She was frightened, and broken hearted. Her three lovely kittens had gone out in that same cat basket the day before, and Joe had come back with it empty.

�You did take them to the cat sanctuary didn�t you?� Ellen asked.

�Course I flaming did. What d�you take me for?� Joe said angrily. He was in an ugly mood, slumped on the sofa with his head in his hands. �Just leave me alone, will you? It�s bad enough losing our home without you starting.�

I looked at him sceptically. I felt he was lying. What had he done with our kittens? I couldn�t help feeling that the little tabby and white one, my favourite, was lost somewhere and crying for me.

We didn�t know what was going on. All day we�d sat on the garden wall and watched two men carrying furniture out of the house.

Ellen wanted me in her arms when the two men were struggling with the heavy old piano. She touched it just once before they loaded it onto the lorry.

�Mum bought me that piano,� she told me. �It�s a real beauty. It�s so sad to let it go like this. It�s breaking my heart.�

I pushed my head into her neck, trying to tell her how well I remembered those magical hours of music when I�d sat on top of that same piano and marvelled at the stream of melodies that danced from Ellen�s hands, and the rapt expression on her young face as she played. She was inside the music, living it. �She�s so gifted,� her mum would say, �but if you ask her to play for somebody she won�t! She only plays to the cat.�

Ellen�s piano, the sofa, the warm hearthrug, and our favourite chair were being loaded onto a lorry, and soon our lovely house was empty. Jessica and I had crept inside and tiptoed through the bare rooms and up the stairs where we had played so joyfully. Our tails were down, our eyes big with anxiety.

Ellen ran out to the lorry and snatched the amber velvet cushion from one of the chairs.

�My mum made that,� she said fiercely to the two men. �And you are not having it. Arrest me if you like.�

She stuck her chin in the air and glared, and one of the men just shrugged.

�Let her have it. It�s only a cushion,� he said, and with one flick of his arms he closed the back of the lorry and climbed into the driving seat.

Ellen stood on the lawn clutching the amber cushion, watching the lorry drive away, her cheeks streaming with tears. Joe was in the doorway, his eyes black with anger, his arms folded across his chest. He roared a swear word after the lorry.

�Don�t start,� said Ellen.

�Don�tyou start.�

I could see that Joe was struggling to control his temper. The air around him was steaming with it. Right inside the cloud of anger was a burning pain. It was hurting Joe, and it would hurt Ellen. I was torn between staying with Jessica, comforting Ellen, or calming Joe, and I chose Joe. The most important thing was to stop his anger exploding. First I imagined myself surrounded by the sparkle of healing stars, then I ran to him with my tail up and purred my loudest purr.

�Oh Solomon.� He stooped and picked me up. I leaned against his chest, gazed into his eyes and something magical happened. Big fat tears began to pour down Joe�s cheeks, into my fur, and the cloud of anger drifted away through the garden and over the rooftops.

I expected to be rewarded with a tin of sardines or a long cuddle, but Joe carried me to the cat basket where Jessica was shredding the rug. Somehow Joe managed to stuff me in there with her, and shut the cage door before I could turn round. Then he lifted the basket, swung it into the back of the car and shut the door.

Something terrible was happening. I realised that either we were going to the vet or the RSPCA. I sat down, pressing myself against the cage door. The healing stars had vanished and I felt trapped.

Ellen had put John into his car seat, and Sue-next-door was looking in at us.

�Goodbye Solomon and Jessica. Bye bye John,� she was saying, and then she and Ellen were hugging and crying over each other. Why was everyone crying, I wondered? It was a beautiful golden day with the first autumn leaves floating down from the cherry tree. We should be out there in the sun, playing with them.

Joe got into the driving seat and Ellen sat beside him, still clutching the amber velvet cushion.

�Here we go,� said Ellen, bravely trying to smile. �You cats settle down. We�re going on a long journey.�

As soon as the car backed out of the drive and set off down the road, Jessica started yowling. She yowled and she yowled and she wouldn�t stop. Me, I would have just sat quietly since there was no escape, but I was so upset by Jessica�s distress that I yowled along with her.

�They can�t keep this up for two hundred miles,� said Joe. He drove grimly, and very fast. Soon we were on a motorway with heavy lorries thundering along beside me, and I was so terrified that my fur started coming out, especially where it was rubbing against the bars. It reminded me of my long trip in the oily lorry.

Humans seem to make such a mess of their lives. If I were a wild cat I would stay in one place forever and get to know it. I�d make a magnificent nest in the hedge, and make it cosy, and I�d live happily in the sunshine.

John had gone to sleep in his car seat. I could see the side of his fat little cheek and his hand flopped across his teddy bear�s tummy. He looked peaceful, and so did his teddy bear, whose eyes twinkled at me as always. I figured they had got it right, accepting what was happening, so I tried to quieten down. Ellen turned around and looked into my eyes.

�It�s OK, Solomon,� she said. �I�ll look after you.�

After that I did manage to doze, but Jessica�s incessant yowling gave me a headache. I closed my eyes, and when I opened them everything had changed. We were on a quieter road, wandering between hills and rocks covered in heather and gorse. I could smell bracken and sheep. We�d been in the car for hours and hours, and it was raining hard. The rain swept sideways and mist rolled past the windows, thick and white, hiding everything.

�I can�t see a thing,� Joe kept grumbling. Sometimes he said, �I�ll throttle that cat.�

Jessica didn�t care. She had shredded the rug into a ball of string and peed on it, making her pink paws sore and red. She went on crying and crying and there was nothing I could do to comfort her.

Jessica and I were town cats. We�d both grown up on housing estates with walls and squares of garden, always with the noise of radios and children and lawn mowers. So when Joe finally stopped the car and turned off the engine, the silence, the wild smells and the furious rain of the countryside was electrifying. Quite exciting actually.

�Here we are,� said Ellen. �This is it. Home sweet home.�

�I wish,� growled Joe.

I sat up and tried to stretch, my head bumping the top of the cage. Close to the car was a weird-looking house with a pale cream door. It was on wheels like a car.

�I don�t want to live in this poxy caravan,� Joe complained, but Ellen was being cheerful, waking John up and chatting brightly.

�Come on, it�s going to be lovely. We can make it nice. Now let�s get these poor cats out first. We�ll shut them in the end bedroom and butter their paws.�

�Butter their paws?� said John. �Don�t be silly Mummy!�

�It�s what you have to do to help a cat when you move house,� explained Ellen. �They get scared and want to run away, so you put butter on their paws and while they are licking it off they take in their new surroundings and settle down. Maybe it�s an old wives� tale, but it works.�

The car door was opened, and rain came pelting in. Ellen whisked the cat basket into the caravan. It smelled of plastic, and it was freezing cold in there. She took us into a tiny bedroom, shut the door and let us out. Jessica crawled under the bed, but I was glad to cuddle up in Ellen�s arms. She sat on the bed with me and we looked out of the window at the swirling mist.

�We�re in Cornwall, Solomon,� she told me. �And it�s going to be lovely, you�ll see. You�re a Cornish cat now.�

She stroked me all over, smoothing my ruffled fur, and then she spread butter on my paws, put down a dish of water, and a plate of our favourite cat food.

�You stay here, the pair of you, and when we�ve unloaded the car and it�s stopped raining, you can go and explore.�

Jessica stayed under the bed, but I sat up on top of a cupboard by the window and enjoyed licking the butter off my paws while I watched them unloading stuff from the car. I didn�t like the feel of the caravan. It was damp, and it shook all the time, especially when Joe was walking about and John was running from room to room squealing in excitement. I didn�t feel safe in there. It didn�t feel like home at all. As soon as it stopped raining, I vowed to go outside andfind a better place than this.

Later that evening we were allowed out of the bedroom, but the door to the outside remained firmly shut. I inspected everything, walking about nicely with my tail up. There were no stairs, and nowhere to play, no puss flap and no sofa. But I found a wide sunny windowsill and spread myself out on it. Jessica refused to take an interest in our new home. She slunk around suspiciously, her neck getting longer and longer as she peered into the tiny rooms and cupboards. Then she scrabbled at the outside door and yowled.

�Don�t let her out,� Ellen called from the bedroom where she was putting John to bed. He was crying.

�I don�t like it here, Mummy. I want to go back to our old home.�

�You can�t, darling. It�s not our house now.�

�But why, Mummy?�

Ellen kept telling him, but he wouldn�t calm down and so I jumped onto his bed and lay close to him, purring.

�There � Solomon�s here, and he�s all right,� said Ellen.

I wasn�t all right. I wanted to go back to our old house too. The wanting started as a little ache inside my heart, but I didn�t let John know that. I curled up on his pillow and pretended to go to sleep until he stopped crying and snuggled down in his new bed.

�One down, two to go,� said Ellen wearily. �Now it�s Jessica�s turn.�

I watched in amazement as Ellen�s aura filled with stars, and the bright mist of an angel shimmered beside her. In that moment I felt proud to be her cat. Ellen had a special loving way of healing and calming any distressed creature. I remembered the times she had done it as a child, when she�d been surrounded with angels. Now I sat close, basking in the energy as if it was sunshine.

Ellen coaxed Jessica away from scrabbling at the door, picked her up and sat her on the amber velvet cushion, all the time stroking and talking in a low hypnotic voice.

�It�s OK, Jessica darling. This is your home now and it�s going to be fine. And your dear kittens have gone to live in kind homes. Yes I know you miss them, darling.�

Jessica was listening, her tired eyes fixed on Ellen�s face, her fur gradually regaining its gloss under Ellen�s gentle touch. She even started to purr, though she wasn�t good at it.

�This is a tranquilliser, Jessica,� Ellen said, showing her a small white shiny tablet. �It won�t harm you, but it will help you sleep, and then you�ll feel better, and in the morning you and Solomon can explore our new place.�

Ellen dipped the tablet in butter, and Jessica opened her pink mouth like a little bird. Swiftly Ellen popped the tablet onto the back of her tongue and held Jessica�s mouth shut while she stroked her throat. I saw the bump of the tablet going down, and Jessica went quiet and floppy, spreading herself over the cushion.

�Phew,� said Joe. �That was a miracle. I came close to chucking that cat out of the car today.�

�Don�t send her those angry vibes, Joe,� Ellen said, her fingers still stroking the sleeping cat. �And don�t call her �that cat�.�

She looked at me.

�You don�t need a tranquilliser, Solomon, do you?�

I rolled onto my back, kicked my paws in the air, and looked around at her cheekily.

�No,� she said. �Obviously not.�

The angel stayed with us all night in the creaking caravan with the rain thundering on the roof and slamming against the windows. I dozed, trying to come to terms with the big change in our lives, wondering how we could get used to this cramped caravan and the unknown world outside. I worried about Joe. What would happen if he lost his temper? In this fragile place where the cups rattled if anyone walked across the floor, there was no room for Joe�s bombastic temper.

The night was dense and dark outside. No orange street lights like we�d been used to. But later in the night the rain stopped and when I pushed my head between the funny little curtains, I saw bright stars in the sky and I sat gazing at the universe and talking to my angel.

�You mustn�t try to leave, Solomon, even if you don�t like it. Ellen is going to need you so much. There are hard times coming, but you must stay.�

She kept repeating this, and in the morning I had made up my mind to stay and make the best of it.

But then I had a terrible shock.

I was the only one awake, sitting on the windowsill in the morning sun. I wanted to see the garden and get a sense of where we were. The caravan was up against a high hedge covered in wild plants and bramble, impossible to see what was on the other side. At the front was green space, and more caravans. Then I saw something terrifying. I sat up extra straight and my tail began to bristle like a stiff brush. The hairs stood up all along my back and up my neck, my heart raced, and I might have stopped breathing too.

Coming along the wide path towards the caravan was the most enormous fearsome-looking dog I had ever seen. It was dragging a little man who was leaning backwards, holding the lead with both hands.

The massive dog had glinty eyes and I could hear it snuffling and growling and the clickety click of its nails along the path. It trotted over to Joe�s car and lifted its beefy leg to pee on the tyre. Then it looked up, saw me at the window and hurled itself at the caravan, bellowing and barking. The whole caravan shook with its power. I was petrified.

Back home we�d had a front garden with a fence and a white iron gate that kept dogs out. Here it was open space. How could I ever go outside with that dog around? I was only a young cat. I needed space to play and explore. Promising the angel that I would stay now felt like an impossible task.

My hackles gradually subsided as I crouched in the window, and this time I assessed the space in a different way. I looked for escape routes and high perches, gazing at the houses in the distance and a long road curving around the hill. I began to plan how I would escape.

[��������: img_6]

THAT DOG

There was no sign of the dog when Joe opened the caravan door and let us out into the sunshine. Jessica didn�t hang around but streaked off across the wet grass, her tail kinked like a racehorse. She dived into the thick hedge and disappeared.

�That�s the last we�ll see of her,� said Joe, rather smugly.

�She�ll come back,� Ellen predicted. �She just needs to check out where she is.�

I was more cautious and Ellen picked me up and carried me, which I really appreciated. John toddled beside us, his little legs in blue plastic wellies. Leaving Joe sitting on the caravan steps swigging beer from a can, we paraded around the edge of the caravan site. From Ellen�s shoulder I could see over the hedge into a copse of sycamore trees. It had secret winding paths and a mound of bare earth with gigantic holes, which looked spooky to me. What kind of creature might live in such big dark holes?

The birds were different here. There were noisy magpies and jackdaws, and the sky was full of grey and white seagulls who opened their orange beaks and dived around, screaming like police cars.

We met a woman who was hanging washing outside her caravan. She had chunky brown elbows and a reassuring laugh, and eyes that sparkled like those of an angel. She made a fuss of John, and of me.

�Eee � isn�t he bonny? I love cats.� She came right up to Ellen and put her wrinkled face close to mine. We touched noses. Sue-next-door, I thought, only she had a different name � Pam. Pam-next-door. A good person to escape to, I decided. All the way round I was checking out escape routes and possible hiding places; holes in the hedge, boxes under caravans and perches in trees.

�Where does the campsite owner live?� Ellen asked.

Pam pointed to a gap in the hedge where the wide path curved into the next field.�Through there and up the slope to the far end. He�s got a big house with a garden. But watch that dog. It�s OK with me, but it�s a bit iffy with strangers.�

�Is it loose?� asked Ellen.

�No. It�s shut in the garden,� said Pam. �But sometimes it escapes and Nick can�t control it � it�s bigger than he is. Oh I laugh when I see him trying to take it for a walk. Like a cart horse it is, great big feet it�s got.�

I didn�t understand everything Pam was saying, but I got the word dog, and began to feel uneasy. I tensed as Ellen carried me towards the house. In the wall was a black iron gate with curly patterns. I fixed my eyes on the garden beyond. I could smell it, and sense it. That dog.

�What�s the matter, Solomon?� asked Ellen, holding me tighter.

�Big dog, Mummy � look,� squealed John as the dog appeared behind the gate. It didn�t bark. It just loomed.

I did a dreadful thing. In my struggle to get away, I scratched Ellen�s bare shoulder. Then I was flying across the grass, back the way we had come, faster than I�d ever run before, leaving the dog barking behind me. Out in a vast space with nowhere to hide, I pelted through the gap in the hedge. Which was our caravan? I didn�t know. The only option was to plunge into the undergrowth.

Cornish hedges are made of stone and it was easy to crawl up inside through the brambles and nettles and then into the twiggy cover of a hawthorn tree, which was growing out of the wall. It was an awkward, prickly climb, but I went deep into its branches and sat there listening to my fast beating heart. In the distance the dog was still barking, and John was screaming. From my hiding place I watched Ellen carrying him back down the path, talking to him in her quiet way.

Spending the day sitting in a prickly tree didn�t appeal to me. Everything went quiet, and I considered my options. First I tasted one of the red berries that hung there, and it was disgusting. A cat could get hungry and uncomfortable stuck up here all day. I longed for the lovely home we had left, and I was full of sadness.

Ellen was calling me, and banging our cat food dish with a spoon, like she always did when she wanted to get our attention. Eventually I wormed my way down and crawled on my belly along the base of the wall, following a tunnel that some other creature had conveniently made through the long grasses. When I finally reached the caravan, the door was open and I bounded in with my tail up again.

Jessica was back and she was setting up a place for herself inside the cupboard under the seats. She�d already got a dead mouse in there, and one of Ellen�s socks, and a Dairylea cheese portion. She was pleased to see me for once.

�Poof,� she said when I told her about the dog. �I can sort him out. Don�t be such a wimp, Solomon.�

�You haven�t seen how big he is,� I said.

�Poof,� Jessica yawned contemptuously. �Dogs are nothing to me.�

We spread ourselves out on the sunny windowsill to sleep. It wasn�t peaceful in the caravan with John bouncing on and off the seats and throwing his toys around. Joe was on the steps drilling holes in the door, fitting a puss flap for us, and Ellen was getting more and more stressed as she tried to unpack boxes. I looked guiltily at the red scratches on her shoulder. She�d forgiven me, but I still felt bad. And Jessica had called me a wimp.

Soon Joe was shouting at John, and getting angry with the caravan door. He�d made a hole in it, and taken the new puss flap out of its box, only to find it didn�t fit.

I watched him tensely as he struggled with it. Then he flung it under the caravan.

�Useless rubbish,� he complained, and threw his whole toolbox outside. It clattered onto the grass, screws and nails bouncing everywhere.

Jessica disappeared into her cupboard, and John ran to Ellen, clinging round her legs. Ellen�s face went tight. I knew she didn�t dare to speak at times like this. Anything she said, even kind things, would send Joe into a frenzy. Trapped on the windowsill, I half closed my eyes and pretended to be a Buddha, setting an example of how to be peaceful.

With John now clinging round her neck, Ellen opened the fridge and took out one of the tall black and gold cans of beer that Joe liked. She handed it to him silently. He took it, and leaned on the car with his back to everyone.

�Come on, we need some time outside.� Ellen carried John down the steps and dragged his plastic tractor out from under the caravan. I followed them with my tail up and sat on the path, which was warm and dry, while John pedalled up and down.

And then the dog appeared. It was ambling down the path, all by itself. It hadn�t seen us yet. I froze, knowing that if I even twitched, it would see me and charge, putting John and Ellen in danger too.

Jessica seemed to have some sort of radar. She came out immediately, running low in the grass like a stalking tiger. I could feel the heat of her as she swept past me. She sat down in the middle of the path, and started washing. Her audacity was breathtaking. The dog ambled nearer and nearer, but Jessica went on washing.

I wanted to run, but how could I leave Jessica, John and Ellen to face that dog?

Suddenly it looked up, saw us and charged down the path, its paws rattling on the tarmac.

Jessica stood up and transformed herself into a dragon. She arched her back, flattened her ears, blackened her eyes and lashed her tail. Her fur bristled until she was twice her usual size. She stepped towards the dog, her mouth open showing an array of ferocious little fangs, and she yowled and growled.

�Mummy, look at Jessica!� squeaked John, and we all stood like statues, watching.

The dog stopped barking. It hesitated, then slouched up to Jessica, snuffling and snorting, its glinty eyes fixed on her. She looked so small, like a toy cat against the massive bulk of the dog. Still she inched towards it, glaring and spitting. Then she sprang forward and lashed out with a long paw. Her claws flashed in the sunshine as she caught the dog right on its sensitive nose.

It yelped and backed away, rubbing its hurt nose with big soft paws. Not content with one slash, Jessica flew at the dog and boxed its ears. It fled, yelping and whimpering, back up the path, its tail tucked in and its ears flapping.

John and Ellen, and even Joe cheered and clapped Jessica.

�What a gutsy little cat!�

But Jessica wasn�t interested in accolades. She sat down again and resumed washing as if nothing had happened.

Later on, the little man with the purple aura came walking down, without the dog. Ellen gave him a mug of hot tea and he sat in the caravan slurping it and apologising.

�He wasn�t meant to be out. Some idiot left the gate open,� he explained. �He�s a rescue dog. Daft as a brush he is, daft as a brush. And he�s all I�ve got since my wife died.�

I walked along the seat and stepped carefully onto his lap, looking up at him. His name was Nick, and his scratchy old coat smelt of dog, but I tried not to mind as I rubbed and purred. Nick was horrible, and so was his dog, but I could see the loneliness in his eyes. I spread myself out, stretching my long paws over his heart.

�What a beautiful cat,� Nick said. �He�s got a shine on him, and so friendly. Daft as a brush.�

�That�s Solomon,� explained Ellen. �And he�s a big softie.�

After Nick had gone, Ellen picked me up and cuddled me.

�You�ve done something really important, Solomon,� she said. �Nick is the campsite owner and we�ve got to stay friends with him. Otherwise he could chuck us out.�

I felt proud. I was a healing cat. What I did was just as important as Jessica�s moment of glory. I loved her for her courageous performance with the dog. She was a star and she�d been given a whole tin of sardines to herself.

After that encounter, the dog, whose name was Paisley, would not come anywhere near us. When Nick took him out on the long lead, Paisley made a wide circle around our caravan, and Jessica would magically appear and sit on the steps ostentatiously washing, just to wind him up. Paisley never barked at me again, or at John. We were part of Queen Jessica�s domain.

Pam-next-door soon became a friend. She had a dog, if you could call it a dog. It was smaller than Jessica and had legs like a fairy, and ears like wings. Pam dressed it up in tartan coats and put bows in its hair, and it travelled around in the basket of the shiny white bike she rode out on every day, pedalling vigorously.

Pam didn�t like Joe. She would only come in if he wasn�t there, and when he talked to her she looked at him sceptically as if she knew his darkest secrets.

Joe never did finish fitting the puss flap. It stayed under the caravan where he had chucked it, and there was just a square hole in the door. As autumn turned to winter, the wind and rain howled through the hole and it was freezing in the caravan. At night Ellen wedged a cushion against it, and Jessica and I learned to push it aside when we wanted to go out.

On windy nights it was scary inside the caravan. It rocked and trembled, and the sycamore trees flung broken twigs and branches down onto the roof. It was so alarming that I felt the need to find a refuge somewhere outside; a dry safe hole where Jessica and I could go, even in the night. So I spent long hours exploring on my own.

I walked up and down the lane that ran past the campsite. I made friends with people who walked along it, especially a girl with long dark hair. She told me her name was Karenza, and she always stopped to stroke me. One day she picked me up and we had a real bonding session, touching noses and rubbing each other�s faces. Sometimes I followed Karenza home and peeped at her cottage, which was a long way down the lane. She had cats. They were always on the wall or round the cottage door, or sometimes sitting in the window looking fat and contented. Lucky cats. Karenza�s cottage was top of my list of refuges.

One moonlit night I climbed over the hedge and into the sycamore copse. I wanted to explore the deep dark holes I�d seen, and find out who lived in them. First I climbed several different trees, some of them quite high, and established comfortable perches � places I could run to quickly if necessary. I had a mad half hour there on my own and practised some high-speed manoeuvres up and down my chosen trees, my paws dashing through the dry sycamore leaves with a spectacular rustling.

Then I heard something moving, sensed it, smelled it. From the safety of my tree, I watched black and white creatures come shuffling out of the holes. They had pointed faces with a white stripe that shone in the moonlight. They were quiet, snuffly animals with wise black eyes and a cloud of fur like thistledown. Badgers.

Carefully I slid down from the tree. I wanted to meet a badger. I wanted to see inside one of those big holes. I wanted to know if a cat like me would be welcome to shelter there in an emergency.

At first the badgers were snorty and aggressive with me and I had to keep jumping into trees to get out of their way. It took weeks of patient hanging around, purring and pretending to be asleep before I gained the privilege of a nose-to-nose hello with the oldest and wisest badger. I wasn�t allowed into their holes, but one night the old badger led me along the base of the stone hedge and showed me a hole which they had made and abandoned. It was perfect. Lined with moss and cosy dry grass, facing south, and big enough for two cats to curl up and sleep.

That winter night I was glad I�d found a refuge. As I trotted home through the sycamore copse I heard an old familiar sound coming from the caravan.

Shouting and screaming.

[��������: img_7]

GOING TO THE VET

The caravan door crashed open and Jessica came flying out. Ellen was screaming at Joe.

�Don�t hurt Jessica! If you touch her I�ll ��

�You�ll what?�

Joe loomed in the doorway like a thunderstorm, his car keys jingling in his hand. Jessica had dived into the hedge, a huge chicken leg in her mouth. A plate came whizzing out after her, with peas and potatoes bouncing onto the grass. I loved roast potatoes, so I made a note of where they landed as I watched from one of my safe perches.

�If you�d come in for your supper when I called you, it wouldn�t have happened, Joe,� Ellen said. �It�s natural for a cat to want to grab food they like the look of. And you should know that. I�m not cooking for you if you�re too busy drinking to turn up.�

�Lecture, lecture, lecture!� Joe mocked. �That�s all you ever do now.�

�And look how you�ve wasted that food, Joe. We can�t AFFORD decent food very often.� Ellen couldn�t seem to stop yelling. She was close to tears. �Chucking good food away is an abuse of the whole of creation.�

�Oh, so that�s why you sat there and let the cat nick my supper. Or is that my fault as well? Blame Joe. That�s what you always do. I�m going to the pub to get a pasty, where I�m going to sit and eat it without some cow nagging me.�

�But you can�t drive, Joe. You�ve been drinking.�

�Just watch me.� Joe got in the car and revved it. A cloud of stinking smoke came out of the exhaust. �And who cares if I don�t come back? Some home this is.�

�It�s your fault we lost our lovely house,� cried Ellen and she bent over, clutching her stomach as Joe drove off. �That place was special to me. It was my mum�s home. She planted the cherry tree and I played under it when I was a child. I miss it all so much.� Then she crept into the caravan as if the pain of her words was breaking her in half.

I waited until Joe�s car had gone squealing out of the campsite. I listened, and I could hear Jessica rustling and growling as she ate her stolen dinner under the hedge. From the caravan came the sound of Ellen trying to comfort John, and the clink of plates being stacked. I was anxious. I wanted to go straight inthere and do my job with the healing stars and the purring, but I was finding it increasingly difficult to go into the caravan. It was cramped and smelly now. John�s toys were everywhere, and my sunny windowsill was often covered in damp washing, so there was nowhere for me to sit.

It was nearly dark and the sky was an ominous glassy purple. A storm was brewing and I didn�t want to be inside that shuddering caravan. I felt guilty too. My job as a cat was to look after Ellen, and I wasn�t doing it. Nothing was the same.

Before we moved into the caravan, the rows between Joe and Ellen had been stormy but brief. Joe had usually come back sorry and ashamed with a bunch of flowers or a box of cream cakes. He�d sit on the sofa with Ellen cuddled up to him and they�d talk far into the night. Joe did most of the talking, trying to explain how guilty he felt and why he lost his temper, and Ellen always forgave him. Jessica and I used to bask in the healing atmosphere, both of us purring, happy cats onthe warm sofa where there was plenty of room for all of us. Two cats on two laps, and John falling asleep nestled in between his mum and dad.

But now the rows went on and on, and there were no apologies, no flowers and no cream cakes. Joe resented living in the caravan, and that night when he came back from the pub, instead of sitting up with Ellen, he stomped off to bed and slammed the door. Ellen popped outside to call Jessica who was out there somewhere in the cold, too frightened to come in. Then she sat with us on her lap, and I could feel the sadness in her heart.

�I had a cat just like you, Solomon,� she told me as I stretched my paws over her thin shoulders, and Jessica lay there playfully patting the wispy ends of Ellen�s hair. �When I was a child. He was called Solomon too, and he used to run down the road to meet me from school. I read him stories and played him music on the piano.� Her voice broke into a sob. �Oh I wish we still had my piano. I miss it so much. And Joe is so angry.�

That night she slept on the long caravan seat with a rug over her, and we snuggled in there with her. I stayed awake, worrying about what Joe was going to do in the morning.

�What�s wrong with him?� I asked my angel, and she went into one of her silences.

�He�s in prison,� she said eventually.

�Prison?� I knew what prison was. A cat cage for humans.

�It�s a prison made of anger,� said my angel. �He�s made it himself and he�s keeping the door locked. No one has sent him there.�

I pondered on these words while rain pounded on the roof. I remembered the badgers out in the copse and wondered what it would be like to be wild. Just before dawn, the rain stopped and orange sunshine filtered through wet branches. Ellen and John got up quietly. No one wanted to wake Joe. The row they�d had was still alive, a grumpy troll lurking under a bridge, like the one in John�s favourite story. It was calledBilly Goats Gruff, and I�d heard it lots of times. Now I felt we were all tiptoeing over that scary bridge, and the tiniest creak would rouse the sleeping troll.

After such a rough night, Jessica and I were glad to stretch out side by side on the sunny windowsill, and I drifted into a deep sleep until mid-morning. A loud thump woke me, and the caravan shuddered. A cup fell off the table and rolled across the floor. I heard Ellen shouting.

�You�re not having the car keys, Joe. You�re drunk.�

There was a chilling sound of glass smashing and peppering down like hailstones, and John started to cry. Then the caravan shook again. Thump, thump, thump. The troll was awake.

We two cats sprang to life and bolted outside, straight under the hedge. Those first weeks had taught us that the caravan was not a safe place. The only haven for us was outside in one of our hiding places. We crouched under the bracken next to one another and Jessica suddenly did something very sweet. She stretched her cute little face to me and touched noses. I kissed her back and our white whiskers brushed together.

It made me feel a whole lot better.

�It�ll be OK,� she said. �Let them get on with it. We�ve got each other haven�t we?�

I gave her a special purr-meow.

Then we huddled together and listened.

�What is the matter with you, Joe? You never used to be like this.� Ellen was clutching the car keys in her hand. �And how did this car window get smashed? Tell me.�

Joe was leaning on the car, with one hand pushed into his ginger hair. His eyes were tightly shut, and clenched in his other hand was a hammer.

�Go to your room, John and stay there please,� said Ellen, steering John up the steps and into the caravan. �Please sweetheart. Mummy will sort this out.�

�Daddy kicked the caravan.� John wailed. �It�s not safe in there, Mummy. Daddy was going to knock it over.�

�No he wasn�t. Just go to your room, John.�

�NO!�

John ran round behind the caravan and lay on the ground sobbing.

�Do as you�re told,� roared Joe, and in a few angry strides he had grabbed John, pushed him inside the caravan and shut the door. Joe leaned against it, breathing hard and looking at Ellen with pain in his eyes. �Don�t go running after him. Let him cry for once. It�s ME you should startcaring about.�

�I do care about you, Joe,� said Ellen. �But you�re getting worse and worse. I can�t cope with you being so angry.�

Joe picked up the hammer from where he had dropped it.�This is what damaged your precious car. I bloody smashed it. And why? �Cause YOU refused to give me the keys. So I smashed the window. How else was I supposed to get in?�

�You�re upsetting John,� said Ellen. �And me. And the cats. If you don�t stop it we�ll get thrown off this campsite, Joe.�

�See this?� Joe held up the hammer, and Ellen went pale. �This is what you�ll get if you don�t SHUT UP nagging me every five minutes.Stop drinking Joe.Get a job Joe. That�s all you ever say to me now. I�m sick, sick, SICK of it, woman!�

He began to pace to and fro, brandishing the hammer. It glinted in the sun and so did his eyes. Ellen pressed her back against the caravan, her aura flaming with fear and anger. She tried to say something and Joe immediately went into a new frenzy.

�You say two words and I�ll put this hammer straight through that windscreen.�

Sitting under the hedge, Jessica and I peered out through the bracken fronds.�Don�t let him hurt my Ellen,� I was praying. I hoped Ellen would keep quiet and let Joe calm down, and she did. �Please send an angel. Please,� I prayed, and at that moment the door of Pam�s caravan opened, and Pam came bustling over.

�Nosy old crow,� muttered Joe, and he flung the hammer under the caravan.

Goodness knows what might have happened if Pam hadn�t come. She had her shoulders square and her chin in the air, and she was smiling!

�Hello Joe. Doing some DIY are you?� she quipped. �Eee � how did that car window get smashed? What a shame. Have to mend it now won�t you? Expensive aren�t they, cars? I�m glad I�ve only got me bike. Now, how would you like to come and have a coffee, Ellen? Bring John. I�ve just made some gingerbread. Do you want to come, Joe?�

Joe glared at Pam.�No thanks.� He turned and walked off, his hands in his pockets, and we watched him turn out of the gate and head up the road. Pam had done a better job than any angel, I thought.

Nothing was easy and fun like it had been in our lovely house. I longed to go back there, and often I sat gazing at the distant road curving around the hill. That was the road home. But every time I did this, my angel told me I had to stay here.

She arrived in a blaze of stars a couple of days later as I crouched on the wide mossy branch of a tree.

�Wait, Solomon,� she said. �Don�t go into the caravan just yet.�

So I sat patiently in the tree, listening to the first gusts of autumn wind scattering the dry leaves. My angel�s voice was easy to hear, like the twang of a bell in my head, but when I tried to see her in detail she was screened by a shining mist. Mostly I sensed her energy ruffling my fur, and her voice clearing my mind. I appreciated this, as it needed clearing out. My mind was full of homesickness andanxiety. Even anger was in there sometimes, and my angel would sweep it all out as if she had a brush made of stardust. I always felt better once it had been swept away.

Someone in a billowing raincoat was walking towards the caravan in the twilight, a small torchlight bobbing in her hand. It was Pam. But looking closer, I sat up in amazement. Floating beside her was a lady in a glistening, shimmering robe, a lady with a radiant smile and loving eyes. Ellen�s mum. Now I knew why the angel had told me to wait.

Overjoyed to see the visitor from the spirit world, I meowed, leapt down from the tree and dashed across the grass. For the first time that day, my tail was up straight as I ran to her. Ellen�s mum was guiding Pam-next-door towards the caravan, but she paused to whisper some loving words to me.

�Hello Solomon. You are a darling cat. You�re doing a wonderful, wonderful job. Thank you.�

She brushed her warm hands over my fur and suddenly I felt better. Her praise encouraged me and I flexed my back and purred, rubbing against Pam�s legs. She bent down and picked me up.

�Eee, you�re a lovely cat you are.�

Cuddling me with one arm, Pam knocked on the caravan window. I realised that Pam couldn�t see Ellen�s mum, who quickly disappeared when Ellen opened the door.

Settling on Ellen�s lap, I could still feel the love of her mum�s smile, and my purring was deep and soothing. Ellen stroked me with one hand and John�s hair with the other as he leaned against her on the long caravan seat, his face still dirty from crying.

�Is John asleep?� Pam whispered, sitting herself down on the seat opposite.

�Yes. He�s out for the count, Pam, you needn�t whisper,� said Ellen. Her voice sounded wobbly.

�I came to see if you were all right.� Pam�s eyes were full of kindness. �I heard Joe go off like that in the car. I couldn�t help hearing the row.�

Ellen started to cry. She cried and cried, and Pam just sat there offering her tissues out of a box, and making motherly comments like,�Oh dear. Oh dear, oh dear. Oh you poor girl.�

�I hate it here in this caravan. I can�t cope with being here, Pam. We lost our home you see � they repossessed it. It was my mum�s home and she left it to me, but Joe got into debt and mortgaged it. They took all our furniture, they even took my piano. If Nick hadn�t let us in here we�d be homeless. I thought we�d try and make the best of it but it�s getting worse and worse, Pam, especially with � now that Joe is �� Her voice came to a halt. She couldn�t speak. I stretched out my paws and lay over her heart, my chin on her chest. She felt bony and thin and her inner light was very very dim as if it was about to go out.

�Joe�s on benefits,� said Ellen. �We both tried to get jobs, but there just aren�t any here in Cornwall. They keep telling us there will be jobs in the spring when the tourist season starts, but how can we survive until then?�

�He�s drinking isn�t he?� asked Pam, and a new wave of pain seemed to engulf Ellen and came pouring out in a deluge of words and tears, her whole body shaking and sobbing.

�I know,� Pam went on. �I don�t miss much. Anyway, you can smell it on him. How�s he going to get home?�

�I don�t know, Pam.� Ellen shook her head. �He�ll have to walk. Sometimes he stays out all night. Oh Pam, I�m so frightened. If he goes on like this, Nick will chuck us off the site. Then where will we go? We�ve got nowhere to go, Pam, nowhere.�

Pam leaned forward and made Ellen look at her courageous blue eyes.�I won�t let him,� she declared. �And you can come in with me any time. You remember that. I�ll be like a � a mum to you, and I�ll be a granny for John. I love him, and you, and this beautiful cat.�

�We�ve got no money,� Ellen wept. �It all goes on Joe�s booze and the rent.�

Pam shook her fist.�He�s got to be stopped.�

�No Pam, don�t you get involved,� said Ellen, but I knew that Pam would. I could see that Pam was like Jessica � gutsy and brave, even if she was an old lady. She was going to have a go at Joe. I couldn�t wait.

�He used to be a lovely man,� said Ellen. �He was over the moon when John was born.�

Pam got up and made two mugs of steaming cocoa. Then she rummaged in the cupboard and found a tin of Whiskas rabbit, my favourite. I jumped down to eat it, and I got a compliment as well.

�This cat, Solomon, he�s special,� Pam said, stroking my back as I tucked in. �He�s the most beautiful, loving cat I�ve ever seen. He�s trying to look after you, Ellen. Don�t you ever let him go will you? He�s heaven sent, this cat.�

After that, I felt so much better that I settled down in the caravan with Ellen and John. Joe didn�t come back, and despite the wild storm outside, we had a night of peace. Jessica came slinking back through the hole in the door and we curled up together on the amber velvet cushion.

We survived the rest of the winter. Joe came and went, losing his temper and apologising, then he�d try to be nice for a few days. It never lasted.

As spring turned to summer, life seemed easier. John was growing fast and running around the campsite with other children. Ellen had the washing outside in the sun, and even a few pots of flowers. While Joe spent whole mornings lying in bed, Ellen was cleaning and polishing and keeping John happy. Jessica and I had a bit of fun, chasing each other up and down trees. She liked to go up to Nick�s house and tease Paisley by sitting on top of the gatepost. The poor dog would shiver and shake, and if Jessica jumped down into his garden, he would bolt indoors, yelping.

I showed Jessica all my refuges, including the badger hole, and we had a few experimental naps in it. She wouldn�t come down the road with me to visit Karenza�s cottage, so I went alone and socialised with her cats. I kept friends with the badgers too, it was part of my plan to build a support network to help me in times of trouble.

One hot summer day, after a wild chase through the copse with Jessica, I got a prickle stuck in my paw. I licked and fussed but it wouldn�t come out, and days later it turned into an abscess. My paw was swollen and throbbing painfully. It was full of poison. Miserably, I crouched in the shade underneath the caravan. I didn�t want to eat or move.

Ellen kept picking me up and holding my bad paw in a basin of hot salty water. It was comforting, but soon I felt so ill I just crawled deeper under the caravan and sat there, shivering.

�I�ll have to take you to the vet, Solomon.� Ellen wriggled under the caravan on her tummy to get me out. I lay in her arms, all floppy like a dead cat.

�Get the cat basket, Joe,� she said. �I�m taking Solomon in right now. He�s really sick.�

�We can�t afford vet�s fees, Ellen.�

�I don�t care. I�m taking him.�

�And who�s going to pay for it?�

Ellen didn�t answer. She put me down and dragged the cat basket out of its cupboard. Within minutes she and Joe were arguing while I lay there with a headache.

�I am not letting Solomon die because of your selfishness,� Ellen said angrily. �What�s the matter with you, Joe?�

She put me into the cat basket. I felt so ill that I didn�t much care whether I lived or died. It would be OK to die. I could go home to the spirit world, to the lovely valley with the cushiony grass. An easy option. But Ellen would be left here with all the problems. I hadn�t done my work. So I lay there, struggling to stay alive, my paw hot and throbbing.

Ellen was fighting to hang on to the car keys, which Joe was trying to prise out of her hands, and John was clinging to Ellen�s sleeve.

�Please let me come, Mummy. I don�t want to stay with Daddy.� He started to scream. �Mummy,please.�

�Shut up.� Joe pushed John and he fell backwards out of the caravan. John got up slowly, rubbing his elbow and howling.

�Oh, sorry son. I didn�t mean you to fall.� Joe was suddenly quiet again, shamefaced. But the shadow of his temper was still there. I watched it sadly through half-closed eyes, feeling powerless and very sick. I opened my mouth and managed a really loud meow, more like a cry, and even though he was hurt, little John came and pressed his hot face against the bars of the cat basket.

�Poor Solomon,� he cried. �I love you, Solomon. I�m coming with you and I won�t let that vet hurt you.�

Even in my comatose state I looked into John�s eyes and saw the beautiful caring soul that was in there. The whole child was shining in an aura of golden light. I managed to reach out a good paw and pat him gently through the bars, feeling encouraged. I�d found another friend who loved me.

Ellen and Joe were looking at each other silently. One small loving gesture from John had turned into a golden moment of healing that wrapped itself around the troubled family.

�I�ll drive,� said Joe quietly. �I�ll be really careful, I promise.�

I was too ill to feel frightened. I just lay in the cat basket, my chin on the amber velvet cushion, and I felt more at peace. Little John had done my work for me. Now he sat beside me in his car seat, talking to me, telling me how he was going to grow up and be a vet and heal animals.

All three of them came into the surgery with me, and I was grateful for their presence as I lay limply on the cold steel table.

This vet was a pretty dark-eyed woman called Abby. She examined me gently and spoke softly to me.

�He�s very ill,� she explained. �He needs an immediate shot of antibiotics which I�ll give him now.�

John went on stroking my head with his small hand while Abby gave me some injections.

�You are a good lad,� she said to John. �I could do with a helper like you.�

�And I�ve got a bad elbow,� John said. �I fell out of the caravan. But I stopped crying for Solomon�s sake �cause he�s got a sore paw.�

Ellen and Joe stood close, just looking at each other and holding hands. Ellen was very pale and still had tears on her cheeks.

�This stuff is a painkiller,� explained Abby, giving me a second injection. �You�re being such a good cat, Solomon. I wish they were all like you.�

Then she did something to my paw, cutting the abscess, and I could feel the hot pain draining away. I felt suddenly sleepy and soft.

�He�s purring. Mummy, he�s purring,� said John.

�He knows he�s being made better,� I heard Ellen say as I drifted off, and Abby�s words were even more distant.

�Keep him warm and quiet. Give him one of these tablets every six hours and make sure he swallows it. He�s a young strong cat and he should get better.�

I woke up in the caravan on Ellen�s lap. She was stroking me softly as if I was made of gossamer, and her hands were warm and full of stardust. It was so lovely, I pretended to be asleep again, floating and drifting, and in my dream I heard music. I remembered my past life as Ellen�s cat, how we had danced on the lawn, and thetimes when I had sat on top of the piano while she played music that tingled in my bones. What had happened to make Ellen change so much? I asked my angel.

�Life has happened,� she said.

�So why have I been ill?� I asked.

�It�s a gift,� said my angel.

�A gift?�

�Sometimes illness is a gift. It gives you a time to heal in body and soul. It�s like a spiritual holiday. And it calms and strengthens the people who have to look after you, it reminds them how to be kind. It�s a blessing in disguise.�

I understood. I would rest and get better now, and let Ellen pamper me. But even as I lay there pretending to sleep, I kept one eye on Joe. He was sprawled in a corner, drinking can after can of beer and chucking the empty ones on the caravan floor.

The next minute Nick was standing at the open caravan door, looking very serious.

�Been drinking again, have you Joe?� He looked into the caravan at the piles of empty cans. �I�ve come to collect your rent. Have you got it?�

Joe stood up. I felt Ellen�s hands go stiff. What was going to happen now?

[��������: img_8]

�YOU CHEEKY CAT�

John started school that autumn. Ellen took him every morning in the car. She started staying out for a long time, and we cats were left alone with Joe. The first thing Joe did was to pull Jessica out of her basket, holding her roughly with one hand under her tummy. Even if it was raining he dumped her outside, clapped his hands and shooed her away. One day he did the same to me. I felt so hurt. I turned around and looked at him reproachfully, flicking my tail, but he slammed the door. Clearly he didn�t want us.

Jessica was catching mice in the hedge. She stashed them under the caravan and waited for her chance to sneak one inside and into her private cupboard. I headed down the lane to Karenza�s cottage, the chilly wind ruffling my fur. Jessica and I were hungry. Our food was getting less and less, and we relied on mice or the little treats Pam gave us more than ever. Today one of Karenza�s cats, a big ginger tom, kindly shared his dish with me. He had plenty so I ate as much as I could. Karenza opened her door and I peered in, tempted by the warmth of her cosy stove. I wanted to go in and curl up on the rug with the cats who were already there.

�Hello Solomon,� Karenza said brightly. �Oh yes, I know your name. Your Ellen�s been telling me all about you, what a special cat you are.� She picked me up and gave me a cuddle, and I leaned on her, soaking up her warmth and cheerfulness. I thought she was going to carry me inside and let me sit by the fire, but she put me down again. �You go home, Solomon,� she said as I rubbed myself against the black boots she always wore, and she guided me firmly outside and shut the door.

Disappointed, I sat down on the doorstep to think. The easy days of summer had passed, and soon we faced another winter. The morning sky was yellow and grey, the wind zigzagged up the lane, stripping leaves from the sycamores. Above me on the telephone wires, a crowd of swallows had gathered, twittering and fussing. I watched them fly away to the south and I knew they were going to a better warmer place thousands of miles away. I wished I was a swallow instead of a cat.

My angel was twinkling at me urgently.

�Go home,� she said. �Quickly.�

I hurried up the lane, dashed across the copse and over the hedge to the caravan, a feeling of dread in my throat. What had happened now? I soon knew.

Ellen was sitting doubled up with pain, a basin in her hand. Her face was yellowish white and frightened. Pam was sitting one side of her and Joe the other.

�You�ve got to go to hospital, Ellen,� Pam was saying, her arm around Ellen�s tense shoulders, and Ellen was shaking her head.

�No. No, Pam. I can�t be ill. What about John, and the cats?�

�I�ll take care of John,� Pam said warmly.

�And I can manage the cats for goodness� sake,� said Joe.

Ellen just looked at him hopelessly.

I ran to her and jumped on her lap.

�Get out cat,� Joe tried to push me aside.

�Don�t call him cat,� cried Ellen. �This is SOLOMON. Let him stay.�

I glared at Joe and settled on the seat as close to Ellen as I could get. She was doubled over with pain and her body felt stiff.

Joe stood up and took the car keys from their hook.

�I�m taking you to hospital right now.�

�How much have you had to drink?� asked Pam sharply.

�Nothing today, promise. I never drink until after lunch.�

Pam looked at Ellen and raised her eyebrows.

�Is that true?�

�Course it�s true. I�m not a liar.�

�Don�t you raise your voice at me, Joe.� Pam�s eyes flared at Joe. �I�m going to be looking after John. I�ll fetch him from school on me bike and I�ll clean up for you too, so don�t get lippy with me.�

Ellen looked too ill to care what happened. I stared deep into her eyes, trying to tell her I loved her. Then I kissed her on the nose, purring and purring. She took my face in both hands.

�Thank you for being my cat, Solomon,� she said. �Now you stay here, and Jessica too, and Joe will bring me back when I�m better.�

Joe picked her up and carried her out to the car while Pam bustled around stuffing things into a bag: Ellen�s slippers, her hairbrush and wash bag. She took down a photo frame with a picture of John holding me and smiling, and popped that in. When I heard the bag being zipped up and the car starting I felt uneasy. I ran to sit on the steps, and as the car drove off Ellen looked back at me.

In that moment of parting, I felt so close to Ellen. We had shared so much. Joe saw Ellen as a tired woman with haunted eyes endlessly shrieking at him, often frowning as she tried to cope. Only I knew the bright, creative soul of Ellen, the child with honey gold hair and passion in her eyes, who cared about tiny birds and animals, who only wanted to play beautiful music and dance in the wind. In that earlier lifetime she�d given me so much love and fun. It tore me apart to watch her being driven away to a place where I couldn�t reach her.

Jessica crept out of her cupboard and we both sat on the windowsill, watching Pam cleaning up the caravan. She worked energetically, gathering Joe�s empty beer cans into a bag, stacking his motoring magazines, washing up and folding clothes. She tutted and grumbled, and talked non-stop.

�He�s a lazy so and so, that Joe. He doesn�t deserve a lovely wife like Ellen, and two beautiful cats like you. Now you cats have got to be good.� Pam turned and wagged her finger at us. �You�ve got to be good quiet cats and keep out of his way. I�ll have John in with me, but I can�t have you two in my caravan because of me dog. Have you got that, Jessica?�

Jessica�s buttercup eyes sparkled at Pam as if they shared a private joke.

�And don�t you shred his precious magazines.� Pam pointed her finger at Jessica who was enjoying the attention. �And don�t bring mice in. He hates that. You just be good quiet cats and I�ll keep an eye on you till Ellen gets back, poor girl. She�s gone to hospital, and that�s like you going to the vet. Not fun, but they�ll make her better, you�ll see.�

Pam sounded confident and reassuring. I was glad to have her there. She seemed like an earth angel to me. When she�d gone to fetch John, Jessica and I settled down for a long sleep with the afternoon sun streaming through the window onto our fur.

At dusk I sat on the caravan steps, waiting for Ellen to return. Paisley was ambling along the hedge on his own. He paused and looked at me, one paw in the air. I didn�t move. I knew that Jessica would come out, puffed up like a porcupine, if Paisley dared to approach. I still didn�t fancy tackling him on my own though.

I could hear the badgers coming out of their hole, and the magpies chattering as they went home to roost. I listened to every car that came down the lane, and finally I heard the familiar rattle of Joe�s car and the squeal of tyres as he braked and turned into the campsite. Paisley�s eyes shone red in the headlight.

�Daddy, Daddy.� John came running. �I had tea with Pam. And she�s given me a cake for Mummy.�

He flung himself at the car window, the cake in his hand. It looked nice. A fruit bun with a cherry on top.

But the passenger seat was empty.

Ellen wasn�t there.

Joe heaved himself out of the car and locked it. He squatted down to talk to John.

�Mummy�s very sick,� he said. �She�s got to stay in hospital for a long time.�

John stared at him, his face crumpling. Then he squashed the cake in his hand, hurled it under the caravan, and ran away into the darkness.

�Get back here NOW,� shouted Joe, but John ignored him.

I understood what Joe had said about Ellen. It shocked me. How would we all live without Ellen? How could I be her cat if she wasn�t there? I made up my mind to go and find her.

Jessica dived under the caravan and seized the cake. She reversed into the dark with it, growling, and sat there picking off the crinkly paper.

�Thieving, opportunist moggy.� Joe slammed into the caravan and I heard him opening the fridge and taking out beer cans.

I ran after John. Like me, he had refuges where he could hide if he needed to, and I knew where most of them were. I found him sitting on a pile of pallets round the back of Nick�s place, and to my surprise Paisley was leaning against John�s legs, his big chin on the boy�s knee. He was being very loving, offering John his huge paw, and John was talking to him. It changed my attitude to dogs. Obviously John had made friends with Paisley when I wasn�t around. There were even a few healing stars drifting around the two of them, and Paisley was so intent on comforting John that he didn�t even glance in my direction. I was glad that John had a friend, it left me free to go and find Ellen.

�You can�t do that,� Jessica said, when I told her my plans.

�Why not?�

�You could get lost, or run over by a car,� she said. �And I don�t fancy living here alone with Joe.�

�You can have my badger hole,� I offered, but Jessica pooh-poohed that idea.

�I�m a carpet cat. I don�tdo badger holes,� she said, washing her pink paws vigorously. �I dream of living with a little old lady who will pamper me when my work is done.�

�Not if you shred magazines.�

�I shan�t do it. I shall be a model cat,� said Jessica haughtily.

�I�ll miss you,� I said, and Jessica came and made a fuss of me, licking my ears and my back, purring her funny little purr.

�So what is your work?� I asked.

Jessica thought for a moment.�Loving you.� Then she said sadly, �And our kittens. I still miss them. My two boys, and the little tabby girl. Our little girl loved you very much didn�t she?�

�I loved her,� I said, �and I wonder where she is now.�

�Perhaps we�ll never know.� Jessica�s eyes went dark and I realised then how much the kittens had meant to her, and why she had cried all the way to Cornwall. Although Jessica was a tough cat, she too felt a mother�s grief.

I was a smart cat. I did a lot of thinking before deciding how best to find Ellen. After my long trip in the lorry as a kitten, I had a deep fear of travelling. I spent some time making friends with Joe�s car, sitting on it when it was warm, and sneaking inside if I got the chance. I scent-marked the tyres so that it would be easy for me to find.

It soon became obvious that Joe went to visit Ellen in the afternoons while Pam looked after John. Sometimes he had a few flowers or a bag of fruit. He was always gone for about three hours, and when he came back he just sat in the caravan drinking and sleeping.

I sensed Ellen�s direction. She was north-east of the campsite, and not too far away if I headed straight across the fields.

�No, Solomon,� said my angel. �You would come to the city and you�d get lost. That would worry Ellen. The only way is to be really brave and go in Joe�s car. He�ll take you, and bring you back, but you mustn�t look frightened. Keep a bright face and hold your tail high, and you will get there.�

So one morning when the car doors were open I crept inside and made a nest underneath a coat on the back seat. It was a scary thing for a cat to do, but I kept quiet and still as Joe started the engine and drove off.

We were speeding along the roads, twisting and turning, going uphill and down. I longed to look out of the window and see landmarks to help me find the way home, but I stayed hidden. If Joe saw me he might lose his temper. My angel had warned me.

�You�re taking on a difficult challenge, Solomon,� she�d said. �Cats can�t normally go into hospitals. I�ll be surprised if you do manage this, but if Joe sees you, you�ve got no chance, so lie low, and when he arrives you must jump out immediately.�

When the car slowed down, I figured we were arriving, and I peeped out from under the coat. The hospital was a block of concrete towering into the sky, its windows winking in the sun. Around it were green lawns and interesting trees where I could hide.

Joe opened the door to get out, and I was crouched, waiting. I slithered out like a snake, past his leg and under the car. I watched his feet in the old grey and black trainers he wore, and the ragged edge of his jeans, and when I saw them walking away, I followed.

�Don�t look furtive,� said my angel. �Put your tail up and look as if you�ve every right to be here.�

So I did. Joe never looked back and I strutted after him through the car park and along a wide path that curved under the big trees. Autumn leaves were dancing everywhere and I longed to play with them, but I focused on following Joe.

People started noticing me and calling me�Puss� and �That Cat�, but I trotted on, my head and tail high, right through the glass doors and into the echoing hospital. I was going to see Ellen.

�WHAT is THAT CAT doing in here?�

�Who let THAT CAT in?�

It was hard to keep going with sharp-voiced comments bouncing around me. Luckily there were compliments too.

�Aw. Look at that gorgeous cat.�

�He knows where he�s going. He must live here.�

I was proud of myself� parading along the corridors with everyone smiling at me. I stiffened my whiskers and stuck my chin in the air. I imagined my coat was gleaming like black silk and that I, Solomon, was the King of cats. Ellen wouldn�t want a frightened, creeping cat, she would want King Solomon in all his glory.

Still Joe didn�t look round. Oblivious of his surroundings, he strode on through the hospital. Turning left, he headed up the stairs, two steps at a time. His aura was bright so I guessed we must be getting close to Ellen. I so wanted to meow.

Left again and down a long pale green corridor, my paws skidding on the polished floor. I wished Jessica was there. What a game we could have had, galloping and sliding and making people laugh. Playing penguins.

At the end of the corridor was a wide doorway into a bright room full of high beds. A nurse with a fierce face popped out of a side door and spoke to Joe.

�Hi. Have you come to see Ellen? She�s waiting for you.�

Then she gasped as she saw me.

�WHAT is that CAT doing in here?�

Joe turned and saw me. His mouth dropped open.

�I don�t believe this. It�s � it�s our cat. He must have followed me.�

I gave Joe and the nurse a rebellious stare. I didn�t even stop but kinked the end of my tail and went swanning through those wide doors on my own. I was going to see Ellen.

�You CHEEKY cat,� cried the nurse, and Joe started laughing. I heard the nurse calling out, �Sister. Sister, we�ve got a cat in the ward.�

I kept walking, down the row of high beds, looking for Ellen. A well-timed meow did the trick. Ellen sat up on her bed with a squeal of surprise.

�SOLOMON!�

I must have leaped ten foot through the air from the floor to Ellen�s bed. Then I was purring and purring and she was kissing me and crying and smiling all at once.

�How did you get here? You miracle cat,� she breathed. �Oh it�s so good to see you.�

We had a few precious minutes before Joe came down the ward with a contingent of fussing nurses.

�Livestock are strictly not permitted in this hospital,� said the one in the dark blue uniform. I�d never been described as livestock before, but I thought she must be the boss, so I gazed lovingly into her eyes as I cuddled up to Ellen.

�We will have to ask you to take him out immediately,� said the boss sister, but she had eye contact with me and I could see that she was admiring me. �He�s a lovely cat but ��

Joe was very persuasive. I saw a different side to him as he talked quietly to the nurses, telling them about me.

�He�s beautifully clean, and he�s good for Ellen. He�ll make her better. Look, she�s got more colour in her cheeks already.�

�Solomon is a healing cat,� said Ellen clearly from the bed. �Please, please let him stay. Then Joe will take him home.�

The sister looked at Ellen in astonishment, then at Joe.

�That�s the first time Ellen has spoken to us since she�s been in the hospital,� she said. She stood, frowning for a moment then she made an announcement. �I haven�t seen this cat. You�ve got one hour.� She winked at Joe and walked briskly away, followed by the two nurses who were smiling.

�Thanks. You�re a star,� said Joe.

�No,� said Ellen, �Solomon is the star.�

[��������: img_9]

THE MARMITE SANDWICH

Ellen came home after many weeks in hospital, but she wasn�t better. She wasn�t like the Ellen I knew and loved. Instead of a smile, she had a frown on her face. Her voice was loud and cross, and the sparkle had gone from her eyes. She snapped at John, and even at me. I was upset. I took to sitting in a corner, looking at her reproachfully and trying to find times when I could show her how much I loved her. When Joe was there, Ellen hardly spoke and when he was out she had frenzies of cleaning, or sometimes she just curled up on her bed and slept.

I asked my angel what was wrong.

�Ellen is homesick,� she said. �And she misses her piano. Music is important for Ellen. It feeds her spirit.�

�So what can I do?� I asked.

�Just go on loving her,� said the angel. �Her bigger problem is Joe. She has to find the courage to leave him.�

�Well, he�s John�s dad,� I said, remembering how proud I�d been of my kittens and how sad I�d been to say goodbye to them. At least I still had Jessica.

�But where will Ellen go?� I asked.

�It�s Joe who has to go,� said the angel.

�And what will happen if Joe goes?�

�There will be peace.�

Peace. I sat for a while in the angel�s veil of light, thinking of the times when Ellen had been peaceful. In the garden, playing the piano, playing with John or sitting with me on her lap. Times when Joe wasn�t there.

�Pam will help you,� said the angel. �She is a warrior.�

My angel was right. That afternoon, Pam came marching over to the caravan with a determined look on her face. She�d seen Ellen leaving to fetch John from school, and Pam was going to have a go at Joe.

She was wearing stripy mittens and a stripy hat that looked like a bumblebee. She took them off and sat down opposite Joe who was slouched in a corner, a can of beer in his hand.

I fancied playing with the bumblebee hat, but it wasn�t quite the moment.

�You�ve got to stop this boozing,� Pam said.

�Why shouldn�t I have a beer? I�ve only had one today.� Joe glowered at Pam. �I enjoy it. Get that do you?�

Pam leaned forward and wagged her finger at Joe.

�Don�t you get bolshy with me young man. I know what goes on. Eee � the place stinks like a brewery. What did I do when Ellen was ill, Joe?� Pam didn�t wait for him to answer but got up and wagged her finger right in his face. �I came in here and cleared up your cans and bottles. I did that for Ellen, not for you.�

I looked at Pam�s aura and it had sparks that flashed as she ranted at Joe. Jessica chose that moment to come out of her cupboard. She sat next to Pam, washing and smirking at Joe, while I stayed on the windowsill doing my Buddha act.

�I�m not afraid of you.� Pam�s eyes burned at Joe but he wouldn�t look at her.

�Give it a rest, Pam,� he growled, but Pam would not be stopped.

�Poor Ellen. That�s what I say. OK, times are tough but you should pull together � not boozing and lying about the place while Ellen can hardly put food on the table. And look at John. When did you last buy him a decent set of clothes? He hasn�t even got a P.E. kit for school. Oh he�s cried to me about it, and I�m always giving him sandwiches, he�s always hungry. And these cats. They know where to come for a meal. And do you ever say thank you? Do you? Go on, answer me.�

Jessica was really enjoying this. Her eyes were glitzy and she was washing her pink paws flamboyantly. She was taunting Joe.

He hung his head and stared at the floor, and in the end I felt sorry for him. Very carefully, I crept onto his lap.

�No purring,� said my angel.

Joe gave a huge sigh as if he was a balloon. He began to stroke me with his rough hand and I knew my friendliness was helping him.

�The truth is, Pam�� he said at last. �I know, I do drink too much. I feel so useless. I�m unemployed, and yeah I do lose my temper sometimes.�

�Now you�re talking.� Pam sat back, looking satisfied. The sparks in her aura subsided and Jessica did something I�d never seen her do before. She climbed up and wrapped herself around Pam�s neck like a scarf, peeping round at her cheekily.

�You daft cat.�

Joe went on telling his hard luck story to Pam, and my angel said,�Everyone�s getting too serious.� It was time to play.

On the floor was an empty plastic carrier bag. I crouched and dived inside it head first, making it skid across the floor. I must have looked ridiculous with my tail and back legs sticking out. Then I rolled over and over inside the bag making it rustle. I sat in there like a flat cat and stared out, planning the next pounce. I made myself look wild, with goggling eyes and a loopy loopy tail. I charged out of the bag, skidded down to the bedroom, bounced off the door and dived back into the plastic bag. Joe and Pam were laughing louder and louder as I thought of more tricks to perform.

�Eee,� said Pam, rubbing her eyes. �That�s what we need, a good laugh. That cat knows exactly what he�s doing, don�t you Solomon?�

By the time Ellen came back we were happy, and Joe had picked up his beer cans and started making tea.

John burst into the caravan, his face bright and alive.

�Look at my book. I got a gold star.�

�A gold star! Eee,� said Pam. �Good boy.�

�Look Solomon,� John thrust his school book in front of my face, �that�s you.�

I stared in surprise. John had done a picture of me with my tail up and a big smile on my face. He�d coloured me black with yellow paws and a yellow nose, and he�d done my whiskers in rainbow colours. He�d drawn a big heart next to me, coloured it red, and written, �I love Solomon. He�s the best cat.�

I touched noses with the picture of me, and everyone laughed. Pam pointed at a splodge John had drawn in the air above my head. He�d coloured it pink and gold with tiny stars and a smiley face.

�Who�s that?� Pam asked.

�That�s Solomon�s angel,� John said, and everyone looked at each other as if John had said something amazing.

Joe did try to be good after the telling off he�d had from Pam. All of us tried, even Jessica, but I guess we knew it couldn�t last, and it didn�t. The last truly happy day was the day it snowed.

Jessica and I went out and played penguins. It was our favourite game now. We�d seen penguins on television, and sat mesmerised, watching them sliding over the ice. Jessica had gone up to the screen and patted one with her paws and tried to catch it, growling with annoyance when she found it wasn�t possible. We�d had a go at playing penguins in our old home, skidding across the kitchen floor on our tummies. Jessica would lie on her side and slide round the edge of the rug kicking it with her back feet as if she was riding a bike.

So when we saw the sheen of new snow in the morning sun, we looked at each other. Penguins! Out in the snow we went mad, racing and sliding down the slippery path until our paws burned with the cold, and everyone was laughing at us. Later we sat in the caravan window and watched John, Ellen and Joe building an enormous snowman.

I was OK with it, but the snowman really spooked Jessica. Joe put a baseball cap on its head and lifted John up to put in two black eyes and a carrot nose. The snowman looked alive. Jessica�s neck got longer and longer. She vanished into her cupboard and stayed there.

The snow melted quickly, but the snowman�s head hung around for days looking at everyone who passed, especially Jessica.

We were glad when spring came and the sun warmed everything. Jessica and I played outside in the spring evenings, and in the twilight we hid in the copse and watched the baby badgers squealing and playing.

�They remind me of our kittens,� Jessica said sadly. �I wish we could have some more.�

�We can�t,� I said. �Ellen explained all that to us after we�d been to the vet. She said there were already too many unwanted kittens in the world, and feral cats that don�t have homes.�

Spring turned to summer, and we might have all been happy if it hadn�t been for Joe�s behaviour. It came to a head one terrible day that was to change our lives.

It was late summer and John had gone back to school after his long summer holiday.

I knew that something was going to happen when Joe got up early, shaved his face and put on his black leather jacket. Ellen tipped the money out of her purse and sat at the table counting it. She gave some to Joe.

�That�s for petrol.�

He didn�t say thank you but looked at the money angrily. �That won�t get me far.�

�It�s enough. I need the rest for our food,� said Ellen.

�How am I supposed to get lunch with that?�

�I made you a sandwich.�

�What�s in it?�

�Marmite. It�s all we�ve got.�

�I don�t want a Marmite sandwich,� Joe roared suddenly, and he snatched the tinfoil package from Ellen and threw it, splat, on the floor.

Ellen looked furious.

�You ungrateful PIG,� she yelled. �I�ve given you money, I�ve ironed your shirt and I�ve made you a sandwich. Now you chuck it on the floor.�

I knew what was going to happen next, and it did.

Jessica grabbed the Marmite sandwich between her teeth and reversed out of the cat flap with it.

�Serves you right,� said Ellen. �I�m not making another one.�

Joe wrenched the door open, his eyes glittering with rage.

�Don�t call ME a pig! I happen to like a pint and a pasty for my lunch, if you weren�t too mean to give me the money.�

�What you mean issix pints and a pasty,� said Ellen. �I thought you were going to look for work, Joe? You keep off the drink when you�re driving.�

�Yeah, yeah. Stop nagging me, woman.�

Joe looked at Ellen as if he hated her. A glow of strength came into Ellen�s eyes. I felt like cheering. The real Ellen was back, good and bright and very stubborn. She marched to the caravan door and stood there like a warrior, her golden hair rippling in the wind. Beside her was the tallest of angels, its brilliance sparking across the grass and lighting up the moisture that hung from the trees, turning the raindrops into fairy lights. The angel brandished a sword of light and stuck it into the earth between Joe and Ellen. I could see the jewelled handle sparkling and I heard the angel cry out, �It is done.�

Ellen looked ready to explode with the words she wanted to scream at Joe. But the angel had wrapped a shimmering cloak around her, and she stayed silent. She turned her back on Joe, swept into the caravan and shut the door.

�Sanctimonious cow,� he yelled and flung himself into the car, fired the engine and left in a screech of tyres. Meanwhile, Jessica stayed under the caravan picking the tinfoil off the Marmite sandwich in little strips of silver.

I followed Ellen into John�s bedroom, and his teddy bears had a conspiratorial twinkle in their eyes as if they shared some secret knowledge. Ellen sat down on John�s bed with me on her lap. She didn�t say a word but just rocked me and stroked my tingling fur, her hands moving from my head to the tip of my tail.

We stared out of the window at a hard shower of rain which passed over, leaving a dark cloud with a beautiful rainbow. Ellen seemed to stop breathing as she gazed at it, and then she began to tell me a story.

�They say that a rainbow is a promise, Solomon,� she said in her bewitching storytelling voice. �And there�s a legend that the rainbow is really a bridge, and when dogs and cats die they go over the rainbow bridge into a beautiful land where they wait for their loved ones to join them. Whenyou die you�ll wait for me, won�t you Solomon?�

I purred and stretched my paws out, one on each side of her neck as if I was hugging her. Today she needed me to be extra loving. But when Ellen told me why, I didn�t believe her. I thought it was part of the story.

�I�m going away, Solomon, with John, and I can�t take you �� She started to cry. �I can�t take you. No one will let me have a cat, and I have to leave Joe, Solomon, I have to. Do you understand?�

I did, but I didn�t believe her.

�I want you to stay here, Solomon, and wait for me, like the cats by the rainbow bridge. You and Jessica must stay here. And when I�ve found a place, I�ll come back for you and � and we�ll be together again. I promise.�

I purred and snuggled into her neck, but still I didn�t believe her.

Everyone except me seemed to know what was going to happen that day. My angel tried to talk to me but I wouldn�t listen. It was something I didn�t want to face.

Suddenly Ellen put me down. She rummaged in her handbag and fished out a plastic card with numbers and letters on it. She stared at it for long minutes. She turned on some loud music and pranced around, picking things up and piling them on the table. She opened a cupboard and dragged out a big bag, unzipped it and put the stuff inside.

Ellen put some of John�s toys into another bag. His shoes and wellies, his pyjamas and two teddies were stuffed in and zipped up. Ellen lugged the two bags outside and hid them under the caravan. She spread a map out on the table and studied it, talking on the phone with the plastic card in her other hand. She kept looking at me, and several times I heard her asking �Do you take cats?� and the funny little voice inside the phone was saying, �No.�

Joe came back in an ugly temper. He chucked the car keys on the table and headed for the fridge.

�Don�t ask,� he growled at Ellen. �Just let me have a drink.�

He didn�t kiss her or ask how she was. He didn�t even look at her.

�I�m going to fetch John.� Ellen took the keys and I followed her outside. She picked me up, and I could feel her heart beating very fast and she was trembling.

�You go and hide, Solomon,� she whispered to me. �Go and be with Jessica. And whatever happens, I promise I�ll come back for you. You must stay here, Solomon. Promise you will stay.�

I stared at her, and she started to cry and put me down on the grass. Moving furtively, she slid the two bags out and loaded them into the car.

�Where do you think you�re going?� Joe towered in the doorway.

Ellen stood very straight and looked back at him.

�I�m leaving you, Joe,� she said firmly. �And I�m taking John. And I�m NEVER coming back.�

She had the car engine running and she jumped in and drove away.

Joe roared and raged. He ran after the car, hurling beer cans at it. I escaped into the hedge and watched, terrified, as he stomped back into the caravan, swearing. There were bangs and crashes as he hurled things around, breaking china and kicking doors. The whole caravan was shuddering. I felt I could never go in there, ever again.

Ellen had gone. She had left me behind.

I was devastated.

But Jessica was still under the caravan unwrapping the Marmite sandwich.

[��������: img_10]

ABANDONED

I felt betrayed. I�d done my best, my very best, and now I�d been abandoned. I�d been loyal, and kind, I�d set off alone as a tiny kitten to find Ellen, and then I�d been brave and visited her in hospital. And look what happened. She abandoned me.

I was deeply upset, but I couldn�t sit around crying like a human. It seemed easier to be angry.

My angel tried to intervene.

�It will get worse,� she said. �But you must try to survive and wait for Ellen.�

I didn�t want to listen. Flicking my tail in annoyance, I turned my back on the shining angel and went to find Jessica. She would teach me how to be angry, and how to survive in the wild.

We sat up for most of the night on the mossy branch watching the caravan. Joe ranted and thundered around for hours. He kept flinging the door open and chucking things out into the night. Between showers the moon was bright and we could see Ellen�s stuff lying in the wet grass: her clothes, her books, her pot plants, her CDs.

Nick came plodding down the path with Paisley on a lead. Paisley didn�t want to go near the caravan, and Nick had to drag him.

�You useless great mutt. Daft as a brush you are.� In the end Nick tied Paisley to a lamppost. �Stay there.�

He hammered on the door and Joe wrenched it open. In the lamplight his eyes were red, and he had a bottle in his hand.

�What�s going on?� Nick asked. �I�ve had complaints. And what�s all the stuff doing out here?�

�She�s left me. That�s what�s wrong. And she�s taken MY son.�

�Well I don�t blame her if you carry on like that,� said Nick. Joe started ranting and swearing. He sat down on the caravan steps.

�Now you quieten down,� Nick said calmly. �It�s no good carrying on like this, Joe. I�m sorry for you, but this is my campsite and if you don�t calm down and pick up this mess, then we�ll be having a serious talk in the morning about whether I can let you stay here.�

Joe put his head in his hands and sobbed like a child, sobs that shook his big body. Normally I would have run to him and calmed him down with my powerful purr. But I was an angry cat now.

�Come on, inside. You�ve had a skinful.� Nick spoke kindly to Joe, steered him into the caravan and shut the door. Paisley was whining and winding his lead round and round the lamppost until he�d nearly strangled himself.

The door opened again and Nick came out.

�You sleep it off, Joe. We�ll sort it out in the morning,� he said, and turned off the caravan lights. He unwrapped Paisley from the lamppost and plodded off into the dark, tutting and grumbling.

Jessica was cold, so we headed for the badger hole and curled up together, trying to sleep. Our fur was wet, and we were hungry, but at least we had a safe place out of the rain. My angel tried to talk to me again, but I refused to listen. I blocked my mind and sank into a deep sleep.

In my sleep I dreamed a beautiful dream. I dreamed of the previous life I had had with Ellen, when she was a child, and I was her cat.

When Ellen was a child she wouldn�t speak. She knew how to talk but chose not to, and that got her into lots of trouble. People thought she was being sullen, or snobby, or even rude, and Ellen was none of those things. She was telepathic, and that�s why I was the perfect cat for her � we could read each other�s silent thoughts.

In that lifetime I was devoted to Ellen. I followed her down the road to school, and in the afternoons I ran to meet her when she returned, her face pale and her eyes full of pain. As soon as she saw me Ellen came alive again and we danced in the garden, or she let me sit on the piano while she played the black and white keys with her small hands. I loved music and the vibrations of it tingled in my fur. Sometimes Ellen played sad music and I�d lie with my chin on the piano top, watching her eyes and sharing those deep feelings with her. Then she�d play fast melodies that rippled through the house and through my bones.

I heard the same music now, in my dream, and I was a dancing cat, whirling on the lawn with Ellen who loved to dance so much. The air was alive with coloured ribbons and we were generating happiness. It was billowing out from the garden in clouds of stars, all fizzing and popping, and crowds of people were gathering round us in a circle. They had come for healing, bringing their sad faces and their troubles, and Ellen and I were a wild child and a wild cat turning sadness into joy.

Ellen�s face shone in my dream, she was looking at me, holding me and saying, �Wait for me, Solomon. Wait and I will come back for you.�

The music in my dream changed and I awoke to the sound of pouring rain, the whole copse dripping with silvery drops and water that gurgled down the lane.

When the rain was over Jessica gave me a demonstration of how to hunt mice. Catching them was no problem for me, but finding them in a copse full of soaking wet leaves was difficult. Jessica knew exactly where they were and she quietly caught two and gave one to me.

�It�s no good just practising pounces,� she said. �You�ve got to watch and smell out the places where they live.�

�I�d rather have Whiskas rabbit,� I said.

�Poof,� she said. �Tinned stuff? This is the real deal.�

Later that morning we went to look at the caravan. Joe�s bedroom curtains were still drawn and it was quiet. Pam was outside talking to Nick, and they were picking up the dripping wet things Joe had thrown out, putting them all into a black bag. I wanted to run to Pam. She would give me a cuddle and a compliment, and probably a meal.

�No,� said Jessica. �Look what�s happening now. They�ve got the cat basket.�

Pam was dragging our travelling basket out from under the caravan.

�I can catch them, easy,� she said. �They know me.�

�You hang on to the basket then, Pam,� said Nick. �It�s a bit premature to catch the cats yet. Wait till Joe�s sober and he might want them. But he�ll have to go. I can�t be doing with this.�

�Ellen worshipped those cats,� said Pam. �But if she�s not coming back and she can�t find a place to rent that takes cats, they�ve got to go somewhere. The RSPCA will find homes for them.�

I knew that word. RSPCA. Pam stood there swinging the cat basket, and I remembered how firmly Joe had stuffed us both in there. Jessica and I looked at each other. We didn�t need to say it. We would have to disappear, go deep into the countryside and live like wild cats.

I watched Pam for one more minute. She�d been a good friend, and I would have liked to say goodbye. I saw her walk across to something else that Joe had thrown out of the caravan. She picked it up slowly.

�Eee. Ellen loved this. What a shame.� She held up the amber velvet cushion. It was sopping wet and the drops glistened on the beautiful velvet.

�I�ll look after this,� Pam said to Nick. �I�m going to wash it, dry it out and make it nice again.�

She walked away with the cat basket in one hand and the amber velvet cushion in the other. I so wanted to run after Pam. If only I�d known what was going to happen, I would have jumped into that cat basket and dragged Jessica in with me.

Jessica was already trotting purposefully through the copse however. Her instinct was strong. She wouldn�t hang around. I followed her dubiously over the far hedge and across the fields, on and on she led me, and she wouldn�t turn around. She paused only once, to hiss at a cow who had lowered her head to sniff at her. At the far end of the field we crossed a stone stile into the deep woods. My angel tried to speak to me, and I ignored her. She was trying to tell me to let Jessica go, but I wouldn�t. Jessica needed me, and I needed her.

The stone stile seemed like a bridge to another world: green pathways, and mossy banks and ferns. Ancient trees with roots curling into stone walls, hollows, and holes full of leaves. I was aware of tiny faces watching us, other creatures who lived in the wood, fairy folk and gnomes. Jessica had obviously been in the enchanted wood before. She led me to a dry cave under a beech tree. It was lined with springy moss and a deep bed of rustling beech leaves.

Our place. It was OK. Even better than the badger hole, which was too close to the caravan. We didn�t want to be found and put in that cat cage.

That first night, I couldn�t sleep. Jessica curled up and tucked her tail neatly around her pink paws. Looking at her sleeping face I felt the need to be on guard like a dog. I listened to the noises of the wood, the wind whistling in the treetops, the familiar shuffling of badgers, the brisk trot of a passing fox, and the smaller scrabblings of mice and birds. There were no human sounds at all.

I�d never been a wild cat in any of my lifetimes. It spooked me. I�d always had a human to turn to. I�d never before had no owner to love. Now I had gone twenty-four hours without purring. I ached inside. I wanted Ellen and John. But I didn�t tell Jessica.

Gradually we became used to being cold and wet most of the time and hunting for our food. We developed a routine of eating, washing and sleeping. In the early days we had some fun times too, chasing each other and climbing trees. Jessica seemed different from the way she had been with humans.

�What about your dream of going to live with an old lady?� I asked her.

�Oh that can wait,� she said. �Right now I�m having fun.�

�I�m not,� I said. �It�s not what I want to do with my life.�

�But this is a holiday,� said Jessica. �Can�t you enjoy it?�

I thought about it.

�No,� I said. �I feel angry, and abandoned.�

�You�ve got me.� Jessica gave me a sweet little kiss on the nose and I felt better.

The morning was still and sunny. We wanted to be out of the shady wood with the warmth of the winter sun on our fur. Instead of going back towards the caravan site, Jessica chose to head out of the other side of the wood. We trotted along a tarmac lane and over a high bridge spanning a busy road.

Seeing the road disturbed me. We crouched down and peeked through the railings at the lorries and cars roaring and swooshing along below us. My psi sense was suddenly activated and I turned to face north and stare at the long road curving into the distance. The road home. The road back to the beautiful house where we had lived with Ellen. I stood up and stuck my head through the railings, wondering if it would be possible to jump down onto the roof of a speeding lorry.

�Don�t do it,� said Jessica, and she led me firmly away from the bridge. She turned and looked at me cheekily, sparking her golden eyes in the way she always did when she had a secret.

She ran on up the lane and round the edge of a stubble field. The light was changing to an electric brilliance, and there was a new sound in the air, a sound I�d never heard before. Where was Jessica taking me?

We ran up a hill covered in tufty wiry grass, and the horizon was so bright now it was like running up to the sky. I followed Jessica right to the shining edge of it. We sat down and gazed in astonishment at the expanse of glittering turquoise water. It stretched far away to where the horizon was a dark blue line, and all of it was singing and swishing with waves.

�What is it?� I asked Jessica.

�It�s the sea.�

I was awestruck. Now I understood why John had always jumped around and screamed with excitement when Ellen said they were going to the sea. Seeing such a feast of dazzling light and space was incredible.

�How did you know about it?� I asked.

�In my last lifetime I was a ship�s cat,� said Jessica, �and I loved it. The ship was like a big floating house and I was the only cat. But once, I fell in and a brave sailor jumped over the side and rescued me. I was freezing cold and my fur tasted salty. After that they spoilt me and I got fat and lazy.�

�So why did you bring me here today?�

Jessica looked thoughtful.�Every cat should see the sea just once before they die,� she said. �You need to know what wonderful things are out there.�

I looked at Jessica with new respect. She had brought me here as a treat, to distract me from my sorrow at losing Ellen.

We stayed on the cliff top, dozing with the sun on our faces, and I kept opening my eyes a crack and soaking up the energy of the sparkles that danced on the water.

Jessica was hungry, and she knew exactly where to go. She led me along the cliff path, winding between gorse and heather and rocks, a long way down to a cove with a harbour and boats. People were strolling about in the sunshine but she avoided them and ran along the harbour wall. I followed, nervously. The water was deep and so far below the wall, with splashing waves on one side and translucent green on the other. It looked cold. The stone quay smelled of fish and there were piles of rope and lobster pots lying around.

It made me hungry, but as much as I was enjoying all the new sights and sounds, I didn�t want to be there. I wanted to be at home, in Ellen�s arms, and the moment of missing her was so painful that I lost my awareness of what Jessica intended to do. My angel tried to warn me to stop her, but it was too late.

One minute Jessica was there with me as we crouched on the edge of the wall looking down at a gently rocking boat. She turned and gave me that cheeky�I dare you� look. Her golden eyes danced teasingly into mine. The next minute she did a breathtaking jump. I saw her fly downwards with her white-tipped paws wide apart, her tail snaking. She landed on the deck of the boat and found herself a perch on top of a coil of blue rope. Her bright face looked up at me expectantly.

I was distraught. I couldn�t possibly jump down there. Or could I? While I was weaving to and fro and thinking about it, something dreadful happened. The boat�s engine throbbed into life and it started to pull away from the wall. I wailed in panic. I was losing Jessica! Shocked, I watched the boat turn in a curve of white water and head out of the harbour. I could see the man in the glass cabin, driving it, not knowing he had a cat on board. I watched Jessica getting smaller and smaller until she was no bigger than an ant � she was only a black speck and I couldn�t see her buttercup eyes or hear her meows any more.

How had I let this happen? I had lost Jessica. She might never come back. She had found herself another life as a ship�s cat, and I was again abandoned, left alone on a harbour wall with a pain in my tummy from hunger, and a new pain in my fast beating heart. I was like an empty cat. Not a purring happy cat. A shell of a cat with nothing to eat, nowhere to go, no one to love.

I glanced at the people walking along the quay. They had warm coats. I longed to be in someone�s arms, purring into one of those squashy coats, finding a heartbeat. Attaching myself to a new human would be easy for me. But I couldn�t leave Jessica. I had to stay there and watch the distant boat tossing on the waves. It was so far away now, I wasn�t sure if I was looking at the right boat, there were so many out there. So I sat steadfastly on the edge of the quay. The stones were warm from the sun but a chilly breeze was blowing. It was late afternoon and we should have been heading back to our cave in the beech wood.

I�d been with Jessica for three years now. We�d shared so much. We still played together and slept blissfully curled into each other. Forever friends. Or so I�d thought.

The afternoon sun was low and the water blazed pink. Then I heard a sound that gave me a jolt. A little boy�s voice.

�Look, Mummy. A cat!�

He sounded so like John that I turned and automatically put my tail up, only to see it wasn�t John and it wasn�t Ellen. But it was a family, and they obviously liked cats.

�Don�t go with them,� said my angel.

But I purred and kinked my back and rubbed against their legs. It was second nature to me. Four of them were stroking me� a mum, dad and two young boys who were kind and loving.

�He looks like a stray,� the mum said. �He�s so thin, and his fur feels rough.� She looked into my eyes. �Are you all right, pussy cat?�

No, I wasn�t all right. I was alone and broken hearted. But I still knew how to purr.

�Would you like to come home with us?� she asked.

�Oh please Mummy, let�s take him.�

�Please. He�s lovely. He�ll get cold out here.�

�You can�t do that,� said the dad. �He might be someone�s cat. Tell you what � we�ll come back tomorrow and if he�s still hanging around, he must be a stray and we�ll take him home.�

�Don�t go with them,� said my angel again.

I had a decision to make.

�But I�ve lost everything,� I said to my angel.

�No you haven�t, Solomon. You�ve got me,� she said.

�But you haven�t got fur,� I said. Sadness filled me as I walked away from the family and slumped down beside a pile of smelly lobster pots. The woman came after me and picked me up. I leaned on her red fleece jacket and listened to her heartbeat for a few precious minutes, and it seemed to recharge me for what I had to do.

She put me down.

�He�s got fleas.� She brushed at her coat, and I flicked my tail, embarrassed. I�d never had fleas before. Ellen had seen to that. Now they were all over me, driving me crazy sometimes so that I tore and scratched at my fur. I�d been proud of my glossy coat. Sadly, I turned my back on that nice family and sat watching the sea.

�I expect he�s a fisherman�s cat,� I heard her say.

I was too upset to watch them walking away. I imagined their home with a cosy fire burning. As evening settled over the sea, I got colder and colder. I huddled against a pile of wet rope and netting, trying to shelter from the wind. Tonight I wouldn�t have Jessica to keep me warm. Would she miss me too? I focused on a bright star that was shining in the evening sky, and pretended it was Jessica.

The night dragged on and on. My loneliness deepened with the darkness, and so did the hunger. To keep warm I tucked my paws under my body and eventually fell asleep. No one came. No one walked by and noticed me. The seagulls were the only living creatures in that cold, cold place and I awoke to see them sitting motionless along the wall, their yellow eyes glinting in the dawn.

The sea and the sky flushed crimson, and one by one the boats returned to the harbour. I watched for Jessica, but she didn�t come. I considered making the long trek back to our cave in the beech wood, if I could find the way. I thought about living there alone. Or trying to find Ellen.

Or just surviving.

Or willing myself to die.

Miserably I stared at the last boat coming in, and as it turned towards the harbour the rising sun flashed on the windows of the cabin. And there, silhouetted against the brightness, was the bulk of a fisherman and a tiny cat, a black cat who was in the cabin with him, her paws up on the window, her face gazing towards the harbour. The boat came in closer and the cat�s face was black and white with a little pink nose, and eyes that shone as yellow as the sun. My Jessica!

I puffed my chest out and arched my whiskers. I knew Jessica could see me there waiting. And I knew she loved me. She was staring at me, and my heart was full of joy.

I followed along the quay as the boat chugged towards a flight of dark green stone steps. The fisherman carried Jessica out of the cabin and put her on the steps. She looked back at him and meowed, and stood there with her tail up. What was she waiting for? Hadn�t she seen me?

The fisherman lifted the lid of a huge black basket, and instantly the seagulls screamed and twirled around the boat in a flurry of white wings. He took out a fish and gave it to Jessica. She started up the steps with it in her mouth, and the seagulls were dive bombing her. But Jessica hung on to her fish, glaring and growling at the fierce birds. I was afraid for her. More and more gulls were coming from far and wide, squabbling and screeching.

�Get off!� The fisherman came to her rescue by chucking some more fish into the water, diverting the birds away from Jessica. She kept coming up the steps with the heavy fish, and I was so proud of her I thought I would burst with gratitude.

She�d come back, and she�d brought us a meal fit for a king.

Amidst my joy, what happened next was unthinkable.

I had no reason to be afraid of a human. No human had ever hurt me. So I didn�t turn around when heavy footsteps came up behind me. Two big hands picked me up and I was so surprised I didn�t resist at all.

�I�ve got him,� the man said and took me over to where a woman in a red fleece jacket was standing next to a plastic cage. I looked back at Jessica who was nearly at the top of the steps, the fish still in her mouth, and she hesitated when she saw me being carried away.

�In you go.� The man pushed me into the cat cage and shut the hatch. I turned around, meowing desperately at Jessica.

�Lucky he was still here,� said the woman. �He�s definitely a stray.�

She put her face up to the cage and looked in at me.�Don�t you worry pussy cat. We�ll give you a nice home, and get rid of those fleas for you. You shall have a warm bed and plenty to eat.�

I meowed very loudly, my voice echoing all over the harbour as the man put the cat cage in the back of a van. I could see Jessica sitting under a bench with her fish, out of reach of the seagulls. She was watching me, with anxious eyes. I should have been there, kissing her, welcoming her back after our time apart. That sweet moment of reunion had been snatched away.

I knew now that I didn�t want a new home. I wanted to stay with Jessica and survive in the wild until Ellen came back for us.

How had I got it so wrong?

My last glimpse was of Jessica�s disappointed face, and then the doors of the van clicked shut. The couple got in and started the engine, talking happily.

�Well, fancy us finding a lovely cat when we�re on holiday. The boys are gonna love him. I wonder what his name is.�

�How about Blackie? Or Socks? Or Fred? That�s it. Fred. We�ll call him Fred.�

Fred! I was to be called Fred. It sounded so final. It felt like the end of everything for me. I was a failure. Not only had I let Jessica down when she�d been so brave, but I�d disobeyed my angel. I�d been too trusting.

Another terrible thought surfaced. What if these well-meaning people took me far away to another place? What if I never saw Jessica again? Fight, I thought. Come on Solomon� fight!

I�d always been a quiet, peaceful cat. But now, as the van drove away, I did something I�d never done before. I panicked.

My claws came out. My lips curled back. My tail lashed and banged the sides of the cage. I ripped and tore at the plastic, I pinged the metal grille that was keeping me prisoner. I shredded the cushion and savaged the white stuffing inside. Fight, I kept thinking, fight. Once I�d started I couldn�t stop.

�He�s going berserk,� said the woman. �Stop the car, Bill. He�s going crazy.�

�Nah, he�ll be all right. He�ll have to settle down if we�re going all the way to London, won�t he?�

I yowled and screamed. I gnawed at the plastic round the edge of the metal grille I was in such a frenzy that my fur was coming out, and then, to my shame, I peed into the cushion and the cage stank of it. My teeth and my nose started to bleed and sting, the pads of my paws burned, and my heart was going at white-hot speed.

�Bill, you MUST STOP. We can�t let him get in such a state, he�ll hurt himself.� The woman reached over and slid the cage round to look at me. �He�s killing himself. He�s covered in blood. Will you stop, PLEASE? Let me see if I can calm him down.�

�I can�t stop on this busy road.�

�Turn off into one of the side streets.�

�OK, OK.�

I was getting hotter and hotter and my pulse was roaring in my ears. The van stopped, and they both got out and opened the back doors. The fresh salty air came blowing in. It calmed me just a little. The woman was talking to me but I didn�t listen. I went on yowling and scrabbling.

�Look at the state of him. I�ve got to get him out. I�ll wrap him in my coat and have him on my lap.�

�You can�t do that. He�ll run wild in the car and cause an accident.�

I searched the woman�s eyes, willing her to understand, and she did.

�It�s obvious he doesn�t want to come with us. I don�t care what you think, I�m letting him out.�

�Don�t let him go. We should take him back to the harbour. Have some sense. You can�t let him go in the street.�

The woman was determined. She had seen my desperation. She undid the catch and lifted the grille. She reached in to pick me up but I sprang out like a tiger and belted down the strange road, my tail kinked, my paws on fire. Instinctively I ran into the wind towards the shining sea. I dashed across roads, and cars squealed their brakes as they tried to avoid me. I ran down a cobbled street, past shops and in and out of people. I stopped on a beautiful square of grass where there was a stone obelisk with wreaths of red poppies stacked around it. No one was there so I sat on the stone steps and tried to stop trembling. I was free now. I could hear the seagulls and see the water sparkling in the distance. But I was totally lost. I licked the blood from my white-tipped paws, and lapped cool water from a puddle at the foot of the steps.

I hurt all over, but finding Jessica was my priority.

Getting into a frenzy had been traumatic for a cat like me, and I needed time to recover. The amber velvet cushion was what I longed for, and Ellen�s loving hands stroking me. The stillness and peace of that patch of grass was all I had to calm myself down while I figured out how to get back to the harbour.

I was in a town, high on a hill, and between the houses were views of the shining sea. My eyes were drawn to the sheet of sunlight on water, and a memory floated into my mind.�My light is so bright that I become almost invisible on earth, but if you look at sparkles you will see me, especially in the sunlight glinting on water.� The Angel of the Silver Stars had whispered those words into my soul before I was born. I sat still and focused on the shining water, and Ifelt a change. It drifted around me like snowflakes, each one full of clustered stars. My angel was covering me in healing sparks. She wasn�t telling me off for ignoring her. She was loving me.

�Take time to rest in this special place, Solomon,� she said. �Rest and sleep, and when the sun goes down, the bright star will guide you back to Jessica.�

I curled up on the soft grass at the edge of the steps. It was springy, like a cushion, and the warm smell of the earth helped me to relax. People and cars were passing by but no one took any notice of a black cat curled up asleep. My sleep was deep and healing, and when I woke up and stretched, the sun had gone down, the sky was orange and duck-egg green, and in the green part was Jessica�s bright star, just rising.

My paws were sore. But now I was free and full of hope. I headed downhill towards the sea, and the cobbled streets were cool under my pads. Down and down I trotted, following the bright star, until the view of the harbour opened up before me. The evening sea was pink and silver. Seagulls sat motionless along the railings. Where was Jessica?

I listened.

I heard the waves, and the wind, and the seagulls. I heard music and voices in the town behind me.

�Keep listening,� said my angel.

And then I heard Jessica. Her particular high-pitched meow, again and again. She was calling me. I meowed back and she came running. We kissed and purred and rubbed against each other. Feeling her silky warm coat was a coming home for me.

I�d expected Jessica to tell me off, or even give me a swipe for being so stupid, but she was kind and welcoming. I felt very lucky. She licked my face for me and sniffed at my sore paws. They were bruised and swollen from my panic and the long run through the streets, and now I could hardly walk on them.

Jessica led me to the nest she had made in a pile of netting and rope. We snuggled together, looking out at the darkening sea.

�That�s your star,� I said. �When you�d gone on the boat I stared at it and imagined it was you. Then my angel told me to follow it, and it led me back here from miles up the hill.�

Jessica looked pensive.

�I wish I had an angel like you�ve got,� she said.

I was horrified.

�Of course you have one,� I said. �Every cat has.�

�But I�ve never seen mine,� she said.

�I�ll teach you how to. When the sun rises again.�

�Won�t the moon do? Look!�

We peered out and saw a white moon and a path of silver glistening on the water.

�Let�s never be apart again,� I said as we sat pressed close together in the moonlight.

�No,� she agreed. �Let�s vow never to leave each other.�

�Together forever,� I said, and we touched noses.

Later I was to look back with gratitude and realise that this trip to the sea was Jessica�s last amazing gift to me.

[��������: img_11]

THE DIARY OF A DESPERATE CAT

We stayed at the harbour for a few wonderful days, allowing my paws to heal. The rest and the meals of fresh fish did us good. Every morning Jessica ran down the steps with her tail up to meet the fisherman she had made friends with, and he gave her a fish that was like the biggest sardine in the world. Its skin shone with green and purple, and it tasted delicious to us. Jessica managed to share it with me without growling, so I felt very special and loved.

We even talked of setting up home in this sunny harbour. Until one morning there was no light on the water, and the stone quay was trembling with the pounding of waves. The seagulls stood hunched with their beaks to the wind, and when they were flying, the gale was blowing them backwards. Jessica and I were curled together, keeping each other warm, and we didn�t want to put our heads out into the storm. But the waves got louder and more powerful as the tide surged in. Hard white beads of spray splattered across the quay, and cold salty water came sweeping right under our nest.

�Move � quickly!� said Jessica �Or we�ll be washed into the sea.�

Horrified, we looked outside and saw clouds of spray exploding high into the air, hissing across the quay like hail. A swerving mass of white moved between us and the safety of the land.

�RUN!�

My paws were still tender, but I dashed after Jessica, following her flying figure along the quay with the wind whisking us through the spray, perilously close to the edge.

�Don�t let us die in that wild sea,� I prayed as I ran, my paws skidding on bits of seaweed, and my fur drenched by the flying spray. I don�t know how we got to the cliff path but we did, and there we were sheltered from the wind by banks of heather and thrift. The path was like a low tunnel with the wind whistling overhead.

We both knew our holiday was over. There would be no more fish and no more gazing at a sunlit sea. Winter storms were chasing us inland, back to the safety of our cave under the beech tree. We didn�t stop to talk. After the first mad dash we slowed to a steady trot and all I had to do was follow Jessica. Over the fields and into the woods where the wind in the high branches roared like the wild sea.

Our fur was wet and we looked spikey and bedraggled when we finally arrived at the beech cave. It was comforting to find that more dry leaves had been blown in and piled up inside. We settled in with much rustling, and licked each other�s wet fur. I remembered how kindly Ellen used to dry me with a soft towel if I�d been out in the rain. I remembered the radiator, the sofa and the amber velvet cushion.

Where was Ellen now, and what would she think if she saw us soaking wet, shivering and hungry? Facing a winter in the wild wood, living on mice, surviving cold nights with only each other and a pile of beech leaves to keep us warm.

As the last leaves fell from the trees, the days got shorter and darker, the nights longer, and the homesickness deeper. Without Jessica I couldn�t have endured it. She was an expert hunter, better than me, and even when the mice had disappeared for the winter, she still managed to find one, and sometimes, one each. But I still thought longingly of the easy, tasty cat food Ellen used to give us.

Through the long nights I stayed awake, thinking of the piano and how I�d loved to sit on it while Ellen played. I thought about little John showing me his picture of me, and Pam calling me a �heaven sent cat�. I even thought of Joe and how warm he was to sit on, and how he�d cried when I gave him healing. Where were they all now?

After we had lived wild for several weeks, I was awoken one night by a terrible yowling and screaming sound nearby. Jessica was not in the cave with me, although this wasn�t unusual as sometimes she went out early to hunt for mice while it was still dark.

I crept out of the cave and sat listening. Above me the stars were tangled in the bare branches of the wood, and the twiggy silhouettes of rooks� nests. It was silent. Then the yowling and screaming began again, and the crashing sound of two animals rolling and struggling with each other.

I saw Jessica come running back, low to the ground, her black and white face clearly visible through the dark trees. She crawled into our cave and collapsed. She�d had a fight with a feral cat and it had bitten her on the neck. She was shaking violently and breathing very fast.

Concerned, I sniffed at the wound on her neck, but she wouldn�t let me touch it. All day she lay there, exhausted, and I went out to catch mice on my own. I brought her one but she wouldn�t eat. She just wanted to sleep.

I inspected her fur and found she was in poor condition. She was thin, and her coat was dull. Along her back she had patches of bare skin. Mine was the same. We were both suffering from living wild in the cold damp winter. Some days the weather was so bad we�d had nothing to eat.

Jessica did recover for a few days, but she wouldn�t go far from the cave and she didn�t eat much. I stayed beside her, feeling powerless.

Then I noticed she was lying down more and more. Her eyes were dull, and the wound on her neck had turned into an abscess. I knew we needed help. She needed a vet and an antibiotic injection like I�d been given. She needed a car to take her to the vet, and a caring person to do that for her. It was no good going to Joe. He hadn�t got a car now, and Pam only had her bike. I thought about Karenza, but how could I get Jessica to her?

What would Ellen say if she knew?

I felt angry and desperate.

My angel had tried to tell me to let Jessica go. Was this what she had meant? Did I have to sit in this cold, dark wood and watch my best friend die? Jessica was more than my best friend. She was my love. And now she was all I had.

I lay down beside her and licked her face very gently.

�Do you think you might make it back to the campsite?� I asked.

Jessica looked at me through half-closed eyelids.

�No,� she said. �Just lie beside me and keep me warm.�

An icy wind was zigzagging through the wood. I patted Jessica with my paw, and she was limp, her tail stretched out on the ground. I set about washing her pink paws for her, licking the dried mud off them. She wanted to go outside and lie down in her favourite spot under an oak tree. Her legs were wobbly, but she made it, and I sat beside her, trying to place my body to shelter her from the bitter wind. I fluffed my fur out to keep myself warm.

The winter afternoon was darkening minute by minute. Jessica was weak now, her breathing rapid and shallow, but she managed to say one last word to me.

�You must let me go, Solomon. Go back and wait for Ellen.�

�How do you know that?� I asked.

�Your angel told me.�

I was devastated. I wanted to say thank you to Jessica. Thank you for all the fun times, and our beautiful kittens, and thank you for showing me the sea. I�ll never forget you, Jessica.

But it was too late. Jessica was gone. She looked suddenly, utterly peaceful, her face curled around in a sort of smile.

I sat still and watched the light leaving her body like a haze of gold. Then I saw lights coming through the woods, golden lights and green lights low down on the forest floor, crowding in around the peaceful little cat. I moved back respectfully, and watched the tiny beings of light form a ring. The rays of light crisscrossed and made a dome-shaped lattice, which I recognised at once� the golden web.

I had passed through it when I was born, and now Jessica�s buttercup light was rising, going through that sparkling web, leaving her body behind like an old coat. I watched the light melting away through the trees and the sky.

Broken hearted, I turned my attention to covering her body with leaves. I raked them up with my long paws and piled them over her as best I could.

My grief at losing Jessica was too painful to think about. I needed to be doing something positive before dark. I would run and run until I found the old badger hole again.

I was too upset to work out where to go. Through the night wood I ran, my body low to the ground, my tail down. I was aware of badgers, rabbits, and an owl, but I ignored them. Oblivious to the rain and the wind buffeting my fur, I ran and ran until I found myself on the high bridge that spanned the busy road.

Mesmerised by the headlights, I crouched with my head through the railings. If only one of those lorries would slow down, I�d have a chance. Jessica�s words came back to me. �Don�t do it,� and she�d taken me to see the shining ocean. �Because,� she�d said, �you have to know what wonderful things are out there.�

I thought it through. Even if I did manage to make a spectacular leap onto the roof of a speeding lorry, I would have to cling on tightly for hundreds of miles, and it was raining. Or I might get blown off and killed on the road. What a waste of a cat like me. Memories of good things I had done started replaying in my mind. Being kind to little John. Walking into that hospital with my tail up. Playing penguins with Jessica.

Times were tough, but I didn�t want to die. I wanted to finish my job, and my job was to love Ellen. I hurried back down the tarmac lane but soon realised I was exhausted, my paws were sore, and I was soaking wet. At the edge of a field was an old wooden shed. I crawled underneath it and slept for hours curled up in a hollow of dry earth.

In the morning I emerged to find a thin layer of snow lying over the fields. It made it difficult for me to hunt, and I was starving hungry, so I had nothing to eat. My energy was low as I headed towards the woods, and I couldn�t remember which way to go. On and on I trotted, following winding animal tracks between the trees, and late in the day I was horrified to find I�d been going round in circles.

After a second night under the shed and still nothing to eat, I was desperate, and missing Jessica so much. Together we had survived and supported each other. Alone I began to feel I had no chance.

Just before dawn I heard the sound of another creature squeezing itself under the shed. I sat up quickly. I hadn�t got the strength to fight or even defend myself. In the grey-pink light of sunrise I could see the shape of a badger, and to my surprise he came right up to me. He stood looking at me with wise old eyes.

I hadn�t forgotten how to be polite so I stretched my head towards him, and we touched noses. I smelled him and, miracle of miracles, it was the old badger from the copse. I�d worked hard to make friends with those badgers, and now, in my hour of need, the old fellow had come out in the snow and found me. He wasted no time but turned around and set off through the fields. He turned just once to make sure I was following, and I was, our paws crunch-crunching over the frozen snow. He had come to lead me home.

The badger hole felt surprisingly warm and welcoming as I crawled in out of the snow. I could still smell Jessica on the floor where she had slept next to me, and a tuft of her fur clung to the dried moss. It must have come from her tummy, for it was pure white and soft. It looked like a delicate white moth in the dark hole. I lay down with my nose touching it, my paws stretched over the empty place where she had been. Where was she now? Jessica had shared lots of wisdom and fun with me but she�d never mentioned the spirit world. Had her memory of it been blanked? Was she there now? Could she see me there in our oldrefuge, hungry and grieving?

Then I thought of our tabby and white kitten I had loved so much. She�d be a cat now. I wished I could find her. I wished she would magically appear at the badger hole, all fluffed out, her eyes shining like lamps in the shadowy wood.

I had lost everything.

That first night alone in the badger hole was endlessly dark. I had only my memories.

Ellen used to read me stories when she was a child. I knew them all by heart and most had happy endings. Ellen would read faster and faster, her eyes alight, racing through the scary bits so that she could read the last page with a smile. As she got older the stories were longer and deeper, and one day she showed me a book calledThe Diary of Anne Frank, about a girl who had to hide away for years during the war. Like me, she was in a desperate situation, but every day she wrote it down in a diary. It made her feel better, and it helped people to understand, years later, what she had been through and how she had coped.

I remembered that book, and the sad girl on the cover. If I was able to write, then I would keep a diary now. I�d start today, and it would go something like this.

THE DIARY OF A DESPERATE CAT

I am all alone now and still sleeping in the badger hole. I�m in there most of the day as it�s so cold. Today there is more snow whirling across the landscape. It piles higher and higher around my hole. My dinner is a small mouse, which I had been saving, and when I want a drink I lick some of the cold snow. My body is so thin that my ribs hurt when I lie down. Even my paws, which used to be soft and glossy, look bony and rough.

A fox comes by in the night and sticks his pointed nose right into my hiding place. The snow crystals on his whiskers glisten in the moonlight, and his eyes gleam as he looks in at me. I am too weak to fight, but the memory of Jessica confronting Paisley gives me courage. I puff myself up, flatten my ears and yowl ferociously. I smell the fox�s musky breath. I attack his surprised face with claws of steel. He backs away. But he doesn�t go. He skulks around, pacing to and fro, always looking at me with that rusty stare. He�s hungry too. I crouch in the hole, glaring back at him, but the energy of being constantly on guard is draining me. I can read the fox�s mind. He is waiting. And when I am weak, he will have me.

The fox sits down like a dog, watching me. His fur is in perfect condition, fiery red-gold and white. He�s a creature of the wood, and he doesn�t go hungry. He doesn�t give up and lie in a hole with only his memories, like I am doing. In a way he�s teaching me something.

I glance at the tiny white tuft of Jessica�s fur. And I can hear her sweet voice in my head, and she�s saying, �It�s no good just sitting there. You�ve got to go at him. Be a dragon.�

I don�t know where the strength is coming from but suddenly I am on fire. I charge out at the fox, right up to him. I scream at him and slash his nose with a paw made of iron. Again. And again. He yelps like a puppy. He turns and runs away. I stand there like the king of the wood.

It is morning now, and I�ve been awake all night watching for the fox. Hunger echoes through my body, but I so need to sleep in the morning sun. I am very, very lonely. I want Ellen. I want Jessica. I want the amber velvet cushion. I must be the coldest cat in the world, and the saddest.

Another day dawns.

The snow is melting now, and at midday the sun shines for a while. I venture out looking for food and find a crust of white bread that a bird has dropped. It is mouldy but I eat every single crumb. I go to look at the caravan. Will Ellen be there? In my mind I hear her sweet voice cry out my name and welcome me back. But the door is closed, the curtains drawn over every window, and there is tape over the cat flap. Sadness fills my being and I mooch about, my tail down, hoping to find something that will comfort me. Underneath, behind one of the wheels, I discover a very old dead mouse that Jessica had stashed there. Too exhausted to eat it, I carry it back to the badger hole in my mouth. It will do for my breakfast if nothing else turns up. In the evening I can see the sunset between the trees and I watch for Jessica�s star. It is there like a bright spirit shining in the twilight. I watch it rising behind the ash trees until I fall asleep.

It is moonlight outside and I can hear music and lots of footsteps coming down the lane. Something is different. I peer outside and see a lantern bobbing above the hedge. The music gets louder. I sit up. I remember that song.�Silent Night, Holy Night�. Ellen used to sing that. Perhaps it is Christmas. Oh I loved Christmas. I used to get given a catnip mouse and a ball with a little bell inside. Jessica and I had one each and we played for hours. Then Jessica would shred all the wrapping paper and drag it under the sofa. I try to go to sleep, but in the middle of the night I hear the church bells ringing.

Another morning, another dawn, and it is frosty. Yes, it must be Christmas Day. I know because I hear those bells ringing again and the sound of carols being sung. And the distant village smells of roast potatoes. I used to get given a plate of chopped-up turkey with gravy. But this Christmas is the worst week of my life. Surely a cat shouldn�t be all alone on Christmas Day? I�m getting angry. And where is my angel?

The day passes into night. Then morning. The hunger is deep and painful now. I am listless and weak, but I am still managing to wash. It�s not fun because my fur is coming out. It�s all over the place in the badger hole, and I�ve got some bare patches on my back and along my tail. Today the weather is still and I could go out, but I can�t be bothered. I�d rather lie in here and die.

Where IS that angel? I close my eyes and purr for a while, and think hard about my angel. What did she look like? I begin to visualise the haze of shimmering light, I imagine the tingle of her stardust through my fur, I listen for her voice, and suddenly she is there. She has been there all the time; I just haven�t been using my psi sense.

�Please help me,� I say to her. �I�m dying. And I�m only a young cat.�

There is a silence. My angel is sending me energy and love. But it�s not helping my wretched cold and starving body. It�s not healing my troubled mind. Then she answers, and she says something I did not expect.

�You must help yourself, Solomon.�

She says no more. I lie there, angry, processing this information. Help myself indeed. But I�m a smart cat, and maybe I can figure out what to do. I can�t do a big thing. But I can do a small thing. I�ll do it. I�ll stop this diary of self-pity and help myself. I�m going to start meowing, as long as I can, for as long as I have to.

[��������: img_12]

IF CATS COULD CRY

At first the meows I did were a bit modest, but once I got into it, they were LOUD. I tried to make them more like a cry than a yowl. I sent the cry echoing through the winter landscape, into the caravans and the cottages and the lanes. Now and again I paused to listen.

I heard footsteps. Someone far away was pit-patting down the lane, coming closer, stopping. Someone had stopped to listen. I meowed even louder, trying to put hope into my voice. I heard heavy breathing and the thump of feet in the copse. Someone had scrambled over the wall and through the brambles.

I meowed faster to encourage the person.

�Where are you?� called a voice. �Pussy cat?�

Meow. Meow.

�Are you up a tree? Down a tin mine? Come on where are you? I haven�t climbed over that hedge for nothing you know.�

I knew that kind voice. It was Karenza. Her black boots came scrunching through the copse and stopped. She was looking around for me. I managed to stand up on my wobbly legs, and I just remembered how to put my tail up.

�Oh you poor, poor cat,� she gasped when she saw me. She came gently towards me. �Will you let me pick you up?�

Would I let her! It was heaven to be in someone�s arms again and feel a warm coat and hear a heartbeat. I purred and purred as if I would never stop.

Inside Karenza�s cottage a bright fire was burning. She put me down on a sumptuous rug right next to it, and the warmth soaked into me. It was heavenly. Karenza seemed to know I was too weak to cope with the other cats and she shooed them into the kitchen and shut the door. She brought me a dish of Whiskas rabbit.

�Nothing wrong with your appetite,� she said as I tucked in. Afterwards I was too exhausted to wash. Feeling warm and safe, I stretched out by the fire to sleep. Before I drifted off, I heard Karenza talking on the phone.

�I�ve found Solomon,� she said and I heard a scream at the other end of the phone. �He�s here, and he�s safe, and I�ll take care of him until you come.�

My sleep was deep and blissful. Once in the night I awoke, surprised to find Karenza had put me in a round fluffy cat bed and taken me into her bedroom. She wasn�t asleep but lying close to me with her hand on my back. I was so thin that when she stroked me her fingers seemed to be touching my bones. She was talking to me gently and her hand was full of stars. Healing stars. I began to purr, and the rhythmic purring and the stars mingled together throughthe night.

Karenza was a cat healer. She lived alone in the cottage and all her love was poured into looking after her cats. I was so lucky, I felt ashamed of my angry thoughts and the way I�d turned my back on my angel. But the pain of losing Ellen, and then Jessica, was overwhelming. I shuddered, and Karenza was there for me instantly, stroking and soothing, and telling me to go back to sleep.

In the morning Abby the vet turned up to see me.

�He�ll be fine,� she said, after she�d given me a load of injections and told Karenza what they were. �Worms, fleas, mange, cat flu jab and a vitamin boost. Just keep him warm, keep him away from the other cats until he�s stronger, and feed him little and often.�

�He�ll get lots of TLC,� said Karenza. �And this afternoon he�s getting a surprise.�

A surprise? I thought that might be a catnip mouse, but I wouldn�t have the energy to play with it. All I wanted to do was sleep. Karenza carried my new fluffy bed to the fireside and I lay there gazing into the golden flames. I chose one flame that had a rim of sapphire blue, then orange, then white hot in the middle. In my mind I walked through that white-hot door into the land of pure light, and Jessica was there, washing her pink paws. She looked beautiful and perfect, but far away where I couldn�t reach her.

My angel came, and she said,�You must heal in body and soul, Solomon. It will take a long time, so be patient with yourself. Now go back to sleep.�

I did, feeling like the warmest cat in the world.

In late afternoon when the winter sun was filling the cottage with beams of gold, I heard a car pull up outside. I heard feet running up the path.

�You wait till you see who this is, Solomon.� Karenza winked as she swept past me to answer the door.

She opened it, and there stood my Ellen.

If cats could cry, I�d have cried with happiness. I stepped out of the fluffy bed, and my legs felt stronger already. My tail went up by itself and I ran to greet my Ellen.

�Solomon,� she breathed, and picked me up. I licked the tears from her cheeks and purred.

�You darling, darling cat. And you�re so thin. What have you been through?�

I wanted to tell her, but even if I�d had the words, I couldn�t have spoken. It was too big, too painful to tell her about Jessica dying in the cold woods, the old badger leading me home, and the Diary of a Desperate Cat.

�Look at his fur,� Ellen said, smoothing me.

�The vet said it will grow back. She came out this morning, and gave him some injections. She said he�ll be fine.�

�Thank you, Karenza.�

Ellen gave Karenza a hug with one arm. She sat down by the fire with me on her lap. I noticed she looked better, there was a glow on her cheeks and she was wearing a beautiful sparkly scarf.

�I�ve left John with Pam,� she said. �She�s bringing him down in a short while.�

�So what�s been happening?� said Karenza.

�John and I have been in a B& B,� explained Ellen. �John hated it. But� I�ve just been to see Nick and he said we can have the caravan back. Joe left three weeks ago, he�s gone up country to stay with his dad.�

�Was it drink?� Karenza asked.

�Yes. And his dad is getting him into rehab,� said Ellen. �But I�m never going back with him, Karenza. Of course he�ll have to see John. I�m much better on my own though, even in a B& B.�

Karenza grinned at her.

�Cats are better than men,� she said. �I figured that out long ago. So when can you move back?�

�Next weekend,� said Ellen. �Nick has kindly said he�ll do a few repairs on the caravan, and he�s going to put in a little wood burner, so we�ll be cosy.�

�Well, I�ll look after Solomon until you�re ready.� Karenza gave my head a rub. �Is that all right, Solomon?�

�He understands everything,� said Ellen. �I just wish he could tell us where Jessica is.�

I sat up and gave the saddest meow I could muster. It came out as a wailing sound. Ellen and Karenza looked at each other. Ellen put both arms around me and looked right into my eyes.

�Has Jessica died, Solomon?� she whispered, and I did an even sadder meow and buried my head in her scarf because I couldn�t bear the sadness.

�He�s grieving,� said Karenza. �I know a grieving cat when I see one. He�ll need lots of time and love. I took him to bed last night and I�ll do it again for him.�

�You�re an angel. How can I ever thank you?�

John and Pam arrived next, and there were more tears. I was glad to feel John�s small hand stroking me.

�Poor Solomon,� he kept saying. �I missed you, Solomon.�

Pam had a big plastic bag, which she gave to Ellen.

�I brought you a present.�

�Oh Pam.� Ellen reached into the bag and took out the amber velvet cushion.

�I rescued it, after he�d chucked it out,� said Pam proudly. �And I�ve washed it, and dried it, and even made it smell nice.�

�Wow!� Ellen buried her face in the cushion. �It smells of lavender. Thank you, Pam. You�re an angel.�

Another angel, I thought. Pam and Karenza. Two earth angels. If I were a person instead of a cat, I would give them a bunch of roses each.

I was quite nervous about going into the caravan again. The memory of Joe�s bad tempers would be in there, and the damp washing, and the way everything rattled in the wind.

After a week of Karenza�s TLC, I was much better. My fur was growing back, my thin body was filling out again, my legs were strong and my tail was up most of the time. When the day came, Karenza carried me all the way up the lane inside her coat, and I knew my eyes were shining again as I looked around. High in the trees a song thrush was singing, and there were snowdrops and yellow celandines along the sides of the lane.

John had gone to school, but Ellen was there to welcome me home. She�d bought me a new basket and lined it with a cosy rug, and a new dish with food already in it for me. The caravan looked and smelled different. The best thing was the new stove full of a crackling fire, and it washot in the caravan. It felt peaceful. I inspected everything, strutting around with my tail up. I went into John�s bedroom and touched noses with his two teddy bears, then into Ellen�s room and saw her slippers under the bed. I sniffed at Jessica�s cupboard. It had been cleaned out and packed with boxes, but right in the corner I found Jessica�s catnip mouse. I took it into my new basket, and settleddown there, wondering what kind of life we would have here now, without Joe. �There will be peace,� my angel had said.

She was right. Ellen, John and I were peaceful together. The caravan wasn�t a house, but it was a cosy sanctuary, and there was no more shouting and screaming. Ellen spoke quietly to John and to me, and on wet afternoons the three of us would curl up together in front of the fire and Ellen would read John a story or play a game with him. We were as happy as we could be. I had something in common with John. Both of us were grieving, me for Jessica, and John for his daddy. At first John cried a lot and I was glad to be able to comfort him. I�d stretch myself out with my long paws over his chest, and my chin on his heart, purring and purring.

�You are SUCH a healing cat,� Ellen said to me once. �But I know you still miss Jessica, don�t you? You don�t play like you used to.�

It was true. I didn�t feel like playing. Jessica�s death had left a big hole in my life, and I thought about her constantly. Ellen had a photo of Jessica�s cheeky face on the wall near my basket, and I often sat gazing at it. I still loved her, and I kept her memory alive by remembering the fun times we had had, and all that she had taught me.

Cats are not brilliant at counting, so I don�t know how long we lived there like this, peacefully in the caravan. Summer passed, and I was sleek and glossy again, and autumn rolled on into winter. John was growing bigger, and I knew that every two weeks Ellen took him to see his daddy, and both of them came back stressed and upset. But Joenever came to the caravan, and for that I was glad.

One bright winter morning, everything changed.

I was sitting on the caravan steps, washing my paws in the sunshine, when my angel appeared in a flare of white light. Usually I had to struggle to see her, but now she was sharply in focus and fizzing with stars.

�Be at your best, Solomon. Someone is coming, and he is very important. You must stay close to Ellen, and use all of your senses.�

�Who is it?� I asked, but already a gleaming black car was turning into the campsite, and my angel disappeared in a plume of light. I sat up and made myself look important, with stiff whiskers and fluffed-out fur.

The car drove quietly and carefully up to the caravan and stopped. A bailiff, I thought. Not again.

But a beautiful man got out and stood looking at the caravan. He was beautiful because of his aura, which I could see. It was huge and luminous with lots of turquoise and white, and the man reminded me of the sea. He had interesting blue eyes, which lit up when he saw me sitting on guard.

He didn�t say, �Hello puss,� like most did. He padded peacefully towards me and stretched out a chunky hand to stroke me. But first he asked permission, in a deep rumbly voice that I liked.

�May I stroke you? You are a beautiful friend.�

I did a special sound for him, a cross between a meow and a purr, and stood up on my hind legs to show him I wanted him to touch me. His touch was calm and loving, and he stroked me for several minutes before knocking at the caravan door. When he had knocked, he stepped back respectfully for Ellen to open it.

She stood there looking surprised and a bit anxious, wiping her hands on a flowery tea towel.

�Excuse me, I was baking,� she said.

The man didn�t speak immediately and I saw he was looking at Ellen�s long golden hair glinting in the winter sunshine.

�I�m Isaac Mead,� he said, and held out his hand. �I�m a governor at John�s school.�

Ellen shook hands with him, but she looked uneasy.

�Oh dear,� she said. �Has John been playing up?�

�No � not at all. It�s because of something that John said though, that�s why I�m here.�

�You�d better come in.�

She took Isaac into the tiny kitchen, which smelled of warm cakes, and he sat down by the wood burner.

�Does this gorgeous cat have a name?� he asked.

�Solomon. Because he�s so wise,� said Ellen, and I climbed onto her lap and sat there protectively, studying the deep blue of Isaac�s eyes. He had a beard, and bits of it were grey, and he wore a duffel coat with toggles, which I wanted to play with.

�So what�s this about?� Ellen�s eyes were still wary. �Is it bad news?�

�No my dear. No. You see the school is in rather a difficult situation. We�ve got the Christmas concert coming up, and now the pianist has had a heart attack. She won�t be able to play for a long, long time, and when we told the children this in assembly they were really upset. Then your Johnput his hand up and said, �My mum can play the piano and she�s brilliant.��

�Wow,� said Ellen, and her face glowed. �Fancy him remembering. He was so young when we � we,� she hesitated, and Isaac just looked at her kindly and waited. �We lost our home you see, and they took all our furniture, including my piano. So I haven�t played for years.�

�Would you consider playing for the children?� Isaac asked.

Ellen couldn�t seem to answer. She�d always said no as a child when her mother wanted her to perform.

There was a long silence. My angel had said Ellen missed her music, and that music would feed her soul. I knew Ellen had to say yes, and she wouldn�t. So I decided to answer for her.

I looked at Isaac and gave a loud, firm meow. Then I batted Ellen�s face with my paw, and meowed at her. I kept doing it until she smiled and said, �OK, I�ll have a go,� and I rubbed my head against her and purred.

�Perhaps you�d better bring Solomon,� smiled Isaac.

�I could. He�s a very well behaved cat � and he loves music,� explained Ellen. �Maybe he�d give me confidence. He always used to sit on top of the piano. He really loves Mozart.�

�The children would love him,� said Isaac. �And John would be so proud of you.�

�I�d need to practise. There isn�t room for a piano in here, even if I could afford one. I�m a single parent.�

�I�ve got a piano,� said Isaac. �I�m afraid it hasn�t been played for years, but it�s a beauty � a grand. It�s a bit dusty, like the rest of my place. I live alone you see, since my dear wife died of cancer ��

�Oh, I�m sorry,� Ellen said kindly. She put her slim hand on Isaac�s arm, and tiny sparks danced in his aura.

�I�ll go home now, and clear all my stuff off the top of it.� Isaac�s eyes shone with enthusiasm. �Then you can come down and practise. I promise not to listen. I�ll be up a ladder putting a new roof on the barn. You can bring John. It would be good to have some life in the old place. It�s just me and the mice at the moment.�

I meowed at Ellen again, and this time she responded.

�I�d � like that. I really would. Thank you, and I�d so appreciate you not listening! I�ve always been shy about performing.�

Isaac looked at her silently, nodding his head a little. His eyes glanced around the caravan, at the picture of Jessica, the bowl of oranges, the neatly stacked books and box of Lego, the cosy rugs and cushions.

�You�ve made a beautiful little home here,� he said, rather wistfully. His eyes looked at Ellen again, and suddenly I remembered meeting Jessica for the first time. As soon as I�d seen her challenging buttercup eyes, I�d fallen in love with her, and the love was forever.

Isaac was being quiet and courteous. But I knew a secret, even before he knew it. Isaac had fallen in love with Ellen.

On the night of the Christmas concert I was the proudest cat on the planet.

Ellen had bought me a special cat harness, with a lead, and she�d taken me into John�s classroom. With the door firmly shut, I was set free and I knew exactly what to do. Tail up and purring I walked around loving the children, and they adored me. Then I showed them how I liked to sit on the piano while Ellen played. After a few of these sessions, I was allowed to go to the performance on a starry winter night.

Pam was assigned to look after me, and she sat squarely in the front row close to the piano, in her best red coat. The children were used to me by now, but they still buzzed with excitement when Pam put me firmly on top of the piano. I sat up smartly, looking at everyone.

�Please welcome our pianist, Ellen King,� said the headmaster, and everyone clapped. I was so proud of Ellen, I could have burst. She swept in, wearing a black velvet coat, with her golden hair swinging down her back. I lay down immediately and had eye contact with her as she sat down at the piano.

She began to play the Christmas music with great energy and love, and everyone listened. Ellen kept glancing at me, and I knew I was helping her. No one except me knew how nervous she�d been. The music helped her too. Once she had started, she was happy. The audience and the children stood up to sing and I really loved the sound they made. I watched Isaac and he was gazing raptly at Ellen.

The children did a play, and John was a shepherd. He had a tea towel on his head and a stick he had cut from the hedge. When the play was over and everyone had finished clapping, I was allowed to go on stage. I strutted on with my tail up and all the children wanted to stroke me. I wanted to inspect the toy sheep that John was carrying, and I touched noses with it. Then I thought I ought to see what was in the crib they were all looking at, so I climbed up and touched noses with the plastic doll who was in there. Everyone laughed, but I didn�t see what was so funny.

�Well done, Solomon,� said the headmaster. He was leaning on the piano, so I ran back and touched noses with him, and the children laughed and laughed.

Ellen�s eyes were sparkling as she started to play again, and everyone sang lustily, a song about a figgy pudding.

�Eee,� said Pam, as we all walked home under the stars. �That were the best night I�ve had in years. And that cat was the star of the show.�

The following morning Ellen�s mobile phone kept ringing; and I noticed she was smiling a lot and singing the �figgy pudding� song as she worked. She and John had decorated a small Christmas tree and the baubles fascinated me. I sat looking at a pink one, intrigued to see a tiny cat inside it who looked like me.

�That�s you, Solomon,� said John, and he appeared beside the cat in the bauble. �And me. It�s a reflection.�

I stared at it, and when I moved the tiny cat moved too, and I could see Ellen in there hanging decorations in the window� paper snowflakes that she and John had made together. I patted the bauble with my paw, hoping to get it down on the floor and chase it. But Ellen spoke to me, firmly.

�No, Solomon, please don�t play with the Christmas tree,� and I meowed back and sat still to show her I understood.

�It�s a good thing Jessica isn�t here,� said John. �She�d trash it, wouldn�t she Mummy?�

I looked sadly at Jessica�s photograph. A year had passed and I still missed her so much.

I moved round to inspect the reflections on the other side of the bauble; the trees in the copse, the caravans, the entrance gate, all in miniature. Isaac�s shiny black car was arriving. He came so often now that I knew the sound of his car. I jumped down and ran to the door with my tail up.

Ellen looked pleased, and so did John.

We all ran out to meet Isaac, who got out of the car a bit sheepishly, with the biggest bunch of flowers I�d ever seen. Pink and red, yellow and white, inside a cone of crackly cellophane which Jessica would have loved.

Ellen�s cheeks glowed as Isaac thrust the bouquet into her hands. I noticed she had done her hair nicely, tied back with a floaty red scarf, and her eyes were alive again, the way they had been when she was a child.

�WOW. Are those for me, Isaac?� she asked.

�They�re from all of us at the school, to say thank you,� Isaac said. He hesitated, then leaned forward and gave Ellen a kiss on her cheek. �And that�s a warm thank you from me, my dear. We all enjoyed your playing so much. It wasmarvellous.�

And when he said the word�marvellous� in his rumbly voice, something amazing happened which only I could see. An angel appeared in a flare of gold, a new angel who I�d never seen before. Her robe fizzed with points of light and it swirled around Ellen and Isaac, wrapping them in stars. It electrified my fur from headto tail as it swished over me. I looked at John. Had he seen it too? His eyes were full of its light, but he stayed silent, and I could read his thoughts. He did see it, but he wasn�t going to say so.

�These are wonderful flowers.� Ellen buried her face in them. �The perfume! And the colours! I � I�ve never had such a bouquet.�

Isaac smiled, looking down at her, his eyes radiating kindness.

�The first of many, I hope,� he said, and rubbed his chunky hands together. �Brr, it�s cold. I�ll be glad to get in by the fire. Is your little stove going?�

�Not yet.� Ellen said. �I had trouble lighting it this morning.�

�I�ll do it for you � in return for a coffee,� said Isaac eagerly.

�And will you make a Lego model with me?� John asked. �Please?�

�When I�ve lit the fire � if that�s OK with your mum.�

�That would be brilliant,� said Ellen. �I�ll put the kettle on.�

I glanced across at Pam�s caravan and she was watching out of her window with a big smile on her face. She stuck her thumbs up and winked at me. Isaac sat on the floor with the stove doors open, twisting bits of newspaper and popping them in around the kindling. He lit a match and sat there blowing and twiddling paper until orange flames were roaring up the flue. I rubbed myself against him, purring, walking round and round him, over his lap and stretching up to kiss his nose and feel his beard brushing my whiskers.

I buzzed with excitement when Ellen gave me the crackly cellophane from the flowers. She put it on the floor and I pounced and skidded and scrunched it. I wanted to hear Isaac laugh, and he did, and the caravan shook with his happy laughter. His eyes crinkled and his face went red, and Ellen and John were laughing at me too.

We had a great afternoon. John settled down with his Lego and Ellen sat peacefully talking to Isaac. He did a lot of attentive listening, and I could see him looking at the ballet shoes hanging on the wall. When he stood up to go home, he touched the pink silk ribbon with one finger.

�Who�s the dancer?� he asked.

Ellen blushed.�Me,� she said. �I used to do ballet. I loved it. Ballet and music were � were my passion.�

Isaac looked down at her with deepening interest.

�Well,� he said, stroking his beard thoughtfully. Slowly he put his hand into his pocket and took out a glossy leaflet. �It so happens that this came through my door today. It�s the Hall for Cornwall programme in Truro. Have you been there?�

�No. Never,� said Ellen. �We couldn�t possibly afford to go.�

�They�re doing a ballet.Swan Lake. I� don�t suppose you�d like to come with me, would you Ellen?�

Ellen stared at him, her mouth open, her eyes full of light.

�I�d love to,� she whispered, and looked at John. �But ��

I rubbed against Isaac�s legs to show my approval, and John said, �You go Mummy. Pam will look after me, and Solomon.�

�I�ll fetch you, and bring you home,� said Isaac, �and I can pay for the tickets. It would be my pleasure to take you.�

I had to meow at Ellen twice before she said,�Yes � yes, I�d love that Isaac.�

�Right.� Isaac got up and put on his duffel coat. �I shall go home now and book them this instant.�

The minute he�d gone, Pam came bustling over.

�Eee,� she said, �look at them flowers.�

�He�s invited me to the ballet, at the Hall for Cornwall in Truro,� said Ellen.

�Eee �� Pam sat down and I saw tears in her eyes. She leaned forward and whispered, �I reckon Isaac Mead fancies you, Ellen.�

Ellen went red.�Maybe he does,� she said.

�He�s a lovely man,� said Pam, �a lovely man, and so lonely since his wife died. He�s all on his own in that big farmhouse like a pea in a drum.�

�But Pam �� said Ellen. �What am I going to wear?�

�He won�t care,� said Pam. �He�ll probably turn up in his old duffel coat. Anyway, you are going, aren�t you? And you know I�ll look after John and Solomon.�

�Thanks Pam, you�re a star.�

It was the first of many times when Isaac came and took Ellen out, and I watched her slowly coming alive again, singing and making things, and reading stories to John. And I enjoyed the evenings with Pam. It seemed that everything had come right for me, if only Jessica had been there to share the cosy life we now had.

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THE DIARY OF A STAR CAT

I only had one terrible fear in my life. The cat basket. There were bad memories of being taken away from Jessica that day. How it felt to be imprisoned, to have to fight so fiercely for my freedom, had left scars in my mind. One day Ellen tried to take me to the vet, and when I saw that cat basket I ran away and hid in the same old badger hole. I stayed there all day until dark and I heard the anxiety in Ellen�s voice as she called me, banging my dish with a spoon. So I went home to a warm welcome, and the cat basket was nowhere to be seen.

The next day Abby the vet came to see me and gave me what she called a booster jab.

�How old is he now?� she asked, stroking me under my chin.

�He must be seven,� said Ellen. �I don�t know why he�s got those grey hairs round his face. Seven isn�t old for a cat, is it?�

�It�s middle age,� said Abby. �But don�t forget Solomon went through a major trauma and it may be that he�ll age quicker.�

�And we don�t know what happened,� said Ellen, �or what he�d been through when he was a kitten. And I do think he�s still grieving for Jessica. He lies and gazes at her photograph.�

�Well, he�s in good condition anyway,� said Abby. �His coat�s beautiful.�

�I want him to be as strong as he can,� said Ellen. �We�ve got another huge change coming and I don�t want him to get upset.�

The words rang in my head. Another huge change! What could that be? I was settled now, even without Jessica my life was as good as it got. I didn�t want another upheaval. Especially if it involved Joe. Or the cat basket.

My anxiety led me to seek out refuges again. I went down the lane to see Karenza. I made friends with Pam�s dog who was smaller than me, and I was allowed into her caravan for a cuddle and a titbit. The old badger hole was my private sanctuary, and the tuft of white fur from Jessica�s coat was still there. It comforted me as I slept with my nose touching it. Inside the hole I listened to every carthat came down the lane, and if one slowed down and turned into the campsite, I was instantly awake and nervous. Was it Joe? Was it a bailiff?

One day in early summer when the copse was full of bluebells and pink campion, I heard the sound of Isaac�s car turning in. I loved Isaac, so I got up, stretched and dashed through the tall flowers and over the wall to greet him.

He was standing outside the caravan with his arms full of empty cardboard boxes. Ellen came out and he put the boxes down and gave her a big bear hug. She hugged him back and her aura glowed like a sunset.

�I�m here,� said Isaac, �and this is the best day of my life.�

�And mine,� Ellen said, gazing up at him.

I ran to them meowing, my tail up.

�Here he is. Hello, Solomon,� said Isaac, and picked me up. I purred and made a fuss of him.

�He loves you,� Ellen said, �he always comes running doesn�t he?�

In the caravan I sat on the sunny windowsill and wondered why Ellen and Isaac were taking everything down from the shelves and packing it into boxes. The kitchen china went in, then Ellen�s books and her ballet shoes. I turned to look at Jessica�s photograph, and it had gone. It was a shock. I stood in the space and meowed at Ellen.

�Don�t worry, Solomon, Jessica�s photo is packed. It�s quite safe, darling, and you shall see it again very soon.�

Ellen had always explained stuff to me, but just lately I hadn�t been listening. With a growing sense of alarm I watched her dragging two big bags out of a cupboard and packing John�s clothes and teddies into them. When had this happened before? On that terrible day when I�d been abandoned.

Surely it wasn�t happening again!

I got more and more spooked. My fur began to bristle, and I sat stiffly, watching Isaac carrying the boxes to the car.

The caravan looked bare, as if no one lived there.

Ellen went outside, and came in with the cat basket.

I took one look at it and ran as if someone had set fire to my tail.

�Oh no!� I heard Ellen cry. �Solomon!�

I shot up my favourite ash tree in the copse and sat there hidden by the green summer leaves. Ellen and Isaac were calling for me, but I ignored them. I watched the sunlight flickering on the leaves as they moved in the breeze. I heard the scream of the seagulls flying overhead, and I remembered the shining sea.

It had been so long since I�d talked to my angel. Had I become a boring switched-off old cat? I focused on the light, remembered the silver stars, and listened beyond the wind in the trees. And from somewhere among those sounds my angel�s voice began to talk to me.

�All is well, Solomon. You must go back,� she said. �Ellen wants to take you to live with Isaac, and this is good for her and for you. You will be quite safe in the cat basket. I will watch over you. Stay calm and this time nothing will hurt you.�

�I can�t,� I said. �I just can�t go inside that basket.�

�You can, Solomon. Isaac has a lovely home where you will be free and happy. It�s time to move on.�

I clambered down from the tree, thinking about what she�d said. In my heart I wanted to be with Jessica again. I decided to go to the badger hole, one last time, and sit close to the tiny white tuft of Jessica�s fur. Then maybe I would try to go home.

Sensing a movement inside the hole as I approached, I sat down to watch. A bird was in there! A robin. I watched him hopping about and saw his head move to peck something. I heard the burr of his wings as he flew past. In his beak was Jessica�s tuft of white fur. He was going to line his nest with it.

My last link with Jessica was gone.

With my tail down I padded slowly homeward through the copse, just looking at the ground in front of me. I was tired of life, and deeply grieving, and afraid.

When I got to the caravan I was surprised to see Karenza sitting on the grass with Ellen. Normally I would have run to them with my tail up, but I couldn�t.

Ellen gave a cry,�Oh HERE he is! Solomon ��

I didn�t go to her but crept right under the caravan into the dark and crouched there.

�What�s wrong with him? He must be hurt, or sick,� said Ellen, and she lay on her tummy and tried to coax me out. I felt too numb to move. �Please Solomon,� she pleaded, �I love you so much. I won�t leave you ever again. Please come out.�

�Let me try,� said Karenza, and she crawled under the caravan and lay beside me. She looked into my eyes for a long time, and gently put her hands on me. I felt a warm glow from them, and I remembered that touch, how she had taken me into her bed and healed me through the night.

�I need to spend some time with him, Ellen,� she said. �Can you hang in there?�

�OK, I�ll just sit here quietly.�

Karenza began to talk to me by telepathy, which made it so easy. The thoughts were rippling to and fro between us. Instead of lecturing me, Karenza asked me questions, deep questions that needed to be answered.

�What is it you want to tell me, Solomon?�

�I want to go with Ellen, but I can�t. I can�t go in that cat basket.�

�What happened to make you so afraid?�

�I was � kidnapped � by a family and they were going to take me to London, and call me Fred.�

�So what did you do?�

�I � I went crazy, and hurt myself. I made my paws bleed, and my nose. I was covered in blood. I had to make them let me out.�

Karenza paused and sent me a whoosh of love from her hands. It was better than the amber velvet cushion. I sensed her tuning in to my deepest secrets.

�That must have been hard for you, Solomon. You don�t like fighting do you? You�re such a loving cat.�

What she said, and the way she said it, gave me such peace to know that a human understood. I wanted to purr, but instead, I sort of cried like a human in little squeaks and growls, and the sound travelled right through me, carrying the pain away. Karenza stayed with me, and I saw that Ellen had crawled under the caravan too and her beautiful eyes were looking at me like two big lamps. I reached out a paw to her to show I cared.

Then Karenza asked me about Jessica, by telepathy, and I was able to tell her everything. It was such a relief. I even told her about the robin flying off with the tuft of white fur.

Each time I told her something and she listened, I felt lighter, and better. The dark space under the caravan seemed full of the haze of stardust. I began to feel like a new cat.

I purred and stretched. I kissed Ellen on the nose. Then I walked out into the sunshine and the two women crawled after me, their hands and clothes grubby from the dust. I sat on Ellen�s lap and purred while Karenza told her everything.

�He�s a very traumatised cat,� she said, and then added something which made me feel a whole lot better. �And he must never be expected to go in a cat basket again, Ellen. He can�t, and he needs you to understand that.�

Ellen was silent.

�It�s my fault,� she said eventually. �I should never have left him that time.�

�Solomon�s forgiven you. Haven�t you, Solomon?� said Karenza, and I purred louder, put my paws around Ellen�s neck, and gave her a cat-hug.

�Look at him. He�s giving me so much.� Ellen rubbed her cheek against my head. �But how are we going to get him down to Isaac�s place? The caravan is all locked up now and I�ve given the keys to Nick. We�ve officially moved out.�

Karenza�s eyes gleamed and she rummaged in the bag she always carried over her shoulder. It had a fabric cat on it with eyes made of tiny beads. She took out something that looked like a sock, and let me sniff it. It smelled of one of her cats.

�This is a new kind of cat harness,� she said. �He�ll be quite safe in it. And we can walk him down to Isaac�s place. That�s the natural way for a cat to travel, and he won�t be frightened at all.�

�It�s five miles, Karenza, and look at the time.�

�I don�t bother about time,� said Karenza. �I�ll come with you, and we�ll go across the fields. I know the way. And we�ll take turns carrying Solomon if he doesn�t want to walk.�

�That�s wonderful of you � thanks,� said Ellen, taking the sock thing from Karenza. I let her slip it over my head and gently pull my front paws through the two arm holes. It was comfortable and I felt OK in it. Karenza clipped a long lead onto it, and I rolled around on my back, playing with it for a few moments of being silly.

Then we set off into the golden evening, walking west. We walked through bluebell woods and along lanes perfumed with clouds of white flowers, through a village and over a bridge. It was a long way.

�He loves it,� said Ellen. �He�s had his tail up all the way.�

On top of a hill we stopped for a rest, and the two women drank from bottles of water as we watched the sun going down.

�That�s Isaac�s place.� Ellen pointed to a huddle of buildings in the valley below. �It�s an old farmhouse. You�ll love it, Solomon.�

I hoped it was going to be OK.

Seeing Ellen so happy with Isaac, I was a bit jealous. They both loved me and gave me everything I needed, but I still missed Jessica. Sometimes I wanted her so much that I ached inside.

Isaac�s place was a roomy farmhouse with deep stone windowsills lined with cushions. And it had STAIRS! I did try to play on my own, and everyone encouraged me. John ran up and downstairs dragging a catnip mouse on a string, and I enjoyed that game.

Isaac had a magnificent piano and I took to lying on his lap and purring while we both soaked up the beautiful music Ellen loved to play. I grew to trust Isaac totally, and I could see that Ellen and John had a happy life with him.

The garden was a wild tangle of overgrown shrubs festooned with honeysuckle and bramble. Underneath was a network of green tunnels, used by various wild creatures. Exploring on my own was spooky, but I persevered, and one day I made an amazing discovery.

I found a gate overgrown with ivy, and beyond it was a secret path winding between tall pink foxgloves. It looked mossy and inviting, and as I sat staring at it, I suddenly felt that Jessica was with me. She would have gone straight down there. My fur started to bristle with excitement. I squeezed under the gate and trotted down the path, not knowing what I was going to find.

The grass was hot and bees were buzzing, but there was a rhythmic swishing sound. It changed suddenly to a majestic roar as the path opened onto a rocky hillside, and there before me was the sea.

Now I knew where to go to think about Jessica.

I selected a warm rock and sat on it for a long time, gazing at the blaze of sunlight on the water. I watched enormous sparkles pirouetting at the edges, dancing away and then massing together. It seemed to me that the sea was full of angels, and if I stared for long enough I would see them. I never did, but if I closed my eyes and imagined that mass of silver sparkles, I saw my own angel clearly.

Time passed. Autumn, Christmas, and spring. Another year, and then another. I lost track of how many, but I was aware that my body wasn�t quite as agile as it used to be. My legs were stiff in the mornings, and I wasn�t so good at climbing trees. But I still loved to explore and make friends with badgers and catch mice when I could be bothered.

One day when I was exploring the wild cliff-side beyond the garden, my angel told me to listen. I did, but heard only the seagulls and the wind in the bushes, and the zee-zeet of grasshoppers.

�No,� she said. �Listen deep.�

I focused on the deep dark places under the thick canopy of gorse and heather, and listened again, picking up a brittle whisper of something moving in there. Then I heard a squeak that might have been a meow, and my hackles went up. After what happened to Jessica, I didn�t want to meet a feral cat.

I sat quietly and waited.

Minutes later I heard the squeak again, and a delicate golden face peeped at me from the undergrowth. It didn�t look or feel threatening so I meowed back. A small ginger cat crept out and ran to me eagerly. She was terribly thin and her eyes looked haunted. We touched noses, and my bristling fur subsided. I lay down and she snuggled next to me. I started to lick her ginger fur to reassure her, and I could feel her bones, she was so thin. I sensed her loneliness and hunger. She didn�t seem able to talk to me, but I knew she was in trouble, so I encouraged her to follow me. I led her along the path, under the gate and into the garden, right onto the patio outside the kitchen door where Ellen had put my lunch.

I shared it with the tiny ginger cat, and she ate ravenously. When she was satisfied she sat with me on the warm stones, and washed her skinny little paws.

But when Ellen came out of the back door, the little cat�s eyes went huge and black with alarm. She took off so fast that her claws left scratch marks in the dust. She vanished into the bushes and we didn�t see her again for several days.

Then she returned, watchful and slinking, but she wouldn�t eat until Ellen put the dish further away from the house.

�She�s a wild cat,� Ellen said. �Not an old softie like you, Solomon.�

Old? Me? I suppose I was getting old now, for a cat. We�d been at Isaac�s place for years and John was a big boy now, going to school on the bus with a stack of books in his bag. He was learning to play the guitar, and he liked me to sit on his bed with him while he practised. I didn�t know exactly how old I was.

Ellen gave the little ginger cat a name, Lulu.

�It gives her an identity,� she said.

�You�ll never tame a wild cat,� said Isaac. �But let her come if she wants to. Poor little mite.�

But Ellen and John were determined. Every day they put out extra food for Lulu. At first they put it near the bushes where she felt safe. I spent time in the bushes with Lulu, washing her and purring, and sometimes if she felt safe she cuddled up to me and slept.

�Why are you so scared?� I asked her one day. �Ellen is kind and lovely. She�d never hurt you.�

�I�ve never seen one of those humans before,� she said. �I didn�t know what they were. They are huge and they look so scary.�

�Where did you come from, Lulu?� I asked.

She sighed and looked sad.

�I was born in the bushes where you found me,� she said. �And I had a mum, ginger like me, and a sister too. She was ginger and white and used to play with me. But one day our mum led us across the road because she thought we would find more to eat over there. The cars were coming so fast, savage they were. I hung back, but Mum and my sister tried to run across and they got killed. So I was left alone.�

I felt so sad for Lulu. I knew how painful it was for her.

�You try to make friends with a human,� I said. �Then you�ll have a happy life like me.�

�I never will,� Lulu said. �Never. Never.�

It was no good trying to tell her.

But Ellen had a plan.

She started sitting outside in a chair, sitting quite still, and eventually Lulu got used to her being there and came to eat from the dish Ellen put out for her. Gradually Ellen moved the dish and the chair closer together until Lulu was eating her food within touching distance. While she was eating Ellen talked to her softly, sometimes she actually sang to her, and I could see Lulu flicking her ears to listen. If Ellen moved, Lulu looked up at her and hissed like a snake.

I helped by rubbing myself around Ellen�s legs or draping myself over her lap to show Lulu it was OK. One day the dish was so close that Ellen reached down and gently rubbed Lulu�s back while she was eating. This went on for weeks and weeks, but it was Isaac who finally tamed Lulu. She couldn�t seem to resist his rumbly voice and the calm touch of his big hands. She even rolled on her back and played with his shoelaces.

Then one chilly day in autumn, Isaac gently eased his hands around Lulu and picked her up. He put her on his lap and let go. Lulu lay there, looking surprised. She looked at me and I climbed up there with her and showed her how to lie and listen to Isaac�s slow heartbeat, and she did.

John and Ellen stood motionless, watching with smiles on their faces. It was a moment of magic, and it changed Lulu�s wretched lonely life forever.

Months later, Lulu was as daft as me, rolling over and purring, and climbing on laps. I taught her everything about living in a house, and we even played on the stairs. She made a lot of mistakes, but the wonderful thing about humans is that they are so forgiving and kind.

I knew Ellen had forgiven me for not bringing Jessica back, but I had never forgiven myself. Befriending Lulu had been good for me. It was my way of saying thank you to the people who had rescued me� Karenza, and Pam, and Abby the vet. And I was grateful to Isaac for sharing his lovely home with us.

I was a lucky cat now.

The years rolled on, happy and peaceful, and then I started getting old. My bones ached, and I was stiff. I could still put my tail up, but I didn�t want to play. I didn�t go to look at the sea any more. I just wanted to lie by the fire and sleep.

One day my back legs wouldn�t work any more, and I had to drag myself around.

Abby came to see me with her vet�s bag in her hand. She picked me up and felt me all over.

�He�s got arthritis,� she told Ellen. �But he�s a very old cat now isn�t he?�

�He�s twelve,� said Ellen. �John was two when we found Solomon. He just appeared on our lawn in a thunderstorm. It was midsummer night. He was a skinny little kitten covered in car oil.�

�Hmm.� Abby was feeling my tummy. �That�s a good age for a cat. I suspect he�s got internal problems too. We might be able to do something but you�d have to bring him in.�

I looked at Ellen and she had tears in her eyes.

�No,� she said. �I don�t want to put him through all that now he�s old. I�d rather just keep him here and love him and let him go.�

I looked at Ellen with gratitude. She loved me, but she was going to let me go. I was ready now. Ready to go home.

�A wise lady,� said Abby. �But call me, Ellen, if you want me to help him. You know what I mean.�

THE DIARY OF A STAR CAT

I am writing this diary again as a gift to Ellen. I want her to know where I am going.

Because today I begin my journey to the stars.

Ellen has done the right thing. She doesn�t want me to go to the vet and have surgery. She is going to love me, and let me go. Today she has put me on the amber velvet cushion in my favourite chair. She knows I can�t walk any more. My back legs are weak. She is feeding me little spoonfuls of tasty food, but I don�t really want it. Idon�t want to be in this old body any longer.

Thank goodness I can still purr. I can still open my eyes and see Ellen�s lovely face. I can hear her voice talking to me and she is saying �Thank you, Solomon. Thank you for being my cat. I�ll always love you.� Some of the time Isaac is there too, and his touch on my fur is soothing and blissful. And John is there with me. He�s nearly a man now. He wants tocry over me but he won�t, so he sits beside me playing heavenly music on his guitar. He goes on playing into the night.

It is morning and Pam comes to see me, and she cries and cries. Then she tells me stories about Jessica, and the Christmas concert, and the time I visited Ellen in hospital. When she is gone Ellen tells me I am a star. A star cat. It reminds me to think about stars. I imagine the blaze of sunlight on the sea that Jessica showed me. I go to sleep and dream of the dance of silver stars and how I believed that the shining sea was full of angels, if only I could see them.

Another day and I am still on the amber velvet cushion. I�m sleeping most of the time. Today I have a surprise visitor, and it is Joe. �Don�t worry, Solomon,� Ellen whispers. �I�m not going back with Joe. He just wants to say goodbye.� I open my eyes. Joe looks different. He smells nice and his eyes are calm. He tells me he is sorry for theway he treated us, and I purr and reach out my paw to him to show I have forgiven him. Then I sleep on a silver bed in the silver stars that are drifting all around me.

It is night time, and only Ellen is with me, stroking and talking, and Lulu is sitting on the arm of the chair, watching me. I am glad I found Ellen another cat. I can hardly see her now because the silver stars are clustered around me. They are lifting me, like a magic carpet, and carrying me away into the blaze of light. I am floating faster and faster, but I can hear Ellen�s beautiful voice, and I am still purring.

Ellen and Lulu are like faraway pictures now. I can see the amber velvet cushion with the body of a very old black cat lying on it. I hear Ellen saying,�Goodbye Solomon. Darling cat.� I am flying now, through the glittering stars, there are thousands of them whizzing past me, and they are turning from silver into gold. At last, I see the angels, and I burst through the golden web as if I am a firework.

I have come safely home to the spirit world, to my idyllic valley where the grass is full of stars, and the rocks are like warmest velvet. I am a shining cat now, made of pure light, and it feels amazing. I sit up and gaze into the distance, and something is moving. A cat. Another cat. Dashing towards me with its tail up. It is a shining cat.

And it is Jessica.

2. SOLOMON�S KITTEN

Chapter One

�FOLLOW THAT GIRL�

�Follow that girl,� said my angel.

The girl was crying as she hurried past me. She was staring at the ground in front of her, and clutching a white plastic bag with something heavy inside. Whatever it was, I could smell it, and it was alive. Every time she met someone, she tightened her grip on the bag and twisted past them. She seemed afraid of being stopped.

I was sitting on the garden wall under an orange street light, a good place for a cat to watch the life of the street, and catch the moths that flitted around the honeysuckle. I was a young cat, a bit nervous as I�d had a bad start to my life, and I rarely ventured outside our square of garden.

My angel�s voice buzzed through my whiskers and made my silver and white fur bush out with courage. I jumped down from the wall and ran after the crying girl. Instinct told me to do it furtively, so I crept on quiet paws through front gardens, under gates and hedges, over fences and under parked cars. I stalked the girl by listening to the tip-tap of her shoes, the sniff-sniff of her crying, and the strange animal smell that came from the big bag. It was the subtle smell of fear that told me this was important.

My silver tabby fur made perfect camouflage in the summer twilight. Only my white bits and socks gave me away. The traffic frightened me, but I kept following the girl through a maze of streets. Would I ever find my way home?

She turned into an alleyway, and paused under a lamp. She lit a fag and I could see her hands shaking as the smoke curled upwards in the orange light. She had put the bag down. I peeped round the gatepost where I was hiding. I stared at the bag on the floor.

And then it moved.

Something inside kicked and wriggled, rustling the plastic. That really spooked me. With my soft fur brushing the ground, I crept nearer. Grizzly little cries of distress were coming from inside the bag. Some kind of creature in there was lonely and desperate.

The girl responded by snatching up the bag and marching on with it.

�Shut up,� she hissed. �Just SHUT UP, will you?�

Even in the dark, her aura looked like cracked glass.

I dashed after her down a long footpath to where the streetlights ended and a white moon shone over the common, glinting on hummocks of rough grass and bramble leaves. I could smell the dogs who were walked there, and it sharpened my awareness. Scared now, I hid in the long grass and watched the girl�s shadow. There was danger. A tang of water, a sound that rushed and babbled through the night, a sense of mysterious river creatures who lived there and emerged when it was dark. I could see the glimmer of water, and the arch of a high bridge. Horrified, I watched the girl walk over it, andstop right in the middle. She opened the plastic bag.

I knew what she was going to do, and I remembered how it felt to a living creature to be tipped out like rubbish. I ran closer, and sat majestically on the path, staring at her, using my cat power and meowing.

The girl turned and saw me. Then her crying started again in loud sobs.

�I can�t do this,� she howled, and came down from the bridge, hunched over with the crying, the bag clutched against her body. Nearby was an elder tree growing out of a wall, and she disappeared under the shadow of its branches.

Minutes later, she emerged without the bag, her arms wrapped around herself as if every bone in her body was hurting.

�Fluff your fur,� said my angel, �put your tail up and run to meet her.�

So I did. It wasn�t difficult. I knew how appealing I would look, a silver and white cat with long fur and golden eyes that shone in the moonlight. Like a spirit cat.

We met on the path and I gazed up at her and meowed in a friendly way. She froze. Then she reached down and stroked me. I patted the gold and silver bangles that jangled round her wrist. I sniffed her finger, and it had that smell on it, the salty tang of something newly born.

�Hello,� she whispered. �Magic puss cat.�

I liked that name. Better than�Fuzzball�, which is what my human had called me. I mean � Fuzzball? � for me, the Queen of Cats! And I liked the way the girl looked so deeply into my eyes. I looked into hers, and what I saw was pure beauty ensnared in suffering, like a lacewing caught in a spider�s web.

�Remember her,� said my angel softly. �One day, you will need to find her again.�

So I kept staring, fixing the essence of her soul into mine. No matter how much she changed her hair and clothes, I would still know her by the blend of pain and magic in her eyes.

�Don�t follow me,� she said, moving on restlessly, her heartbeat loud, her tears glinting in the moonlight. I jumped onto the wall and ran along beside her with my tail up. I meowed until she stopped again and turned her face up to me. We touched noses. I had bonded with her.

�Don�t follow me, magic puss cat,� she said again. �If you knew what I�d done, you wouldn�t want to know me. Don�t follow me, I�m BAD NEWS. Evil. That�s what I am.�

I purred and purred, pouring my love into her and my purring was a stream of healing stars. Weaving to and fro, I rubbed my whole body against her crying face until she smiled just a little and told me her name.

�TammyLee.�

Fascinated, I listened to the rhythm of the name. I patted the gold bead in the side of her nose, and played with a wisp of her hair. TammyLee. I didn�t care what evil she had done. In that moment, my job was to love.

We ran on together through the night, me on the wall and she on the path, and we were wishing I could be her cat. But when we reached the orange streetlights again, a change came over TammyLee. She stopped crying, lifted her head, and began marching along with her shoes clonking. Her aura hardened to a shell and I noticed a man walking rapidly towards her.

�Where the hell have you been, TammyLee?� he asked.

She shrugged.

�Nowhere, Dad. Don�t FUSS.�

�We�ve been worried sick. You�ve got school in the morning, my girl.�

�Who cares?�

�We do. You rushed out of the house complaining of stomach pains, then you disappear for FOUR hours. Why was your mobile switched off? Your mum is getting herself in such a state worrying about you, and it doesn�t help her illness, does it? And I don�t need to be out here combing the streets all hours of the night, TammyLee. You�re only fourteen, for goodness� sake.�

�I�m fourteen and I need a LIFE,� TammyLee shouted.

�Don�t you get bolshy with me, my girl.�

�I�m not being bolshy, Dad. I�m upset.�

�What about?�

�STUFF.�

�What stuff?�

�Stuff you don�t understand.� TammyLee turned and marched off, her face set like a doll. �OK, OK, I�m going home.�

I hesitated. I wanted to follow, but instead I watched the man walk after her, muttering something about teenagers. He looked bewildered and he didn�t give me a passing glance.

I sat on the wall, thinking, as I watched them go down the street. I was a lucky cat. I had a decent home with an old lady, even if she did call me Fuzzball. She fed me and fussed over me, I was safe there, and I was free. Right now, I loved being out in the moonlight, so, yes, I was going to see what was in that bag. I could feel it drawing me, calling to me.

Wild creatures lived on the common; foxes, rats, stoats and weasels. And crows. Something in that bag was alive, and I had to get to it before they did. With my tail looped and my ears flat, I bolted back across the common, and when I came close to the elder tree growing out of the wall, I was spooked and flattened myself against the ground.

The bag gleamed white against the tree trunk. It was wide open. I stalked it on quiet paws, my whiskers twitching, my fur stiff with nervousness. I peeped in, and drew back, shocked.

A baby. A human baby was in there. Very tiny, red-faced, with its little fists waving. It was cold, and hungry. What could I do?

I eased myself into the bag and covered the baby�s body with my warm fur and my purring. I would keep him warm, show him that someone cared. I would stay there until morning, until someone came.

I settled down to wait until dawn, my warm body spread out like a rug over the tiny baby, and I could feel his warmth under me, the rapid pulsing of his heart. Carefully leaving a space for him to breathe, I shut my eyes and purred, glad to be helping this new little being.

For I knew only too well how it felt to be abandoned.

Before I came to this planet, I lived in the spirit world, and I was a shining cat.

Shining cats are the souls of real cats, living in the spirit world between lifetimes. Some call the spirit world heaven, and in a way it is. It�s peaceful and warm, full of colours and music, and we don�t have to worry about physical bodies. There�s no illness or hunger, no fleas or trips to the vet, and no arguments. We communicate by telepathy, which is easy and quick. And we get to work with the angels and that gives us a real buzz.

In the spirit world I still looked like a cat, but I was very light, like thistledown, and my face was surrounded by a halo of gold and silver, like fur, but made of light. I was a very important cat. I sat majestically on a violet cushion, and all the shining cats in the spirit world would gather around me for communal purring sessions that sent ripples across the universe.

I was the Queen of Cats.

I only agreed to be born again on earth because no other cat would go. The task was to experience abandonment, and then to help reunite an abandoned child with its mother. It sounded impossible, which is why I thought I could do it. No problem. And I had an angel, a new one who introduced herself as the Angel of Secrets.

She was clear as glass and her robe rustled with stars of turquoise, emerald and lime. Camouflage, she said, to blend with the colours of earth�s oceans and forests.

�When you are on earth, I will always be with you,� she said in a voice that tinkled like bells. �But my colours and my transparency will help me to hide, and you must remember that and work hard to see me. My voice will blend with the sound of rain, and the wind in the leaves, so you must listen for me, and not get distracted by the cacophony of noise that humans manage to create.�

When it was time for me to be born as an earth kitten, I was nervous about whizzing through the star gates, having to let go and burst through the golden web. I didn�t feel I could do it. So my angel led me through a beautiful land where shining cats and dogs were playing and resting, and eventually, we arrived at the foot of the rainbow bridge, which was awesome.

�Choose a colour,� she said, �and you can just walk over with your tail up.�

I hesitated, staring up at the arched bridge of glowing colours. I sat and watched it for a while, reassured to see other cats, and dogs, trotting over confidently, some going, some arriving. All of them were quiet and peaceful.

�Once you start, you can�t go back,� my angel explained, �so take your time, and all will be well. Trust me, I�m an angel.�

Still I hesitated, and she said,�Why not choose pink? It�s the colour of love. You can�t go wrong with that.�

I put one shining paw into the pink light, and before I knew it, I was walking, tail up, higher and higher over the rainbow bridge. Easy! Over the top, and there in the distance, far below me was Planet Earth. I wanted to cry because she looked utterly delicate and complex, her colours magical. Electric blues, rich greens, lemon and lots of white.

But as I reached the summit, my angel swirled past me with a whoosh of her wings. Shocked, I watched her disappear, her colours shimmering as she dissolved and became one with the landscapes of Planet Earth. I couldn�t stop now. I was racing, sliding down the other side of the rainbow bridge; it took my breath away; even though I knew how it would happen, I was still terrified.

I didn�t want my fabulous spirit to be put inside a tiny wriggling earth kitten. I wanted to go back and be the Queen of Cats for ever. But it was too late. Being born was such a let-down. I should have been loved � and I wasn�t!

I was born under someone�s bed, right next to a smelly pair of slippers. And my mother didn�t like me. The minute I was born, she gave me a draconian swipe with her paw, knocking my small wet head sideways. I was blind, but I sensed her anger as I struggled to breathe. She was blaming me for getting stuck and causing her pain. Weak and shocked, I lay there on my own, getting colder and colder.

A man�s voice made me jump.

�Ellen!� he was shouting. �Guess what THAT CAT�S DONE NOW!�

�What?�

�She�s had a bunch of kittens under the bed.�

�Oh, Jessica!�

Ellen�s voice was lovely. I heard her come and look under the bed. �Oh, the little darlings,� she whispered. �Don�t be cross with her, Joe. We can take them downstairs in a basket. Aw, look at them feeding. Aren�t you a clever girl, Jessica?�

I was cold and starving so I squeaked and squeaked until Ellen noticed me, and I felt her hand round me.

�What about this one, Jessica?� She put me down close to my two purring guzzling brothers, and gently pushed my face into my mother�s fur. �No, don�t growl at her, Jessica. She�s beautiful. Silver tabby with long fur and she�s got pink paws like you. Come on, you�ve got to feed her.�

I found a nipple and sucked like mad until the warm sweet milk filled my mouth and mother finally relaxed and let me have it while Ellen stayed close, encouraging her. I got the feeling that Jessica was rebellious but she would do anything for Ellen. So I was fed. But Jessica never liked me. She always left me until last, lavishing attention on my two brothers, and she would bop me when Ellen wasn�t there. Twice we were put in a nice basket and carried downstairs, and both times Jessica carried us back, one by one, holding us by the scruff. When it was my turn, she wasn�t careful. She banged me all up the stairs.

On that day, before our eyes were open, there was a lot of shouting and crying in the house, and we all lay there shivering, cuddling close and wondering what was going to happen. What kind of home had we come into so trustingly?

At the end of the day, I heard this amazing loud purring, and sensed a huge male cat very close, looking at us, sniffing us. He was loving and kind, I knew that, but my mother still growled at him until he backed off. Once our eyes were open, I saw him. He was black with a white chest and paws, long white whiskers and concerned peagreen eyes. His aura was massive and shining. My dad! Solomon.

I settled down, thinking I had decent parents and a warm safe home, even if there was a lot of shouting. The three of us grew up under the bed, learning to crawl, to put our tails up and to play. We got used to Ellen and her little boy, John, picking us up. In fact, we loved it. They were so warm and kind and stroked our fur and talked to us.

Until one terrible day that I will never forget.

We were four weeks old and just learning to lap Kitty Milk from a dish. Jessica was a strict mother. She bopped us if we put our feet in it, and she diligently kept us immaculate, always leaving me until last. Sometimes our dad Solomon would come and wash me, and purr with me and tell me stuff by telepathy.

On that day, the house shook like thunder, and two strange men plodded in and out, moving furniture, sliding and scraping and bumping it down the stairs. Then Joe came in with a basket in his hand. He put it down on the bedroom floor and reached under the bed where we were cuddled together against our mother�s warm body.

�Sorry about this, Jessica,� he said, and picked us up one by one with his big hand and dumped us inside the basket. I saw my mother�s anxious eyes as she came after us, and that was the last time I ever saw her dear black and white face. She cried and cried as Joe clipped the basket shut. He slammed the bedroom door and we heard Jessica�s echoing wail of despair, and her paws scrabbling to get out.

We huddled together and clung on with our tiny paws as he bounded down the stairs swinging the basket.

�There�s nothing to cry about,� he said to Ellen and John, �so stop your snivelling. We�ve got more to worry about than a bunch of kittens.�

He took us outside, and that was the first time I saw the sky and smelled the lawn. A bird was singing high up in one of the trees, and women and children were walking past with pushchairs. No one seemed to care about us, three kittens suddenly wrenched away from their mother. Jessica was at the window, crying and crying, clawing at the glass with her pink paws.

�You will take them to the Cat Sanctuary, won�t you?� said Ellen to Joe.

�Course I will. Stop fussing.� Joe swung the basket into a car and another door was banged in our faces. Seriously worried now, we were climbing all over the inside of the basket, desperately seeking a crack or a hole through which we could escape.

The inside of the car smelled of beer and socks. It squealed and rattled as Joe drove us away from our home and our mother, away from Solomon, away from Ellen and John. We travelled fast, the basket lurching as the car hurtled round corners. We grew hot with fear and exhausted by our efforts to escape.

�Nearly there, guys,� said Joe. He hauled the car around a sharp bend and slowed down. �Here we are. Cat Sanctuary.�

He turned the engine off, and there was only the sound of our three baby voices crying and crying for our mother cat. Joe swung the basket out of the car and walked towards a pair of high wire gates. He stopped in front of them, looking at a notice board.

And then he exploded.

�SHIT,� he bellowed. �They�re shitting CLOSED.�

He kicked at the wire gates. He put the basket down and rattled the gates with both hands.

�What�s the good of a cat sanctuary that�s CLOSED!� he roared. �Well, you�ll have to go somewhere. I�ve gotta get back. I can�t be doing with a bunch of wailing cats.�

He flung our basket into the hedge. Then he got back into the car, reversed it and roared off, filling the lane with black smoke and a storm of gravel.

And he left us there, three terrified kittens cowering in a corner of the basket.

Minutes later, the car came racing back and skidded to a halt. Joe got out, swigging beer from a can. Still swearing, he seized our basket, opened it and tipped us out like rubbish into the long wet grass.

Chapter Two

A BAD CAT

I learned a lot during those lonely hours in the hedge.

My brothers were both black; they were mates and didn�t care about me, so I followed them as they crawled deep into the hedge. We had to keep each other warm. We found a dry twiggy hollow at the roots of a hawthorn tree and pressed close together. Hungry and tired, we slept, and when we woke, nothing had changed except the sunlight, which was nowa brassy pink. We�d grown up under a bed, and we hadn�t learned about day and night, earth and sky, sun and rain.

Soon we were starving. We spent the night creeping about, not far away from each other, tasting anything we could find; worms, slugs, beetles, all disgusting and too tough for our delicate new teeth. We licked raindrops from the leaves and blades of grass, and we did a lot of meowing, hoping our mother would come and find us.

I tried to see my angel, but I was too little to remember how. Her voice whispered to me, but it wasn�t anything I wanted to hear.

�Your mother is far away,� she said. �Jessica and Solomon were put in the basket and taken away, hundreds of miles. You won�t see them again in this lifetime.�

But she coaxed me out in the morning to feel the sun on my fur, and this time my brothers followed me. We sat at the edge of the lane on hot stones, and the sun�s warmth was a new and healing experience for us. The sound of a dog barking sent us scurrying back to our twiggy hollow. I�d never seen a real dog and, curious, I crawled out on my own through the narrow grass tunnel we�d made.

I peeped, and immediately regretted it. Towering over me was a very stiff black Labrador with such a tail, wagging up in the sky. Its ears were up and its brown eyes were staring at me. It gave a soft huffy sort of woof and its hot breath gusted over me. Too petrified to move, I stared back and we had a telepathic exchange. She was an old dog, wise and kindly; she wanted to tell me something, and she wanted to ask me a question. Her eyes were puzzled, as if she knew I shouldn�t be there.

�Come on, Harriet. Whatever it is, leave it. I said LEAVE IT,� called a voice from further down the lane.

Harriet gave an apologetic shrug, turned and trotted off, looking back at me just once, her paw in the air.

�LEAVE IT,� shouted the voice again. I was trembling with shock at my first encounter with a dog. The overwhelming smell of her, the thickness of her legs, the way she went stiff when she saw me. And yet, tiny as I was, I had a sudden sense of power. I was a CAT. Well, almost.

Two more days and nights passed. We kept each other warm, but we were getting weaker and more depressed. We�d given up meowing; it took too much energy. Worse than that was the emotional pain. That feeling of being dumped in the hedge like rubbish never left me in my whole life, but weaved and wandered through my aura in strands of anger and sorrow. We should have been normal happy little cats, but already, at four weeks old, our confidence was damaged, our sense of self-worth shaken. And we didn�t have our mother to teach us how to live.

I wondered if Jessica ever got over losing us, even me.

On our third day in the hedge, something terrifying happened.

We were sleeping, heaped together in a mound of fur, in a round nest we had made in the grass, when I woke up suddenly. The Labrador, Harriet, was looming over us, puffing and sniffing, a long pink tongue flopping from her mouth. I caught the smell and the gleam of her teeth set in pink and black shiny gums, and the look of thoughtfulness in her eyes as she reached down to me. Before I could move, she had opened her jaws and picked me up by the scruff.

I squealed and screeched. My heart lurched into a stream of beats. I tried to kick and scratch but she had me so tightly, stretching my skin so that my tiny legs splayed out and wouldn�t move. I hung there, hardly able to breathe, and the dog lifted me high in the air and walked off with me.

�I can�t survive this. I can�t,� I thought, panicking. But Harriet was plodding down the lane with me. She wasn�t going to put me down. I kept my baby-blue eyes wide open, and floating alongside us were splinters of coloured light, stars of turquoise, emerald and lime. My angel! My angel was there, escorting us in cloaks of light, and in total silence. The Angel of Secrets.

After that, I calmed down and let it happen. Harriet wasn�t eating me. She was taking me somewhere, the only way she knew how, in her mouth. An extraordinary thought dawned in me: this was a dog, a dear old dog who wanted to mother me.

She broke into a trot, and I was swinging, like it was when Jessica had carried me upstairs. I could see the dog�s tail wagging faster and faster. We reached a wicket gate in the hedge, and Harriet shoved it open with her paw, being careful not to bump me. She took me up a garden path and in through an open door.

�Oh, Harriet! What have you got?�

A woman was sitting there on a cosy sofa. Harriet�s tail dropped and only the tip of it wagged apologetically as she gently put me down in the woman�s lap. I lay there in total shock. The woman�s lap smelled of bread and flowers. She gasped.

�A KITTEN!�

I sat there, disorientated.

�Where did you get that from?� she asked Harriet loudly. And immediately the dog turned around and bounded out, her tail wagging madly. She turned the corner on one leg and galloped up the lane.

�What a little beauty you are,� whispered the woman. She cupped me gently in a pair of weathered hands, and I could have cried. The way she looked at me with such tenderness. Someone wanted me. I wasn�t rubbish. The dog hadn�t hurt me.

Minutes later, Harriet came back through the door, her tail bang banging against the wood, and in her mouth was one of my brothers. She did the same again. Put the traumatised kitten down next to me and charged out again to fetch the other one.

�That dog!� Tears were running down the woman�s face. �That dog is a miracle. A miracle.�

But this time the dog returned with a puzzled expression on her face, and she hadn�t got my brother. He was the all-black one, the biggest and bravest of us three kittens.

I never saw him again.

I�d have liked to stay in the cottage and cuddled up to Harriet for the rest of my life, but it wasn�t to be. A few days later, well fed and rested, we were put in another basket and taken, gently this time, to a Cat Rescue Centre, to await adoption.

I wanted to go with my brother. He was all I had. But the first person to look at us fell in love with me straight away. Her name was Gretel. I gazed up at her wrinkled face which was covered in powder, and her expectant eyes under blue-painted lids. Two tantalising pearls dangled from her ears and there was a halo of silvery hair. She pursed her red-painted lips, then opened her mouth very wide.

�Oh, what a pretty kitten. Aren�t you a little poppet?� she crooned, and picked me up as if I was made of gold. She held me against her pale pink sweater, and I managed to keep still, smelling her perfume and watching those earrings. Aware that my silver and white fur was exquisitely soft, my paws had pink pads, I knew I was beautiful, but I wasn�t sure if this was right for me. Was I good enough for Gretel?

I didn�t exactly have a choice.

Gretel looked at me silently for a moment, and then said,�You are a darling, darling little Fuzzball.� I hoped that wasn�t going to be my name, but then she turned to the cat lady and said, �Can I have her? She�s definitely THE ONE.�

I wanted to say goodbye to my brother, my only family now, but I was whisked into a luxurious carrier with pink fluff. A lot of fuss was going on. People saying,�Oh, you are a lucky kitten,� and shuffling about with papers while I sat in there, lonely, and wanting my mother. I even wanted Harriet. We had spent a couple of nights cuddled up to the big dog who seemed to love us. She was warm and peaceful, her heartbeat so steady and slow. She�d even let us play with her silky ears and the tip of her tail. It helped me to make a decision: I wanted a dog in my life. A dog was a solid reliable friend.

Gretel was OK, but I was uneasy. Had I made the right decision? And I definitely didn�t want to be called FUZZBALL.

Gretel�s bungalow was fine. Warm and sweet-smelling, with soft carpets, a furlined cat bed with a roof, and a puss-flap leading to a sunny patio and a square of lawn. I should have been happy there, but I wasn�t. It was lonely, even though Gretel made a fuss of me. She wanted me to be good.

I wasn�t good. I was a BAD CAT.

My dad, Solomon, was the most saintly cat, and I wished he were there to teach me the mysteries and illogical rules about living with humans.

The first issue was the litter tray. I knew how to use it, but I didn�t think it right to use it a second time. It was more creative to find some paper and make my own. I shredded a copy of the Damart catalogue before Gretel had read it, and she went ballistic.

�You wretched cat. Look at this STINKING mess. You�re a bad girl. BAD GIRL,� and she grabbed my scruff like Jessica would have done and shook me. I was hurt and puzzled. It had been fun shredding the paper and making myself a luxurious heap behind the sofa and, when I�d used it, I�d carefully raked it up and covered it over. Problem solved.

I quickly became a compulsive paper shredder as I grew bigger. My new claws had to be kept sharp and it was a good workout. Gretel used to go out and shut the kitchen door so I couldn�t go out through the puss-flap, and she�d always left a magazine somewhere, by her bed or on a chair.

Next, I discovered the postman. I learned what time he came and recognised his footsteps. Or I�d sit in the window, watching him pushing his trolley down the street, getting more and more excited as he approached. Once he was on the path, I shot into the hall and waited, tingling, by the front door. There were always catalogues in plastic that landed with a slap, but if they were heavy I ignored them. What I liked were the paper letters, especially the brown ones, which made a succulent tearing noise. In one part of my mind, I was being a lion ripping skin from its prey, and in another way, I was being creative and pragmatic while Gretel was out.

One morning, she came in the back door with her shopping bags and I ran to meet her like a cat should. She sat down and took me onto her lap, and I learned how to give her healing. She had pain in her joints; they used to glow in her aura like hotspots. I draped myself over her knees or up on her shoulder and practised the art of purring, which I had brought with me from the spirit world. It was a vibration that generated streams of minute stars that only I could see. But Gretel felt it. I knew she did.

�Oh, you are a darling cat. You�re so good for me,� she said as we relaxed together. But as soon as she got up and went into the hall, it all changed.

�You BAD CAT,� she shouted when she saw the heaps of shredded paper I was so proud of. �My LETTERS! You�ve ruined them.�

She seized me in angry hands and held me up so that my face was close to hers, and hissed at me like a mother cat.�WHAT am I going to DO with you, Fuzzball, eh?�

I hated being treated like that. I flattened my ears and lashed my tail. After all that healing, Gretel was abusing me! I kicked out with my back legs, and my claws were out. They caught in her clothes and scratched her neck.

�You little demon,� she snarled and dropped me. I mean � dropped me, not put me down nicely. Unprepared, I twisted and landed awkwardly. Stunned, I crouched there, looking up at her, hoping she�d apologise, pick me up and make peace with me. Instead, she clapped her hands right in my ear and I ran away, through the puss-flap and into the garden. It was lovely sunshine, but I sat in the dark underneath the decking and licked myself miserably. I was trembling inside with a mixture of fear and anger. What had I done? How could Gretel change so quickly from sweetness to rage?

I�d never felt so alone. I wanted my parents and my brothers to guide and comfort me. I wanted a dog like Harriet. I wanted a nice name, a beautiful romantic name suitable for a silver and white tabby who had come here to heal. My life wasn�t working out the way I�d planned.

Then I remembered my angel. It was a long time since I�d talked to her, and I�d never really learned how to see her on this planet. Where was she?

A cloud blew over the sun, the garden darkened and rain spattered down, splashing the leaves with drops. It dripped through cracks in the decking and I shrank back against the wall, feeling worse.

The storm was soon over and the sun shone out again, making everything glisten, and tempting me out to feel it on my fur. I sat on the path and stared out at a bright raindrop hanging from a leaf. The sunlight was turning it into a blazing star, so bright I squinted my eyes to look at it, and it started turning pink, then gold, then blue. As I turned my head sideways, the rays of light revolved like the spokes of a wheel.

Mesmerised, I focused on the centre where the rays of pink, gold and blue converged, and with my daydream came a memory from the spirit world. That magic dot in the centre was the point of infinity. In my mind, I could go through it, into the land of spirit. Ignoring everything else around me, ignoring my hurt feelings, I concentrated on it. I zoomed in, slipped through it into a place of light.

And there, waiting for me, was my fantastic angel. The Angel of Secrets. Her colours were those of a dragonfly in the sun, her face was the happiest beaming smile, welcoming me. Just seeing her gave me courage.

�It�s all going wrong, living with Gretel,� I confided. �She�s so angry with me for being a cat.�

�I know, I know. I see it all,� my angel said, and she wrapped her light around me. I nestled into the sparkles, and listened.

�It�s a time of learning,� she explained. �You are a young cat with no mother to teach you. Gretel is teaching you how to live with humans. If you don�t learn this, you will suffer all your life.�

�But why can�t she teach me nicely?� I asked.

�She doesn�t know how. She�s a human. She has stuff to learn too.�

�But why am I a bad cat?�

My angel threw an extra whoosh of stars around me, warming my soul.�You�re not a bad cat. There are no bad cats. You must forgive Gretel. She doesn�t know a better way, and she was treated unkindly by her family. When she is fierce, she is afraid.�

I cuddled into the warmth of her aura as if it were a cushion.

�Your mother, Jessica, was a very creative cat. She did all the things you are doing now and got punished and called a demon for it. But she was loyal and courageous too.�

�But this isn�t how my life is meant to be,� I said. �I�m not meant to be with Gretel, am I? And I�m not �Fuzzball�.� I flicked my tail in frustration.

�You are an earth kitten. All young earthlings must go through a time of learning, and if you don�t learn, you can�t move on,� said my angel. �So learn! Learn what Gretel is trying to teach you. We have work for you.�

She melted back into the light, leaving me realising I was staring at a sparkle on a raindrop. I sat thinking about how to please Gretel. Catch a mouse and present it to her? Or that robin who was tugging a worm out of the lawn. He�d make a nice gift for Gretel.

I stalked him, and pounced, but he flew up, muttering, and swore at me from the rooftop. And he�d lost his worm.

Full of energy and frustration, I rioted in the garden, rehearsing pounces and charges, and playing wildly with a soft ball Gretel had hung from a string for me. Then I heard laughter, and she came out and sat by the lily pond, watching me.

�You must forgive Gretel,� the angel had said, so I gave it a go, rubbing my silky fur against her legs and smiling up at her. I gazed right into her soul and saw that she did need forgiveness and lots of it. Behind that powdered exterior was a person who carried a burden and didn�t know how to let go of it.

�Oh, Fuzzball. Come on then.� She patted her lap and I jumped up and made a fuss of her, kissing and purring and kneading her with soft paws. �You�ve forgiven me,� she said, and we were friends again. Phew!

But it didn�t end there. The same thing happened repeatedly through the autumn as I tried to understand what I did to make Gretel lose her temper and call me a demon. It came to a head just before Christmas.

I was almost fully grown but still loving to play. One dark afternoon, Gretel came home with a tree. A spiky fir tree in a red pot. I was sleepy, curled up in a chair, but I sat up to watch what she was doing. She opened a box full of shiny baubles and funny little creatures on loops of string, and she hung them all over the tree.

�There. Our Christmas tree, Fuzzball. Isn�t it pretty?�

She switched on some lights and the tree twinkled like magic. We sat in the dark admiring it. The tree was hypnotic. I couldn�t stop looking and longing to leap up and play with all those things. There was a miniature white teddy bear with a bobble hat, there was a fat little man in a red coat and his face looked so real. It had glittery eyes. There was a skinny fairy right at the top, looking very serious. And, hey, there was a BIRD on the tree, a robin like the one in the garden. He looked at me cheekily, but was he real? I couldn�t work it out.

I jumped down and stalked round the tree, looking at that robin from all angles. The shiny baubles attracted me too and I sat in front of one, fascinated to see a tiny cat inside, a cat that moved when I moved. There was a room in there with a window and a fire burning. Could it be a mirror? I peered behind it, but it was perfectly round, a ball on a string. Gretel must have hung it there for me to play with. I patted it experimentally, and the whole tree shivered and shook and glittered in new places.

�NO,� said Gretel in that warning kind of voice I hated.

I looked at her and her aura had spikes.

�Fuzzball! NO. You are not to play with the Christmas tree.�

By now, I knew what NO meant. My back and tail twitched with irritation. Didn�t cats have any rights? Why couldn�t I play and be joyful? Turning my back on Gretel, I sat in the doorway pretending to wash.

�Good girl,� she said, but I ignored that. I knew I was going to play with that Christmas tree when the opportunity came. I dreamed about it all night and, in the morning, I curled up in my favourite chair and pretended to be asleep. Gretel came and looked at me, her car keys jingling, but I didn�t move, even when she stroked me softly and told me she was going to fetch her mother.

I listened to the engine of her neat little blue car, and the slam of the garage door. She had gone. I got up and flexed my muscles, ate some of the mashed sardine she�d left for me, and swanned into the lounge.

The Christmas tree was still there, glittering expectantly, and now it was mine. Fantastic bubbly joy filled my heart; I was so happy, and I wanted that feeling to last. So I moved in slowly on the tree, my eyes chasing its moving points of light. I chose a pink shiny bauble and messed about, touching noses with my reflection. I patted it and watched everything shake and settle down again. There was a wild feeling deep in my being, charging me up like an electric cat.

A few more swipes from my paw, and the pink bauble was off the tree. I chased it across the floor, under the chair and out again. It rolled under the sideboard and wouldn�t come out. So I swiped another one down and batted it into the kitchen, where it went ping-pinging across the tiles.

I leaped and twirled, and belted round and round the tree in a frenzy of fun, swiping more and more baubles until they were scattered everywhere. I chased them north, south, east and west, skidding and pouncing and tearing the carpet with my claws. I got the miniature white teddy bear down, carried him in my mouth into Gretel�s bedroom, and pushed him into the toe of one of her slippers, thinking I�d have another game later getting him out.

The fat Father Christmas went under the sofa where my collection of secret comfort toys was hidden� my catnip mouse, a Babybel cheese, and various bits and pieces from the garden. With my heart beating very fast, I sat for a moment, looking up at the tree. A few smaller baubles were left at the top with the skinny fairy. I didn�t fancy her but I wanted that robin SO much.

The only way to catch him was to leap high into the prickly branches. It was hard, but the challenge fired me up even more. I leaped until my fur felt on fire, my paws hot and tingling. At last, I had the robin between my paws, in mid-air, and I wasn�t going to let go. I fell backwards and the tree toppled right over, spilling earth on Gretel�s pink carpet, and I had to crawl out from under it, the toy robin in my mouth, my heart thudding with excitement.

It had been a wonderful morning and, worn out, I took the robin onto the windowsill behind the curtain. I tucked my paws under myself and went blissfully to sleep with my chin on it.

Hours later, Gretel pushed open the back door and dumped her shopping on the table. There was a crunching, cracking sound. Still sleepy, I stayed behind the curtain.

�What�s that doing here?� she shrieked.

�Looks like a bauble off the tree,� said another voice, an old quavery sort of voice. �And you�ve trodden on it. Where�s the dustpan?�

�Don�t fuss, Mum. I�ll sweep it up in a minute.�

I listened in growing alarm as Gretel came into the lounge and saw the wreckage.

�Oh, NO!� she howled. �What an unbelievable mess.�

Feeling the shockwaves, I stayed hidden behind the curtain. I was in terrible trouble.

�It�s that CAT. That CAT�s done this!�

�I told you not to have a cat, dear. I wouldn�t have one.�

�How can ONE CAT make such an almighty mess?�

�You�ll have to get that carpet steam-cleaned, dear.�

�I worked so hard to keep this place decent. The Christmas tree looked wonderful, and it�s ruined � RUINED.� Gretel began to make the most alarming howling noise. I listened in horror, thinking I should run to her and purr. I fluffed my fur, kinked my tail and padded out from behind thecurtain with my face bright and friendly.

�There you are!� she screamed. �You little BEAST of a cat. Look what you�ve done. Look at it.�

�Don�t take on so, Gretel,� said her mother, but Gretel had only just started, and seeing me made her worse.

She grabbed me with bony hands, and chucked me out into the garden. It was freezing fog. I went to the puss-flap to come in again, but she had jammed it shut. I meowed and scrabbled but she banged her fist in the door and shouted.

�You�re not coming in here, you demon cat. You�re going back to that cat home. I�m not keeping you any longer.�

�But she�s such a lovely cat.� Gretel�s mother professed not to like cats, but she was defending me. I sat outside in the fog, listening to the loud conversation and the sweeping, tinkling sounds from the kitchen. Then Gretel�s mother said, �Can�t she live in the shed? When I was a girl, our cats lived outside.�

�Today�s cats don�t.�

�Well, she�s got to go somewhere. It�s Christmas.�

�I do know that.�

In the end, Gretel did try to put me in the shed. She set up a cardboard box with a rug in it, while I purred round her ankles, trying to make peace. She put me in it and I jumped out immediately. I didn�t like that rug. It felt bad and scratchy, as if a bad-tempered person had used it and left their anger in every fibre of the wool. And the box smelled of vinegar.

I didn�t want to be in the shed. It was cold and dusty, and there were fierce-looking tools on the walls, and no space for me to play, and no fire to warm my bones. Gretel had left the window open so that I could come and go, and the freezing fog drifted in, making everything damp. It was my first Christmas, and I was so lonely and miserable. I meowed and meowed through the night at the sealed-up puss-flap. Eventually, Gretel opened the door in her dressing gown, and I shot past her ankles, headed for the rug by the fire.

�Oh no you don�t.� She picked me up. �You are driving me UP THE WALL. Meowing all night, keeping me awake.�

I tried to be loving and friendly, but she ignored my love and carried me out to the shed again. She shut the window, and the door.

I was a prisoner.

�It could be a blessing,� said my angel. �Wait and see.�

She was right in a way. Gretel eventually melted and let me back into the bungalow. But I was never left in there alone again, and, when she went out, she left me in the shed, if she could find me. I got wise to it and hid, so when she did go out, I had freedom to explore.

And that was how I came to be sitting on the wall on a summer evening when TammyLee walked by and my angel said,�Follow that girl.�

Chapter Three

A BABY CALLED ROCKY

The experience of being out all night was new to me. I�d never seen the stars before, or watched the dawn. The sun didn�t snap on like a lamp, but took its time. Once, I had sat and watched a water lily opening on Gretel�s pond, and it was like that � slow and pink, unfurling petals across the sky until it exposed the centre disc of burning yellow. The burr of moths� wings on the scented elderflowers was replaced by the hum of bees, and above me on the top branch, a blackbird started singing. I listened and absorbed his pure melody into my heart. So that�s what birds were about. Pure joy.

When I got up for a stretch, the blackbird changed his song to a harsh whit-whitting alarm call, warning the other birds that I was there.

I was hungry for my breakfast, and needed to move, but when I did, the baby boy started to cry. I ran back and kissed his tiny red nose and he opened his eyes. They were the brightest turquoise blue, and full of astonishment. He responded to my purring with a sort of chuckle, and I arranged myself over him again, keeping him warm. I nudged his arm with my head, trying to get him to stroke me, but it felt floppy and weak. Was he dying? His aura was thin now, just a fuzzy line of aqua and lemon. His angel was there, and she was a rainbow swirl in the air.

The baby gave little grizzling cries, intermittently, but the crying seemed to suck the remaining energy out of him. All I could do was watch over him and purr. He needed a human. He needed food and milk, but he couldn�t crawl out and help himself. I had to find someone, or he would die.

Anxiously, I watched the common from under the canopy of elder trees, and in the distance people were walking their dogs. But no one came past the elder tree.

I listened to the burble of the river rushing over stones, and at last I heard footsteps clonking over the bridge. Shoes. Like TammyLee. Had she come back?

I bounded out with my tail up, and saw a woman with a scrap of a dog on a lead. It flew into a frenzy of yapping when it saw me, but I wasn�t fazed. Then it cowered and wound its lead round her ankles as I approached.

�Well, you�re a brave cat,� she said, bending down to stroke me, �and aren�t you beautiful! I hope you�re not lost.�

I meowed and meowed, sitting on the path in front of her. If only the baby would cry. What could I do? She stood there, watching me, the dog tucked under her arm. He was twitching his nose and looking towards the tree.

�Come on, puss, I�ve gotta go home.�

She stepped over me, and walked on. I ran after her, meowing. I belted past her, with my tail fluffed out, and again sat on the path in front of her. I lifted my paw and patted the hem of her coat, then got it between my teeth and pulled.

�What ARE you doing?� She laughed at me. �You funny cat.�

I did the loudest meow ever. It echoed over the common, and I trotted back towards the tree, stopped and turned to look at her. She frowned, and just then, magically, the baby boy gave that little grizzling cry.

Still with the dog tucked under her arm, she followed me under the tree. She saw the bag. She looked in.

�Oh my God. Oh no, NO. A baby. Oh, you poor little MITE.�

I thought she would pick him up straight away, but instead, she tied the dog to a tree, and jumbled in her bag. She took out a mobile phone, tapped it and did a lot of talking.�I�m Linda Evans, and I�m on the common by the footbridge over the river, and I�ve found an abandoned baby. He looks new-born, and he�s been dumped in a carrier bag. He needs medical attention, and so does the mother, whoever she is.�

Next, Linda eased the baby out of the bag. He was so small, smaller than me, and I was a cat.

�Look what he�s wrapped in,� she exclaimed, pulling at a thin purple scarf with threads of silver in it. She cuddled the baby close and wrapped her coat around him. �You poor dear little soul. Who�s done this to you?� Tears ran down her cheeks, and the dog was whimpering. I went and sat beside it firmly, to calm it down, but its legs went on shivering.

Linda seemed to get into a panic as she watched the baby. She sat down on the grass with him on her lap.

�Don�t die on me, darling. Come on.� She rocked him and cuddled him, but he was still and floppy. Holding the phone again, she shouted, �Be quick. He�s not going to make it. Please. Please get here.�

She pulled out a scrap of torn paper from the folds of the scarf, and looked at it. Four words were scrawled on it in bright pink letters.

�HIS NAME IS ROCKY,� Linda said, showing me the words on the paper as if I could read. She pursed her lips. �That�s all,� she said. �That�s all his mum left with him. Evil woman, whoever she is. Just give me five minutes with her. Doing that to a dear little defenceless baby.�

I ran back to her and added my purring and my love, and she didn�t push me away. A siren was screaming up the road on the other side of the river, a blue light flashing. I climbed up into the elderberry tree, to watch what happened. Oh, those humans were awesome. They pounded across the bridge, dressed in orange, a man and a woman, leaving the ambulance with its light flashing, its doors open. They took the baby boy and rushed him inside the ambulance, where they messed about with tubes and bottles, working on this tiny being called Rocky, whose life I had saved.

From my perch in the tree, I could see that his aura suddenly brightened, and he cried then, properly. The paramedic turned and gave a thumbs up, and Linda scooped up her dog and burst into tears.

�Will you stay there, please? The police are on their way.�

The doors of the ambulance were closed and it raced off. I watched it go, remembering the baby�s bright blue eyes, remembering his soul energy.

I hung around, making friends with Linda as she waited there, crying, a screwed-up tissue in her hand. She seemed glad to have me with her. I worked my way up to her broad shoulder and draped myself over it.

�You are a loving cat,� she said, and looked into my eyes as I peeped round at her. She was a motherly person, like Harriet, I thought. Yes, Linda was a Labrador kind of human. We had a bond now. We�d both helped to save the life of an abandoned baby.

When the police arrived, I stayed on Linda�s shoulder while they talked, and they were interested in me.

�So what�s the cat doing here?� the policeman asked. �Is it your cat?�

�No � but it led me to the baby. Just like a dog would have done.�

Me! Like a dog? I was miffed at that.

�Perhaps the cat belongs to the mother. Has it got a collar?�

�No.� Linda burrowed her fingers in my ruff. �It�s a well-cared-for cat, that�s obvious.�

�Have you ever seen it before?�

�No. Never. But I don�t think it�s a stray, and it�s not feral.�

�If it�s microchipped, it might lead us to the mother. Let me hold it.� The policeman held out his arms and lifted me gently off Linda�s neck. I�d never had a cuddle with a policeman before so I touched noses with him and made a fuss, purring and rubbing and kissing his neck, and he wasenjoying it, I could tell. He was feeling my back to see if I�d got a microchip, whatever that was.

�I think I can feel one. We should definitely hang on to this cat and get it scanned.�

He was holding me too tightly now. I knew what he was planning to do. I could feel the intention buzzing through his fingers. He was going to put me in one of those baskets. I had to act fast.

Without giving him any warning, I went from being a loving softie to a fighting tiger. I kicked hard with my back legs, thrashed my body around, and managed to reverse out of his grasp, a long thread of police uniform caught in my claw. I hit the ground, bounded, and fled, my tail kinked cheekily.

�Follow it, will you!�

The other policeman thundered after me across the common. I was fast, and smart. His boots crashed through the bushes but I soon evaded him, diving into some nettles, up a fence and into a garden, over a garage roof and into the street. Through the front gardens again, I ran stretched out like a fox with my tail streaming. A few dogs barked at me, and blackbirds flew up from lawns as I escaped into the town.

Satisfied, I sat on a busy corner, watching the traffic and the children going to school, and wondering where my home was. I didn�t know. None of the roads looked familiar. I couldn�t locate any of the scent marks I had left as I followed TammyLee.

Being lost didn�t faze me. There were so many nice people around, and the town looked interesting with its bright windows and lovely smells of bacon and toast. Intrigued, I trotted down the busy road, pausing to sharpen my claws on the magnificent lime trees.

I crossed the road with a bunch of children and a bleeping noise, and the cars magically stopped in a neat line. For me? I heard laughing, and people saying,�Look at that cat.� But when I sat down to wash my face in the middle of the crossing, the bleeping stopped, someone screamed, and a young man bounded into the road, picked me up and carried me the rest of the way.

�Stupid cat!� he said, and I flicked my tail in annoyance, and the traffic made a terrible noise, blowing horns and swearing.

�Keep that bloody cat off the road.�

�It�s not my cat,� yelled the young man.

I jumped up onto a massive flower pot full of pansies, and sat there to wash my face. It had to be done. But humans don�t understand what it�s like to have fur and the need to keep on washing it. And why not sit somewhere pleasant like in the middle of a pot of yellow and purple pansies? They were scented and had wistful faces like kittens. I must have looked beautiful there in the morning sun.

�Get off, cat!� A woman who looked like a bulldog gnashed her teeth at me. �You�re squashing the flowers.�

I stared at her. Obviously, she didn�t know I�d just saved a baby�s life.

�Aw, leave him,� said a kinder one.

�Him!� I thought, indignantly.

I settled down to wash in the lovely pansy pot.

Next, I followed some people into a shopping mall and had a mad half hour on the slippery floor. It was like a skating rink for cats. I twirled and skidded, figuring out how fast I had to run to slide a long way on my belly. After the night of guarding the tiny baby, it felt amazing to be having fun and making people laugh. I chased a paper cup down the mall, under benches and into doorways. I pretended it was a mouse and hid round a corner, then pounced on it, and skidded.

When I was tired, I strolled down to the pavement caf? and arranged myself on a chair, and the couple who were eating breakfast there gave me some crisp curls of bacon and corners of buttery toast. I padded round the tables with my tail up, and was given a saucer of warm milk, some bits of sausage and a kipper�s tail, before the staff noticed me.

�We don�t encourage cats,� said the waiter, hovering over me with an armful of plates. �Go on. Shoo!� He stamped his foot and hissed at me, and the plates slipped alarmingly.

My hunger satisfied, though, I walked on down the shopping mall. I went into a clothes shop and swung from a rail of T-shirts, pulling them onto the floor.

�OUT!� shouted the shop assistant, and she ran at me clapping her hands. �You�re wrecking the place, you shouldn�t be in here, you crazy cat.�

Miffed, I walked on with my tail waving elegantly, and into the shop next door, which was full of televisions. And there I had the shock of my life.

I was on television � well, on a whole shop full of televisions in different sizes. I sat down in front of a big one that made me look like an enormous fluffy tiger on Linda�s shoulder.

�The baby was discovered by this woman, Linda Evans, who was walking her dog.� Now the picture was of a reporter lady sitting on a red sofa.

Then I sat up even straighter. There was the tiny baby, Rocky, in the arms of a nurse. He�d got a little white hat on and a blanket wrapped round him, but I could see the mole on his cheek and the glint of astonishment in his turquoise eyes. It was definitely him. My baby. My Rocky.

I went up to the screen, to touch noses with him, patted it and jumped back, not liking the crackle of static through my fur. I couldn�t stop looking at Rocky and wherever I looked, he was there on every screen, and people were walking past the shop, ignoring him.

�We are hoping his mother will come forward,� the nurse was saying. �She may need medical help, and Rocky needs his mum. He�s a dear little chap.�

Then they showed me� again! � and the policeman who�d tried to hold me, and he was saying, �If anyone sees this cat or knows where it lives, please get in touch with us. There could be a connection.�

I knew who Rocky�s mother was. TammyLee. How could a cat give that information? But even if I�d been able to talk, I wouldn�t have told. It was a secret I shared only with TammyLee. We had been drawn to each other, I had felt her sadness, and she had called me �magic puss cat�. TammyLee and I were soulmates.

I had to find her. The time had come for me to grow up, stop playing, and work. I�d search to the ends of the earth for TammyLee.

But just as I was making this momentous decision, a man�s voice shouted, �THAT�S THE CAT!� An agile young man, who�d spotted me watching myself on TV bounded to the shop doors and slammed them shut.

And I was a prisoner. Again.

Chapter Four

A HOT CAR

I searched the shop for an escape route, but there wasn�t one.

�You stand there, Dave,� the manager called to his mate.

Both wore smart white shirts, like tuxedo cats, black trousers and shiny shoes. Obviously, they weren�t used to cats, it made me nervous, but my angel�s voice rang in my aura, keeping me calm and still. Self-control was something I needed to work on. It was hard. My instinct was buzzing like a bee, telling me to run wild in the shop and not be caught.

�Get it some milk from the back, Kyle,� said Dave. �Shut it in the kitchen and we�ll call the cops. Bit of free publicity, eh?�

There was no way out. A quick look around the walls and ceiling told me that. So I had to be pragmatic and trust these two young men, Dave and Kyle. I could see that Kyle had a fiery intelligence as he warily approached me, so I was polite, standing up and putting my tail up. A silent meow and eye contact had him transfixed in seconds. Gingerly, he picked me up, and airlifted me into the kitchen, kicking the door shut.

�Got him!� he shouted. �You can open the shop now, Dave.�

Why did everyone think I was male?

Kyle stood with his back to the kitchen door, brushing my fluff from his black trousers and watching me lapping the milk he had given me. I�d hardly got room for it after my street-caf? breakfast. I was fine until the police turned up with a cat cage. Then I panicked in the small kitchen and squeezed myself behind the fridge.

�Come on, darling. It�s all right. We�re only going to scan you and take you home. Come on, my lovely.�

I didn�t like it behind the fridge, so eventually, the policewoman�s honeyed tones coaxed me out and into the cage where she�d hidden some cat treats and, hey, a catnip mouse. She kept talking to me kindly.

Bad memories of being a tiny kitten in one of those cages haunted me, so I kept still and quiet as I was carried into a police car and driven away with the blue light flashing. I thought about the friends I had made. The couple who had fed me at the street caf?, the lady who�d let me sit in the pansy pot, the young man who�d risked his life to get me off the road. In my search for TammyLee, I planned to return to that shopping mall, and see my new friends. A cat who is alone and searching needs the support of friends.

It turned out that Ihad got a�microchip�, and the police took me home to Gretel, even though I didn�t want to go.

Since the Christmas tree disaster, Gretel had changed her mind and decided she did want to keep me. She still shut me in the shed, usually with the window open to give me access to the garden. I used those times of freedom to roam the streets looking for TammyLee. I sat on the wall and waited for her to walk past, but she never did. I followed groups of children to school and sat watching the playground, but TammyLee was never there, and no one spoke her name. She seemed to have vanished.

Living with Gretel wasn�t working. I tried to love her, but it wasn�t easy. She loved me only when I was good and boring, not when I ran up the curtains or swung from the birch tree in the garden, or caught the orange fish from the lily pond. But she did teach me stuff that turned out to be useful, like going in the car. Instead of shutting me in the shed, she took to putting me in the car and taking me with her. At first I was petrified. But I soon got used to it. The car was warm and comfortable, and Gretel had set it up with a wire grill to stop me going into the front while she was driving, a cosy catigloo where I could hide, and even some toys for me to play with. She talked to me a lot while we were going along, and sang me songs and played the radio. The trips were interesting. I learned to recognise places. Corners and buildings and parks. Even the shopping mall and the river bridge whereTammyLee had stood with baby Rocky. I glimpsed the elder tree where I�d spent the night guarding him, and I sensed the wild country beyond the town, which I longed to explore.

So I became a car cat. I quite enjoyed it. Until one terrible day that changed my life.

It was a summer day, many weeks after I�d found the abandoned baby. The weather was so hot that it hurt my paws to walk on the patio. I was rolling on my back on the lawn, enjoying the sun on my belly and dabbing at passing flies.

�Come on, Fuzzball.� Gretel appeared in a flimsy blue dress, twiddling her car keys. �We�ll go to the supermarket. At least they�ve got air conditioning in there.�

If I�d known what was going to happen, I�d never have let her pick me up, tuck me under her arm and put me in the car. It was hot in there, but she drove along with the window open. Lovely, except for the smell of a crowded town, the exhaust fumes, lawns being mown, the bakeries and the pubs. Faraway was the briny tang of the river and the heather-covered moorland beyond the town, a scent on the wind that stirred a deep ancestral longing in me. Being a domestic cat was OK, but I had a wild streak in me that wasn�t satisfied with fluffy cat beds and cat-nip mice.

There was a bad atmosphere in town. A sense of something simmering, about to erupt. People looked knocked out by the heat. Children were crying and dogs were being dragged along on leads on the hot pavements.

�I�ll bring you an ice cream,� said Gretel, turning into the supermarket car park. She found a parking space, shut the windows and got out. �I won�t be long, Fuzzball.�

I sighed and settled down for a snooze. Used to being left in the car, I curled up, wrapped my tail around myself and closed my eyes.

Within minutes I was too hot. It wasn�t like lying by the fire and having to move away from the heat. I was trapped in it, and suddenly I couldn�t breathe. Alarmed, I climbed up onto the back of the seats, but it was worse up there near the roof of the car. Outside, the car roofs shimmered in the heat, dazzling me. I wanted to shut my eyes, but I was frightened. I clawed at the window, hoping to open it and get some air. It was so hot I had to breathe with my mouth open like a dog.

I longed for water but Gretel hadn�t left me any. Desperately, I licked a few drops of condensation from the window glass, then worked my way round each of the windows, licking what moisture I could find, and all the time getting hotter and hotter.

There was no way of cooling myself down. I tore at my thick fur, trying to get some air on my skin, but nothing worked. I dug and scrabbled at the floor of the car, trying to find a hole or a crack I could make bigger with my teeth and claws. Soon my feet were burning, my claw sheaths sore, and my throat so dry. I was being dried up, cooked alive in that oven of a car.

Where was my angel? Where was she?

I listened. I kept still and called her name in my heart. The Angel of Secrets. Angel of Secrets. Angel � I was giddy now, and her voice came to me from far away. My body was collapsing and I just lay there panting. All I could hear was the alarming echo of my heartbeat, the rasp of my breath, and the distant whisper of her voice, repeating over and over again,�Don�t give up. Don�t give up. Meow and someone will come. Meow. You must meow.�

I fought to stay awake, but I was losing consciousness, sinking into a boiling black darkness. I did meow, and it was loud, and painful. Yet my body seemed to take over and meow by itself, draining my last dregs of energy, calling, calling for help.

As I finally lost consciousness, I saw a face looking through the glass at me, and it wasn�t Gretel.

I drifted through the dark, and reached the shoreline of the spirit world. A high fence of the brightest gold sent out beams of light spangled with pinpoints of intense colour. I sat before it and gazed through into the world I had loved so much, the spirit world where I was the Queen of Cats. Telepathically, I begged for the golden fence to open and let me through, let me go home, let me leave this body of pain lying in the hot car.

The voices I heard were muddled.

�Come back, Queen of Cats. You still have work to do.� That was my angel, and from beyond the golden fence I could hear purring. Loud, vibrational purring from the shining cats who had purred with me in the spirit world. They weren�t welcoming me, but sending me back, floating on a carpet of purring.

I drifted back to the sound of human voices around the car. Someone saying,�That poor cat in there!� and �We have to get it out. NOW!�

My world exploded with a bang. A storm of broken glass scattered over me, into my fur and all over the car. Dazed, I saw the emerald green of the broken pieces. The air rushed in, and a pair of long arms reached through the hole in the window. I felt my limp body being lifted out.

�I�ve got him.�

�He�s dead, isn�t he?�

�Not quite. And it�s a she cat. She�s beautiful.�

Someone ran with me to the shade of a big plane tree and laid me on a bench. I felt the slats of wood under me, and the deliciously cool canopy of the great tree. But I couldn�t move. My breathing was laboured, my eyes wouldn�t shut, and I was salivating.

�There�s no time to get her to a vet.�

�Water. Get some water from the shopping bag.�

I heard running feet again, then the rustle of plastic and the soft pop of a bottle being opened. I hate water, but they were pouring it over me! It trickled round my neck, into my fur, along my back, over my parched face. I licked the drops and felt the healing cool of it soaking my hot body.

�Frozen peas,� said the voice. �Bottom of the bag.�

More rustling, and something achingly cold and knobbly was put close to my back. My breathing eased a bit. I was coming alive again, coming back from my trip to the shorelines of the spirit world, reclaiming my beautiful silver tabby and white body.

�She�s still breathing.�

�Come on, darling � it�s all right.�

Didn�t I know that voice? I focused my eyes and saw the lovely policewoman who had coaxed me into the cat cage and taken me home that day. I was glad, and disappointed too. I�d hoped it might be TammyLee.

My eyes were burning and they wouldn�t shut. I tried to sit up, but my legs wouldn�t move. Yet I knew I wasn�t dying. I�d come back into my beautiful cat body, my long silver tabby fur, my white socks and pink paws, my lovely tail. But none of it would move. I could feel it twitching, but I�d somehow lost control. It was scary. How could I play and live my life? I didn�t want to be useless and immobile. I felt terribly afraid.

I wanted peace, and recovery time.

But it wasn�t peaceful.

A crowd had gathered, looking at me as I lay on the bench, still gasping for breath and twitching. A row was breaking out. I heard Gretel�s shriek of a voice and she was part of the row.

�My car,� she cried. �It�s been broken into.�

�Never mind your car,� a man was shouting at Gretel. �Is this your cat? Look at the state it�s in!�

I felt the old familiar shockwaves coming from Gretel as she saw me there on the bench, and I couldn�t get up. I couldn�t put my tail up and run to reassure her. She was under attack. People were shouting at her furiously.

�How could you leave a cat shut in a car in this heat?�

�Haven�t you got any more sense?�

�Don�t you CARE about your lovely cat?�

Gretel was crying and crying.�Is she going to die? I didn�t know. I didn�t mean to.�

No one was being kind to Gretel. The shouting got even louder.

�I�m reporting you to the RSPCA, and you�ll never keep an animal again. You CRUEL woman.�

�But is she dying?� Gretel kept asking. �I�ll take her to the vet�s.�

�You won�t. It�s too late for that. If we hadn�t been here, she�d be dead right now. Poor, poor cat. She�s suffered so much.� Now the other person was crying, and I lay there, shuddering in the middle of it.

�I�ll see that you pay for this. That cat will be taken away from you. You�ve no business keeping an animal.�

�It�s disgusting.�

�But I do love her. She�s called ��

Gretel didn�t get the chance to say Fuzzball, and I was grateful for that. The lovely policewoman with the blonde ponytail intervened.

�Please calm down,� she kept saying firmly. �The cat needs some quiet. Please!�

I felt Gretel slump down on the bench beside me, and she touched my wet fur gently.�I�m sorry. I�m so, so sorry,� she wept, and I wanted to tell her it was OK, I�d forgiven her, but I couldn�t even lift my head to look at her. I knew I�d never see her again, and I wanted to say thank you to her for giving me a home and a fluffy cat bed, and all that food. The toys and the quiet evenings on her lap by the fire. I wished those people would stop attacking her.

�Here�s the animal ambulance. Move back please,� said the lovely policewoman, and I heard people shuffling back as a vehicle drove up. After that it went quiet and I heard the soft pattering of the plane-tree leaves above me.

The voices became murmurs and I was picked up and carried, my tail and legs floppy, into a silent and beautifully cool van with a blissfully soft bed inside. A kind man with a bright light around him sat beside me and kept trying to put my head inside a weird-looking cup of clear plastic.

�Come on, sweetheart. Come on, breathe. It�s oxygen. Come on, try it. It�s good stuff.�

He didn�t hurt me, but held my head firmly, and I picked up on his thoughts. He wanted me to breathe a special kind of air that was inside the cup. I tried it, and it was cool and sweet. I couldn�t get enough of it. This clear, pure, mysterious air he called oxygen was filling my body with the fizz of new life.

I was alive, but I still couldn�t move. I took a last look at Gretel�s tear-stained face looking in at me as they closed the doors. I felt the van driving away, with me in it, lying there, a useless dysfunctional wreck of a cat.

What would become of me now?

Chapter Five

AN ANIMAL HEALER

I didn�t know what was going to happen next, but my life with Gretel was over. For long days and nights, I lay in the animal hospital on a white bed with a light in the roof, listening to the whimpering and wailing from other cats and dogs who were stretched out in recovery beds in that place.

The humans looked after me beautifully, and stroked me a lot, but their talk was gloomy.

�This cat is borderline,� I heard the man saying. �We don�t know what long-term effects the heat stroke will have. She could suffer from multiple organ failure and have to be put down. A pity. She�s only a young cat.�

Every day they stuck a sharp needle in me and, yes, they took some of my blood! I could see it in the syringe. Then they put something in through another needle, and I felt better afterwards. Clever stuff. But I knew what I needed, and it wasn�t available.

�What�s happening to me?� I asked my angel.

�It�s a window,� she replied.

�A window?�

�A time of waiting, a time of transition between two life times.�

�Am I going to die?�

�Not quite,� she said. �But you are like a cat sitting in the window, watching what is outside. You can�t move on to the new life we have planned for you until you help yourself to get better. You will need to be a strong healthy cat to cope with what is ahead.�

�Help myself!� I was surprised. I thought I could just lie there and let the humans work their mysterious magic with those needles and tubes.

�All the purring and the medicine can�t make you right again,� said my angel. �You need to HELP YOURSELF to find the healing you know you need.�

How could I FIND anything? I was lying flat in an animal hospital. Angels can be so unreasonable, I thought, and twitched my back and tail. My paws quivered in frustration. I stretched each of my front paws, splaying my toes and letting my claws curl out, then in again. Bits of me were working. It seemed a good time to wash, so I lifted each paw to my mouth and began licking and brushing my pink pads and the downy fur between my toes. It felt good.

�Oh, she�s washing!� exclaimed one of the nurses who was walking past. She stopped by my cage. �Good girl!� she said, like Gretel. Then the vet came and looked at me.

�I think we�ll let Roxanne look at her later. Has she eaten anything?�

�Little bits. She still doesn�t want to stand up.�

�But she�s washing. That�s a start.�

Later that day, the animal hospital went uncannily quiet. I wondered why. Then the main door opened and in came a girl in a blaze of light. Was she real? I stared, and found I could see a human in there, inside that blaze of light, just an ordinary lump of a girl with a long dark plait over one shoulder. I wanted her close to me, immediately. I couldn�t wait.

My angel had told me to help myself, so I managed an echoing meow and at once the girl came to me and looked in with the most beautiful eyes.

�We thought you should start with the dogs, Roxanne,� said a nurse.

�No.� said Roxanne. �This cat. She needs me now. She�s right on the edge. I�ll do her first.�

First. I was first! I meowed in welcome as Roxanne came right up to me, and the light from her aura flooded into my cage. She unlatched my door, and looked deeply into my eyes, like TammyLee had done.

�I�m Roxanne,� she whispered. �I�m an animal healer, darling.�

As soon as I heard her voice and felt her touch, I wanted to cry, and I sort of did by sighing and making little mewling sounds in my throat.

�Is it OK to take her out?� Roxanne asked the nurse, who hovered beside us, watching and learning.

�Sure. She�s not going anywhere. She�s just laid there for days.�

Roxanne picked me up and sat down with me flopped on her lap.

�What�s her name?� she asked.

�She hasn�t got one.�

Again, Roxanne looked deep into my eyes.�Then I shall give her one,� she said, �it will come through to me.� I tingled all over. This girl of the blazing light was going to give me a name, a new, beautiful name, something I had longed for. I went on sighing and mewling, and with every sigh a stream of energy seemed to leave my body, as though my fur had been full of heavy dust weighing me down for all of my young life, and now, under Roxanne�s healing touch, it was leaving.

I saw her hands, and they were full of colours as they moved over me. She went to my head first, and it felt like a soft cocoon of pure light was being woven around my skull, wrapping my face, my long whiskers, my ears, my nose.

�This cat is depressed,� Roxanne said to the nurse.

�Depressed!�

�Oh, yes, and deeply so. She�s been hurt and it�s never been healed. That�s what is stopping her getting better.�

She knew. She�d looked into my soul. The relief was huge, it left my body in waves as her hands shone colours into me, deep emerald greens, hot white and glowing pink.

�That�s it, darling. You let go of it all,� she whispered to me, and my emotional pain shuddered through me, and began to leave. I saw it all. The very first hurt of my mum cat not liking me, the terrible shock of Joe tipping us in the hedge like rubbish. Then Gretel. Calling me Fuzzball. Calling me a BAD CAT. Calling me a DEMON. Shutting me out in the freezing fog. Locking me in the shed. And then leaving me to die in a hot car.

Gretel hadn�t meant to hurt me. She didn�t understand. I�d forgiven her, every time, but the pain had burrowed into my mind and made me depressed. Now this wonderful animal healer, Roxanne, had chosen me � FIRST � and she knew what to do, what to whisper into my twitching ears. She wasn�t in a hurry. She spent ages healing me, sending colours into every part of my body.

�You take as much as you need, darling,� she kept saying. And I did. I soaked up the colour and the healing energy like a starving soul. Gretel had stroked me and played with me, but no one had loved me like this. I felt I�d come home. I felt lighter and lighter, as if I were a thistle seedthat could blow for miles in the sunshine.

Then I heard purring, and it was me. I was purring.

�And now � I�ll give you your name,� said Roxanne. I looked attentively into her shiny dark eyes and waited. �You�re very beautiful,� she said. �Your fur has the colours of a waterfall in the sunlight: silver and black with a tinge of gold and snowy white. And when you are well you will leap and dance and run fast like the mountain streams. So I�ll call you TALLULAH. It�s Native American for �Leaping water�.� She whispered this to me so softly, the words were like gossamer, precious and strong. I wasn�t even sure whether I was hearing them or whether she was sending them by telepathy.

�TALLULAH.�

I was thrilled. I had a name. A beautiful name that was full of music, a name that honoured my beauty and made me feel good.

A buzz of happiness started inside me, and I rolled over and managed to sit up and purr my gratitude to Roxanne. I was determined to touch noses with her, and I stretched up, wobbling a bit on my legs, and kissed her glowing face.

I was healed.

I was a new cat.

I had become Tallulah.

Chapter Six

BEING TALLULAH

On the day I left the animal hospital, I saw the mountains for the first time. They were peacock blue against the sky beyond the town and I wondered why I�d never noticed them before. I studied them as we travelled along, through familiar streets, past the common and the elderberry tree where I had found Rocky. Dark berries hung from it now. It was late summer, still hot, but the car I was travelling in was airy and quiet.

Being Tallulah made me feel proud and excited. Not knowing where I was going didn�t bother me. I couldn�t wait to arrive and start my search for TammyLee.

The car followed the river out of town, past its foamy places and waterfalls as it flowed down from the hills. I longed to get out and sit watching them, seeing the colours of my fur as Roxanne had described them. Silver, black, tinges of gold and snowy white. I longed to climb trees, and explore, chase leaves through the woods, hide in the long grass, and stalk mice in the moonlight. I was a free spirit now. I was Tallulah.

�You must be patient for a while longer, Tallulah,� said my angel as we turned into a farm gateway and down a track to a cottage. Immediately, I could hear the cats. There were other cats there, and all of them meowing. I hoped they would like me.

But when the car stopped, I was again carried out in the cat basket. There was a lovely house, but we didn�t go inside. Instead, we went round to a yard at the back, and along the wall was a line of wire enclosures, each with a cat inside. Cages. Prisons. What a let-down! I was put inside one, and it had double doors so that I couldn�t escape when someone came in.

�Hello, my luvvy.�

A warm friendly woman welcomed me, and she smelled of cats. Her eyes sparkled at me. I meowed back.

�I�m Penny,� she told me, and I�m the cat lady, that�s what everyone calls me. I�m not adopting you, luvvy, but fostering you, and you can live in this lovely Cat Protection pen until we find a super home for you.�

She came into the pen with me, and opened the door of my travelling basket. I stepped out politely, with my tail up and my whiskers shining in the morning sun.

�Tallulah,� said Penny thoughtfully. �That�s a nice name, and aren�t you just BEAUTIFUL! We�ll have no trouble finding you a nice home. You won�t be here for long.�

She stayed in the pen with me, sitting on a chair while I explored my new home. It had some great perches I could climb up to and sit on. It had a little house with a window and a warm bed inside. There was a huge litter tray, and a post with rope wound round it and I spent some time smelling it. Judging by the claw marks, dozens of cats had used it as a claw-sharpener. In a box on the floor were some toys: a ball with a bell inside, a brand-new cat-nip mouse, a teddy bear and some other bits and pieces. I looked at them, but didn�t yet feel like playing. When I�d inspected every inch of the pen and found no way out, I jumped onto Penny�s lap and she stayed there for me, smoothing my long fur while I purred myself to sleep.

Eventually, she got up and tenderly put me on the chair.

�I�ll be back to see you, my luvvy. We�ll have lots of cuddles,� she said, but I jumped down and followed her to the gate, meowing as she gently pushed me back and closed it tightly.

Horrified, I ran round and round the pen, calling and meowing. Surely, I wasn�t a prisoner! I was Tallulah. I had a right to enjoy the world, to charge across lawns with my tail streaming, to scale trees and hang from branches, to dive under bushes and pounce on people�s feet. These humans who looked after me so well had taken from me what I most treasured � my freedom!

And how would I ever find TammyLee?

I sat by the gate, my nose to the crack where it would open, and then I waited, planning the speed of my escape, how fast I would dart out when it was opened. I looked out at the garden beyond, and the road winding away beside the river, and planned my escape route. I�d follow the river back into town, back to the bridge where TammyLee had left Rocky. She�d go back there, eventually, I was sure.

When Penny came back with a dish of food for me, I did slip past her ankles and out of the gate, only to find she had cleverly shut the first gate and I was still trapped. Distraught, I gazed up at Penny with my golden eyes and meowed piteously.

�Aw, you poor darling.� She picked me up but I wriggled out of her arms and ran to the gate. Penny came after me, stroking and talking to me in a lovely voice, letting me smell the delicious meat she had brought me. But I didn�t want anything except my freedom. The need for it burned insideme, and I tried to convey it to Penny. She understood me, but she didn�t do what I wanted. She didn�t let me out.

Night came, and I was still distraught. I ran round and round. I climbed the high wire fence in every place, searching, hoping for a hole to escape through. But it was rigid. I meowed and zigzagged around until my paws were sore and so was my throat. By dawn, I was exhausted and crept into the warm bed, curled up and slept until mid-morning.

As soon as I heard Penny�s voice, I tumbled out, in such a hurry to get to her and beg her to let me go. Please, please let me go.

Penny was in the next-door pen, cuddling and fussing a rather portly black tomcat who had watched me through the wire with a disapproving stare. He looked contented, and so did the ginger tomcat on the other side who was tucking into a juicy looking breakfast. I sniffed at my uneaten supper, which had gone dry and had flies buzzing round it. I ate a little bit, then jumped up to the higher perch to feel the sun on my fur and see the mountains.

It seemed a good time to wash.

Washing is a sort of ritual that stabilises cats. For me, it had become a time to think. I wanted Penny to explain to me why I was shut in, and for how long. So I sent her the thought, and when she did come into my pen, she sat down with me again. I stretched myself over her heart and reached up to pat her face with a long paw. I knew she loved cats, so why did she shut me in?

She looked at me thoughtfully, and I sent my question again with all the power of my golden eyes and another pat from my newly washed paw.

�I know,� she said. �It�s not much fun being shut in, is it, Tallulah?�

I encouraged her with a purr-meow and a kiss on the nose.

�You�re a very beautiful and intelligent cat,� she said, talking to my soul. �And someone will come and choose you � a good person who knows how to take care of a cat. We make sure of that. We don�t let cats go to bad homes.� Her hands were stroking my neck and rubbing behind my ears and under my chin. �It might be today,� she said. �Or it might be tomorrow. Or it might be a long time, many dark nights. These two have been here for months, haven�t you, my luvvies?� She pointed at the black cat and the ginger one, who were both washing and listening. �But you�ve got to choose too, Tallulah. Don�t go with someone you don�t like.�

I stared at her, getting the firm tone, and the pictures she was sending me from her mind. Nice people coming to choose a cat. And I remembered. Gretel had chosen me. I�d been too small to resist. But this time it would be different, I was determined. Even if the people were nice, I wouldn�t go with them if it felt wrong.

�I�ll put you in the paper this week,� said Penny, and she took a photo of me with a silver camera, and showed it to me on a screen. I looked like the teeniest fairy of a cat in there, but I purred and touched noses with the image, and Penny laughed so loudly that the wire fences rattled and shook.

After that conversation, I settled down and accepted that I wouldn�t be in the pen for long. I made the best use of the space, playing a lot and climbing and keeping my claws sharp. Two people came to see me the very next day, and I remembered Penny�s advice. It was a hard thing for me to do but I turned my back on them and went all huffy, climbing up to the top perch and sitting there, washing. It worked.

�She�s such a pretty cat, but I don�t think she wants to go with us,� the lady said to Penny. I watched the ginger cat next to me, who was meowing loudly and scrabbling at the bars, looking up at the two people adoringly.

�He�s too old, really.�

�And he�s a tomcat.�

�But he loves you,� said Penny. �Look at him, poor luvvy, he�s been in that pen all summer. And he�s got oodles of love to give.�

The ginger cat eventually got what he wanted. He made a fuss of the two people, and ran into the cat basket with his tail up. As they carried him away, he was kissing the bars and purring, and his eyes danced at me joyfully. I felt so lonely.

It got harder and harder as the days rolled by, and other cats came and went in the pens next to me. It got harder every time I saw one being taken home with�nice people�. I wanted my freedom. I didn�t want to get depressed again. No, I had come to this planet for a reason. I�d used up one of my nine lives and wasted my time with Gretel.

I seriously considered going with someone who wanted me, and then escaping, following the river back to TammyLee. My angel said no.

�Wait,� she kept telling me.

Penny told me she�d put my picture in the paper for a second time, and then something totally unexpected happened.

People didn�t normally come in the mornings, so I was dozing in the sun, stretched out in the chair. I was used to hearing Penny�s voice as she bustled around the cat pens, and I was so sleepy and comfortable that I didn�t bother to open my eyes when I heard the click of the farm gate being opened.

Penny was patiently explaining something to someone who didn�t want to listen.

�But I saw her in the paper. I know it�s the right cat.�

�I understand that, my luvvy,� Penny was saying. �But I can�t allow you to take her today.�

�But why not? It�s a perfectly good home for a cat. We�ve got a big garden. I�ve looked after lots of cats.�

�This is the Cat Protection League,� insisted Penny. �And we don�t home any of our cats until we�ve inspected the home they�re going to.�

�You sound like you don�t trust me.�

�Well, I don�t know you, do I? I�m only doing my job, dear.�

�I thought you wanted a home for this cat.�

�Of course we do.�

�So I�m not good enough. Is that it?�

�I�m sure you are, dear. I just need to make sure � for the cat�s sake.�

�I mean, what d�you think I�m gonna DO to her, for goodness� sake?�

�I�m sure you�ll be fine, dear � but please.�

�Oh, yeah, yeah, I know.� The voice was getting higher and higher, even though Penny was keeping calm. There was something in the girl�s voice that struck a chord in my memory. I�d been running along the top of a wall on a moonlit night. So much had happened to me since that night. It washard to remember.

The footsteps and voices were coming nearer, walking down the side of the house. Soon, they would be round the corner and coming to the cat pens.

�Well, surely, I can at least LOOK at the cat,� came the girl�s voice, and with it came a distinctive jingling sound that jogged my memory further. Bangles. An arm with gold and silver bangles on it.

By now, I was wide awake and sitting up in the chair. Penny knew I usually turned my back on people, not because I was rude, but because they weren�t the right people for me. But this girl who was arguing so loudly with Penny � could it be � could it be HER?

I tensed expectantly as they came round the corner together. When I saw the girl�s aura of bright turquoise and lemon, I knew.

It was HER! My TammyLee!

I sailed down from the chair and ran across the pen with my tail flying like a plume. I flung myself at the fence and scrabbled with my paws, and meowed so loudly that it echoed off the stone walls of the farm. I wasn�t going to make a mistake this time. My TammyLee had come for me. She�d found me. She wanted me.

I weaved from side to side as I waited for them to open the gates and come in.

�Well, well, well!� said Penny, and she reached down to pick me up, but I twisted away from her and stared up at TammyLee with my golden eyes.

She gasped, and held out her arms. I leaped straight up and she caught me, her bangles jingling and tinkling. She looked into my soul with eyes that were green as clover leaves. And then she whispered to me:

�Magic puss cat.�

I purred and purred, and kissed her beautiful face. I patted the gold bead in the side of her nose. I searched those green, green eyes, past the brightness, and saw that the deep pain of losing Rocky was still there. It would be there for ever. But I was here now, and I was going to love her.

�Well � I�m speechless,� said Penny.

TammyLee gazed and gazed at me, and a smudgy-looking tear rolled down her face. I licked it from her cheek, which was like a pale piece of velvet.

�It is you,� she whispered to me. �I knew when I saw your photo in the paper. I knew it was you. Magic puss cat.�

I snuggled down in her arms and stretched my chin over her neck so that she could feel my purr vibrating through her. I wrapped my paw round the other side of her neck, hugging her like a human. She started smiling, and two dimples appeared in her cheeks.

�I�m speechless. Speechless,� said Penny again.

�Thank God for that,� said TammyLee wickedly, and the two women smiled at each other.

�Her name is Tallulah,� said Penny.

�Tallulah! That�s lovely. It�s like a song. Tallulah. I�ll sing it to you one day, magic puss cat.�

I cuddled deeper into TammyLee�s neck and throat, feeling as if I�d come home. I looked at Penny, and sent her a strong message. She got it.

�Well, it looks as if Tallulah knows you. She�s certainly loving you,� said Penny.

�We do know each other. She used to run along the wall with me, in the moonlight, when �� The sadness in TammyLee�s eyes rose to the surface, the deep ache of the mother love, like my mother�s last look at me when we were ripped away from her. A forever pain.

�Please, please don�t let anyone else have her,� pleaded TammyLee, suddenly vulnerable now, not arguing, not being bolshy, just appealing to Penny. �Only I was going to take her home today.�

TammyLee sent me a picture of a lovely home with a fire, and a wide back door that opened into a sunny room made of glass. Beyond the glass was a back garden with a weeping willow and a view of the mountains. It was perfect. But Penny was looking serious and shaking her head.

�I�m sorry, my luvvy, but I can�t let you take her.�

There was a silence. I clung tighter and purred harder round TammyLee�s neck. I watched her aura turning to cracked glass, the way it had been that night. Grief and anxiety manifesting as anger. The anger flared through her like a bonfire, and I saw her looking at the gate. I saw she was thinking of making a run for it, with me in her arms.

�I know how much you want her,� said Penny kindly. �You can wait a couple of days, can�t you? Isn�t Tallulah worth waiting for?�

I patted TammyLee�s face and made her smile again as she fought against the anger.

�I can come tomorrow and look at your home,� Penny offered. �And if it�s OK, then I�ll bring Tallulah to you in my car. She�ll be safe, and I�d like to see her settled in. And I�m sure you�d like to know more about her, wouldn�t you? She had a very nasty experience before she came here and you need to know about that, and know what to do if she shows any symptoms.�

A rush of sympathy changed TammyLee�s defensive stance into softness and vulnerability. I sighed with relief as she said, �OK then, if that�s what it takes. So � can I really, really have her?�

�I hope so, my luvvy,� said Penny warmly. �I do hope so.�

TammyLee put me down reluctantly and I wove myself around her legs as she and Penny went out through the two gates.

�Bye for now, Tallulah.� TammyLee looked down into my face. �Don�t look so anxious. I�ll see you soon, magic puss cat.�

I bounded up to the highest perch and saw her walking away down the farm track, getting smaller and smaller. She turned once to blow me a kiss and her bangles flashed in the sun. I watched her get on the bus that came grinding up the hill every day, and I followed it with my eyes so that I would know which direction to take to find her, if I had to. The bus turned right, away from the mountains, and headed along the road beside the river, the road that led into the town where I had lived with Gretel.

I ran round and round the pen, meowing, searching for an escape route. And again, I was distraught. TammyLee had come to find me, and Penny wouldn�t let her take me!

Learning to wait, learning to trust, was a hard lesson for me. The pen seemed to be getting smaller, and my panic was like a whirlwind, engulfing me. When it reached an unbearable intensity, I noticed the black tomcat sitting close to his fence, watching me in concern. He meowed and reached out a paw to me. We touched noses through the fence, and it was the first time I�d communicated with him. I�d dismissed him as a boring, fat, switched-off cat.

I sat still for a moment, to see if he would communicate, and he did, telepathically. First, he leaned his solid black body against the fence, so that I could feel his warmth, and encouraged me with little purr-meows in his throat. We pressed against each other through the wire, and I sensed the words he was sending me.

�Be still,� he was telling me. �Be still and listen.� Hearing and listening are different things for a cat.

Hearing is physical� hearing the wind in the trees, the traffic, the footsteps, the creak of doors. Listening is going inside a balloon of silence, sitting perfectly still and waiting.

The black cat joined me in this, and I felt his serenity and his wisdom. Why hadn�t I done this before? All I�d done in that pen was sleep, play and panic, sleep, play and panic. In the black cat�s benevolent presence, I was aware of him staring at my aura. What was he looking at?

Colours. He was showing me colours that flickered through my aura like those of a dragonfly in the sun. He was staring at a light in the air above and around me. He was showing me my angel!

�Wow,� I thought. �It�s been so long.� It seemed a lifetime ago when I was �Fuzzball�, that I�d talked with my angel. Well, I didn�t talk; I listened, soaking up her words like the soothing heat of the sun.

�Tallulah,� she said, and it sounded like a song. �Tallulah! All is well. You will go to TammyLee on the right day, when the sun is a deep gold. But first, you must wait, and trust. We have set this up for you so that you can begin your true work as Tallulah � a strong, wise and loving cat. The work will take many years, for TammyLee is a beautiful soul caught in a difficult life. She and her family will need you.�

�I wish I had a friend,� I said, �like this black cat, or like the dog, Harriet, who rescued me when I was tiny. I�ve never had a friend, only a human. I�ve been lonely.�

�You will have a friend: Amber. Wait and see. Amber is waiting for you, and she is lonely too.�

�Who is she?� I asked, but my angel wouldn�t tell me. She wanted to say something else.

�I�ve tried so often to talk to you, Tallulah,� she said. �And you�ve always been too busy. Your life will spiral out of control if you don�t practice stillness regularly.�

I agreed that I would and, as the colours of my angel muted into the night, I slept, right there against the wire, with the black cat still pressed against me on his side of the fence.

The sun was golden as Penny drove me past the fields of sheep, along the babbling river towards the town. I sat up smartly in the cat cage, noticing everything, my whiskers quivering with excitement.

�Here we are, Tallulah � your new home.� Penny swung the car away from the big roundabout, down a leafy lane and into a driveway. As soon as the tyres crunched over the gravel, I heard a dog barking deep inside the house. And I could hear another sound � the burble of water rushing over stones. The river was very close.

TammyLee came running across the lawn. I meowed as she reached the car, breathless, and full to the brim of love for me. I kissed her bangled arm through the wire mesh.�Don�t let her out yet,� warned Penny as she took my cage out of the car. The air smelled of sweet apples, and sheep and the briny river. After my time in the pen, I so needed to be on the grass and in the trees.

�I�ll bring her in.� Penny seemed reluctant to let go of me. �I want to see her reaction to Amber. And there�s some papers to sign.�

She carried me into this awesome house, which smelled of roast chicken and oranges, and, yes, it smelled of damp dog as well. The barking started again, a man�s voice yelled, �QUIET,� and it stopped.

�Here she is,� said TammyLee. �This is Tallulah. Isn�t she a darling?�

A man and a woman were looking into the cage at me, and I immediately observed that the woman was ill. Her aura was bright but fragile, and she sat in a wheelchair.

�This is Mum,� said TammyLee, and I did my best to smile there in the cage, giving a little purr-meow and dancing my eyes at the poor sick woman with the sweet face. �Her name is Diana.�

Penny unfastened the cage door. I paused, fluffed my fur, and swanned out, looking round at everyone with my golden eyes full of joy. My family!

�And this is Dad.� TammyLee showed me the man, and he looked at me kindly under bushy eyebrows. He was obviously important, and powerful, his aura had an orange glow. I rubbed myself around his legs and felt him touch the tip of my fluffy tail.

�Hello, Tallulah,� he said, �I�m Max,� and immediately I sensed he was holding something back, some secret he was bursting to tell me.

�Shall we do it?� he asked eagerly. �Shall we introduce them?�

�No time like the present,� said Diana in a thin squeak of a voice.

�Best get it over with,� said Penny.

Max got up and opened a glass door into the conservatory.�Now you be a good girl, Amber. Don�t you dare even THINK about barking.�

I stared in utter joy. A dog! My own dog! And what a beauty. Amber was golden, silky and magnificent. She stood in the doorway with the light shining through the silver plume of her wagging tail. Her eyes were anxious and she went stiff when she saw me there with my tail up. I ran straight to her and kissed her on the nose.

�Oh, my goodness!� cried Penny.

Amber looked down at me like a goddess. Then she lay on her belly and sniffed at me, and whimpered.

�It�s all right, Amber,� said TammyLee. �Tallulah wants to be friends with you.�

Amber turned her head away from my kisses. She shivered all over and started creeping along the floor towards TammyLee.

�You great big coward.� Max laughed at Amber, loudly, and the dog looked hurt.

�Don�t laugh at her. Poor Amber,� said TammyLee, �she�s frightened of doing something wrong.�

I was impressed with her intuition. Amber seemed terribly uncomfortable with me rubbing against her throat and kissing her. She lifted a paw and put it on my back, and when I twisted out from under it, she jumped back as if she expected me to scratch her.

�They�ll be fine,� said Penny. �Tallulah�s so laid-back.�

But I was disappointed. I�d fallen instantly in love with Amber and I felt rebuffed. I jumped up into TammyLee�s arms for a cuddle, and she carried me slowly round the room, whispering to me, telling me what everything was. She carried me into the conservatory and showed me the garden, and Amber�s bed. Amber followed us, her tail down, her eyes worried. She got on to her beanbag bed and stamped it round and around with a loud crunching noise, then slumped down on it and lay staring at the floor.

I needed time alone with Amber, and it didn�t happen until early the next morning. I�d slept in three places: first, in the cat bed, ten minutes, then I tried all the chairs and found a little old one with a saggy seat, which was perfect. Two hours later, I got up, stretched, and explored every corner of the downstairs, up over the bookshelves first. I even took out a book with my paw and opened it, thought about shredding it, but there was too much else to inspect: over the mantelpiece, up the thick curtains and along the shelf at the top, where I found a spider to play with; under the massive sofa, where I practised being a flat cat. A lot of stuff was under there: slippers, a soggy tennis ball, a revolting old bone, a plastic rabbit, a tweed cap that smelled like a car. Obviously, these were Amber�s treasures, and she was too big to get them out. Respectfully, I reversed out and went to the closed door of the conservatory, to look at Amber through the glass. Curled up in a ball on her bed, she was having a nightmare. Her paws were twitching and she was making squeaky little woofs in her throat.

I felt lonely and wanted to be with her, but she didn�t like me. Upset and alone in the strange house, I crept through the hall and sniffed the night through a crack in the front door. I yearned to go out and taste the summer night, lie on the cool soft grass and watch the stars above me. My entire life had been doors and cages. I looked at the stairs, wanting to communicate with TammyLee. She had to understand my need for freedom.

So I ended up slinking upstairs and into her bedroom. It smelled like flowers, and there were piles of glittery clothes and beads and hard shoes everywhere. A line of teddy bears patrolled the shelf above the bed, and I�d never really seen teddy bears before. They weren�t asleep, and their glass eyes spooked me so much that I wailed in fright.

�Come on, darling, magic puss cat.� TammyLee was awake instantly and patting the bed quilt. I�d never been allowed on Gretel�s bed, so I hesitated.

�Come on, Tallulah. It�s OK. You�ve got me now.� She reached down and scooped me into the softest pillowy place I�d ever experienced. It smelled of pansies, and felt softer than the deepest grasses. I sank my paws into it, dough punching and purring, and went to sleep, a happy cat, withTammyLee�s hand on my fur.

TammyLee was fast asleep when I heard the dawn outside. Pigeons were cooing and jackdaws chack-chacking. I jumped onto the windowsill and sat in the pink sunlight, watching the swallows, tiny and fast, zooming in wide arcs through the sky, and their high pitched voices sounded free and joyful. I wanted to be out there, prowling on the lawns, exploring, climbing the fence and inspecting the garden next door. I wanted to feel the earth under my paws, and taste the grass, and hear the bees waking up as the sun rose.

The smell of toast and bacon wafted up the stairs, so I padded down with my tail up and found TammyLee�s dad at the table in the kitchen with Amber leaning against his legs. She turned when she saw me, but only her ears moved, and the very tip of her tail wagged. I longed to pounce on it and play, but it was too early to take liberties like that.

�Hello, Tallulah.� Max didn�t move but kept his arm protectively around Amber, and his coffee mug in the other hand. I rubbed myself adoringly on Amber�s creamy gold chest and she stuck her nose high in the air to avoid me.

�I must get off to work now.� Dad got up and took his plate to the sink, giving Amber a scrap of bacon rind, which she snapped and swallowed. Then he gave me some milk and wagged his finger at Amber. �Don�t you TOUCH it. That�s the cat�s breakfast. Leave it.�

I lapped it up quickly, while Amber sat watching me. Max headed for the door, a black case in his hand.�No, Tallulah,� he said. �You�re not allowed out yet. You get to know Amber.� And his soap-scented hand pushed me back gently as I tried to go out.

Was I still a prisoner?

Miffed, I sat washing, and Amber must have sensed my sadness, for she crept towards me and touched me with a big soft paw. I deliberately continued washing. I could manage perfectly well without a dog who didn�t like me, thank you.

Amber listened to the sound of Max�s car rolling over the gravel, then leaving with a smart zippy sort of roar. The house was quiet, and I was alone with my beautiful goddess of a dog, and she didn�t like me.

Once the car had gone, Amber relaxed. She started sending me messages, in the way that animals do, by telepathy. It�s so much easier than trying to actually speak like humans do, and it changes so smoothly from images to words and back again.

The first message Amber sent me was that she loved Max, but he dominated her too much. She was a more confident dog when he wasn�t there telling her what to do. She did want to be friends with me, but she�d never had a cat friend before, and she was nervous.

She gave me an experimental lick on the top of my head, and I stopped being huffy and let her lick my back the way Harriet had done. When I�d had enough, I gave her a pat on the nose, being careful to keep my claws retracted. She lay down on her side, and let me cuddle up to her and she wanted me to purr right next to her ear. She lay there, thumping her tail, and I even dared to play with it.

Suddenly, Amber sat up and listened attentively, her nose twitching. It made my hackles rise and my tail bush out in the spooky silence, not knowing why she was listening. Something was going to happen. I heard a bleeping noise from upstairs. Then I was almost knocked over as Amber took off in a whirl of wispy fur. She skidded through the hall and thundered up the stairs, her tail wagging furiously. I heard a squeal from TammyLee�s room, and Amber reappeared with her aura on fire, her ears flying and her mouth smiling. She charged down the stairs, grabbed a shoe from the mat, and did a wild circle with her back all bunched up. I leaped out of the way onto the back of the sofa with my bottlebrush tail kinked in the air.

I watched in disbelief as Amber lolloped upstairs again. I peered up there and saw her skid round the doorway into TammyLee�s room. I heard the clonk as she dropped the shoe and loud laughter from TammyLee. The laughing seemed to add fire and speed to Amber�s performance. She lolloped down again, did another mad circle, pausing to snatch the other shoe, before belting upstairs again like an earthquake. By the time she had done it about six times, my fur had gone flat again, and I understood this was a game she played. Every morning, she told me as she flashed past, every morning she heard TammyLee�s alarm clock and galloped up the stairs. It started the day with peals of laughter, even the china in the kitchen was ringing with it.

It filled me with joy. Before long, I knew, I would join in the game, if I could keep out of the way of those flying paws. I�d hide under the stairs and leap out at Amber�s tail as she soared past. Ah, I was going to have fun in this house!

I wondered if there would be a postman.

I waited until Amber ran downstairs for the final time, puffing and snorting, and too hot. She flopped down on the cold tiles in the kitchen, and I arranged my fur, put my tail up and walked upstairs nicely, to say good morning to TammyLee.

She was sitting in front of a mirror, fixing her hair, dragging some of it back and some of it forward, then pulling out curly strands to hang round her face.

�Tallulah!� she breathed, and picked me up as if I was the most precious treasure. She put down the comb and the funny-looking strand of pink hair that she�d been trying to add to the hairstyle.

I sat on her lap and stared into her eyes, and what I saw there told me it was time for serious stuff. It wasn�t the time to purr, or to play. It was time to listen.

TammyLee said some nice things to me first, the sort of blanket comments people offer to cats, like,�Aren�t you beautiful?� and �You�re SUCH a lovely cat.� Then it moved on to, �I can�t believe I found you again. I knew it was you, and I saw you on TV.�

I maintained my searching stare, and her voice dropped to a whisper.�I don�t deserve you. I�m a bad girl. And you know, don�t you, Tallulah? You were there when I � did what I did.�

I responded with a mini purr-meow, and sat still, watching and waiting.

�You know what I did � that terrible night.� TammyLee was stroking me with her hands, one each side of me, her slim fingers buried in my fur. �And you went back, didn�t you? You saw my baby � my Rocky. I think about him all the time.�

I licked the tears from her cheeks, but more and more came and she moved her hands to press hard against her temples. I watched the deep, dark pain rise to the surface, and sink back again into the green depths of her eyes.

�I knew I was pregnant, and I didn�t dare tell Dad � he�d have killed me � and I had mum to look after, and my school stuff. I kept hoping I�d miscarry, and I hid my bump under loose clothes, �cause I�m fat anyway. I told people I was bingeing on cream cakes and stuff. Oh, you�re a gorgeous cat, Tallulah �� she paused to give me an extra cuddle, and gazed into my attentive eyes. �Even when he started moving, I kind of convinced myself it wasn�t true � I was in TOTAL denial, and so, so scared. I went into labour on the way to school and I was terrified, Tallulah � I ran away and sat in the churchyard. I thought about topping myself. I stayed there all day, until it got bad � really bad. I went in the toilets and he was born so quickly,� her voice dropped to a whisper � �and the placenta came out too � it was terrible. Thank God no one wasin there, �cause I was screaming and so was he. I thought I was gonna die. Then I cut the cord with nail scissors � it took ages � and all I had to wrap him in was a scarf � and he � he looked at me, and I can�t get his little face out of my mind. I panicked then, didn�t thinkabout anything except how I could get rid of him. I�m so wicked, Tallulah. I�m evil. I�ll never forgive myself � and I can�t tell anyone, only you.�

I listened and listened, and for the first time in my life, I felt needed. I was aware of an angel who was holding TammyLee in her shining arms.

�I was fourteen,� she whispered. �I was desperate � and I�m still desperate, Tallulah � I�m a prisoner, you see. Like you were, in that pen. I�m a prisoner.�

She rocked herself to and fro, her aura flooded with the memories. I tasted the intensity of her secret pain. But I was puzzled. Why was she a prisoner? And did that mean I would be one too? I put my paws around her neck and hugged her, purring a loud vibrational purr. That pain inside her needed to come out and, over time, I would coax it out with my purring, healing love. She hugged me back, and rocked me, and whispered,�You�re a wonderful, fantabulous, gorgeous cat.�

I chose that moment to send her a strong message, that I wanted to go outside. She didn�t get it, so I jumped on to the windowsill and meowed, looking down at the tantalising garden.

�Are you hungry?� asked TammyLee.

I looked at the garden again and back into her eyes.

�Oh, you want to go out? Of course you can, darling. Penny said to keep you in for a few days, but you�re not going to run away, are you, Tallulah? I�ll take you out after breakfast � but first ��

As she spoke, I heard Diana�s thin voice calling out:

�I�m awake dear. Are you coming?�

�Yes, I�ll be right there, Mum.�

TammyLee picked me up.

�You can come and watch,� she said. �I look after Mum. I�m her carer. I�ve gotta do everything for her. Get her up, help her wash and dress, then I do the housework and stuff. Then I go to school, but not today, �cause it�s holiday, whatever that�s supposed to mean!�

She sounded bitter and tired, but as she carried me down a corridor and into her mum�s bedroom, everything changed, and, if I�d been a human, I�d have gasped in surprise.

The room she took me into was full of angels. One at each side of the bed head, and one on each side at the foot of the bed� they were still as water lilies, their colours lemon and white. They were so dazzling that I could hardly see their faces, or anything else in the room.

In that wonderful moment, I became my true soul self again, the Queen of Cats. I puffed out my fur, and my aura became huge, my eyes like bright suns as I sat soaking up the light from the angels, and purring so loudly that the vibration sent stardust whizzing through my aura. I looked round at each angel in turn, and realised that these were�comfort angels�. I�d seen many of them in the spirit world, and they rarely moved, but just emanated love and stillness. Sometimes, they sent out tendrils of healing colour, and I noticed they were doing this to TammyLee as she stood by the bed. They were wrapping her in ribbons of love.

Then it hit me.

TammyLee couldn�t see the angels.

She couldn�t feel the waves of light from their love.

She was earthbound.

�What a funny cat.� TammyLee�s mum was saying. �Why is she sitting with her back to me � and what is she looking at?�

I turned round and saw Diana sitting up in bed, her cheeks hollow, her eyes dancing, her white hands stretching out to stroke me. I loved her straightaway.

�I�m Diana,� she said, �but you can call me Mum.�

She was a beautiful soul, and I decided to call her Diana, not Mum. I walked up to the bed and made a fuss of her, kissing her thin face.

I settled down in the corner of the bed under one of the angels, and watched TammyLee in surprise. When she was helping Diana, she seemed like a different person from the crying, desperate girl I�d seen. She acted like a cat lady, being calm and cheerful, doing everything, even the awkward jobs, with kindness and skill, her bangles jangling as she washed and dressed Diana. The two women talked happily, mostly about me and Amber and the garden. It was obvious to me that TammyLee loved her mum very much. I felt a twinge of envy. If only I�d had my mum, Jessica, in my life, I might have been a better cat.

TammyLee helped Diana to walk with a frame, to the top of the stairs, and sat her in a chair. She flicked a switch and the chair glided down the stairs to Amber, who was waiting at the bottom, her tail wagging, her front paws quivering with excitement.

We all had breakfast together, and TammyLee did everything, hardly sitting down herself, but marching about with toast in her hand.

�Hasn�t Tallulah settled down well?� remarked Diana. �What a GOOD cat!�

I glowed. After the names Gretel had called me, hearing that was like a healing touch on my soul.

Chapter Seven

SOLOMON

The room with the angels soon became one of my favourite places to curl up during the day when TammyLee had gone to school. I loved the softness and the colours of Diana�s room, the wind chimes tinkling in the open window, the wide windowsill with velvet cushions, the way the sun streamed in and gilded the sparkly scarves hanging on the back of the door. A glass crystal in the window splashed rainbows over everything, and once, for a magic moment, I had one onmy fur. I lay very still, squinting at the intense colour as it rose and fell with my breathing, feeling it healing something deep within me, a part of me that had been damaged by the time in Gretel�s hot car.

Amber acted strangely in Diana�s room. She wouldn�t stand up and wag her tail. She�d hover in the doorway and then creep in on her belly to see Diana, and sit with her chin on the bed and just the tip of her tail flipping as she offered Diana first one paw, then the other. From my lofty perch on top of the bookshelves, I studied her weird behaviour and the way she and Diana gazed at each other. If Diana closed her eyes, Amber would whine and push her nose into the limp hand hanging over the side of the bed.

�It�s all right, Amber. I�m not going to snuff it yet,� she said, opening her eyes, and I watched the relief flood through the dog�s soft face. Sadness, and intense anxiety, I thought � I have to get to know this dog, she�s such a complex being.

Later, I lay on the doormat next to Amber�s shining warm body.

�Why are you so sad around Diana?� I asked.

Amber gave a deep sigh and I could see her processing the reply. I waited.

�Diana is ill, and I don�t want her to die,� she said, and a tear rolled out of the corner of her left eye.

I made a fuss, purring and rubbing my head against her and she seemed to like it now. She left her head down for me, then rolled onto her side and let me walk all over her, stepping over her paws and along her back, and purring into her ear.

�I�m Diana�s dog,� said Amber. �She came and chose me when I was a puppy, and she taught me everything, even how to cross the road safely. She used to take me for lovely walks along the river and up into the hills, and she was never in a hurry like TammyLee and Max. She liked to sit forages and listen to the water. She said it had a heartbeat.�

�I�d like to hear that,� I said. �Next time you go to the river, I�m going to come.�

�You won�t like it,� said Amber. �We go through a park with big dogs racing about. It�s no place for a cat, believe me.�

�I�ll find a way,� I said, visualising myself on TammyLee�s shoulder or running through the treetops like a squirrel.

�And there are lots of people,� Amber said, �but, when I go with TammyLee, she takes me out of the park and up to the waterfalls and it�s quiet. We go to a pool and she likes to swim with me.�

�Swim?� I was horrified. �I shan�t be doing THAT.�

TammyLee tried to discourage me from going on her walks with Amber, but I passionately wanted to go. So I learned to anticipate when it was going to happen, and slipped outside to hide in the garden, then belt after them with my tail flying.

The first few times, TammyLee tried to take me home, but I wouldn�t let her catch me, and, eventually, she understood my need to go with them, and realised I was well able to look after myself. Avoiding the park, she headed down a footpath, which led straight to the river, close enough to home for me to go on my own! I couldn�t wait to do some private hunting.

We had a wonderful summer, and when the chill of autumn came and the river glowed with floating leaves, TammyLee dragged lots of wood logs inside and lit a cosy fire. Amber and I sat watching the flames and warming ourselves, while TammyLee marched around, cooking, cleaning and caring.

�She�s a real angel,� Diana said as I dozed on her lap. �I�m so lucky to have such a kind daughter. I wish Max wasn�t so hard on her. But we love her, don�t we, Tallulah?�

I looked at Diana�s expectant eyes and wondered if she knew about Rocky. No, my angel said. But I wished TammyLee would tell her. Diana was her mum. She should know her daughter cried every single night before she went to sleep, and the tears were tears of regret and longing for her lost child.

�I would have loved him, Tallulah,� she wept to me. �I do love him, but I�ll never see him again, and when he grows up, he�ll never forgive me. How would you feel if your mum dumped you?�

I knew the pain of abandonment, but I couldn�t tell her how bad I�d felt when Joe dumped us in the hedge, and again when Gretel threw me out for wrecking the Christmas tree.

I worried about Christmas. When was it? Would there be a tree that I mustn�t play with? I asked Amber.

�It�s soon,� she said. �I know it�s in the winter when the nights are dark. Max takes me out in the night and the frost burns my paws. He leans on the railings and looks at the stars, and I�m not allowed in the water. And sometimes he walks me into the town and we admire the coloured lights on people�s homes.�

That gave me a clue. As the nights got longer, the afternoons gloomier, I noticed coloured lights appearing on the houses and in the trees. I worried and worried, and when I heard a rustling noise and saw Max dragging a Christmas tree through the door, I panicked.

I was on the hearth rug with Amber, nice and warm in front of a blazing fire, and I was in the middle of washing. When I saw the Christmas tree, my eyes must have turned huge and black, for TammyLee said,�What�s the matter, Tallulah? Tallulah! Don�t run away!�

I didn�t wait for her to catch me. I bolted, like a squirrel crossing the road, into the kitchen, past my supper, which I hadn�t yet eaten, and charged through the cat flap, up the frosty garden and into the road. Without stopping to think, I sped down the footpath towards the river.

When my paws started to burn from the frost, I thought about Amber. I had to find a hiding place where she wouldn�t find me, because I wasn�t going back. No, I�d hide out there for the winter, until that Christmas tree had gone, and then I�d creep back. It wasn�t going to be easy, but I had a thick luxurious coat to keep me warm.

My angel�s voice whispered in my mind: �Don�t do this, Tallulah.� But I ignored her, and ran on, following the river upstream, until I reached the stone bridge where TammyLee had often taken me. I hoped the stones would be warm from the sun, but they were colder than ice. The whole earth ached with the chill of winter; down in the roots of grasses, the frost crackled and puddles creaked with ice.

Nearby was a good place to catch mice, a bank of mossy tree roots with numerous holes. Usually, it was easy. I only had to wait, watch and pounce. On this bitter night, not a single mouse appeared. The birds were silent. The air was still, and my breath was making tiny puffs of steam in the moonlight. I sat down to watch for mice, but found myself hypnotised by the enormous silver-gold moon, which was rising over the mountains, its light glinting on the flowing river and glazing the frosted stones of the old bridge. The moss and the bare twigs were coated with ice, and nothing moved. I felt like the only living creature out there, and yet � something was watching me, making my fur stiff with fright. A fox? A prowling dog? Or some other strange creature of the night?

I listened for its footsteps.

The murmur of the water, the metallic tinkling of frosted reeds and the cracking of ice along the riverbank. My whiskers glistened, my fur puffed out like a halo, and the tips of it had a haze of hoar frost. I seemed like a cat frozen in time, locked in a cocoon of magic moonlight, where something, some presence, was waiting for me.

I looked up at the bridge, and there he was, high on the top. A cat! My whiskers stiffened, my tail twitched in alarm. Was he real? He didn�t look real. Even though his eyes shone green in the moonlight, he looked transparent, like a ghost cat. His presence was magnetic. I found myself creeping towards him, wanting his warmth and his company, yet knowing that wasn�t what he could give me. He was a phantom, unmoving, but staring at me with calm intelligence.

I padded closer, my heart racing, and sat down at a respectful distance. Still the cat didn�t move. I observed the curve of his whiskers, and the faint iridescence that came from his fur. It was blacker than the night, but he had a white chest and paws.

Something shifted in my memory. A time of being a baby kitten, under a bed, and this same cat had been there, watching me proudly, protectively.

My dad. Solomon!

Overwhelmed, I kept still and waited for him to speak. I wanted to run to him and touch noses, but something held me back, some invisible force between me and him.

�Tallulah!� he said at last, and a feeling of relief settled over me. �I�m not a spirit cat, and I�m not really here. I�m with you in my thoughts, and I know you�re in trouble. You must go home.�

�I can�t,� I said.

�You can, and you must. You are too precious to live wild in the winter. It�s your mission to be with TammyLee. She is calling you now. Listen!�

I did, and through the silvery night came the distant voice:�Tallulah. Tallooolah!�

�It will be all right,� said Solomon. �You can play and be joyful, and no one there will make you afraid. Take back your trust and your joy, and go home to the people you love.�

I cried to him, in gratitude. Even my angel hadn�t found the right words like he had done.

Then I heard his purr, and it was louder than mine. It filled the echoing shell of winter. I gazed at Solomon and then he was gone, leaving only the purr in my heart. I turned and trotted homewards along the river, with the words ringing in my mind:�Take back your trust and your joy.� He was right. Who had taken those treasures of the soul away from me? Gretel! I�d forgiven her, but I hadn�t taken back my right to play and be joyful.

I paused, to look back at the bridge. It was dark against the moonlit river, and the mysterious cat had vanished. He�d left me a picture of where he really was on this winter night, curled up on the lap of a beautiful woman with long blonde hair who sat by a bright warm stove, stroking him and dreaming.

Solomon. I�d seen Solomon. My dad. My homeward trot quickened to a gallop, the mad dash of an ecstatic cat. I streaked along the riverbank, skidded round the corner and into the footpath, where I saw a torch shining at me and heard TammyLee�s cry of joy as I ran to her with my tail up.

She carried me home, her cold cheek pressed against my fur. Through the gate, up the path and into the warm kitchen. My supper was still there, untouched.

�You wait till you see our Christmas tree,� she said, and I followed her into the lounge. I sat down next to Amber and gazed at the sparkling tree. I made up my mind not to touch it, only lie on my back under its branches and watch the reflections in the baubles. I was glad to be home.

Winter passed and it was spring again, and by then I was a confident and contented cat. I was even a bit fatter, which only added to my magnificence.

Every afternoon, Amber and I waited in the garden for TammyLee to come home from school. Amber�s sensitivity was awesome, and she knew when the bus was coming, even if it was far away. She�d run to the gate, put her paws on top of it and bark, nearly knocking me over with her tail. I rearranged my ruffled fur and slipped under the gate, to run down the road and meet TammyLee. It always made her smile to see me welcoming her.

But one afternoon in May, it was different. Amber�s tail went down and her ears drooped, as we waited. The bus came. We saw it trundle past the end of the road, and it didn�t stop. Where was TammyLee?

I sat on the hot pavement, waiting, but she didn�t come.

Something made me look up at the trees overhanging the next-door fence, and one was full of light. It swerved and danced, then settled into a familiar shape. My angel.

�Remember the tree, Tallulah,� she said, �like this one.�

The perfume hit me. Elderflowers. My angel was showing me something important.

�It�s an anniversary,� she explained. �Humans count events in years, and when the time comes round again, they remember. The feelings return, stronger than before. Today is Rocky�s first birthday, at the time when the elder tree flowers, as it will always be.�

Amber was whining behind the gate, and Diana was calling me from her window, but I hurried down the road. I knew exactly what I had to do. Follow the river. Go through the scary park with all the dogs, run beside the river towards the town, until I came to the elder tree where TammyLee had abandoned baby Rocky.

I�d wanted Amber to go with me, but instead, I found myself on a lone mission. The river shimmered in the heat, and a family of ducks were sleeping on the bank. When they saw me, they plopped into the water and swam across to the other side. It gave me an idea. Why not cross the river and be outof the reach of dogs, and people? I climbed the sturdy trunk of an oak tree and followed a curly branch with little ferns growing on it. Soon I was above the water, looking down at the swirls and the green of it flowing below me. The branch was getting thinner and thinner. I hesitated, then realised I couldn�t turn round without falling into the river. Looking down at it made me dizzy.

Frightened now, I clung to the thin branch, thinking about the logistics of turning round on it. A bunch of sheep stood on the opposite bank, looking at me, as if waiting for me to fall in. I meowed at them and they bleated back, and more sheep came skittering across the field to stare at me, a cat in a tree. I tuned in to their communal mind-set and found they were expecting me to jump. I thought about it. If I crept a bit further along the branch, I might risk a flying leap onto a green tuft of the bank that stuck out into the river. In a way, the hundred eyes of the sheep were encouraging me.

�Tallulah,� said my angel. �Think about your name. Tallulah.�

From far away, Diana�s clear bell-like voice was calling me from the window. �Talloolah. Talloolah.� My name seemed to be woven into the whisper and burble of the water. The river�s colours were the colours of my fur � silver and black with tinges of gold. Roxanne had given me my name, and it meant �Leaping water�.

As I hyped myself up for the jump, my name echoed up and down the river valley. Even a pigeon was cooing it from a tree, and a black bird, and angels from beyond the glistening edges of the world, all singing my name, inviting me to jump.

There was a moment of balance when I wobbled a little, and the branch dipped and creaked. A woman walking along the path gasped,�Look at THAT CAT! It�s not going to ��

I was a cat on fire. I took off in a spectacular swoosh of oak leaves, my back arched, my paws akimbo, my tail snaking. I held my breath. I was in the air and, in that moment, the sheep wheeled around and fled with a rumble of feet, and the woman screamed,�It�s going in the river!� Back in the garden, Amber was barking, and her barks were giving me energy.

Phew! I landed precisely on that green tuft with my heart racing, and Amber�s barks changed to a howl as if she was saying goodbye. My angel turned up again, and she was laughing with joy, sending sparkles over the grass.

�Fuzzball could never have done that!� she said.

It was true. My name had power.

It seemed a good time to wash, so I started on my paws, which felt gritty. It�s a privilege to be a cat. We don�t gallop about, knocking things over like dogs. We stop to contemplate and take time to enjoy life.

While I was picking bits of moss from between my pads, I kept an eye on the sheep, who were now standing in a circle, looking at me with their hundred eyes. I wanted to touch noses with a sheep, so I pretended not to notice them as they tiptoed closer, blowing hot breath out of their nostrils. When they were right up close, I stretched elegantly, and walked towards them with my tail up. A shiver rippled through the flock. They hesitated while the ring-leader came forward and reached out to me with her velvety face. There was a glint in her yellowy eyes as we touched noses, and some of her steam got onto my whiskers. I sent her a quick message:�If ever I�m lost, I might need you to keep me warm at night.�

She might have said,�Yes,� but the moment of contact was brief. Obviously, she was spooked by me, and her courage ran out. She sprang back, and that fired up the rest of the sheep. They took off again, some of them leaping in the air, and fled to the far corner of the field, where they turned and stared back at me with their hundred eyes.

Mildly annoyed, I finished washing my paws and set off along the springy turf of the riverbank, towards the town. Through the next field, and the next, through tall grasses and flowers so rich with pollen that it made me sneeze. It was hard for me to remember where I was going, and not get distracted by the new places I was discovering; places where tantalising butterflies flitted and bees hummed. There would be voles and mice hidden in that grass. I put it on my�places to go� list, for when I could slip away and do some private hunting.

My angel was ahead of me, glistening like a dragonfly, leading me on an ever more challenging path, through back gardens that sloped down to the river, over fences and compost heaps, through tangles of honeysuckle and briars. At last, I came to a road between the gardens and the river. There were wheelie bins, boxes of cardboard and empty tins that smelled of cat food. More temptation.

A perfectly good piece of cheese was lying on the gravel next to one bin. I picked it up gingerly and dived under some bushes to enjoy it in private. The cheese was chewy but deliciously salty and it took me a while to eat it. My mind was on TammyLee, imagining her sitting under that elder tree by herself, remembering Rocky and breaking her heart. I should be there.

Even as I had that thought, I heard the clonk of shoes on the other side of the river and there was TammyLee, trudging towards home, her school bag slung over one shoulder, her head down, her cheeks red from crying. I was too late. Gretel�s words rang in my mind: �You BAD CAT.� I�d got distracted by the sheep and the piece of cheese. What a disgrace after doing that magnificent jump.

And how was I going to get back across the river?

I meowed at TammyLee but she didn�t hear me. She had those little black earphones in her ears, listening to music. I started back the way I had come, wanting to go with her, but then a worse thought came to me. Even if I did go back along the bank and through the sheep field, I couldn�t possibly jump up onto that branch. I sat down to think, and my angel came again, hovering over the water.

�You must go on, to the foot bridge,� she said. �I�ve told you, there are no bad cats, Tallulah. You must cross the bridge and go to the elder tree, then you will know why. Go quickly now. Quickly.�

She whisked me along under the shimmering umbrella of her wings, and I felt protected. No one stopped me. No dogs barked at me. I reached the foot bridge and trotted over it, relieved to be back on my side of the river.

I looked for the elder tree, and it had gone. My fur began to prickle and I crouched down in the long grass to see what had changed. The tree, and the old wall, had been removed, and in its place was a new-looking patio with slabs of dark grey and gold, and in the middle was a bench of polished red wood. A new tree had been planted next to it and it wasn�t an elder. This one had thick clusters of pink flowers.

It felt strangely disappointing. I�d been looking forward to some magic time with TammyLee under that special elder tree. So why had my angel brought me here, hustling me along the riverbank, only to see a bench?

I watched and waited.

I could hear the river, and the traffic in the town. Then voices and footsteps. I sat up to see who was coming along the path and it was two women with pushchairs, one behind the other, talking in low voices that seemed to belong to the sleepy afternoon.

They stood looking at the bench, running their fingers over the polished wood, and touching the square of brass that reflected the sun. I could tell there were babies in the two pushchairs, even though they had their back to me, each had an angel of light like two splashes of gold in the air, not huge but intense and comforting. It made me purr as I lay hidden in the grass, watching. Since that night with Rocky, I loved babies and wanted to be close to them whenever I had the chance.

�Wait, Tallulah,� said my angel. �The right moment will come, if you listen.�

I listened, and there were grasshoppers zeet-zeeting in the hot grass, and pigeons coo-cooing, and the distant thump-thump of music from the town. My angel pointed at the two women with a finger that sliced through the air like a blade of turquoise light. So I focused on their faces and their conversation. Soon I knew their names� Maddie and Kaye � and Kaye was doing most of the talking.

�Wasn�t it a lovely thing to do?� she was saying. �To put a bench here. And such a posh one. Must have cost a fortune.�

�Lovely,� agreed Maddie.

�Linda paid for it,� said Kaye, �and she wouldn�t have her name on it. She�s like that.�

The name Linda tweaked my memory of the kind lady who had found Rocky and cried over him. The lady with the comfortable shoulders and the shivering dog.

Both women turned and looked at the square of brass again and were silent for a moment. I wondered what was on it. Pity I couldn�t read. I was getting twitchy, wanting to go out there with my tail up, and wanting to go home to TammyLee. Had she been here? Had she cried on this special day, and needed me to be with her, while I was messing about instead of coming here?

�You�re getting negative again. Just listen,� said my angel.

�But what am I doing here?� I asked.

�Wait,� she repeated patiently, �and soon you will know.�

One of the babies was waking up. I could see a plump little hand waving from the pushchair.

�She�s too hot. Aren�t you, my darling?� Maddie stood up, lifted the baby girl out and sat down again, nursing her.

Then the other baby started to scream and kick vigorously at the pushchair. Kaye was on her feet instantly.

�What�s the matter, darling? Want to get out, do you? All right, all right. Wait a minute while Mummy undoes the straps.�

�He�s a bruiser!� said Maddie, laughing, and the baby cried even more furiously while Kaye struggled to lift him out. He was big and energetic, his face red with the crying, his arms and legs thrashing.

�Here we go,� said Kaye, heaving him onto her lap. �He�s in a strop.�

�Go out there,� said my angel, �and purr.�

I pulled up my tail, straightened my whiskers, and walked out into the sunshine.

�Oh, look � a cat. A pretty pussycat,� said Kaye.

The effect on the crying child was instant.

�Tat!� he shouted, and clapped his fat little hands. �Tat!�

I jumped up onto the warm bench between the two women and turned on the purring, rubbing my head against first one and then the other.

�Oh, lovely � friendly cat. You stroke him, he�s soft,� said Maddie, putting her baby girl�s tiny hand on my fur. It felt like a butterfly.

�Tat!� The baby boy was getting more and more excited. �Mine.�

�No, he�s not your cat,� said Kaye. �But you can stroke him � or her, is it?�

�Tat � mine,� insisted the baby boy, and he held out his arms to me. I went to him, purring, and let him put both his chubby arms around my neck.

�Don�t strangle the poor cat,� said Kaye, laughing.

I let the baby boy love me and listen to my purr. I kissed his red nose and he giggled, patting me a bit too hard. I sat up and looked at him. I saw turquoise eyes, full of astonishment. I saw a mole on his cheek. And I knew why my angel had brought me here.

It was Rocky.

Chapter Eight

ROCKY

I stared into Rocky�s soul and he stared back. Going deep into those turquoise eyes, I saw that Rocky was ages old and full of light. I kept staring deeper and deeper until I discovered a pocket of darkness, which I recognised instantly as the pain of abandonment. Once I�d found it, I wanted to heal it, so I purred and purred, and stretched my paws over his steady little heart.

�You can�t,� said my angel. �It is part of him, part of his journey. He will always carry that memory, as you carry yours.�

I kept purring, sending stars into Rocky�s soul with all my energy, thinking I might never see him again, but knowing I had to find a way to reunite him with his true mother. I sent him pictures from my mind, of TammyLee, and how bitterly she regretted dumping him, how much she loved him. He accepted them, but his eyes looked puzzled. He pointed at Kaye.

�Mum � mum,� he said, and looked back at me �Tat! Mine.�

I kissed Rocky on the nose and he squealed with delight.

�You shouldn�t let cats kiss babies,� said Maddie, disapprovingly.

Kaye smiled.�I don�t believe that. It�s medical paranoia.�

�But what about germs?� Maddie was holding her own baby very tightly.

�What about them? We can�t let germs stand in the way of LOVE,� said Kaye passionately. �This cat is giving him so much love. Look at her � purring like a sewing machine.� She put her hand on my back. �I can feel the vibration right through her body. And Rocky�s loving it. Aren�t you, darling?�

�Tat!� shouted Rocky. Then he reached out and patted the square brass in the middle of the bench. �Dat?� he asked.

�That�s a commemorative plaque, sweetheart,� said Kaye. �And it says �ROCKY�S BENCH�.�

There was a silence while the words sank into our minds.

�Are you going to tell him about it?� asked Maddie.

�Not yet,� Kaye replied, kissing Rocky�s silky dark head. �When he�s old enough. And IF Social Services decide we can actually adopt him. We want to so much. He�s my LIFE, aren�t you, Rocky?�

I turned my attention to Kaye, and gave her an intense stare.

�This cat�s got such amazing eyes,� she said. �Golden and so knowing.�

�Wasn�t a cat there when Rocky was found?� asked Maddie. �You showed me a press cutting. It did look like this one. Didn�t the police think it might belong to the mother?�

�They did, but it belonged to an old lady on the other side of town,� said Kaye, but the joy in her eyes had clouded and I saw that she was afraid of losing Rocky. She looked away, and I felt our contact had been abruptly shut down.

�We�d better get back, Maddie. I�ve got to start Greg�s tea.�

�Dad, Dad!� shouted Rocky.

�Yes � Daddy�s tea. And Rocky�s tea and a birthday cake with one candle.� She stood up and gently lifted Rocky away from me. �Say goodbye to the lovely puss cat.�

Rocky struggled and screamed.�Tat � mine.� Kaye rolled her eyes and wrestled him into the pushchair. He kicked and stomped, shaking the whole pushchair, while Maddie was putting her quiet little baby into hers.

�Come on,� Kaye said, over the screaming. �The sooner we go, the sooner he�ll calm down. Calm down, Rocky, it�s not your cat. We can see her another day.�

Maddie wagged a finger at me.�Don�t you follow us!�

I sat down on the warm bench and watched them go, Kaye walking briskly with her thrashing cargo. His screams faded into the distance.�Tat � mine. Tat � mine.�

I decided to stay out, and make my way home after dark, thinking that most dogs would have gone home and it would be safe for me to run through the park. Rocky�s bench was perfect for me to sleep on. But first, I checked it out for any sign that TammyLee had been there. Right in the middle, near the brass plaque, I detected a faint scent of her. Then between the slats of wood, I saw something interesting.

I jumped down to investigate, and, hidden behind one of the bench legs, was a small posy of flowers, wild flowers mostly, but in the centre was a single red rose, tied together with one of the glittery rubber bands TammyLee used in her hair. Her scent was on it, and I knew for sure that she had been there and left a posy for Rocky.

It was dark when I arrived home, and TammyLee was in the garden with a torch, looking for me. My tail was bushed out and the fur along my spine was stiff with fright after my long trip home alone in the dark.

�Oh, there you are!� cried TammyLee. �Where have you BEEN?�

I jumped straight into her arms, and she felt me all over.�Are you OK, Tallulah? Look at your tail! It�s like a hairbrush. What scared you?�

If only I could talk her language and tell her I�d seen Rocky. All I could do was purr and reach up to her concerned face with my paws. She�d been crying. Sobs lingered, deep down in her chest, spasmodically surfacing. I sensed the pain.

�Dad�s mad with me,� she said as she carried me indoors. �For walking home along the river on my own, and being late, and being rude.�

There was a tense atmosphere in the house, as if something was going to explode. Max was hunched at the table, frowning at his laptop. He glanced up with cold eyes.

�Thank God for that,� he said. �Where was she?�

�She just appeared,� said TammyLee, �like cats do.�

�Now perhaps we�ll get some PEACE,� said Max wearily.

TammyLee stood there with me in her arms. I nuzzled against her and the pulse throbbing in her neck felt hot.

�Is that all you care about, Dad?� she asked. �So-called �peace�.�

Max pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes.

�Dad?�

�I am not going to engage with further provocation,� said Max, and a hard grey shell closed around his aura. He turned back to his laptop and tapped at the keys like a terrier digging a hole.

�Fine. Don�t bother,� said TammyLee. She put me down and marched into the kitchen. I ran to see Amber, who was lying quietly on her bed, her ears drooping and only the tip of her tail moving. She whined and lifted a paw to me. I wanted to describe my adventure by the river, and tell her about Rocky�s turquoise eyes, but she wasn�t in a receptive mood.

�There was a terrible row,� she told me. �TammyLee was in a temper and she burned Max�s tea and slammed the plate down on the table. She shouted and swore at him, and every time Max tried to say something, she shouted even louder. I hated it, I hid behind the curtain, and now I�ve been on my bed for too long and I haven�t had a walk.�

Amber looked miserable and anxious. I gave her lots of love, weaving my way round her, brushing her face with my tail. She gradually relaxed, and when I ran into the kitchen for my supper, Amber crept over to Max and leaned against his leg.

�You haven�t had a walk, have you?� I heard him say, and he shut the laptop.

�Where�s your lead?�

Amber instantly became her joyful self again, charged into the kitchen, nearly knocking me over as I ate my tuna chunks. She circled the lounge and jumped right over the sofa, while Max was putting his coat on.

�I�m walking the dog,� he said curtly to TammyLee, and clipped the lead onto Amber�s collar.

�Fine,� said TammyLee, and, once he�d gone out of the door, she muttered, �And don�t come back. I don�t care if you never come back.�

I needed a wash and a long sleep. But TammyLee needed me more. She carried me upstairs, and we checked Diana, who was asleep, her face tranquil, her skin pale in the dim blue of a night light.

�Tallulah�s back, Mum,� TammyLee whispered, but Diana didn�t stir. �She�s on heavy medication.� TammyLee closed the door quietly and took me into her bedroom, where she kicked off her shoes and slumped onto her bed, burrowing into a mound of cushions. I stood on her chest, purring, and looked at her tormented eyes.

�I�d DIE without you, Tallulah,� she said, smoothing my coat with both hands. �You�re all I�ve got. And you know about Rocky.�

I did a purr-meow, to show her I understood.

�I went to Rocky�s Bench after school today,� she said. �It�s his birthday. My baby�s birthday. And I�m not there for him.� She cried and cried into my fur, and I lay still and listened. �Why did I do it, Tallulah? Why was I such a coward? What will Rocky think when he grows up,wherever he is? What will he think about his real mum dumping him like rubbish? I wish I could tell him why. I wish I could tell him that I loved him. I can�t bear to think he might grow up and never know that.� She sobbed into the cushions. Then she said something that worried me a lot: �I want to die, Tallulah. I just � want � to die.�

I felt powerless. What could one small tabby cat do, faced with a suicidal human? I patted her wet cheek with my paw, and thought maybe if I washed her face, she might feel better. So I started licking, tasting salt and make-up, licking gently round each of her eyes and calming the frown lines between them. And it worked! After a few minutes of it, she was smiling and looking at me again.

�Magic puss cat,� she said, and then she did something beautiful: she took my little black cat brush out of its drawer and began to groom my fur. I loved it, and it was just what I needed. I rolled onto my back and let her brush under my chin and down my belly. The brushing, and the appreciative purring, seemed to soothe TammyLee.

�Look at this fluff, Tallulah!� she said, showing me the wad of fur she was pulling out of the brush. She put it in a plastic bag. �I�m saving your fur and one day I�m going to make something with it, a heart-shaped cushion, or a cushion that looks like a cat�s face.� She said, �Then I can keep you for ever, Tallulah.�

I stayed in her bedroom, thinking I�d better keep an eye on her. Instead of sleeping, I sat on the table next to her laptop, and watched her begin her homework, sighing as she ticked boxes and looked intently at the computer screen. We heard Max coming in with Amber, and he came slowly up the stairs and tapped on TammyLee�s door.

She rolled her eyes.

�What?� she asked, without looking up from her work.

�Can we have a chat?� Max looked different after his walk with Amber. His cheeks were red and his eyes brighter.

�No, Dad. I�m really tired right now. And I�ve got homework.�

Max hovered in the doorway.

�I hoped we could make peace, and � move on,� he said.

�Yeah, yeah, Dad.�

�I do appreciate what you do for your mum,� said Max quietly. �I know it�s not easy for you, but, for what it�s worth, TammyLee, I do love you. At the end of the day, I do. And I do care about your future.�

Finally, TammyLee looked at him.

�Yeah, yeah,� she said again. �I know you care and stuff, Dad. Look, I�ve got an exam tomorrow and I need to do this homework. Will you leave me alone � PLEASE?�

Max looked upset and bewildered. TammyLee sighed. She got up and gave her dad a hug.�It�s OK, Dad. I�m sorry I sounded off at you. But please � go and watch the news or something.�

I meowed at Max and he had the sense to back off and go downstairs.

�If it wasn�t for you, Tallulah, I�d go mad,� said TammyLee.

�Probably true,� I thought, and sat patiently by her laptop, pretending to doze.

�You�re SUCH a good cat,� she said, and that made me feel better, especially when my angel drifted into the room and hung around by the bookshelves, shimmering with joy.

�You�ve done a brilliant job today, Tallulah,� she said, and I basked in the encouragement. Then she said, �Thank you,� and covered me in stardust. My fur tingled with joy. It was the first time on this planet that someone had said thank you to me.

That weekend, I learned a lot more about the river.

Mid-morning, we set off in the hot sunshine, with Max pushing Diana�s wheelchair and TammyLee in front leading Amber. A bag bulging with towels and picnic stuff was stashed in the pouch at the back of the wheelchair, and TammyLee had even put in a sachet of my favourite chicken-and-rabbit cat food, and some biscuits for Amber.

�I don�t think you should let Tallulah come,� Max had said. �We should shut her in.�

But TammyLee trusted me, and she knew how much I needed time outside.

�She�s my cat, and she�s not a prisoner,� she said. �She�s coming, if she wants to.�

�Don�t blame me if she gets lost,� said Max.

�Tallulah can sit on my lap if she gets tired,� said Diana, her eyes luminous in her pale face. �Come on, darling.� She patted the rug over her thin knees, and I jumped up and travelled the first bit in Diana�s arms. �We�ll all look after you, Tallulah � we love you to bits.�

�It�s the other way round,� I thought. �I�m looking after you.�

I was a happy cat now. I loved my family, I had my own dog, and I adored TammyLee. Life was just perfect now. I felt exuberant as I jumped down and chased after Amber, who had been let off the lead. We belted towards the river and I could hear laughter behind us.

�I LOVE the way that dog�s tail goes round and round when she�s running,� said Diana.

�She uses it as a brake,� said TammyLee. She�d got her long hair tied in a loose ponytail at the back of her neck, and she wore a black vest with a green dragon on it. Her bangles flashed in the sun, and she had long jeans with frayed edges that brushed the floor, and a slit in each knee, which I loved to play with when she was sitting still. I�d get my paw in there, pull out a thread and play with it. Instead of her clonky shoes, she had soft sandals and she�d painted her toenails a witchy green to match the dragon. For once, she looked free and happy, snatching at seed headsof grass as we walked along.

Until a shadow fell over our day.

I�d never heard Amber growl before, but she was growling now, her soft muzzle curling to reveal the gleam of her impressive set of teeth. Her hackles were up along her spine.

�Amber!� TammyLee grabbed the dog�s collar as three young men came slouching round the corner. Amber barked, and TammyLee�s aura turned to cracked glass. I figured Amber was barking at the tallest of the three lads, who was in the middle. His hair was standing up in a stiff ridge, and he had rings in his lips and eyebrows.

Alarmed by Amber�s behaviour, I climbed a post and sat on top. I wanted to look at the eyes of this muscular young man who Amber didn�t like. But he wasn�t looking at me. He was looking at TammyLee, his eyes moving over her whole body, up and down. He and his two mates stood across the path in front of us.

Max stopped pushing the wheelchair and anger flooded his aura with a brick-red colour. He opened his mouth to speak, and Diana put a restraining hand on his arm.

�Hi, Dylan,� said TammyLee, and Amber went on growling with the sunlight glistening through her hackles.

�What�s up with your dog?� Dylan asked, mockingly. �Nasty, ain�t she?�

�She doesn�t like you,� said TammyLee.

�Shame about that.� Dylan still straddled the path, towering over Max, who was tutting and glaring at him.

�I thought you had a Saturday job,� said TammyLee. �What happened?�

Dylan shrugged.�I quit, didn�t I! Dead boring.� He put his face close to TammyLee. �So, what happened to you then? False alarm was it?�

TammyLee looked at him steadily, her mouth twitching.

�It�s none of your business,� she fired at him. �And I don�t want nothing to do with you, Dylan, so stay away from me.�

�You heard her,� said Max. �Let us pass, please. Can�t you see my wife is in a wheelchair?�

�Calm down, Pop.� Dylan grinned round at his two mates. �I�m not planning on raping your precious daughter. Not today.� He winked at TammyLee and she glared back.

It was Diana who intervened. With a radiant smile and her eyes piercingly bright, she said,�Good afternoon, boys, lovely to meet you. Are you enjoying this beautiful sunshine?� She held out a thin white hand. �I�m Diana. And you are?�

Dylan got smaller and smaller as he looked at Diana�s radiance. None of the boys shook the hand Diana was offering. They looked embarrassed and shuffled awkwardly from one foot to the other. Sheepishly, they moved to one side.

�Thank you. That�s so kind of you.� Diana looked tenderly at each of them. �I hope you have a lovely day. Bye-bye, now.�

Max pushed the wheelchair onwards, and Dylan turned and saw me sitting on the post.�Ello, puss,� he said, and we had eye contact for a long moment. His eyes were turquoise and sparkly, but the sparkle was not astonishment, it was wariness, and a sense of being lost. I knew who he was instantly, by those compelling eyes. Dylan was Rocky�s father.

If only I could talk.

Chapter Nine

DROPPED

Max pushed the wheelchair, until the wide path ended at a shallow place where the river bubbled over stones. Amber charged into the water with everything flapping, and I followed TammyLee onto the bank. She picked me up.

�You stay with mum, please,� she said. �Dad and I are going swimming, just up there.� She pointed upstream to the old stone bridge where Solomon had appeared. Below it was a shining pool. The river fascinated me. I wanted to follow it into the hills and watch the waterfalls and hear its music. There were streams cascading like threads of silver down from the iron-blue ridges of the hill. I wanted to explore them, and find a tiny pool where I could sit on a stone and catch sardines. There were sheep up there too, and baby lambs who might play with me.

I was too excited to do much cuddling and purring. TammyLee put me down on Diana�s lap.

�Isn�t this WONDERFUL?� Diana�s eyes shone. �Oh, it�s such a treat for me to seemy river. I love it so much. Thank you for bringing me.� She reached up and pulled Max�s arm until he stooped and kissed her.

�Will you be OK sitting here?� he asked. �You can see us swimming, and when we come back and dry off, we�ll have the picnic.

�I�ll be ecstatic!� said Diana, while I dough-punched with my paws in the soft blanket she had over her knees. �And I�ve got Tallulah.�

TammyLee and Max stripped off their clothes down to their swimming gear, TammyLee in a bright green bikini, and Max in black swimming trunks. I sat up to watch what would happen.

�You don�t have to stay with me, Tallulah,� whispered Diana. �You go and be free and enjoy this lovely place. But come back, won�t you, darling? We love you so much.�

I kissed Diana on the nose, grateful for her understanding. With my tail flying, I ran after them, along the river, keeping out of Amber�s way as she was already dripping wet from nose to tail. The stone bridge was warm from the sun and I quickly found a perch out of reach of the splashes. Amber was swimming silently round and round the pool, with only her nose and eyes above the water and her tail streaming behind. Max was swimming like a frog, his chin out of the water. But TammyLee seemed transformed from the girl who marched around in clonky shoes. She was like a fish. Diving and twisting and rolling. She swam right under the water and the sunlight made webs of gold dance over her body, her hair swirled and, when she popped up for air, her face was dark pink and radiant. She looked more alive than she ever looked on land. Max soon tired and found a rock in the sun, where he sat, proudly watching his daughter. Amber clambered out and shook spirals of drops into the air, and, finally, TammyLee got out, andI stayed by myself, watching her walking back. Now was my chance to do some private hunting.

A flash of glass and a laugh caught my attention, and high up on the ridge of the hill, the three boys were sitting. One had binoculars and they were taking turns to watch TammyLee. Even though they were far away, my sensitive ears picked up a feeling of menace in their laughter, dark intention that rolled down the hillside like a rain cloud.

I looked back at the patch of sunlight where Diana sat in her wheelchair, her face lifted to the sky. My angel told me to go back to her, but first, I wanted to go up the river and explore.

So I pretended not to notice her. Only later did I get the message, for it was to be another terrible lesson. Never ignore your angel.

Under the dappled shade of trees, I followed the flowing water to a stream that joined the river. I trotted beside it, until I found a shallow fishing pool, where I sat, completely absorbed, waiting to see if any fish would come swimming into that clear water. I�d hook one out with my paw, and play with it as it jumped and flipped on the grass, and then I�d eat it, and catch another one.

My attention was so focused on the water that I ignored the footsteps and the loud voices coming down from the hillside.

�Hey, guys, that�s TammyLee�s cat.� It was the gruff voice of a young lad. �Puddy Puddy Puddy,� he called, but I ignored him and wished they�d go away and leave me in peace. The tip of my tail was twitching with annoyance. If I�d been a human, I might have sworn at them.

�I�m gonna get it,� said one � Dylan.

�Nah � leave it.�

�Who are you telling what to do? It�s �er cat, ain�t it?�

�Whose?�

�The girl in the pool, stupid. TammyLee. Spoiled bitch.�

The voices got louder and louder as they argued, but I continued staring into the water, waiting for a sardine to appear.

When the footsteps came right up behind me, I swung round and put my tail up, thinking Dylan was going to stroke me. Instead, he grabbed me by the scruff and held me up in the air.

�Got �im!� he shouted. �D�you dare me to drop him in the river?�

�Yeah. Drop �er cat in the river. That�ll wind �er up.�

The three of them were laughing loudly and egging each other on. They ran with me, and the boy had one hand clenching my scruff and the other gripping my back so hard his fingers were digging into my kidneys. I struggled and twisted, and flailed my claws, trying to scratch his cruel hands and make him let go of me. My nightmares came back in that moment. Joe chucking us in the hedge, Gretel throwing me out into the frosty night.�That�s what happens to bad cats,� she�d shrieked.

�Drop �im from the bridge,� shouted one of the boys, as their shoes thudded and scuffed as they ran down to the bridge where I�d sat so happily in the sun. I was terrified. I couldn�t believe they were being so cruel to me. �Why? Why me?� My only hope was that TammyLee might rescue me.

Now Dylan was holding me up in the air above the pool.

I looked at his crazy eyes and sent him a message:�I saved your baby�s life. Don�t do this to me.� But his aura had wine-red thorns like a rose in winter. He thought that dropping a cat in the river was going to cover his pain in glory. I glanced down, looking for TammyLee, but she�d gone and so had Max and Amber. My kidneys were hurting like fire, and all I wanted, as he held me over the water, was for him to let go of me � even if I was going to drown, I wanted the agony to stop. It hurt so much that I screamed and he let me go.

I fell down, down into the pool, hearing cheers and laughter and hands clapping. I hit the freezing water and went under, and the shock of it made my heart lurch painfully.

Icy water filled my mouth and rushed up my nose and into my ears. It was the worst experience of my life, even worse than the hot car. I forced my nose up and out of the water and kicked my paws the way I�d seen Amber doing. I didn�t know whether cats could swim, but I tried, even though my fur was full of water and my tail felt heavy as if it would drag me under.

I hated the noise those boys were making. They were laughing at me and chanting:�The cat�s in the water! The cat�s in the water!� And in the distance, TammyLee was screaming.

I swam in crazy circles, fighting the current, which was dragging me towards the weir. The pool looked vast; the banks with sun-warmed stones and grasses seemed far away. My paws got tired, I ached with the cold, my breathing was difficult as I coughed and spluttered.

I don�t know where Amber came from but she hurled herself into the water; the splash threw me all over the place, my neck straining to keep my head up. Then she was swimming vigorously towards me, her eyes bright with concern. She eased her warmth alongside me, and started to push me with her nose, nearer and nearer to the bank, until I crawled out and lay there, limp and shocked, my wet tail thin and shiny like a worm.

Amber crouched down beside me, licking and whining. I heard the boys escaping, the thud-thudding of their feet and the echo of their laughter.

Then, TammyLee came running. She was crying out loud and yelling swear words at the fleeing boys.

�Poor, poor Tallulah!� She scooped me up and held me against her warm body, against the vest with the green dragon on it, and my soaking fur was dripping down her jeans. She couldn�t stop crying, and Amber sat beside her, with water streaming from her coat, whining and offering her paw.

�Thank you, Amber. Thank you. You are a brilliant dog,� sobbed TammyLee, and she carried me quickly back to Max and Diana, and wrapped me in a warm towel.

�Those bastard pig boys dropped her from the bridge,� she wept. �How COULD they? How could they hurt Tallulah? She didn�t do anything wrong.� TammyLee ranted, while I lay, shocked, wrapped in the towel on Diana�s lap. Her voice rose to a scream. �What is WRONG with the world? I don�t want to stay in it. Why has some pig of a boy got to ruin the nicest day we�ve had for ages? They won�t get away with it. I�ll find the evil little jerks and chuck them in the river. In fact, I�ll bloody drown them. I�ll ��

�Don�t be ridiculous, girl!� snapped Max. �And stop being a drama queen.�

TammyLee turned on him:�Don�t you dare start on me. Don�t you criticise me for caring. You can�t tell me what to do. I�m old enough to quit school and get a job. Then who�s gonna look after Mum?

Max went white.�I do know that,� he said, tight-lipped. �This is not an appropriate time to raise major issues.�

I lay there, wishing they would be quiet. TammyLee was more upset than me. Diana put a kindly hand on her daughter�s back as she raged and sobbed.

�Please try to calm yourself, sweetheart. Tallulah needs us to be quiet and help her recover. She needs healing, not revenge.�

TammyLee calmed down instantly, and Max walked away, tapping at his mobile phone.�I�m ringing the police,� he said. �Not that they�ll be interested,�

�Yes, do that,� said Diana, �but we must focus on this poor cat. We need to get her home, and call the vet.�

�Tallulah�s not strong,� said TammyLee, and her hand was still shaking as she touched me, �because of what she went through, and look how small she is inside all that fur. Darling cat. I love her so much, Mum, I�d die for her.�

�I know, I know.� Diana was smoothing me with the towel, and TammyLee knelt on the ground beside the wheelchair, drying my face and ears with a tissue. All I felt was deep gratitude for being loved like this.

�She�s purring, Mum! Listen to her.�

At home, TammyLee sat in the garden with me on her lap, helping me recover from my ordeal. The warmth of her body, and the heat of the late-afternoon sun soaked into my bones, and my fur was soon dry and silky, though it smelled of the river. I did a lot of purring, but TammyLee couldn�t stop crying.

�For goodness� sake, girl,� said Max impatiently. �The cat�s all right now, surely? You�ve been sitting there blubbing for two hours and there�s work to be done.�

�I�m not moving. Tallulah needs me. And don�t call me �girl�.�

The flow of healing energy from her hands came to an abrupt end, as if Max�s voice had turned a switch. It wasn�t the first time I�d noticed the deadening effect he had on TammyLee�s spirit. She glared at Max, who stood at the kitchen door with a potato in one hand and a knife in the other.

�Can�t you get supper for once?� TammyLee snarled. �Or have you got to watch the boring old news? Again!�

�No. As it happens, I�ve got to do boring old work to earn us boring old money to buy boring old food and pay boring old bills!� shouted Max. He dropped the potato and it rolled, wobbling across the patio. I watched it, thinking about playing with it, and Max noticed the change in my body language.

�There you are. Look at her. She wants to play again.�

�No, she doesn�t.� TammyLee scooped me into her arms and stood up. �I�m taking her upstairs. And you don�t need to PEEL POTATOES, Dad. Just get the chips out of the freezer, like the rest of us do.�

�You treat that cat like a child,� complained Max. My gaze emanated disapproval as I was carried upstairs. He couldn�t know how much that hurt TammyLee. How could he, when he didn�t know she�d lost the child she could have loved?

TammyLee put me down on her duvet and wound a fuzzy scarf round and round me like a bird�s nest. �You stay there, Tallulah. I�ve got to put Mum to bed.� She sighed. �Meow if you want me.�

I watched her go into Diana�s room, and I wanted to follow her. But the warmth of the scarf was so sumptuous, and the rainbow colours of it seemed to be whirling round me. I was giddy, and the pain in my bruised kidneys was hard and sharp, as if Dylan�s fingers were still clenched around my spine. Without TammyLee there, I was suddenly afraid. What if he had damaged me? What if I couldn�t eat or pee? With that thought came an aftershock of pure misery. Why had that boy wanted to hurt and frighten me?

I sent out a telepathic scream to my angel, and she was there instantly, weaving her light into the rainbow scarf as she floated over the duvet.

�There is a reason,� she said. �You have been hurt to make something happen, to help you with your mission, Tallulah.�

Grumpy and tired, I didn�t respond the way you should do to an angel.

�What mission?� I growled, despite knowing perfectly well what it was.

�Remember, you came here to reunite TammyLee with her child.�

�I wish I�d never come here.� The words heaved out of me like a cloud over the sun. It was an old familiar feeling � depression. The last time I�d had it was after Gretel left me in the car.

�If it was an accident, I could deal with it,� I said to my angel. �But I feel it�s bigger than that. I�m carrying the cruelty from across the world � all the hurt � it�s not physical. It�s coming to me from thousands of cats who�ve been tormented by humans.�

�Purr,� said my angel. �Come on, purr yourself to sleep, and I will take you on a celestial journey. You will awake with new knowledge.�

�Knowledge!� I moaned, and another wave of despair engulfed my spirit. �I never needed knowledge before. A cat knows everything it needs. But I don�t know HOW I can possibly do the mission I agreed to. How can a cat manage to reunite a mum with her baby? I can�t tell TammyLee where Rocky is.�

�This knowledge will be given in spirit,� said my angel. �Now, do as I asked. Purr.�

My first purr came out as a complaint, and it hurt right through my body.

�Listen,� said my angel. �Listen to the shining cats purring out there in another dimension.�

Relaxing a little, I listened, and, at first, heard only a murmur of voices from Diana�s room, and, from downstairs, the sound of Amber�s tail banging against the fridge and the snip-snip of scissors as Max cut off bits of bacon for her.

My angel began to hum a lullaby to me and a delicious drowsiness melted my pain into slumber. In my sleep, I heard the heavenly purring, saw the thistledown faces of spirit cats, their eyes like lamps burning around me, illuminating my dreams with an incandescence that was both healing and inviting.

�Am I dying?� I asked, but there was no answer except the humming, the purring and the whirling colours of the scarf. My angel kept repeating something like a mantra: �There is a reason, a reason �� Her words became a cushion of stars, carrying me high above the house and the garden, above the river and the hills, then through the sky, faster and faster. So fast that the stillness of my sleep was tightly tucked around me, keeping me safe.

My spirit was intact, yet I felt like two cats who were separating. One was flying gloriously through endless sparkles, the other was lying limp and lifeless on TammyLee�s bed. From some distant place, I watched TammyLee come back into her bedroom and look closely at that tabby-and-white cat. �That�s me,� I thought. �But I�m not supposed to die yet.�

Her long fingers slipped through my fur, the witchy-green nails shining. Her hand was suddenly still and she seemed to be listening, her face going pale like one of the cream roses in the garden.

�Don�t die on me, Tallulah,� she whispered. �Please, Tallulah.�

I saw the panic in her eyes, but I was detached, still in that distant starry place, no longer flying, but floating, closer and closer to the sequinned edges of my true home, the spirit world, where I was the Queen of Cats. Why had I ever left? I yearned to go back.

�Why can�t I go in?� I asked my angel.

�It is not your time,� she replied, and I searched her silver eyes for an explanation. �You are a brave cat, a bright spirit and you CAN complete your mission. Help is on the way. Feel the hand that is touching you.�

I focussed on TammyLee�s hand and it was trembling as she caressed the silky fur over my heart. She lay down and put her ear against me, the bobble of her earring pressing into me. She was listening for a heartbeat.

�Purr,� said my angel, but I couldn�t. I gazed at her. In her full colours, she was dazzling. �You are very ill, but remember, there is a healer for you. She gave you your name, Tallulah.�

A face drifted into my mind, manifesting through the web of stars, the girl with the long dark plait and the blazing light: Roxanne!

�Send out the call,� said my angel. �And she will come.�

�I can�t,� I said. �I can�t even purr.�

�You can. You can think. And thinking has power. Think of Roxanne. Hold her face in your dreams. Tell her you need help.�

�But it doesn�t work like that with humans,� I argued.

�Thinking has power. Just do it.�

I held Roxanne�s face in my mind, tightly in my dreams as the angel had said. At the same time I watched the pandemonium in the house as TammyLee flew into a panic. She carried me downstairs.

�Dad � DO something. She�s dying.�

�Don�t be RIDICULOUS.�

�WHY can�t you believe me, Dad?�

Max came and looked at my limp body, and Amber came creeping along the floor, whimpering. I felt Max change from being angry to being the organiser.

�Put her in the car. We�ll take her to the vet. Now,� he said. �It might not be too late.�

I didn�t want to go in a car. I hated the vet. But I had no choice. Limp and hardly breathing, I could only lie in TammyLee�s arms as Max quickly locked the house door, got in and revved the engine, the wheels scrunching on gravel.

�Focus on the healer,� said my angel, and I held Roxanne in my mind.

�Who are you phoning?� Max asked sharply, as TammyLee tapped at her mobile in the car. �Damn these bloody traffic lights, they�re always bloody well red. Come on. Come on.�

Cats do believe in miracles. I�d forgotten about them. But one was happening right now in the back of Max�s speeding car.

�Roxanne,� said TammyLee.

She was phoning Roxanne. My angel was right! I�d sent out the call in my thoughts, and it must have arrived.

I heard Roxanne�s voice come through the phone. A mobile phone is a bit crude, but it�s the nearest thing humans have to real telepathy.

�Penny from Cat�s Protection gave me your number,� explained TammyLee, half talking, half crying. �Do you remember a tabby-and-white fluffy cat? Tallulah?

�Of course! Beautiful Tallulah. I�m tuning into her right now.� replied Roxanne. �What�s happened?�

�These EVIL boys got hold of her and threw her � threw her �� TammyLee couldn�t speak for the sobs of rage gusting through her as she remembered my ordeal.

�Take a deep breath,� said Roxanne.

�In the river,� TammyLee said. �We�re taking her to the vet right now. But it�s more than that, Roxanne � it � it�s deep emotional stuff � the hell of being bullied � and, God knows, I should understand THAT.� She took another gulp of air.

�Can we not have another drama when I�m driving?� Max asked wearily.

�She�s my best friend,� explained TammyLee, ignoring Max. �She didn�t do anything. We got her out and dried her off, but I�m frightened they�ve hurt her in some other way � b � broken her back or something terrible � she hasn�t walked or put her tail up, and she�s gone limp.�

�I�m not getting that,� said Roxanne. �I�m sensing she�s bruised and shocked � see what the vet has to say and I�ll come over when you�ve got her home. Where do you live?�

�Oh, thanks, Roxanne. River Cottage, just off the big roundabout by the park. Thanks, you�re a star!�

The next thing I knew was the smell of the vet�s place, the wailing of cats in cages in the waiting room, the cold of the table they put me on. The fear and the silence while he examined me with gentle hands, pulling each paw, checking my tail, squeezing my sore tummy. When he did that, it hurt and I heard myself let out a long mewling cry.

�She�s bruised,� he said. �Her legs are OK but she doesn�t want to stand up, does she? We�ll do a scan.�

While he was running the scanner over me, I could feel Roxanne coaxing me back from where I still hovered, gazing longingly into the spirit world.

�I think she�s basically OK,� the vet said, �but shock can affect cats very badly � worse than a human. I�ll give her a mild sedative and she�ll sleep for a few hours. Take her home and keep her warm.�

I opened my eyes then and saw TammyLee�s anxious face, and the glint of her bangles as she stroked me gently under the chin.

I remembered how much I loved her and I was so pleased to see her there, looking after me, that I managed a purr-meow.

�Magic puss cat,� she said, and smiled at me.

I was back.

The long sleep did me good, and, when I awoke, I found myself back on the bed with the rainbow scarf wound around me, and TammyLee was bringing Roxanne into the bedroom.

The two girls sat one each side of me and I felt as if the sun itself had come into the room. I wanted to love them both, so I stood up, stretched, and wove my way to and fro between them, rubbing my head against them, my tail brushing their bare arms.

�She�s much better,� said TammyLee. �Listen to her purring. Maybe she doesn�t need healing now.�

�We�ll see,� said Roxanne, and she picked me up and held me against her heart. �Sometimes, animals want to talk to me. I can hear their voices by telepathy.�

�Can you? Wow! What do you want me to do?�

�Just be here � and listen. If she wants me to, I�ll tell you what she�s saying. Please be very still and quiet.�

As before, Roxanne closed her eyes and talked to me in a language I understood: telepathy. First, we talked about the boys dropping me in the river and whether I hated them for it.

�She�s telling me about the boys,� said Roxanne out loud, �and we�re forgiving them.�

�I shan�t,� said TammyLee, and her eyes burned. �I�ll never forgive them. Never.�

�Animals do,� said Roxanne. �They forgive us and forgive us, no matter how many mistakes we make.�

�But those evil jerks don�t deserve forgiveness.�

�But you do. You deserve to do the forgiving. It heals you. You are letting go of a burden,� said Roxanne.

TammyLee looked confused.�No one�s ever said that to me before,� she said, frowning. �I can�t get my head round it.�

�It�s your heart that needs to forgive, not your head,� said Roxanne, in a quiet, hypnotic voice. �Your heart is full of love and light. There�s no room in it for hatred and blame.�

�So � how do you do it?�

�You just let go, my darling. Like a big stone you have carried up a steep mountain � it�s been dragging you down � but now, let it go and watch it rolling away, and you feel light and free as a bird.�

She spoke passionately, and TammyLee listened intently, shaking her head a little.

�Now, if you don�t mind, I�m going to listen to Tallulah,� said Roxanne, and both girls kept still and quiet. Overjoyed to have a listener, I told Roxanne everything. How I, the Queen of Cats, had come here to reunite a mother with her baby, how I had found Rocky and kept him warm, as a tiny baby. Then, how I�d found him again and didn�t know how I could convey information to TammyLee. I asked Roxanne to tell her.

What I didn�t expect was the shattering effect it would have on TammyLee.

Chapter Ten

NEVER, NEVER, EVER

Roxanne was hesitating to speak the words I�d given her. She was trying to change its meaning. I sighed and patted her face with my paw.

�So, what is Tallulah telling you?� asked TammyLee, her eyes wide open and thirsty for the information.

�She�s � giving me a name �� said Roxanne, carefully, and she put a hand on TammyLee�s arm.

�A name? What name?�

�Rocky.�

TammyLee stiffened, her aura turning to hard bright steel, like a suit of armour.

�So � what about Rocky?� she asked after a long pause.

�I � I�m not sure I should tell you � it � well � it might be painful for you, darling,� said Roxanne kindly, and I gave her concerned face another pat � �but Tallulah wants me to. It�s important to her, and she�s been frustrated because she can�t tell you.�

�Tell me what?�

I paid attention to the intense eye contact between the two women, and the way TammyLee looked like a child on the edge of a stormy sea, afraid, but wanting to go in.�Tallulah is the Queen of Cats in the spirit world,� said Roxanne. �Are you comfortable with that kind of stuff?�

�Yeah � I mean � well, she would be, wouldn�t she?� TammyLee smiled. �I always knew she was magic.�

I stepped gently on to her lap, and curled up there, doing the most calming kind of purr I could muster. She had to listen. I would keep her still and quiet.

�Is that it then?� asked TammyLee.

�No � there�s more � about Rocky.�

�Go on.�

�Tallulah wants you to know she saved Rocky�s life when he was a tiny baby. She stayed all night with him and kept him warm.�

TammyLee gasped. I looked at her eyes and they were flooded with fear that seemed to be erupting from some deep dark well in her soul. I cuddled close.

�There�s more,� said Roxanne. �This cat is like a guardian angel.�

�Go on.�

�Tallulah came here to support you, TammyLee. She adores you. And � and ��

�Oh, I know that. I adore her.�

TammyLee relaxed for a second, and took a deep breath. Roxanne was still staring at her intently, and, in the moment of silence, I could hear Amber coming upstairs. Her nails clicked along the landing and she peeped round the door.

�Aw � look at that,� said Roxanne. �Is this Amber? Isn�t she beautiful? She�s come to love you.�

Amber sidled up to TammyLee and sat down, leaning her warm bulk against her legs.

�She knows,� said TammyLee, stroking the dog�s silky ears.

�Animals do. They know, and they forgive, and they don�t judge us.�

�So � what else did Tallulah tell you?�

�She wants you to know that she has found Rocky, and, when the time is right, she will lead you to him.�

I�d thought TammyLee would be pleased, but she wasn�t. She went white. Her eyes hardened and she stood up and put me back on Roxanne�s lap. She looked at the window, and the door and up at the ceiling. Then she stalked over to the open door, slammed it shut and turned to face us, leaning against it. Her knees were shaking and her green eyes shone like the river water.

�Don�t tell my dad,� she pleaded in a whisper, �or my mum. Or anyone. If you tell anyone about Rocky, I�ll kill myself. I mean it.�

She was shaking so hard it made the door rattle. We all looked at her � Roxanne, Amber and me � and in that moment, I saw TammyLee�s angel holding her in a cocoon of misty light, and the angel looked sad.

�Don�t worry � I won�t.� Roxanne didn�t look surprised at all.

�Thanks.� TammyLee moved away from the door and went to the mirror. She started coiling her hair into a bun and wiping the smudges off her checks with a round white pad she took from a pot. �I�ve been in such a state all day,� she said, �and I�ve got my GCSE maths exam on Monday andmy mum to look after. I�ve gotta get my act together. I have to stay functional � I can�t fall apart.� She leaned close to the mirror and brushed mascara onto her eyelashes, acting as if she didn�t care and didn�t want us around.

�I�d better go.� Roxanne gave me a kiss and put me down next to Amber.

�Yeah � thanks, Roxanne. Appreciate it,� said TammyLee, but she didn�t glance up from the mirror.

�I�ll come again if you need me.�

�Cool. Might do.�

�Are you sure you�re OK?�

�Yeah � I�m good.�

After Roxanne had gone, TammyLee came over to the bed and looked at it. She smoothed the quilt, and then collapsed, curled up in a ball and went to sleep almost instantly. Amber wasn�t supposed to go on the bed but she climbed up there and stretched out against TammyLee�s back, and I curled up with my head on her chest. The three of us slept and slept until it was dark, and, when Max put his head round the door, I stared at him until he went away.

We all needed to sleep, and let the day fold up into the night like a damaged flower, best forgotten.

I was better in the morning, well enough to go downstairs, eat my breakfast and sit in the window in the morning sun. It looked as if everything was back to normal, until Max had a go at TammyLee.

We were out on the patio, and TammyLee had her face in a mug of coffee, with a maths book spread out on the garden table. Amber was rolling on the lawn, and Diana sat in her wheelchair, drinking from a funny little cup with gold squiggles on it. I sat quietly on the cushion next to TammyLee, dreaming of the time when we could go to the river again and I could resume my sardine fishing.

Then Max�s aura caught my attention. He was on guard, like a dog, tense and suspicious. His coffee sat untouched on the table, his newspaper folded on his lap, and he was staring into the sky, then glancing at TammyLee with questions simmering in his eyes. He kept taking a breath, as if to speak, then changing his mind.

�That boy �� he said, eventually. �What was his name again?�

�Dylan,� said TammyLee, without looking up. �And I�m trying to revise, Dad.�

�Do you know him?� asked Max, his eyes bright with suspicion.

�Yeah. He was a year ahead of me in school. He�s left now, Dad.�

�So what�s he doing now?�

TammyLee shrugged.�How should I know?�

�I don�t like his attitude,� said Max, frowning.

�He�s just a lad,� said Diana. �You were like that once.�

�I most certainly was not. I�d never have dared speak to an adult like he did. Rude, he was, and arrogant. If there�s one thing I abhor, its insolence.�

�Oh, don�t go on about it, Dad. I�m trying to study.�

Max stood up and banged his newspaper on the table.

�Answer my question, girl.�

TammyLee sighed.�I don�t know,� she repeated edgily. �And you�re being rude, calling me �girl�.�

�Well, I didn�t like the way he spoke to you, or the way he looked at you. He openly threatened you. Didn�t you hear what he said?�

�Look, Dad, it�s pretty typical. All mouth and trousers,� said TammyLee.

�Well, I hope you haven�t been associating with him.�

TammyLee glared at Max.�Who I make friends with is my business, not yours. And, in case you haven�t noticed, I�ve got an EXAM tomorrow. You just don�t listen, do you?�

�She has,� said Diana. �I think you should leave this for another time, Max. We had enough drama yesterday. Let�s have some peace.�

�You can�t have peace when there are issues to be discussed,� said Max. His back was rigid, his cheeks twitching as he looked at TammyLee, who was doing her best to ignore him. I just sat quietly, looking at the dark pink colour that was creeping up TammyLee�s neck and over her face. I wished Max would leave her alone. Amber was thinking the same, her brown eyes moving anxiously from one to the other.

�Leave it for now, Max,� Diana insisted. Her face was white, her eyes like black bubbles, and her hands looked luminous, as if she was made of glass. I sensed that she was very ill. Like me, she had been to the distant shores of the spirit world, and returned, many times.

�All right. For now.� Max picked up his newspaper and shook it open. He glowered at TammyLee. �If you didn�t speak to me so rudely, young lady, I�d be more prepared to listen.�

TammyLee rolled her eyes and Diana put a hand on her arm. A secret smile passed between them. I wondered what would happen when she died. Would TammyLee leave? Would she take me with her?

I�d met some cats who lived their whole lives in one place, with one family, and they were contented. They didn�t know how lucky they were. You�d think that I, the Queens of Cats, would be given a life of luxury and stability. But so far, my life had been full of change and anxiety. I wasn�t sure I could cope with much more of it.

Only Amber knew when I was anxious. Now, she put her paws up on the windowsill, her tail wagging, and gazed at me with shining eyes. I gave her a kiss, and jumped down to sit close to her warm comforting body. We were best mates, Amber and I, no matter what the humans were doing. My bond with her was precious.

TammyLee was trying to focus on her exam, but I sensed that Rocky was uppermost in her mind. When she came home from school, I ran to meet her, and she seemed happy.

�That�s IT!� she said joyfully, as she picked me up. �The last exam is over. I�ve made a mess of it, but I don�t really care, Tallulah. I�m going to be a hairdresser, no matter what Dad says.�

She carried me up to her bedroom and I sat, looking at her, waiting. I knew what was lurking under the joy. Sadness, guilt and a mother�s grief at losing her child.

�It has to come out,� my angel had said, �and you must be there.�

So I sat, and looked into her soul, and waited.

The exams were over. TammyLee had a space in front of her, and, like a summer sky, it darkened in seconds with the thundercloud of emotions she�d been suppressing for the last year.

�You know � about Rocky, Tallulah,� she whispered, and started twisting her bangles round and round her arm, pinching them together and letting them fall, clinking and twinkling down to her wrist. �I think about him every day,� she said. �It�s like � he�ll never leave me alone, Tallulah. I � I so wish I�d cuddled him � he was gorgeous � he had such bright, knowing eyes � and cute little hands that looked like mine � How could I have � done what I did? He�ll never forgive me and I�ll never forgive myself. I�m so wicked, Tallulah �thank you for loving me � I don�t deserve you. Oh, what am I going to do?�

She cried out as the storm of remorse broke into her summer. It was loud, and unstoppable. I heard Amber whining and padding upstairs, her tail down as she came round the door and sat close, her chin on the bed. Then I heard the tap and shuffle of Diana�s Zimmer frame as she dragged herself into TammyLee�s bedroom, her eyes brimming with concern.

�What is it, darling?�

TammyLee shook her head violently.�I can�t tell you, Mum.�

�You can, just take your time.� Diana manoeuvred herself onto TammyLee�s bed, and took her daughter�s hot head into her frail arms, stroking her back and twiddling strands of her hair, which were escaping from the fiercely pinned bun.

TammyLee tore at it and shook it loose.�I can�t STAND my hair, it�s driving me bonkers and I�m too hot,� she moaned, and Diana picked up a magazine and began to fan her daughter�s face with it.

�But what�s really wrong?� she asked. �Something�s been bugging you for a long, long time, TammyLee � don�t think I haven�t noticed. It�s OK, love, you know you can tell me anything � I won�t tell your Dad � I promise.�

�I can�t.� TammyLee shook her head. She stared at Diana. �You shouldn�t have got out of bed, Mum. I�ll get your tea now and sort you out.�

�No, sweetheart, I don�t need anything and I�m going to sit here until you tell me what�s wrong,� said Diana. �I can�t bear to see you suffer like this. Tallulah�s all right now. Your exams are over. So what is it?�

TammyLee was silent, her fingers pulling a long gold thread out of a cushion.

�Is it � looking after me?� Diana asked, and TammyLee shook her head, her eyes staring out of the window.

�As long as I�m alive, you�ll never be free,� said Diana seriously. �I worry for you. It�s not the kind of life I dreamed of for my only daughter. I dreamed of you being happy. Growing up and meeting a lovely young man, and, eventually � grandchildren! I�d so love to be a granny.�

�Oh, Mum!� TammyLee pulled harder at the long golden thread she was extracting from a cushion. She wound it tightly round her fingers and seemed to be holding her breath. Obviously, Diana�s comment had made things worse. The silence went on so long that I felt I should meow, and, when I did, they both looked at me. I could see the desperation in TammyLee�s eyes, and I wanted to help. Moving softly, I crept onto her lap and stretched my paws over her heart. But still she was silent, and I tried so hard to communicate telepathically with Diana.

Something must have got through, for Diana was looking intently at her daughter, trying to get eye contact.

�What is it, darling?� she asked. Then, in the long silence, Diana reached out her hand to touch TammyLee�s shoulder. �You�re not � not �?� She took a deep breath. �You�re not pregnant, are you love? You know I�d stand by you if you were.�

�No, Mum. It�s OK. You don�t have to give me the birds-and-bees stuff.�

�Promise?�

�Promise.�

�Well, are you going to unpick that whole cushion?� Diana�s eyes danced with gentle humour. �Or shall we start on the sofa?�

TammyLee smiled.

�You�re amazing, Mum,� she said, and the tension had passed � until the next time, I thought. One day, TammyLee will tell Diana about Rocky.

But later, when I was curled up on her bed, TammyLee whispered to me fiercely:�Mum and Dad must never know about Rocky. Never, never, EVER.�

Chapter Eleven

DYLAN

It didn�t take me long to recover from being dropped in the river. I had a happy home, and lots of love and attention. TammyLee spoiled me with the best food, and a fishy tasting tablet she gave me daily. �For your coat,� she said, and my tabby and white fur was thick and glossy. She brushed me a lot, so I didn�t have the hassle of sorting out matted tufts of hair. She examined my paws, and my eyes, and even my teeth, to make sure I was healthy. I couldn�t have been a more pampered cat.

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 inour 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.

�Idon�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.�

�Oh, come on, yes, you did.�

�I DID NOT. You just got me drunk with that bottle of stuff you said was only cider. Then you took advantage of me because you knew I hadn�t got a life �cause I look after my mum. I could have reported you for rape, but I didn�t.�

�No, you just dumped me, didn�t you?� Dylan�s eyes darkened with pain. �One minute you were crazy about me, telling everyone I was hot, and the next minute you were acting like I never existed. It hurt. I know I act the hard man and stuff, but I do have feelings, and I actually did loveyou.�

�Is that why you dropped my cat in the river?�

�No � I s�pose I just wanted to hurt you back somehow.�

There was another painful silence. I shuffled around and put my chin on TammyLee�s heart so that she could feel my loud purring. But I didn�t want to be there, in the middle of this fierce argument. I wanted to be in the kitchen, eating my tea in peace. I wanted to curl up on Amber�s bed and wait for her to come back and lie with me, and tell me about her trip to thebeach.

�I respected you, for the way you look after your mum,� Dylan said, �but I don�t have a home life and stuff like you. I live in a no-hopers� flat and I�ve only got my mum and she�s pissed off with me most of the time. That day, when you told me you were pregnant, I was really immature. I got to thinking about it later, and actually dreaming about being a dad.�

TammyLee was quieter now. She was listening to him, and stroking me along my back and rubbing behind my ears with her fingers.

�I watched you,� continued Dylan, �all those months, and you were getting a bump. You just wore loose clothes and told everyone you were bingeing on junk food.�

�So?�

�So what happened? What happened to OUR baby? TammyLee, I�m not leaving until you tell me.�

�I miscarried.� TammyLee spat the words out like a tablet she couldn�t swallow.

Dylan stood up, and so did she, still holding me.

�I � don�t � believe you,� he said, forcefully, and his eyes narrowed.

�Suit yourself.�

He took a step forward and put his face close to us. I felt TammyLee begin to tremble.

�Get this, you lying bitch,� Dylan hissed. �I intend to find out what you really did. I know when our baby should have been born � round about the eighteenth of May, I reckon. I read the papers, see? And I watch the news. I can find it all online � and if I find out you dumped him somewhere, I�ll take a DNA test, and YOU are going to take responsibility for what you did to MY baby. No one messes with me, or my family.�

With a final glare of his blue eyes, he left the garden in three strides, vaulted the gate into the road, and we listened to the thud-thud of his footsteps going away.

TammyLee was cold and shaking all over. She cried into my fur.

�Oh, God, Tallulah. What am I going to DO?�

Chapter Twelve

A DARK AFTERNOON

I first encountered Dylan�s mum on a dark autumn afternoon. The leaves were falling in shoals, blowing along the road and piling into corners and gateways. I was sitting in a nest I�d made in the hedge, a cosy hiding place near the gate. I�d come outside for some thinking time, leaving the family clustered round the television, watching weather reports.

�There�s now a red alert for prolonged, heavy rain,� Max had said. �I�d better go and get some sandbags. We don�t want the river in the garden again.�

I didn�t know what he meant. I asked Amber, and she didn�t know either. But I remembered what my angel had said about the river being like a lion in the winter, and it made me uneasy. My instinctive attunement to the natural world gave me a sense of something ominous, a massive storm prowling out over the sea. I could feel its shadow, and taste its salt on the wind.

TammyLee had been full of anxiety since Dylan�s visit. Yet she continued to look after Diana and clean the house with breathtaking efficiency. She seemed able to flick a switch and suddenly become calm and cheerful, and proud of her ability to be her mum�s carer. She told no one, except me, of her private torment over Rocky.

�Every day of my life, I think about Rocky,� she often said, �and every day I hate myself for what I did. I might never see him again in my whole life, and I want to, so much. Supposing I couldn�t ever have another baby? And I�m so scared, Tallulah, you�re my only friend. I�m scaredI�ll go to prison if Dylan finds out. Oh, what am I going to DO?�

I could only be with her, and kiss her face, and purr, but the autumn days raced on and nothing happened.

Until today.

The heavy footsteps woke me up and I saw a pair of swollen, purple legs coming through the gate, and another set of legs in black boots and jeans. Dylan!

His mum was a mountain of a woman, her aura fizzling with indignation as she waddled down the path with Dylan slouching behind her, his eyes downcast. She didn�t use the doorbell, but banged the door with her fist.

Amber barked and barked, but she knocked again.�I ain�t scared of your bloody dog. Come on, answer. I ain�t going nowhere �til you�ve �eard what I got to say.� She sniffed loudly.

Alarmed, I ran, low to the ground, round the side of the house to the kitchen door, through the cat flap and under the sofa where I felt safe.

Max was getting up out of his armchair.

�Who on earth is that? Stop barking, Amber.�

Amber ran to his side, her hackles ridged along her back. Max took her by the collar, dragged her into the conservatory and shut the door.�QUIET. On your bed, now.�

He opened the front door, and Dylan�s mum came billowing into the hall.

�Excuse me � I don�t recall inviting you in,� protested Max, but his voice just blew away through the open door like a discarded leaf. Ignoring him, she barged into the lounge, with Dylan following, looking lost and sullen in her intimidating presence.

There was no place to hide. Diana was lying on the sofa with a blue blanket over her, and TammyLee was sitting in the chair beside her, engrossed in playing with her mobile.

�Is that �er?� Dylan�s mum asked him, jerking her thumb at TammyLee.

�Yeah.�

�Right, you � you got some explaining to do, my girl.� Dylan�s mum folded her fat arms. �And I ain�t leaving �til you come clean about what YOU did with MY grandchild.�

TammyLee couldn�t seem to find words to reply.

In the shocked silence that followed, the house was filled with the roar of heavy rain. Max stood up and assembled the shreds of his authority.

�And you are?� he asked acidly.

��Is mum.� She jerked a thumb at Dylan, who was shuffling from one foot to the other. �Iris Fredrickson.�

�Well now, Iris Fredrickson � what gives you the right to barge into our home, uninvited? Especially with this � this boy in tow. He�s not welcome here, and neither are you. So kindly leave.�

�I don�t take no notice of the likes of you,� Iris said, looking contemptuously at Max. �Think you�re so bloody good, don�t you? Well, your daughter is a lying whore.�

TammyLee leaped to her feet.

�I AM NOT,� she hissed. �You don�t even know me.�

�Don�t want to, either.�

�You�ve no idea who I am or what kind of life I have,� TammyLee said. �You only know what Dylan�s told you. He feels guilty about dropping my cat in the river � animal cruelty that was � I could have reported him for it � so he�s just winding you up with stuff he�s fabricating to get attention. That�s what he is, an attention seeker. Everyone knows that.�

�Now you listen to me, my girl.� Iris moved closer and jabbed a fat finger at TammyLee�s face.

�No, you listen.� TammyLee stamped her foot, and even from under the sofa, I could feel the heat of her anger. I wished I was a tiger that could leap out and defend her. �I don�t have a life like most girls my age. I come home from college and care for my mum,� she said, waving a hand at Diana, who was calmly watching.

�That don�t make you a saint,� said Iris.

�WHAT is this about?� demanded Max. �Will someone please tell me?� He looked searchingly from one to the other, while torrents of rain lashed at the windows. It was nearly dark outside, but inside the fire flickered orange, and there was light that only I could see. It was the shine of angels who were mostly around Diana.

I chose that moment to emerge from under the sofa. I had to help. With my tail up and eyes bright, I was aware of the empowering light as I stood there bravely, a very small cat in the midst of angry, towering humans. Who should I go to? I wanted to be with Diana, or TammyLee� that would have been the obvious choice. But I looked at Iris, first. I�d seen her swollen legs coming through the gate and her fist thumping the door. Now I looked for her eyes, which were embedded in the folds of an unhappy face. I examined her aura and it was in tatters. Her heart was tightly wrapped in layers of misery.

She looked down at me looking up at her and melted. That�s when I knew exactly what to do. I targeted her, brushing my waving tail around those swollen legs as I glided to and fro. I stood up on my back legs, purring, and dabbed at her skirt with paws of velvet.

Everyone was watching me.

Iris couldn�t resist me. She reached down and smoothed me, and it was obvious from her touch that she loved cats. Without asking permission, she picked me up and I let her. I made a fuss of her, purring, and gazing into her eyes.

�You don�t have to be angry,� I was telling her, by telepathy. �You can talk quietly, like Diana, and then the angels will help you.� I talked directly to her soul. It shone like a lamp in the distance, and as she responded to my love � it came closer and she began to relax.

Diana decided to help me.�Well,� she said. �Tallulah loves you, doesn�t she? Now, why don�t you sit down in that armchair, with Tallulah? And Dylan, you sit there, on the stool by the fire � you look cold, poor lad. And let�s talk this over, quietly, and calmly, shall we?�

Diana would have made a good cat, I thought approvingly. She was so lovely, and quietly spoken, no one could get mad with her. I saw Dylan glance at her with disbelief and longing in his eyes.

�You sit here, love. I�ll move my feet,� she said to TammyLee, who was staring at me with an incredulous expression.

Everyone sat down exactly where Diana had told them to, and I began work on Iris�s heart. Only Max was still standing, looking bewildered as he often did when faced with the radiance of Diana�s love. She looked at him. �Now why don�t you go and get those sandbags, Max? Listen to that rain.� She turned to Iris and spoke to her as if she was a long-lost friend. �We have to be so careful living close to the river.�

�Absolutely not,� said Max. �I�m staying right here until this is sorted out.�

His voice sounded raucous in the quiet atmosphere Diana and I had created. Dylan sat mutinously on the stool, studying the flames leaping up the chimney. I noticed a handbag dangling from one of Iris�s arms. �Just wait until you put that down,� I thought. �I�ll have that open in seconds and see what�s inside.�

But Iris opened the handbag first, and took out a folded piece of newspaper. She hung the bag back on her arm.

�THAT�s what this is about.� She unfolded the paper and thrust it at Max. �And don�t even think about tearing it up. I got copies.�

Max frowned as he read what was on the paper, and handed it to Diana.

�Oh, yes, I remember that poor little baby,� Diana said. �I hope someone nice adopted him and I hope the mum is all right. She must have been desperate to abandon her baby.�

�I don�t call it desperate. EVIL, that�s what I call it,� said Iris loudly. She pointed at TammyLee. �SHE�s the mother. Ask her, go on � ask her.�

Her accusation rang around the room. Even Diana looked shocked. TammyLee put her head in her hands.

�There you are. Look at �er. Guilty!� Iris announced triumphantly.

�That�s an appalling accusation,� said Max. �Can you substantiate it?�

�SHE can.� Iris pointed at TammyLee.

�Don�t be ridiculous,� said Max. He looked at TammyLee. �It�s not true, is it? Tell me it�s not true.�

Diana put both arms round TammyLee and held her tightly.�Surely this isn�t true, darling? Darling?� TammyLee was silent, holding the edges of her secret together with a long practised strength.

Iris was using up my love so fast I didn�t think I could give any more. I jumped down and ran to the sofa, to sit between TammyLee and Diana, and from there I could see Amber�s puzzled face watching us through the glass door, her tail down.

The talking went on, and on, with the clock ticking loudly in the silence and the rain adding a hush to the house. The flames in the fireplace lost their energy and began to glow, and sink into scarlet.

Seeming to be intimidated by his mum, Dylan took no part in the conversation, only responding with a grunt or a shrug. They argued about dates and lies, while Diana sat with the newspaper picture of Rocky in her hands, smoothing it and gazing at the baby�s bright little face.

After one of the silences, she said,�So � you think that this little boy is my grandson?�

�And mine,� said Iris. She pointed at TammyLee. �And she�s the mother. Aren�t you? Come on, admit it.�

�I�m not admitting anything,� said TammyLee stonily.

Iris leaned forward in her chair.�Then if you won�t admit it, we�ll have no choice. I�m not letting this go. We�ll go to the social workers � and my son will have a DNA test done. At least he�s coming clean about what he did � and he wants to be a father to that baby. You lot think my Dylan�s a bad boy, butI know different. If he�s got the guts to own up, why haven�t you � Tammy whatever your name is? Stubborn aren�t you? � Madam!�

�Will you SHUT UP!� screamed TammyLee, her hands clutching her temples. �Just shut the hell up and get out of our house. GO. Just GO.�

�Please, darling � shh � it�s OK. Max and I will support you whatever happens � we�re here.� Diana turned to Iris. �I think � it would be best if you go and leave us to talk to our Tam on her own. Then we�ll get back to you, I promise. Can you understand that � as a mum?�

�She�s right,� said Max

Iris folded her arms and sat back.�I ain�t moving �til she admits it,� she said. �Get the police if you like � they�ll be interested in what I�ve got to say. I ain�t moving.�

Dylan rolled his eyes and tried to intervene.

�Mum! We can�t stay here all night. I want to get home.�

She shot him down.�Don�t you start. Don�t you dare tell me what to do!�

Max walked across to the window and looked out.�It�s raining, pouring,� he said, �and in view of our proximity to the river, which is already full to the brim, I think you should go and I�m going to drive you home. Otherwise, you�ll end up sleeping here with no electricity. And before you object to that, I would point out that it�s a generous offer � kind of me, considering the way you barged in here, uninvited.�

�Tomorrow�s another day,� said Diana. �We need time to sort this out, Iris. It�s a shock, yes, but IF it�s true, these two young people will need our support, not condemnation. I�m concerned for my daughter, and I�m sure you are for Dylan. We shouldn�t involve the police at all.It�s a family matter.�

�Thanks.� Dylan looked at Diana as if she was rescuing him. �I�m not a bad person like you think � I � I�m sorry for what I did to the cat � it was stupid � peer pressure and stuff.�

�Yeah, and drugs,� said TammyLee.

�I�m off it. I�m clean now.�

��E is,� said Iris, �without any help from the medics.�

�Pigs might fly,� TammyLee muttered.

�This isn�t going anywhere,� said Max, taking his raincoat from its peg and jingling his car keys. �I�m going now so make your minds up.�

Dylan stood up.�Look, Mum,� he said, putting his face close to hers, �you know you can�t walk home in this rain, and there won�t be a bus for hours. Have some sense. This isn�t the last day in the history of the universe.�

Iris sighed. She glowered at TammyLee, and handed her a slip of paper.�That�s my mobile number and, if I haven�t got the truth from you by tomorrow, I�ll be back � with the socials.� She unzipped her handbag, extracted a voluminous pink raincoat from a pouch and put it on with much rustling.

As soon as they had gone, TammyLee let Amber out of the conservatory, and we listened to the rain pounding the glass roof, and the splashing of Max�s car driving off into the night.

Diana and TammyLee stayed on the sofa, not speaking, but TammyLee wouldn�t look at her mum. I returned to the warm hearth rug with Amber and began to wash vigorously, feeling I needed to cleanse my coat of the last traces of the hostility Iris had generated in our home.

Diana was holding TammyLee�s hand, and gazing expectantly at her. If she�d kept quiet, it might have been OK, but, in her softest voice, she asked that same painful question: �Is it true?�

TammyLee looked at her, desperately and wordlessly. Then she lurched to her feet and stumbled out of the room and up the stairs. Minutes later she hurried down again, clad in high boots, a black parka and with her hair stuffed into the hood, which was falling forward over her face.

I heard Diana gasp as her daughter fled past and flung the front door open. The wind blasted hard raindrops and yellow leaves into the hall. TammyLee slammed the door behind her, and we heard her footsteps vanishing into the night.

I jumped onto the windowsill and ducked under the curtain to see which way she was going, and I saw her hooded silhouette, a bag flying from her shoulder. She headed down the road towards the busy roundabout where the headlights lit up the driving rain and the water pouring down both sides of the road.

I was used to TammyLee coming and going, so her flight from the house didn�t bother me. But it worried Diana. I�d never seen her so upset. She sat with her eyes shut and her hands clinging to a patchwork cushion that TammyLee had made, repeating over and over again, �Oh, God, please look after our Tam. Let her come back, please.�

Even the solid presence of Amber leaning against her legs didn�t seem to help. I went on washing and grooming my fur until it felt silky and clean. Then I looked round for something to play with. After all the rage and the rows the humans imposed on me, I needed time to be a cat.

I padded around, sniffing the places where Dylan and Iris had sat, and made an amazing discovery. Iris had left her handbag behind! Wow. I circled it a few times, eyeing the worn leather toggle on the zip, patted it, and did my pouncing routine, leaping and twizzling in the air. I crouched and sidled, never taking my eyes from the zip toggle in case it moved, loving the excitement and fun building inside me.

Little beads of joy raced through my heart. With delicate skill, I got the toggle between my teeth, held the bag down with my paws, and pulled. It slid open with a satisfying buzz. Now I could see inside. I did my pounce routine again, then reached my paw into the soft interior and extracted an open roll of peppermints. The smell of them, and the spiral of torn green wrapping, freaked me out and I chased it towards Amber. She sniffed at it and stuck her nose high in the air.�I�m not allowed to have those,� she said, but I left them there for her, and returned to the open bag.

Next, I took out a bunch of keys, which smelled awful. Attached to them was a tiny lion with a fuzzy mane and eyes that rolled around comically. He wasn�t brilliant to play with because I couldn�t detach him from the keys. I went on burrowing, and extracted a rattly packet of tablets in silver foil, and a biscuit wrapped in cellophane. I was just hooking out the purse, when Amber started barking and Max came back in.

�Iris left her handbag behind,� he said, rolling his eyes. �And I see you�ve been busy, Tallulah!� Tutting, he scooped up the stuff I�d taken out and put it back, but no one laughed, and that was unusual. This time, my attempt to break up the misery with a bit of humour was not appreciated.

�Back soon,� said Max. �I�ll pick up some sandbags.�

�No � Max � wait,� cried Diana, her face taut with anxiety.

�What is it, love?� In two strides, Max was beside her, looking concerned. But Diana couldn�t seem to speak. She clutched his arm and took some deep breaths.

�Our Tam has run away,� she sobbed. �Never mind the sandbags � you�ve got to find her, Max � she�s so vulnerable just now � and she ran out the door in black clothes. She�ll get hit by a car. Oh, please, please look for her, Max � she might do something terrible, the state she�s in.�

�Silly girl,� said Max. �What about you, here on your own?�

�I�ll be OK for a few hours,� wept Diana. �Please, just go and look for her. And don�t shout at her, Max, please. She�s very, very emotionally fragile right now.�

Chapter Thirteen

THE LION IN WINTER

Hours later, Max came back, without TammyLee.

�No sign of her,� he said. �I checked all the usual places where she goes. Her mobile is turned off. If she�s not back in the morning, we�ll report her missing.�

The anxiety stretched itself into every corner of the house. Max made up the fire and brewed cocoa in silence. He washed up and fed Amber, and put some fresh cat litter in my tray.�Don�t you go out, Tallulah,� he said. Amber was allowed out, and came back with her legs dripping wet. Then Max lit candles and stood them in the window in jars. He persuaded Diana to go upstairs to bed. �While you can,� he said. �If the power goes off, you won�t have the stair lift.�

�I can�t possibly sleep,� said Diana, �not while my TammyLee is out there. I don�t want my medication tonight, Max � I need to stay awake.�

Max stayed up with her and we heard their voices talking. Amber and I had had enough of the stress. We needed a long sleep, and we needed each other. I was glad to lie on the hearth rug with her, even though she was snoring and having one of her woofy dreams. The rhythm of her breath, and the purr of the fire, was comforting. The sound of the rain seemed distant, but the night was full of unfamiliar swishing and gurgling sounds.

Later, I was wide awake for a while and I trotted upstairs to TammyLee�s room, to see if she was there, and she wasn�t. I rolled about on the duvet and played with the soft edge of it. Then I jumped onto the shelf of teddy bears and walked along it with my tail up, inspecting them. They hadn�t got auras, only the twinkling eyes gave them a presence, and theirblack noses and stitched-on smiles. Next, I sat on TammyLee�s laptop, to think. I sat on her chair, and on her pillow. Where was she? I wanted her.

What if she never came back? Whose cat would I be then?

�Worrying won�t help you,� said my angel. The next three days are what you need to focus on, and you must look after YOURSELF, Tallulah. You are a very important cat, and you are so loved � we need you to survive.�

�Survive what?� I asked, but my angel disappeared in a shimmy of light, and I was left alone on TammyLee�s bed. Survive? What, again?

There was silence from Diana�s room, so I ran downstairs to Amber and snuggled up to her. She sighed and put a warm paw over me, as if she wanted to hug me. I purred a little and went to sleep between her big paws, knowing that if I heard TammyLee�s footsteps, I�d be instantly awake, and so would Amber.

The candles flickered until dawn, and the sunrise was silver grey. Drops of rain still covered the windows and there was an unfamiliar light outside, and no sounds of traffic, which was unusual. A loud metallic throbbing sound filled the air, coming and going as if some great machine was patrolling the sky.

Amber seemed tense. She wouldn�t talk to me, but stood in the doorway, listening, her tail down. I was OK, refreshed from my sleep and wanting to go out in the garden. Heading for the cat flap, I ran through the kitchen with my tail up, hoping TammyLee would be on her way back. The kitchen floor was wet, causing me to stop and shake each paw. I butted my head against the cat flap and jumped out. Too late, I saw water shining, directly outside, and there was no avoiding it. The whole garden shone like a lake. Even the path was submerged and water was lapping at the walls of the house. With my paws and tummy horribly wet and cold, I turned and went back through the cat flap. The hearth rug was still warm, and Amber came to me, whining, and tried to lick me dry. She was comforting, but I wanted TammyLee to come and fluff me up with a towel. I needed her there, to cuddle me and explain what was happening. I missed her kindness.

Amber ran to the window and put her paws up on the sill, looking out as if someone was coming. I leaped up there, and stared, transfixed by what was happening outside. Max had stacked sandbags across the gate, and a line of gleaming muddy brown water was spilling over the top of them. Out in the road, the water was flowing along like a river, and, in the distance, voices were shouting. The sky throbbed with circling helicopters.

A duck with a green head lurched over the top of the sandbags and started swimming around our garden as if it owned the place. I sat up very straight and batted the window, trying to tell that duck exactly what I would do to it if I was out there.

Amber was watching, but her tail wasn�t wagging and her eyes looked worried. Then she did something that seriously spooked me. She lifted her head, stretched her throat, and howled, on and on. It chilled me to my bones. It resounded through the house, along the floor and up the walls, into corners and cupboards, even the lampshades quivered with it.

My fur ruffed out, my eyes must have gone black with terror, and my pulse raced. But Amber didn�t stop. The howling went on and on, like a warning siren.

Too petrified to move, I watched the water in the garden. I saw Max�s sandbag wall sag and burst open, and a torrent of brown water surged towards the house with an unforgettable roar. It burst through the cat flap in a plume of froth, swept across the kitchen and into the hall.

Amber stopped howling and barked. She spun round and lolloped through the water and up the stairs, leaving me paralysed with terror on the windowsill.

I watched in horror as my food bowl, still with some bits in it, floated by, along with the leaves and litter the water was bringing in. I watched the brown tide, foaming at the edges, glide into the lounge and under the sofa, swirling around the chair legs, soaking the carpet. It picked up TammyLee�s fluffy slippers and sloshed them against the wall. Then it reached the fireplace and steam rose, hissing from the embers.

�What the hell is the matter with that dog?�

I heard Max getting up, his feet creaking across the landing.

�Oh, my GOD. Now we have got problems.�

He dived into the bedroom and grabbed a mobile phone, tapping it urgently and listening.

�Damn it. The lines are jammed.� He did a lot of cursing, and finally spoke to someone. �Our house is flooded. The water�s pouring in, and my wife is disabled � and my teenage daughter has gone missing.�

He didn�t say, �Our cat is marooned on the windowsill.� I was, and the water was creeping up the wall, deeper and deeper. I clung there, watching Max, who was now downstairs and paddling around, grabbing armfuls of stuff and chucking it on the stairs. I was afraid that in his frenzy, he wouldn�tnotice me, so I meowed loudly; in fact, I wailed. He waded over and picked me up. Phew!

�Poor Tallulah,� he said as I clung to his shoulder. He carried me to the stairs and put me on them. �Go upstairs, go on. Shoo!� He clapped his hands which wasn�t helpful to an already frightened cat.

Miffed, I crouched on the top step, watching Amber, who was trying to convince Max it was a game. She was charging up and down what was left of the stairs, grabbing some of the things he was chucking up there, and carrying them into Diana�s room in her mouth. She grabbed books, papers, shoes and gadgets, even a telephone with its wires trailing. She got that tangled up in the banister rail, and tugged at it until Max shouted at her. She left it swinging in mid-air and seized a coat by its hood, dragging it round the corner intoDiana�s room.

An amazing sound rippled through the house. Diana was laughing! It relaxed me straight away and I ran in to see her with my tail up. What Amber had done was awesome, in my opinion. In the midst of a crisis, she�d managed to make Diana laugh. It made me feel better.

But it had the opposite effect on Max.

�What the hell is there to laugh at?� He shouted. �I�m busting a gut trying to salvage our belongings. What�s so funny?�

His words only sent Diana into a new bout of hysterical giggling, and encouraged Amber to move even faster, her tail wagging now, knocking medicine bottles off tables as she flew past.

�I�m sorry, love,� said Diana as Max�s furious face appeared at the door. �I know I shouldn�t be laughing � but Amber is so funny � don�t be cross with her, Max. It�s better to laugh than cry.�

�I�ll do the crying,� said Max. �Our home is RUINED, Diana. Our daughter is missing. For God�s sake, woman.�

He did start to cry, sitting at the top of the stairs, but he refused to let the tears flow. Silently and painfully, he fought it, his shoulders shuddering with every breath. I ran to him and looked right into his soul with my most concerned cat stare.

�Tallulah � you lovely, lovely cat,� he said, and caressed my fur with an unsteady hand. �What are we going to do with you and Amber? And, dear God, where IS my daughter?

Max shut Amber and me in TammyLee�s bedroom, with a dish of water. Amber lay down across the door with a sigh of resignation, and I made a nest in the duvet and fell into a restorative sleep.

It must have been mid-afternoon when the house began to shake. Amber was frightened of thunderstorms, and she crawled under the table and pressed herself against the wall, whimpering. It wasn�t thunder, I knew that. Keeping myself hidden behind the curtain, I peeped out, alarmed to see a helicopter hovering just above the house. My ears hurt with the bang-banging of its relentless blades, and, up close, the helicopter was enormous, deafening and intimidating.

My instinct was to hide like Amber, but I wanted to see what was happening. It felt as if the house was going to be blown to bits. I touched the window with my nose, and the glass was vibrating.

The sky was blue now and the flood had settled into a vast sheet of water. I could see the reflection of the helicopter and the trees. Loud and scary as it was, I worked out that this iron giant was actually under control. In the midst of the thunderous noise, there were voices, and they were calm, giving clear instructions to each other. I understood that a man in goggles and a helmet was in the cockpit, and he was OK. Two more men, clad in bright orange, were in the side door, and one of them began to descend, on a string, like a spider!

Down and down he came, and stopped level with Diana�s bedroom window. Max was holding on to her tightly, and Diana was being brave, smiling and making jokes as the man fixed a harness round her. She was whisked up into the sky, with the man in orange holding her firmly. She looked down at me as I sat in the window, and then she was lifted into the helicopter. Max went next, his body rigid, his face grim as he was winched to safety.

�What about us?� I thought, expecting the men in orange to come back with a cat cage and lift me up there too, and Amber, and take us to a lovely place where TammyLee would be waiting. I wanted her so much in that moment. I wanted her love, and the special way she talked to me and explained things, the way she�d put her face close to mine and call me �magic puss cat�.

But it didn�t happen like that. A cold shadow of betrayal crept over me as they closed the door of the rescue helicopter. I meowed and scrabbled at the window. I wailed and cried, but the helicopter rose heartlessly into the sky and set off at speed, carrying Max and Diana away from us. I watched until itwas a tiny speck against the western sky.

They had left us behind.

Max�s words rang in my head. �Our home is RUINED.� What did he mean? It seemed OK to me, except that there was water downstairs. I wondered where my food dish was.

Amber crawled out from under the table, still shivering. I tried to comfort her by winding myself round her legs with my tail brushing her face, but all it did was make her sneeze. My attempt to tell her about the helicopter was a waste of time. She couldn�t get her head round it. She stood at the door, pawing it and whining, her tail hanging limp like rope. Her fur had mostly dried except for her ears, and she was cold, and, like me, hungry.

Outside, the sun was setting and pink light reflected in the water. Amber wouldn�t talk to me, so I sat in the window and watched it getting dark. Boats were going up the flooded road, laden with people wrapped in blankets. One woman had a cat in a cage and I could hear it meowing. The other cat I saw was all alone and clinging to a wooden table that was being swept along fast by the surging water. I searched the sky, but the helicopter didn�t come back, and in the deepening twilight there were blue lights flashing everywhere.

It was the longest night of my life, thinking I�d been abandoned, wanting TammyLee, wanting my supper and the warm bright fire. Amber didn�t sleep either but stared at the door all night, her nose twitching, and her tail didn�t wag once.

When dawn came, I noticed her looking up at the door handle and getting more and more agitated. She seemed to be hyping herself up for something she was planning to do. Then, cleverly, she got the handle between her teeth and pushed it down. It didn�t work, but she tried again, and I ran to sit beside her and encourage her, thinking we could get down to the kitchen and find our food. Amber growled and jerked the handle harder, and at last the door swung open. Amber dashed into Diana�s room, and came out again, looking puzzled. She ran up and down the landing and in and out of the bathroom.

�Max and Diana are gone,� I said, �and TammyLee.�

�I don�t believe you,� said Amber. �They�re out there somewhere.�

She sat at the top of the stairs, sniffing the air and thinking.

�Don�t go down there,� I said. �It�s flooded.�

The water was deep. Stuff was floating around in it, and only the top of the sofa and table were visible. Sticks and straw had been washed in and was drifting around with lots of paper and plastic bottles. We could see into the kitchen, and the window was open, and once Amber saw that, something even more terrible happened.

�Don�t go � please,� I begged, but Amber wasn�t seeing or hearing me.

With a sense of foreboding, I watched her pad down the stairs. She entered the water quietly, not with her usual joyful splash. She swam around in a circle, and looked up at me, and clearly she was saying,�Goodbye.�

Devastated, I meowed and meowed, but Amber swam into the kitchen, and dragged herself over the worktop and out of the open window. Frantic, I tore back into TammyLee�s room, to see what happened, and glimpsed the shine of Amber�s wet head as she swam across the flooded garden and into the swirling current that was the road. I meowed my loudest. What chance did a lone dog have in that vast and swiftly moving flood?

Now I was truly alone.

I spent most of the morning meowing, going from one window to another, hoping to see someone who would notice me. Nobody was out there now� even the boats had gone, and the helicopters were far away. I clung to a frail idea that Amber might come back, and I worried about my family. TammyLee was the one I ached to see.

Clouds gathered over the midday sun and soon it was raining again. Mist hung over the water, and the place looked desolate. The day was passing and I hadn�t been rescued. Starving hungry, I ate some bread and cheese Max had left, but it upset me and I was sick. I missed being in the garden and thought that going outside would make me feel better.

�You must help yourself,� said my angel, and I flicked my tail in annoyance. But last time she�d said that, it had worked. I sat in the front window, thinking, studying the flooded landscape for escape routes, wondering if it might be possible to go along the tops of fences and trees. FirstI had to find a way out of the house. Swimming was not an option. Meowing at boats hadn�t worked. I studied parts of the roof visible from the window and noticed a skylight that was open just a crack.

I found it in the bathroom. The crack was too small, but if I got my paws up there and pushed, I could squeeze out. Jumping up was a challenge, especially from the floor. I clambered onto the shiny lid of the loo, then onto the cistern, and from this narrow slippery perch, I planned my daring leap. I had to try. Focusing on the power in my back legs, and the sharpness of my claws, I sprang up there. For a frantic moment, I hung with my claws dug into the wood. With all my strength, I lifted my hind legs, butted the crack with my head, and wriggled through. I was out!

It had stopped raining, so I walked up to the ridge of the roof to survey the landscape. Somewhere an engine was running, and I soon discovered it was a fire engine, sucking water out of a nearby house. I sat on the roof and meowed, but no one even looked in my direction, and my cries for help were lost in the noise of the fire engine.

I was hungry, and thirsty, and cold.

Night came with frightening speed. Another night of being abandoned, this time on my own. Thinking the roof was not a good place to spend the night, I went back to the open skylight, intending to attempt the jump back into the bathroom. But I made a dreadful mistake by putting my weight on the raised edge of the window and making it shut. My entrance was closed, and despite my efforts to reopen it, it stayed closed.

With thick darkness and a chilly wind blowing, there was no choice but to spend the night on the roof, with no soft place to sleep, no food, no water, and no one to love me.

Chapter Fourteen

CATS IN CAGES

I pressed myself against the chimney on its warmest side. Cold and isolated up on the roof, I tried to conserve my energy by tucking my paws under my body and dozing quietly. Staying calm was vital to my survival. No more meowing.

It ought to have been peaceful, but suddenly the roof tiles were vibrating, first from a loud clanking noise, followed by a steady rhythmic pounding, like footsteps. I could feel my eyes growing big with fright. Was the roof somehow trying to shake me off into the water?

The rhythmic pounding stopped, and, in the expectant pause, I sensed a listening, and a beam of light came sweeping over the roof. Then, an unbelievable sound.

Someone was calling,�Kitty kitty kitty.�

A gentle, male voice, up there on the roof. It wasn�t anyone I knew, but from past experience, I assumed that �kitty kitty kitty�, meant me.

Someone had found me!

I peeped round the chimney and the light dazzled me. Whoever was holding it turned it off, and I stared down at a fireman in a helmet, his face looking up at me. He looked solid and reassuring, obviously a cat lover.

My tail shot up, and my fur bushed out with joy. I couldn�t get to him fast enough. I slithered down the wet tiles, doing purr-meows in gratitude. A friend, a warm, human friend. It was so comforting to lean against his chest and hear the slow heartbeat. I clung to his shoulder, and cried like a little kitten.

�You�re a beauty!� he said, appreciatively. �You�re gorgeous. Now you hang on to me and I�ll take you down. Trust me. OK?�

How could I not trust this cuddly fireman? I hung on, and treated him to my loudest purr as he took me carefully down the ladder. It didn�t even bother me when he put me in a cat cage. I was being rescued!

The fireman waded a long way through the flood to a patch of higher ground. A fire engine was parked there, its blue light flickering, reflected in the water. Behind it was a van with a familiar figure waiting at the wheel.

�Got her. She�s fine,� the fireman shouted. �Can you take her?�

�I�ve just got room, my luvvy. Thank you SO much. You�re a star.�

She took the cage from the fireman, and looked in at me.�Tallulah! Hello, my luvvy. It�s me, Penny, the cat lady. Now don�t you worry, we�ll take care of you and find your people.�

I was a lucky cat, and if I�d been a human, I�d have given Penny a box of Cadbury�s Roses like the one Max had given TammyLee for passing her exams.

The interior of the van was full of cat cages, and there was a cacophony of meowing and yowling. Black frightened eyes looked out, and most of the cats were extremely upset. I did a lot of work in the back of that van, showing them how to be calm and telling them about the work of Cats Protection. As Penny drove up the hill away from the flood, those traumatised cats were looking at me, their eyes hungry for reassurance. The worst was a Siamese with blue tormented eyes and the loudest voice I�d ever heard from a cat. �You�re upsetting everyone,� I said, �and it�s no good wasting your energy on meowing. It won�t make any difference. Penny is a good and clever human. She�ll find your people for you.�

But the Siamese cat ignored me.

I thought Penny would take us to the farm with the cat pens, but she didn�t. When she pulled into a car park and turned off the engine, the yowling and meowing made eerie music ring through the night.

Where were we?

She opened the back door and outside was a big building like a school, with the lights on and people milling about inside. I wished I could read the tall red words on a board outside. Penny picked up my curiosity immediately and read them for me:

�FLOOD DISASTER CENTRE.�

I could smell soup and bacon, and hear teacups clattering. From another part of the building came the smell of wet dogs, and the sound of barking. I listened for the particular bark I longed to hear � Amber! � but no, she wasn�t there, I was certain.

�Is Amber in the spirit world?� I asked my angel, fearing that her answer would be �yes�.

�No,� she said, �not yet.�

�Then where is she?�

�She is lost.�

I thought of my wonderful dog being lost out there in the flooded landscape, and sent her a message:�Stay where you are, Amber, these kind people will find you.� Somewhere she was shivering and alone, like I had been on the roof. I hoped the power of my thoughts would help her not to give up.

A group of smiling�cat ladies� came to the back of the van and carried our cat cages in a meowing procession in through brightly lit glass doors, and down a corridor. I was proud that Penny, the Queen of Cat Ladies had chosen ME to carry.

The building was warm and full of noise. People talking and children screaming and running about. We passed the kitchen and I sniffed the aromatic steam rising from massive cauldrons and trays of food. Beef, chicken and herby smells. I was absolutely starving.

�Trust you to know where the kitchen is, Tallulah,� said Penny when I meowed. �Don�t worry, you�ll get one of my nice sachets of rabbit in a minute.�

They took us into a shiny room with a high ceiling. It was full of bewildered cats, all in cages around the walls. Some were sitting, hunched up and staring miserably out. Others were cowering in the back of their cage, or weaving to and fro, trying hopelessly to escape. I wished the people would open the cages and let me sit in the middle and gather them round me for a communal purring session.

The promised sachet of rabbit arrived, and Penny popped it into my cage on a plastic dish. Nothing had ever tasted so scrumptious. I ate every bit, and cleaned the dish with my tongue. I sat calmly, washing, and waiting to see what would happen. The door opened, and an elderly man came in, his eyes searching the cat cages, and the Siamese cat yelled out at him. He stumbled across the room with tears glistening on his cheeks.

�Judy! My Judy!�

He opened the cage and the Siamese cat�s blue eyes sparkled. She could talk, almost like a human, and the love radiated from her aura as she climbed into his arms, kissing his face and hugging him with her long paws. Then she dived inside his coat and nestled in there, her eyes half closed and blissful as she looked out at the restof us.

Through the evening there were more emotional reunions as people turned up to find their lost cats. It was a happy time, but not for me. My confidence was draining away. Every time the door opened, a tiny flame of hope started in my heart, and quickly died when I saw yet another sad and frightened cat being joyfully reclaimed, and it wasn�t me. I was tired, and the unfamiliar comings and goings resounded through the building. The effort of listening for a voice I knew was intense. Even Penny disappeared and a different cat lady took her place, but she didn�t know me. I was just another cat.

My eyes began to close. It didn�t feel right to be in that harshly lit noisy place late at night when I would normally have been curled up on TammyLee�s bed. The children�s voices changed from happy playing to screaming and crying, along with the raised voices of exasperated mothers trying to get them to sleep. Plates and pans were being crashed around in the kitchen, doors were banging, and people were shouting to each other. My head ached and my ears hurt with the noise. Sleep was impossible.

I did doze a bit and dreamed I heard Amber barking, waking me up with a jump that shook my whole body. The noise went on all night, and the lights stayed painfully bright. I only knew it was morning when the windows turned silver, and a wild wind swirled leaves across the car park.

The new cat lady brought me a meal but I was now so stressed and exhausted I didn�t touch it. My joy at being rescued was fast turning into despair, and I needed a litter tray. I couldn�t stay in that cage much longer!

And then � I heard running feet. Clonk, clonk across the car park. A figure in black, with flying hair, ran past the window. I sat up, my heart beating fast, my neck getting longer as I watched the door. And hope came flooding into my tired mind like sacred sunlight. Suddenly, I was warm, and alive, and alert.

I listened.

The footsteps I knew and loved! In the building now, marching along the shiny corridor, closer, and closer. And then my heart leaped with excitement. Another set of footsteps was running alongside, the click-click of a dog�s nails on the hard floor, and when they stopped, there was the thump-thump of a tail wagging against the wall. The cat lady stood up and went to the door.

She opened it and peeked out. An argument started.

�I am afraid you can�t bring that dog in here.�

�But she is OK with cats.�

�I am sure she is, dear, but I have got a room full of traumatised cats, and the last thing they need is a dog.�

�But my cat is friends with her.�

�Yes, but the other cats aren�t. They�ve been rescued from the floods � one was even found clinging to a bit of wood in the river. I am sorry, but you CANNOT bring a dog in. There�s a place for dogs at the other end of the building.�

I heard a sigh.

�I�ve been through hell to get here. I waded through the floods and stuff, and I need to see if my cat is here. I�m not going away. Look, I�m dripping wet and freezing.�

�All right, dear, don�t get upset. I�ll hold the dog, and you go in � but please, DO NOT let any of those cats out, even yours.�

�Thanks. I won�t.�

The door opened. I fluffed my fur, and sat up, determined to look beautiful. Then I heard a whisper that filled the room, and all the cats went quiet.�Where are you, Magic puss cat?�

I meowed my loudest and my TammyLee turned her head and saw me.�Tallulah!� she cried, and ran across the room to me, and undid the cage door immediately, her bangles jingling as she reached in and picked me up with ice-cold hands. My whole body turned into a purring machine as TammyLee lifted me into her arms. She smelled of the river, and her hair was wet, but I didn�t care. We loved each other. I wrapped myself round her neck, my warm fur drying her like a soft towel, the way she had so often dried me. She kissed my face and I kept butting my head into hers, giving her every last spark of my love.

�Magic puss cat,� she sobbed, and the tears were happy tears. �I thought I�d lost you for ever. Darling cat. I�m sorry I ran out on you. Please forgive me, Tallulah.�

Forgive her? Of course I did. It�s what cats do. I turned my purring up a notch, and let it tickle her ear until she giggled.

My angel was whirling round and round us, enjoying herself, whisking ribbons of stars through TammyLee�s aura.

�I�d better pop you back in, Tallulah,� she said after our long cuddle. �But I won�t leave you. I don�t know where we�ll end up going, but you are staying with me.�

I didn�t mind being back in the cage because TammyLee was carrying it, and this time it was my turn to look blissfully triumphant with the other cats watching enviously.

�And guess who�s outside,� TammyLee said, as we headed towards the door.

I�d already guessed. Amber!

Like TammyLee, she was soaking wet, but so pleased to see me. The cat lady let go of her lead and Amber was so excited that she tried to gallop in small circles on the slippery floor. Then she sneezed right into my cage and her tail sent the cat lady�s papers flying from the chair. But she managed to make them both laugh. I envied her that talent.

�Behave, Amber. SIT.� said TammyLee sternly and Amber did sit down, facing me, and I noticed she was shivering.

�She swam all the way from the park,� said TammyLee. �And I didn�t find her � she found me and she actually stopped me going into the river! She�s such a clever dog. But look at her � she�s really cold.�

�Take her down there � to the RSPCA dog-rescue room. They�ve got hairdryers and towels and loads of food. People have been donating stuff,� said the cat lady. �They�ll sort her out, poor girlie. Here, I�ll take her down. You go and find your family.�

�Mum�s in hospital,� said TammyLee, �and Dad�s with her. They�re OK, but mum�s got MS, so she needs some help.�

�And so do you. Go on, you go to the main centre, they�re doing breakfast for about two hundred people.�

She gave TammyLee a cat harness and a lead.�If you want to let the cat out, put this on her and keep her attached to you. She might panic in that noisy place.�

All I wanted to do was sleep. I felt safe now, with TammyLee, and Amber, and I trusted that we would eventually go home. So I switched off and slept while TammyLee sat at a table and ate breakfast. I must have slept for hours, for when I woke up, we were in a different room, and Amber was there, lying on TammyLee�s feet. She looked dry and fuzzy, and much better, and TammyLee�s hair was dry.

There were families around the room, and some of the children were still asleep. It was quieter, except for a man with a woolly microphone that looked like a cat�s tail. Followed by a cameraman, he was interviewing people very loudly.

�This disaster has brought the whole community together,� he was saying. �And families made homeless by these terrible floods are still coming in ��

His voice made me drowsy, and I drifted off to sleep again, this time in TammyLee�s arms. She was yawning and snoozing too, and Amber was stretched out on the floor, snoring. We were all exhausted.

�Wake up, Tallulah, quickly.� My angel whispered urgently to me. �This is very important.�

Instantly, I was sitting up, on full alert, my whiskers twitching. Something was going to happen.

Chapter Fifteen

FROM A DISTANCE

�You are needed, now more than ever, Tallulah,� said my angel, and for once, she was crystal clear in her iridescent colours. She was so radiant that I thought one of us was going to die. I looked at Amber, and she was breathing. I looked at TammyLee and there was a strange light around her. Squinting my eyes, I watched until the face of a golden angel materialised from its blaze. I�d never seen her before.

�Who is she?� I asked.

�She is the mother love angel,� said my angel, respectfully.

I studied the new angel, fascinated by the swerving colours of her robe: intense pink, aqua and silver white. Mysterious images and pictures flickered in the energy she was generating, constantly changing. For one fleeting moment, I saw a cat�s face, and it was my own mother, Jessica, and then she was gone, like something melting in the sun. She hadn�t liked me when I was a kitten, but now her brief appearance had radiated love, which made me glow with happiness. I wanted to play and jump in the air, but I was restrained by the cat harness.

�Be calm,� said my angel, �and do exactly what I tell you. Exactly. Now � watch the door.�

As she spoke, a new family was coming in through the door, a young mum with a little boy who was dressed in a tiny denim jacket and jeans. Their pushchair was laden with bags of food and toys. Like most of the new arrivals, they seemed stressed and anxious, and stood looking round the hall for somewhere to sit.

�Meow, as loud as you can, and put your tail up,� said my angel urgently.

My voice called out, an echoing meow, and another, and another. Amber woke up with a jump, and so did TammyLee.

�What�s the matter, Tallulah?�

�Keep meowing,� said my angel. �You are calling that family.�

I did, and the little boy turned his head and looked at me with bright blue eyes.

�Tat!� he squealed, and tugged at his mother�s arm. �Look!�

I changed my voice to a purr-meow. The little boy was Rocky, and he was running towards me, and towards his true mother, TammyLee.

It was a mesmerising moment, and I sensed the angels forming a circle of light around us, weaving it into a celestial umbrella, sheltering us � Amber and TammyLee, me and Rocky.

With sudden clarity, I understood the nature of miracles. The flood disaster had turned out to be a blessing for TammyLee.

�Don�t strangle the poor cat!� Kaye came bustling after Rocky, a smile of humour in her eyes.

The reality of Rocky was exciting for me. He was bigger, and confident on his feet, square and sturdy as he stood gazing right into my soul with those unforgettable eyes. I could hear him breathing, and feel his vibrant energy.

He didn�t look at TammyLee, but sat on the floor and put his face close to mine. I responded by kissing him on the nose, and purring. He squealed and laughed and wrapped his little arms around me.

�Tat mine,� he said, and I struggled out of his tight grip, being careful not to scratch him. He touched my tail and felt my whiskers, he put his ear against me and listened to my purr. �Tat purr,� he said in delight, and tried to imitate the sound. I rolled over on my back, and he examined the pink pads of my paws.

�Gently � gently,� said Kaye, breaking into our circle of light. She looked at TammyLee. �I am sorry,� she said, �but he does love cats � and dogs,� she added, as Amber tried to get in on the act by squirming along the floor. �Is your dog OK with children?�

�She loves them,� said TammyLee. She smiled at Rocky, but he still didn�t look at her. He was only interested in me.

�We�ve just arrived,� Kaye said. �D�you mind if we sit ourselves down next to you? Our house isn�t actually flooded, but the water�s rising and they�ve evacuated the whole street. I grabbed as much as I could. My husband�s gone to work. I�ve got some chocolate and crisps, if you want some. Is your house flooded?�

They chatted about floods while I played with Rocky, and I heard TammyLee telling Kaye how she�d waded, alone, through the icy water to get home. How Amber had found her and guided her away from the riverbank.

�Sounds like she�s a brave dog,� she said, fondling Amber, who was now leaning against her legs, looking up at her adoringly. �And you�re a bit of a heroine too. Did you say your mum is in hospital?�

�Yes, but she�s OK,� TammyLee said. �My mum is disabled, but she�s a really special person. I love her to bits. I�m her carer, you see, and have been since I was ten.�

Kaye looked at her with wide eyes.�That�s AWESOME!�

TammyLee shrugged, but she looked pleased.�So what about you, Kaye? What�s your little boy�s name?�

�Rocky.�

A shock rippled through TammyLee, but she acted normal.

�Go to her,� said my angel, and I stepped gracefully out of Rocky�s arms and jumped on to TammyLee�s lap. Rocky stood close, looking at her now that she�d got me cuddled against her heart. It was beating very fast.

�That�s a nice name,� she said. �Did you choose it for a reason?�

Kaye hesitated.�I didn�t choose it,� she said, and her eyes looked candidly at TammyLee. �I started out as his foster mum but now we have legally adopted him, at last! His real mother �� she lowered her voice, �� abandoned him under a tree by the river.�

The circle of angel light tightened around us. If I hadn�t been there, TammyLee might have panicked or run away. She kept stroking me. I was grounding her.

�That�s awful,� she muttered, not looking at Kaye�s bright open face. �So � how old is he?�

�Eighteen months, and he�s great,� said Kaye. �A bit of a handful, but a real boy, aren�t you, Rocky?�

Rocky was standing close to TammyLee, playing with her bangles, and stretching up to smooth my fur with his tiny hand.

�Move up higher,� said my angel, and I manoeuvred myself up to TammyLee�s shoulder, and draped myself around her neck, my tail hanging down one side and my face on the other. I had eye contact with Rocky and, after two purr-meows and a touch of sparkle, he looked solemnly at TammyLee, who couldn�t take her eyes off him.

�Do you want to sit on my lap, Rocky?� she asked. �Then you can stroke Tallulah. She loves you.�

�Loolah,� said Rocky, as if my name was a delicious chocolate. �Loolah.�

TammyLee helped him onto her lap.

�He�ll probably go to sleep,� said Kaye. �He usually does about mid-morning.�

�I don�t mind,� said TammyLee. She was acting cool, but hardly breathing as Rocky settled on her lap and lay back in the crook of her arm. They gazed and gazed into each other�s eyes.

�This moment will last for ever,� said my angel, and all the angels in the golden circle were humming a lullaby, and winding streamers of stars around the three of us. The mother love angel flickered behind TammyLee, bending over her with shining arms.

Rocky�s eyes began to close, the dark lashes falling over his rounded cheeks as he went to sleep instantly. TammyLee rocked him and rested her face against his silky head.

Kaye took out her mobile phone.�I�ve got to have a photo of that,� she said, �it�s so sweet, with the cat there.�

�Will you do one on my mobile too?� asked TammyLee. �It�s in my bag.�

�OK.�

�That�s very, very �� TammyLee seemed stuck for words as Kaye showed us the photo she�d taken. �� Special,� she said finally. �Look, Tallulah.� Inside her mobile was a tiny image of Rocky�s sleeping face, and her face, and me like a fairy cat, and a bit of Amber�s facetoo.

Only I knew how precious that photo would be. I filled the silence with purring. A question was burning in TammyLee�s mind, and eventually, she managed to let it come out.

�What � would happen, Kaye, if the real mother showed up?�

�She�d have no chance,� said Kaye. �Not now that he�s legally adopted. She wouldn�t be allowed any contact. BUT � she ought to own up really, for Rocky�s sake. He�ll know he�s adopted, and maybe, when he�s a man, he�ll want to trace his birth mother. So, if she is out there, and she cares, she should come clean about it, and get her details put in his birth file, so that he can find her, if he wants to. And she should write him a beautiful letter to have when he�s grown up. I hope she does, for Rocky�s sake. I mean, maybe she was just a scared teenager � they�re not going to send her to prison, are they?�

TammyLee nodded slowly, and the silence sparkled around her as she held her sleeping child.

�She knows,� said my angel. �She knows what she must do.�

I could feel the change in TammyLee. A calmness, a knowing, a sense of peace. A golden time of holding her secret child, sealed for ever by the angels.

�It was me,� said TammyLee, as four pairs of eyes stared intently at her.

We were protecting TammyLee, Amber leaning firmly against her legs, and me sitting on her lap, gazing into her soul. Fear danced in her green eyes, yet they shone with courage and maternal defensiveness. I was proud to be her cat.

The house was quiet now, after a long day of noise and energy from downstairs. The water had gone, leaving mud over everything, the sofa was out in the garden, and people who Max called volunteers had been sweeping and scrubbing all day. A new fire was roaring up the chimney, its blaze filling the sodden house with welcome heat.

Amber and I had a new bed each, and we were cosy in the spare room with the freedom to pad around the upstairs. I had a new cat-nip mouse and the walls reverberated with the sound of Amber gnawing a huge bone she�d been given.

The volunteers had just turned up, and the most surprising one was Dylan. He didn�t say much but shrugged and grunted as he worked fiendishly beside TammyLee, tearing up wet carpets and washing mud from the walls. Even Max managed to be civil to him. �It�s good to see you�re not afraid of hard work,� he said.

�I don�t need your approval, Pop.� Dylan�s eyes blazed with contempt. I am doing it for Diana, �cause she treated me like a human being.� And he turned his back on Max and went on dragging a roll of wet carpet out of the door.

Upset by the activity, I kept going to the top of the stairs and meowing. TammyLee picked me up and cuddled me, and explained everything.�We�re making the house good again, Tallulah. A lorry will come and take away the muddy carpets and stuff. Then another lorry will bring us a brand-new sofa and carpets, and one day soon, you can go downstairs again and it will be lovely. So don�t you worry, Tallulah.�

After that, I felt better. The sun streamed through the window onto TammyLee�s bed, and I slept for hours, only waking up when I heard Iris�s voice and sensed the weight of her struggling up the stairs.

�It�s disgusting,� she moaned, �they should�ve done that flood-prevention scheme years ago, not let it come to this. Disgusting, that�s what I call it.�

I knew why Iris had come. I�d been there with TammyLee the night before, when she�d privately told Diana about Rocky. Diana�s eyes had opened wide, and so had her arms. �Sweetheart,� she�d whispered. �My poor girl � what were you THINKING? � You know I�d have stuck by you � Oh, darling girl.� She�d held TammyLee in her arms, with the angels watching. The whole story had come tumbling out while Diana stroked her hair and I lay with her, purring. And afterwards, TammyLee seemed lighter and softer. The dark secret had gone. I saw the angels lifting it away, turning it into stardust.

The meeting had been arranged and Diana insisted it should be�done nicely�, even persuading a tight-lipped Max to organise a tray with a tall pot of steaming coffee and a swirl of biscuits.

Dylan was the only one arrogantly munching biscuits through the meeting, which began with TammyLee saying those words:�It was me.�

�I TOLD you!� said Iris triumphantly. �I told you it were �er. Didn�t I say so? Written all over �er face.�

�Shut up, Mum � just hear her out,� Dylan insisted. �MUM!� he put a mud-stained hand on her shoulder and made her look at his compelling eyes. �Don�t make it worse.�

TammyLee glanced at him with something resembling gratitude, then back to Diana, who was looking at her with loving eyes.

�I did have a baby,� she began, and again the story emerged, this time clearly, without tears. Only quiet strength glowed from her aura, and everyone listened, even Amber, who�d been trying not to growl at Dylan. She told them how I�d been there, and saved Rocky�s life, and how she�d regretted what she�d done.

�I know it was stupid,� she concluded, �and wicked, what I did. And I�ve found out the baby�s been adopted, by a couple who couldn�t have kids of their own, and they love him. So � I don�t think we should interfere, and Mum agrees with me.� She held up a letter. �We�re giving this to the adoption agency, for him to have when he�s older, if he wants to find me.�

Iris opened her mouth, and shut it again. That�s when I sensed that the angels were totally in charge of our meeting.

�The best we can do,� said Diana, �is to love that little boy in our hearts, always, and from a distance.�

I am only a cat, but in that moment, I felt like a human, with human emotions, as we all sat quiet, letting the words settle like leaves falling through sunlight.

I kissed TammyLee�s face, and put my velvet paws around her neck, but something didn�t feel right to me. I�d done my best, but the result was not what I�d expected. I wanted to stay with TammyLee, and be her cat, but there was a pain inside me, an old pain from when Gretel had left me in the hot car.

This time it didn�t go away.

Closing my eyes, I floated into sleep, and those words went with me.�From a distance � from a distance.�

I sensed that my fur was shining like a halo, and somehow I had drifted far away across the universe. So far, far away, but I still heard TammyLee�s cry of panic.

�She�s stopped breathing! Tallulah � Tallulah � don�t die on me, please � please.�

Chapter Sixteen

I HEARD THE ANGEL CALL MY NAME

The last memory of my time on earth was the feel of TammyLee�s face, heavy on my fur, her breath warm, her tears trickling around my neck. Her words wrapping me in whispers. �Magic puss cat � please don�t die � I love you � I love you SO much.�

I tried to respond, but the life had gone from my body and it wouldn�t move at all, not even the tip of my fluffy tail. My vibrant little heart had stopped, and my lovely body with its silky fur had died so peacefully, there on TammyLee�s lap. Her love was enfolding me in layer upon layer of colours, and inside it I felt safe enough to let go and float.

The humans gathered around me like a protective umbrella, and I heard fragments of what they were saying:�We always knew it was going to happen � Tallulah was a rescue cat � look what she went through.� Then I heard TammyLee�s howl of grief: �But why NOW? WHY?�

Surprisingly, it was tough old Iris who was hugging the crying girl as if she would never let go. And, even more amazing, Dylan was brushing the tears from his cheeks with the back of his hand.

Cocooned in TammyLee�s love, I drifted through a brightening silence. I said goodbye to the silver-and-white cat who lay limply, her soft paws gently curled, her eyes closed, a smile lifting the corners of her mouth. She was dead, but I wasn�t! I was a spirit cat again now, a shining cat with a beautiful name, Tallulah.

When pets die, they cross the rainbow bridge into a special land, where they wait for their loved ones to join them. Humans think this is a legend, but actually, it�s true.

I didn�t remember the crossing, but the angels told me that TammyLee�s love had made it easy for me.

On the far side of the rainbow bridge is a sumptuous land of downy turf and velvet grasses alive with sparkles. There are trees with blue leaves, and flowers with heady perfume. Happiness and sadness are intertwined, and both are beautiful, both are welcoming. Together, they form landscapes with domes and cushions of colour. You can choose to be sad and rest inside a cave of lavender blue, where it is quiet and still. In there, you can safely grieve for your lost friends, and peer out at the great arch of the rainbow bridge, waiting and hoping for one of them to come over. Or, you can choose to be happy and roll around, purring with a bunch of other cats, or chase the sparkles as they zigzag through the trees in a land that is timeless, seasonless and very beautiful.

I still looked like me, like Tallulah, but my fur shimmered with light, and I weighed nothing. I could turn somersaults in the air! So there were wild times when I chose to be happy, and quiet times when I chose to be sad. I learned that even when you are healthy, comfortable and free, there is still, deep in your soul, a hunger and a longing for close contact with your earth friends.

I could have moved on, into the enticing realms of light where angels lived, and reclaimed my status as Queen of Cats, but I wanted to keep my name. I wanted to be Tallulah and wait by the rainbow bridge for the people I loved.

The best look-out place was on top of the tallest tree. Nestled among its turquoise leaves, I spent a lot of time up there, gazing right across the rainbow bridge. How long would it be until TammyLee came over? I ached to hear her voice.

�She won�t come,� my angel explained gently. �TammyLee is human and she must stay on earth for decades, until she is an old, old lady. Sometimes you can visit her for a few precious minutes.�

�How do I do that?� I asked.

�At certain times, the veil between earth and the spirit world is thin,� she said, �then you can go through.�

�How will I know when that time is?�

�Your fur will tingle, and you will feel a longing. Watch the veils of light in the distant skies. Sometimes they shift and become transparent.�

The first time it happened, I sensed TammyLee was remembering me. The scent of her perfume made me purr, and purr until I saw the veil billowing and parting like curtains, and I did see my TammyLee. In an instant, I was close to her in my light body. She was doing a lady�s hair, brushing it and twiddling it thoughtfully, and she was talking about me!

�I had a beautiful cat � Tallulah. She was really special. She died years ago, her heart just stopped. It was weak from all she had been through. I still miss her.�

She went quiet and I purred loudly. I knew TammyLee heard me, and she turned sharply to look for me.

�She can�t see you,� said my angel. �You are too bright for human eyes. But she can sense you, and that comforts her.�

�I was always there for her when she cried for Rocky,� I said sadly. Sometimes I felt my work had not been done successfully, especially when the angel said, �She still does cry for him.�

�So I didn�t really complete my work, did I?� I asked.

�Wait,� said my angel. Time is different here in the spirit world. Already the earth years have rolled on since you�ve been here. TammyLee has a job now, and soon she will have her own home and two little girls to love. And Rocky is a big boy now. Many more years will pass, and in the meantime, you can choose to be happy, or sad.�

I chose to be happy, most of the time, and I accepted that TammyLee was going to be on earth for a long time. Yet still I had that ache in my heart. I figured Amber might come over and imagined running to meet her with my tail up. I dreamed of the games we would play, the joy as we raced around together, the bliss as we curled up to sleep. Amber and I had been real buddies, and she�d inspired me to play the way she did, with ridiculous energy and enthusiasm.

I watched lots of dogs come over the rainbow bridge, and none of them were remotely like Amber. No other dog had such a coat of bright gold, and a tail that wagged so fast and shone so silver.

On one occasion, I did see a dog the same colour, but she was old and droopy. Her tail hung down like a rope, her eyes were dull, as if she could hardly see, and even from a distance, I sensed the tiredness, the weight of her, and the pain.

It couldn�t possibly be Amber.

Yet something compelled me to watch this pathetic old creature staring up at the rainbow bridge as if it was a mountain. She was moving, but only just, crawling, dragging herself up through the deep blue side of the rainbow.

No, it couldn�t possibly be Amber. Or could it?

I sat up. My fur was tingling, and there was a longing in my heart. And why was I purring? Such a powerful purr, like never before, a purr that sent ripples right over the rainbow bridge.

The poor old lump of a dog was moving faster. Her eyes were brighter, her legs straighter, her coat more golden. It was as if she suddenly realised she was free, she was not in that old body any more.

The transformation happened smoothly as the dog reached the highest point of the rainbow bridge. Her fur glowed, her silver tail began to wave like a plume, her soft nose lifted and her face shone with joy. It WAS Amber! As she crossed the bridge, she became young again, a magnificent silky goddess of a dog.

I ran towards her with my tail streaming and sparks flying from my fur. We collided in a whirling, squirming, tail-wagging galaxy of pure joy. It went on and on, and when at last we flopped down and curled around each other, Amber looked puzzled.

�How did I get here?� she asked.

�You must have died,� I replied.

�I don�t remember dying,� Amber said. �TammyLee and Max took me to the vet � and Diana came in her wheelchair. It was SO humiliating. I couldn�t walk, I was so old, and it hurt all along my back. I couldn�t even wag my tail, and THAT made me so sad. I was the saddest, most uselessdog. The vet said I had to be put down, whatever that means. They let me lie on my blanket. Max just stood there, with his cheek twitching, but TammyLee and Diana cuddled me, and Diana said, �Thank you for being our dog,� and then I woke up next to this rainbow. I saw some other dogs going over, and I knew I had to try � and look at me.�

I listened, spellbound.

�You�ve come home, Amber,� I said, �This is the spirit world � don�t you remember?

�But I�ll miss Diana.�

�You can wait for her, we both will, but time is different here,� I told her. �Things don�t take so long � not years and years like they do on earth. And you�ve got me.�

Our time together passed in a haze of contentment. It didn�t seem like years, but it was obvious from the glimpses I had of TammyLee that numerous earth years had passed. She had two little girls now, and her own home with a tiny square of garden. When I managed to look at her eyes, there was still that shadow in them, the shadow of Rocky. I began to wonder if I would have to go back, and start over, and be her cat again. Until, one day, my angel called my name.

The sudden blaze of her flight startled Amber and me as we lay dreaming and sleeping. I was in the middle of an impressive purring session, which stopped abruptly as I heard the angel call my name, It echoed across the universe.

�Tallulah! Talloo � LAHHHH ��

The angel swept her cloak of stars around us like a blizzard of glitter.

�Come quickly,� she cried, �quickly, Tallulah � it�s TammyLee. Come quickly.�

She scooped me up and whisked me through the landscape, and Amber came lolloping and wagging, her ears flying, her face radiant with excitement.

�You HAVE to see this, Tallulah!� The angel parted the veils of light at a thin place. We all gazed through into TammyLee�s square of garden.

Her white front door was shut, and a man was walking towards it with long strides. I could see the back of his neck, and the tattered rucksack that hung from his wide shoulders.

�Watch � just watch,� my angel whispered, and we fixed our eyes on the young man�s straight back as he stood at the door. His hand hesitated as he lifted it to ring the doorbell, and I saw an arm covered in tattoos, and a bracelet of black and silver.

He rang the bell.

He waited, nervously, a piece of paper in his hand.

The door opened and TammyLee stood there, her eyes startled.

�Excuse me calling on you like this,� said the young man in a deep husky voice that sounded both confident and scared. �But � I � have reason to believe that you are my mother. My name is Rocky.� He held out the piece of paper. �And this is the letter you wrote to me � you said you wanted me to know you � so here I am!�

TammyLee gasped and flung her hands over her mouth. She peered at Rocky and, in that moment, I watched the shadow leaving her eyes, the light flooding in until they sparkled with hope.

Rocky held out his hand to her.�I�d so like to get to know you,� he said quietly, �spend some time with you � if � if you�d like that. It would be cool.�

TammyLee could hardly speak. She gazed at her son�s face, her eyes burning with questions, with one big question, that was like a fire she had to step through.

�It�s OK,� Rocky said, sensing it. �I understand � about you abandoning me � and I�ve forgiven you, long ago.�

�Oh, Rocky! Rocky � thank you!� TammyLee opened her arms wide and they hugged. �Every day of my life I�ve thought of you,� she said passionately. �I never, ever stopped loving you � I dreamed that one day you would find me.�

The hug went on for ages, and the angels wound ribbons of light round and round the two of them. At last, Rocky straightened his arms and stood with his hands on her shoulders, a wide grin on his young face. He hesitated, then added what seemed to be two magic words.

�Hi, Mum!�

They laughed with joy, and I was so entranced that I found myself moving ever closer, until I was sitting on the garden path like an earth cat. TammyLee peeped over Rocky�s shoulder, and stared at me.

�The CAT!� she cried. �Did you bring her?�

�What cat?� Rocky turned to look, and for one eternal, exquisite moment, I kept perfectly still in my shining halo of light, my eyes glistening with love.

I suppose you could say that I�vanished� then � melted back into the light, like spirit visitors do. But not before I heard the whisper I�d so longed to hear again.

�Tallulah � I SAW you! Magic puss cat.�

3. TIMBA COMES HOME

Chapter One

SOLOMON�S BEST KITTEN

�I hope you�re not alone.� The young woman spoke to me from the window of her red car. She must have seen my tiny black face peeping out of the grass at the side of the road. We stared at each other, and an overpowering feeling stirred in my sad heart. I was an abandoned kitten, and this young woman with the mane of bright hair was the person I wanted to be with. And she needed me. Her sweet, compassionate face was haunted with stress, as if she hadn�t got time to stop, even for a fluffy black kitten. �I�m sorry, kitty. I HAVE to get to work. You go back to your mum-cat.�

How could she know my mum-cat wasn�t there?

�Please stop. Please pick me up. I�m in trouble.� I sent her that thought, and my hungry meow sounded like a scream.

�Angie will come back and check you out later, you little darling,� she said. �And if you�re still here, I�ll take you home � Oh damn!� she cried as something went wrong with the car. �Damn this car. Come ON. I�m late for work.� She forgot about me as she struggled with the problem, revving the engine and filling the lane with black smoke that made my eyes sting.

Disappointed, I shrank back into the thick grass. My legs wobbled, and I lay down, too weak from hunger to move any more. I hoped Angie would come back for me. She had to. Didn�t she?

But the next minute a stone flew out of the air and landed close to me. I jumped, then trembled as running feet pounded down the lane. Breathing hard, a boy reached down and snatched the stone. He chucked it at some boys who were riding past on bikes. They were laughing at him and calling him names.

�Leave me alone,� he yelled back. �You bullies.�

�Leroy�s a loser!� they chanted.

I crouched there, too petrified to move as the bikes skidded to a halt, sending crumbs of mud flying over my fur. The biggest boy got off his bike and shoved Leroy into the prickly hedge, pushing him again and again into the brambles until he was crying bitterly. Laughing, they rode off and left him there, wiping the blood from his face with his sleeve, and tearing his clothes on the brambles.�My mum�ll kill me,� he howled, pulling a long thread from the front of his sweater. He sat there in the mud, sniffing and shaking, and kicking the ground. I offered him a tiny meow of comfort, and immediately wished I hadn�t.

�WOW!� he gasped. The crying stopped, and Leroy�s big eyes stared at me. His rough hand reached out and grabbed me round my skinny little tummy. He held me up close to his face and I saw the anger draining away, and a look of pure delight dawning in his eyes. �You�re MY kitten!� he announced, and pulled a stretchy red-and-white sock from his bag. I screamed and struggled, but he stuffed me inside it, right down into the toe. My fur was squeezed flat, my legs twisted as my claws caught in the fabric, my tail hurting. I prayed for Angie to rescue me, but she didn�t. Trapped in the boy�s football sock, I was bundled into a bag and bumped up and down as the boy ran. Then I heard a bell ringing and the sound of children.

I listened carefully, sensing that Angie was there amongst them, and suddenly I heard her bright voice.�Will you sit down, children, please?�

�Miss! Leroy McArthur�s got a kitten hidden in his football sock.�

�WHAT?�

�He has, Miss. I heard it meowing.�

Terrified, I crouched inside Leroy McArthur�s red-and-white football sock, quiet now because I had no energy to meow. Three days without food and the shock of losing everything I loved had left me too stunned to move. A sustaining flame of pride burned in my heart. I was the best of Solomon�s three kittens, my long black fur glossy and soft, my baby eyes still bright blue.

�Open your bag, Leroy. NOW, please, and show me this kitten.�

The young teacher�s bubbly voice stirred a memory, buried deep in my consciousness, of another lifetime. I had been Angie�s pampered cat, her healer, and her one true friend.

I felt her lifting the sock into the light.

�It might be a dead rat, Miss.�

She eased me out and cradled me in hands that had crystal rings and fingernails painted jet black. The air shone with the rainbow auras of children crowding around me.

�Aw!� they chorused when they saw me peeping out, and their love made a cushion of compassion for me. I managed a plaintive little squeak.

�How could you do this, Leroy? To a kitten!�

�I didn�t do nothing, Miss. It were lying in the grass.�

The boy�s scratchy voice made me look up at him. I stared, transfixed, into Leroy McArthur�s eyes, and a darker memory loomed. Long ago, in that distant lifetime, he had hated cats.

�It�s my kitten, Miss. I found it,� he said, �and I were gonna take it home and feed it. Me mum won�t mind, honest, Miss.�

I didn�t want to be Leroy McArthur�s cat. Beyond the glaze of his eyes lurked bitterness that would manifest as bullying, with me as the victim. I was only six weeks old, and proud of myself so far. How had my life gone so wrong?

It all began when we three kittens lay cuddled up to our mum-cat, Jessica, in a cosy basket under Ellen�s bed. A beautiful lady came to visit our dad, Solomon. She was so full of light that all of us wanted a touch or a word from her. Quivering with excitement, I sat close to my brother and waited while she focused on my pretty tabby-and-white sister. �This is a special kitten,� she said tenderly. What would she say about ME? I was the biggest and the best, my black face bright with anticipation.

But she ignored me� and my brother.

I was livid.

When she had gone I felt the sting of jealousy. I growled at my little sister and smacked her face with my paw. Jessica gave me a disapproving swipe. It wasn�t fair! Angry, I made up my mind to binge on food and grow into the strongest, most independent cat on the Planet.

Being ignored is the ultimate put-down, and seeing my brother�s disappointed face strengthened my resolve. He was smaller and sleeker than me, and he had a white dot on his nose which gave him a wistful look. He was hypersensitive and vulnerable. I felt protective towards him. In that moment of intense humiliation we bonded for life.

We rubbed cheeks and licked each other�s faces. We slept curled into each other, our limbs entwined. I could feel my brother�s rapid heartbeat, and he could feel mine. The thoughts we had flowed together as if we were one. What if nobody wanted a black cat? We had each other, and in those weeks of babyhood we grew ever closer. Tobe separated would be unthinkable. Together for ever. Two black kittens against the world.

Days later our family was cruelly torn apart. We three kittens ended up abandoned in a hedge at the side of a country lane, closely observed by a bunch of chirping sparrows, a blackbird and two hungry crows. At dusk an owl glided low over the grass. On silent wings it swept up and down, turning its predatory face to look directly at me as I peeped from our hiding place.

We survived without our mother for a few days and nights. It was me who found a nest of dry grass to keep us warm, me who encouraged my brother and sister to lap water from puddles and taste whatever we could find to eat. I was the leader, and proud of it.

Fear is powerful. It can turn moments into eternity, and strength into panic, and panic into fury.

The dog was a hefty Labrador, her coat glistening black. I hissed and spat at her, but she took no notice. I could only watch in helpless rage as she picked up my beautiful tabby-and-white sister and bounded off with her dangling from her mouth. My brother and I huddled together, trembling as the kitten�s piteous cries got fainter and fainter.

Those cries haunted me, for we�d heard our mum-cat crying when we were snatched away from her. Loud and echoing, as if Jessica wanted to fill the skies with the injustice of having her mother-love cut down so ruthlessly. The man, Joe, who bundled us into the cat cage and dumped us, had once held me in his hands and gently stroked me with a big rough finger. He wasn�t cruel, just desperate and drunk.

My dad, Solomon, had explained to me how humans live such complicated lives. They don�t forgive each other like cats do, so their mistakes grow into huge destructive energies which roll on across the years, hurting everyone, even tiny kittens who are full of love and joy.

I kissed my brother on his nose, and licked his sleek head to reassure him. Our sister had gone, but we had each other. I told him we�d find a way to survive, but he didn�t believe me. We were still tiny. Our claws were delicate, our fur so fine that it hardly kept us warm, our tails were optimistic little triangles, our legs wobbly and soft, inadequate for the hardship we now faced.

Pressed together we listened in horror to the sound of the dog returning, her rough paws scratching the tarmac. She hadn�t brought our sister back. Obviously she had killed her with one crunch of those eager teeth. Before we had a chance to escape, the dog came crashing into our hiding place.

My paws turned into steel, and my mouth into the mouth of a dragon. Spitting and screaming I launched myself at the dog�s face. With my claws embedded in her soft, bristly muzzle, I kicked furiously with my back legs. The dog just shoved me aside as if I was nothing. She picked up my beloved brother by the scruff, and the last I saw of him was his wild and desperate eyes looking into mine as he was carried off down the lane.

His cries faded away, and the silence was a new kind of silence. Prickly, like a thorn bush. Entangled in its pain, I felt the loneliness curl around me. To face so much so young seemed overpowering. Grief. Abandonment. Hunger. Danger.

Small as I was, I didn�t intend to let that dog take me. The trot-trot of her paws as she came back down the lane sent me crawling deeper into the hedge, my mind working frantically to find a solution. A hole! That�s what I needed. A hole so tight that her head wouldn�t fit in there.

Under the hedge the ground was crisp with old leaves and twigs, clumps of tangled plants and sprays of tough grass, impossible for an inexperienced kitten to negotiate. I stumbled along, banging my nose until it stung. Instinct told me hiding involved keeping quiet, but my distress was so intense that I couldn�t help meowing.

From under a fern, I listened, and the dog stopped too, listening for me, wondering where I was. I knew she would track me, and I heard the snuff-snuffle of her nose, a whine of excitement as she picked up my scent. I crawled on, in and out of knobbly roots and branches, my heart beating crazily. There was a splintering sound of twigs breaking and the dog pushed into the hedge, shaking it right to the top, sending sparrows fleeing in a burr of wings, and the blackbird shrieking his alarm call.

I felt her determination. She was going to have me.

Well, I could fight! I was the son of Solomon and Jessica, two amazing cats. Surely their legacy of wisdom and courage would help me now.

In a hollow under the hedge was a pile of rubble. Broken glass, blue plastic and jagged lumps of concrete. I clambered over it, cutting my paw on the glass. Sticking out of the rubble was a pipe. Old and dirty, but perfect! I crept inside, down, down into the dark, just in time. The dog�s hot breath gusted after me. She barked, and the sound jolted the pipe and vibrated through my fur. Trembling and weak with exhaustion, I struggled to turn round in the narrow space. It hurt, but I managed it, and crouched there, glaring out at her.

She stuck her nose into the pipe, and I saw a twitch of whiskers and a gleam of red in her brown eyes. But I was safe. She couldn�t reach me. Frustrated, she began to dig furiously, thumping with heavy paws. Idiot, I thought. Wasting energy tearing up the earth. From that moment I despised the entire dog population of the Planet. Wait until I�m big, I thought. No dog is ever going to frighten me again, and I visualised the magnificent fluffy tomcat I would become. Golden-eyed and glossy, and gorgeous.

Inspired, I dared to advance up the pipe and aimed a mini-slash at her nose where I knew it would hurt. A blood-curdling yowl emerged from my mouth and my fur sprang to attention, making me look twice as big and spiky.

The dog�s yelps of pain were music to my baby ears. She backed off and sat there staring and huffing. The stench of her breath made me even angrier. I sent her a telepathic message. �Leave me alone, or I�ll come and beat you up when I�m big.�

She whined, and seemed to be trying to explain something to me, but I refused to listen. Traumatised and alone, I focused on an awesome thought that shone into me like a beam of light. My life was worth fighting for, and I was here in this world for a reason.

I remained in the pipe for a long time after the dog had gone. The warm afternoon sunshine and the hum of bees in the clover flowers made me drowsy. When I awoke from a snooze, my guts ached with hunger. I longed for the sweet taste of Jessica�s milk, and wanted her to be there, washing me and purring.

I tried to meow, but no sound would come. I tried to go out and search for food, but my legs were weak. My strength had gone. I was hungry, lost and all alone.

My baby teeth weren�t strong enough to eat ladybirds and slugs. As twilight came, I watched a moth crawl out of the grass and figured it might be something soft for me to eat. It glanced at me with contemptuous orange eyes and flew away on wings that purred like a cat.

The moon was rising, changing from a rosy pink to a sharp white gold. Now very weak, I just lay there watching the night sky. My body was pretty useless, but in my mind something was happening, a light brighter than the moon was waking me up, making me remember.

Solomon had told me cats had lived on Earth for thousands of years. He had told me about an invisible power called love.

So I listened. I gazed at the moon and let it soak into my lonely soul. I saw a light, greater and brighter than the moon, and with energy fizzling around it. I sat up, my hunger forgotten, my loneliness unimportant now as I waited, spellbound, for something to happen.

But what came padding towards me out of the light was a complete surprise.

It was a lion.

A White Lion with a mane that rippled like water. The luminous fur seemed charged with electricity, and barbs of dazzling light pulsed around its edges. The moths and creatures of the night vanished into the stillness. No twigs crackled, no grass rustled, no owls hooted, no rain pattered. Even the wind in the corn was silent, becalmed by this phantom creature from the spirit world.

I thought I was going to die. Or was I dreaming?

When the Lion�s eyes found me, I was hypnotised by their power. I managed to stand up. I walked towards him with my tail up, and lay down in the cocoon of light between his mighty paws, and he was SERIOUSLY SOFT.

We purred together, a tiny kitten who might have been dying, and a White Lion who had come from the spirit world� for ME!

I didn�t know what would happen next, or what I would do when morning came. I gave the last sparks of my energy to listening. Intense listening.

The eyes of the great White Lion burned with a secret he would tell me, if only I had the patience and faith to listen. A long time passed, and at last the words came, drifting out of him like magic seeds from a dandelion clock.

Words I would remember for ever.

Chapter Two

LEROY MCARTHUR�S CAT

An abandoned kitten doesn�t have rights. Humans can make terrible decisions about where and with whom it will live.

There�d been a row between the young teacher, Angie, and Leroy�s mum, Janine.

�Findings are not keepings, Leroy.�

Angie was small for a human, and she reminded me of a squirrel as she stood there all bushy with anger.

�They are for the likes of us,� Janine hissed. �We don�t have money in the bank. I have to watch every penny. Leroy can�t have nothing he wants � nothing.�

�So how can you afford to feed a cat?� demanded Angie.

�Cats don�t need much,� declared Janine. �We had cats when I was a child and they lived on scraps.�

SCRAPS! I didn�t like the sound of that. It didn�t fit with my plan to grow into the biggest, fattest, most independent cat.

�This is a very young kitten,� Angie said. �He�s lost his mother and his home, and he�s weak. He needs feeding up with proper kitty milk � you get it in a tin from the pet shop, and mix it up� it�s specially formulated for weaning kittens.�

Janine snorted.�Well, I can�t afford fancy stuff like that � good old cow�s milk will have to do.�

�I�ll be happy to get you a tin of kitty milk � as a gift,� Angie said. �And I�ll get you some sachets of proper kitten food. You can have it on me.�

Janine puffed herself up.�No thanks. We don�t need charity.�

�It�s not charity. I�m just concerned for this little kitten�s well-being.�

�And I�m not, I suppose? I don�t want no bloody handouts from the likes of you. You don�t know NOTHING about how we have to live.� Janine edged closer, her shoulders squared for attack, her face drained and joyless. �I want my Leroy to have the same as his friends.�

�I ain�t got no friends, Mum,� Leroy piped up.

�Be quiet.�

�This kitten�s gonna be my friend. Aren�t you?� Leroy said, and his small hands clutched me so fiercely against his heart that I squeaked in alarm and tried to escape by crawling up his sweater.

�I said shut up. NOW. And don�t let him ruin your school jumper.�

�But I love him. I do, Mum.� Two gleaming tears ran down Leroy�s cheeks and dripped onto my fur. �Tell her, Miss.�

Angie sat down at the table, bringing her head level with Leroy�s defiant stare.

�Then try not to squeeze him like that, Leroy. He�s fragile,� she said tenderly. �His little bones are like matchsticks. Let me hold him for a minute, please.�

Leroy clutched me tighter then, so tight I could hardly breathe.

�You can have him back,� Angie said, her eyes looking directly into his. �I just want to give him a goodbye cuddle. He�s so sweet.�

To be picked up by Angie was heaven for me. I snuggled into her cushiony chest, and listened for the heartbeat, steady and strong under the ruffled blouse she wore. Home. This was home. I couldn�t believe she was letting me go like this � to Leroy McArthur! I gave her a meaningful stare, and began to purr for her. �I want to be YOUR cat,� I was telling her. �I belong with you.�

�He�s purring. Listen.�

Leroy brought his head close, and a magical smile lit up his face.

�What about his name, Leroy?� Angie asked. �Are you going to give him a name?�

Leroy�s eyes roamed around the classroom and focused on a poster behind the teacher�s desk. He pointed, so I looked, curious to see what name he was going to give me. And there, unexpectedly, was a picture of the face of a White Lion. The moment exploded into magic. My neck got longer and longer as I stared at the Lion�s serious eyes. Was it MY Lion?

Leroy turned, beaming, and shouted out,�Timba!� Then he reached to stroke me � this time gently � and he looked right into my eyes. �Hello, Timba.�

�That�s a brilliant name, Leroy,� said Angie.

�Timmy will do for me,� said Janine. �We don�t want nothing fancy.�

�No, Mum. TIMBA,� insisted Leroy, his eyes round and his voice husky with passion. �It�s cos of the White Lions of Timbavati. They came to save the world. Miss told us about them.�

Then Leroy added something amazing.�And if he had a brother, Miss, I�d call him Vati.�

I thought about my brother. Vati: that�s what his name would be. Timba and Vati. Two black kittens against the world. I remembered Vati�s poetic little face, his sensitivity and the way he had always stayed so adoringly close to me. Right then I wanted him so much.

�That�s a very clever idea, Leroy,� Angie said. �I like that.�

I was falling asleep in Angie�s comforting hands. Please keep me, I dreamed. I don�t want to be Leroy McArthur�s cat and live on scraps and get squeezed and mauled around.

Those few moments with Angie were precious. I was only a kitten, but I stared into her eyes with the mind of an adult cat who had lived many lives with her. I was searching for reasons why she needed me now. What was causing the stress? Why did I feel this beautiful, loving young woman was hiding so much sadness? I saw the burden of too much caring weighing her down, stealing her happiness. Angie was trying too hard to love. She wasn�t looking after herself. She definitely needed a cat. Me!

Perhaps if I�d stayed awake, there might have been a way of escaping, but I was so tired, and the last thing I heard was Angie�s voice saying, �Baby kittens need to sleep a lot, Leroy. You mustn�t try to wake him up.

�Now you must promise me you will look after Timba and be kind to him. He needs small regular meals, and a litter tray, and a quiet home where he feels safe � Are you listening, Leroy?�

�Yes, Miss.�

�And he�s got to go to the vet and have his injections against cat flu. I�ll give you the name of this website about caring for kittens. It�s��

�We don�t have a computer,� said Janine.

�Right. OK.� Angie looked thoughtful. She carried me over to the book corner. �There should be a book here about cat care.�

�That�s no good. He can�t read,� said Janine, and Leroy hung his head and looked ashamed.

�But you can,� said Angie, pulling out a slim book with a cat on the front. �And Leroy can read now, with a bit of help.�

�I don�t have time for that,� Janine said and she pushed the book back across the table. �I�m not stupid, you know. I know how to look after a cat. It�s not rocket science, is it?�

In my dream Vati was calling and calling for me. He told me an incredible story. The dog, Harriet, hadn�t hurt him or my tabby-and-white sister but carried them into a cottage where a kind old lady had looked after them and given them kitty milk on a saucer. Then he and my sister had gone to sleep WITH THE DOG! Today they�d both been delivered to a cat sanctuary, and a lady with a painted face had chosen my sister and taken her away. Vati was all alone, like me, and in the dream we established a telepathic link to keep us in touch. We�d always been close and needed each other, but now we were separated our need had become an intense ache in both our souls.

When I finally woke up it was late afternoon, and I was in a cardboard box with Leroy�s woolly hat and a battered teddy bear who looked and smelled musty. I wailed in fright, and Leroy�s bright face peeped in at me. �Hello, Timba.� I meowed back, and he airlifted me out of the box and put me down in front of two dishes. One had milk, and the other had something white with orangey crumbs. The milk tasted weird and sour but I lapped and lapped until my tummy felt warm and heavy. Then I tried the other stuff. �A bit of my fish finger,� Leroy said. �I mashed it up for you. Do you like it, Timba?�

Leroy sat on the floor with me and talked non-stop while I sidled round the dish, trying to work out a way of eating this tough, unfamiliar food. It tasted OK, but the crumbs were gritty and the fish too chewy for my immature teeth. I dragged most of it off the dish and made what Janine called�a dreadful mess�.

�You can�t force him to eat, Leroy,� she said, but he kept picking up flakes of fish and trying to put them in my mouth.

Next, Leroy wanted me to play, and he waved all sorts of bits and pieces right in front of my face when I was TRYING to wash. Jessica had always washed me first. I was her favourite, and her bristly tongue dealt efficiently with my long fur. Doing it myself was hard. I needed space and quiet so I crept under a table, but Leroy followed me, crawling as if he was a cat. The floor felt sticky and wisps of fluff clung to the chair legs, and there was nothing to look at. I longed to be sitting in a sunny window, or in a garden where things were happening. This was a gaunt and gloomy place.

�Leave the poor kitten alone!� Janine shrieked. �And get up off the floor. Who�s going to do your washing?�

Leroy took no notice of her. He seemed obsessed with watching what I was doing. Janine reached under the table, her eyes furious. She got hold of his arm and dragged him out, banging his head on the table edge. His roar of pain and rage frightened me, and I ran for the nearest crack, a space behind a cupboard, and squeezed in there. My washing effort was now impossible.

I peeped out, horrified at the sight of two humans fighting. Leroy was howling, his mouth open wide, his eyes and nose running, and he was kicking viciously at Janine�s shins, and clutching his head.

�I hate you. You made me bang my head. You done it on purpose. You�re a horrible mother and I HATE YOU.�

�Don�t you kick me! GET to your room. NOW!�

�I hurt my head.�

�I don�t care. You�ve been winding me up all day. Get out of my sight. Go on. Go!� Janine pushed Leroy through a door and slammed it shut. She leaned against it, breathing hard, while Leroy kicked and thundered on the other side. �Bloody kid,� she muttered, her lips white with fury. She slumped into a chair and sat with her hands over her ears.

Leroy pushed his way back through the door, picked up a chair and lifted it high above his head.

�Don�t you DARE,� warned Janine, but Leroy flung the chair violently across the room, knocking Janine�s coffee cup off the table, cracking it into jagged pieces. The coffee poured over her magazines and splashed onto the carpet. �Right � that�s it!� she yelled. �Bloody well break up what�s left of this place, you evil little bastard.� Jumping to her feet, she seized the broken chair and tore the leg off it with a cracking, splintering sound. Brandishing it, she flew at Leroy. �I�ll kill you!� She lunged at him, but Leroy dodged out of the way. He grinned atthe sight of his mum losing her cool, and that made Janine worse. �I�ll get rid of you,� she growled. �I�ll get the socials to put you in care.�

Leroy suddenly looked devastated, and frightened.�No, Mum, please. I�ll be good. I�m sorry for winding you up � I won�t do it no more. I�ll go to bed.� And he went upstairs.

�Don�t give me that bullshit.� Janine collapsed into an armchair and turned on the TV. It flickered blue, then went blank. The lights went out with a snap. �Oh no! The meter�s run out. And I�ve no money,� Janine wailed. �I�ll have to sit here in the dark.�

She opened the curtains and the orange light from the street made a dim glow. I didn�t mind the dark; in fact I found it soothing after the noise and the fighting.

What about me? I thought. I am only a kitten.

Thinking about the loneliness and longing for my brother didn�t change anything. So I remembered something Solomon had told me. �Use your tail,� he�d said. �Humans can�t resist tails. Your tail is like a smile when it�s up. At the worst times, when humans really get to you, don�t hide, don�t sulk � walk out there with your tail up.�

My tail wasn�t very long yet, but I decided to have a go. When Janine had quietened down, I meowed, put my tail up and walked out there.

She melted!

�Oh Timba, you�re so cute,� she crooned. �Poor little scrap � we weren�t shouting at you, sweetheart.�

She picked me up and let me nestle into her shoulder. I rubbed my soft fur against her bare neck, and we sat together in a calming silence. The ultimate surprise was that it made me feel better too.

�It works every time,� Solomon had said.

Encouraged by my unexpected success, I listened to this angry woman�s heartbeat. It sounded like tired footsteps.

A young kitten doesn�t usually experience sadness, but it wasn�t new to me. Already, in my short life, I�d had a bucketful. Yet it hadn�t touched my spirit. I could play and cheer myself up, any time, and I was glad to be a cat and not a human. So I decided to try and comfort Janine with my love, the way I�d comforted Vati. Janine was huge of course compared to a kitten, so I focused on her neck and shoulder, giving her little licks and purrs.

�You�re a poppet �� As she stroked me she began to talk, the words tumbling out of her as if they couldn�t wait to escape. �It�s no fun, being a single parent,� she confided, �and Leroy�s a nightmare � an absolute nightmare � always has been. I am at my wits� ends with him, and I know I shouldn�t hit him, but I can�t help it. I get so desperate.�

I listened, not understanding most of it, only sensing some bond I had with her, some undiscovered reason why I was there. Why me? And then it washed over me like the cold night air. I heard the word�dump�, and saw the light from the window shining through the slow-moving tears on Janine�s cheeks. �I�m so scared,� she said, �of those social workers. They�re gonna take my Leroy away � I know they are � that is, if I don�t dump him in care first.�

I got the picture. Dumping. Abandoning. How well I understood that!

�Sometimes I just want to end it all,� Janine continued. �Take a load of pills, or pack my bag and get the hell out.�

Was that why I had been sent? To be Leroy McArthur�s cat?

Leroy�s tantrums happened several times a day, and usually involved a dispute with his mother. I became an expert at finding places to hide in the cluttered house. It made the time I had spent in the hedge with Vati and my sister seem happy, a time of sunshine and discovery. Here in this house, there wasn�t a world. I had no contact with living creatures, no chance to observe their ways and learn. I was a kitten in prison.

Leroy couldn�t leave me alone. He�d pick me up and put me in some bizarre place so that he could watch the effect it had on me. Once it was high up on a top shelf where I felt unsafe so wanted to get down. He stood there laughing while my meows got more and more frantic. Another time he picked me up whenI was asleep and put me into a deep stone urn. I woke up cold, and looked at the circle of light above me. Not yet strong enough to jump out, I panicked, screaming, and scrabbling on the slippery surface.

Instead of rescuing me, Leroy looked into the urn and shouted,�Boo.� Then he tapped the urn with a spoon and the sharp ringing noise really upset me and hurt my sensitive ears. When Janine heard me wailing, it led to yet another row between them.

�Either you stop tormenting Timba, or he goes back. Angie said she�d give him a home if things didn�t work out.�

�I�m not tormenting Timba,� Leroy argued. �I�m just entertaining him.�

�No, you�re teasing him. Can�t you see the difference?�

Leroy shrugged. He picked me up before Janine did, and held me against his bony little chest.�He�s my kitten, aren�t you, Timba?�

�Well he won�t love you if you treat him like that.�

�He does love me.� Leroy clenched his hand until I squealed.

Janine shouted at him furiously.�Stop squeezing him. He�s not a toy, Leroy. You�ll hurt him. Stop it, you stupid boy.�

�I ain�t stupid.� Leroy glared and pouted.

I felt the pain rush through his young body, and it was a new experience for me. Whatever Leroy did to me, his pain was worse than mine, and it was attacking his heart.

I climbed up to Leroy�s shoulder, and saw the pulse beating hard in his neck. I rubbed my head against it, and purred into his ear. He peeped round at me and smiled. For the first time I felt it was possible to love this desolate boy who seemed to be disliked by everyone, especially his mother.

Later that morning I escaped into the garden. It had long grass, piles of boxes and broken bikes. Out in the sunshine I felt alive again, smelling and listening, my whiskers twitching, my eyes following every movement. The sky felt like a blue umbrella, a friendly sheltering dome above me, and the breeze ruffled my fur. I tried to sense my brother and figure out where he was, but a different animal smell came to me from a tunnel. Intrigued, I ventured inside, following the curve of it, hoping it might be a way out of the garden, a chance for me to run away from Leroy and search for Angie.

But deep down in the grass tunnel was a creature bigger than me with a pink snout of a nose and two beetle-black eyes. A rat! I turned into a ball of wire bristles and hissed at him. He lunged at me in a blaze of whiskers and a gleam of white fangs. I fled in terror, hearing his enraged squeak as he chased me. He would kill me. Where could I go?

I shot out of the tunnel and made for the doorstep. Leroy was sitting there laughing at me.�What�s the matter, Timba?� I dived inside his jacket, settling under his arm, where the slow beating of his heart calmed me down, made me feel safe again. When I peeped out there was no sign of the rat, and I was glad to let Leroy carry me indoors. Humans do have their uses, I thought, despite their bizarre behaviour.

Chapter Three

SURVIVING

Leroy�s bed was a chaotic heap of clothes, pillows and smelly old teddy bears. Without undressing or washing, he kicked off his shoes and got in, keeping me there on his shoulder as he dragged a duvet over himself. To my surprise, he went to sleep instantly, and then, in the stillness and the silence, I saw his angel.

She wasn�t hovering in the air. She was all around Leroy like a shining blanket, her beautiful face close to his head. I meowed, hoping she would notice me, and she did. We gazed into each other�s eyes and for me it was like drinking when you are thirsty. The radiance of an angel�s eyes is limitless and sustaining. I was thrilled when she spoke to me.

�It was me who told you to purr, Timba,� she said, while I soaked up every life-giving word. �You are a fabulous kitten, a messenger of love and fun.�

�So why have I ended up with Leroy? It feels wrong,� I said.

�It isn�t wrong, Timba. You�ve done everything right and we are proud of you. Leroy is having a difficult childhood, like you, and he needs your love. You are a tiny kitten, I know, but your love is not tiny. Your love is huge and powerful. Your love is like an angel. Always remember that.�

As if I would forget! Her words were music to me.

�You will mature into a strong and magnificent cat, Timba. You and Leroy have a special bond. There will be happy times. You can have one right now, while Leroy is sleeping!�

She closed her beautiful eyes and her light lingered around the sleeping boy. I got up and stretched my small body. It felt flexible and re-energised. In the dim orange glow from the street lights outside the window, I surveyed Leroy�s bedroom and felt excited. So many interesting things to play with. If only Vati was there with me.

Playing on my own made me use my imagination. I patted a silver bottle top and pretended it was a mouse. Even though I had never actually seen a mouse, my instinct told me how fast a mouse moved and how it dived into holes. There were plenty of�holes� around. Carrier bags, shoes and piles of clothes cluttered the floor, creating pockets of darkness. I practised chasing the bottle top into one, then stalking it like a grown-up cat. I found a toggle hanging from a coat and had a go at leaping and twisting to catch it, not always landing the right way up, and frightening myself a little, especially with the noise I was generating. Loudest was a paper carrier bag. It crackled like thunder when I was jumping around inside it, and the sound excited me. My tail bushed out and everything became too vivid, as if no barriers existed between imagination and reality. Tense with excitement, I stood looking up at Leroy�s football which seemed to be shivering all by itself. I patted it, and it moved. Was it alive? I pretended it was that dog�s face, and launched myself at it, digging my claws in and kicking. It rolled over on top of me, scaring me so much that I ran faster than ever before and skidded into the slot under Leroy�s bed.

Peering out at the football, I watched to see if it would move again, if it was really alive and planning to attack me, but it just sat there. The hiding and the watching made me feel lonely. What I needed was another kitten to share the experiences, someone to practise fighting and chasing with. A football was no good. It didn�t squeal and kick me back.

I needed my brother Vati. I needed him so much that the space around me seemed to be hurting my fur. Empty space, inanimate objects, dead-eyed teddy bears who refused to move. I crept out again, looked up at Leroy�s sleeping face and wanted to be close to the warmth of another living being. In my sadness I no longer saw the angel, only the troubled boy who slept with a frown on his face.

Perhaps I would never be happy without Vati. We were meant to be together, like our names. Something was wrong with the world if two kittens couldn�t grow up together as nature intended.

Overwhelmed by my lonely playtime, I managed to climb up the duvet and nestle down close to Leroy�s face. His steady breathing calmed me. In his sleep he smiled and whispered, �Timba,� and for once his hand touched me gently. We had survived our first day together, and for me it had been scary. I didn�t think I could stand another one, not without Vati by my side. Before being abandoned, we�d begun to play and wrestle together, challenging each other, but never hurting. We�d learned how to be kind to each other, washing and licking and pressing close, and the three of us had slept in a comforting mound, our limbs tangled like the roots of a tree.

Now I had only this unpredictable boy to give me warmth and security. While he slept, I sat beside him on the pillow and made myself wash and wash until my long fur felt damp and clean. I listened to the sounds of the street outside, and they were different from the sounds I�d heard from the hedge. Humans are noisy. Banging drums, blowing pipes, twanging strings and yelling out songs. They call it music, but to my sensitive ears it was unfriendly, an unwelcome vibration that pulsed through the floorboards. Any fragments of silence were ripped apart by aggressive roars from motorbikes and cars. They gave me a headache.

My sense of isolation deepened. Rebellious thoughts crowded into my mind. Thoughts of escaping, making my own way in the world, spending my life on a journey which would never end until I found Vati.

In the morning, long before Leroy was awake, I climbed the curtains, getting my slender claws caught in the coarse threads of heavy fabric which had once been red. Like everything else in that house, the curtains smelled rancid. Determined to get onto the windowsill, I swung precariously and finally made it in time to catch the first rays of the sun on my fur.

The view was mostly of rooftops and chimneys, a few trees, lots of windows flashing in the sun, and a street full of doors where a lost kitten might find a home. A street of opportunities! I looked up at the window and noticed the top was open. Immediately I smelled the grass and the briny rivers of the countryside beyond. It was powerful. Somewhere out there was my brother Vati. I looked down, and my heart leaped with excitement. Directly below the window was a sloping roof, its red tiles already soaking up the sun. A blackbird was there, pecking at small domes of moss and chucking them all over the place.

I SO wanted to be out there.

The open window was tantalisingly high, the glass too slippery for my paws. Today, I thought, today I�m going to practise jumping, eat as much as I can, and build the strength in my back legs. It won�t be long before I�m strong enough to spring up and escape through that window. I�ll be a rooftop cat, and live on birds, and sunbathe, and at night I�ll listen for owls hunting over thedistant fields. When I know the direction, I�ll set off on my journey to find Vati.

I sat bolt upright to watch something VERY strange turning into the street. A car, a bright, optimistic red � with an aura! The aura emanated from whoever was inside.

Astonished, I stared down as the car pulled in and stopped right next to our front door. The aura got out, and, hey, it was Angie! I meowed and scrabbled at the annoying glass with my paws, but she didn�t look up. She reached into the car and extracted a blue plastic bag bulging with mysterious packets. Then she tiptoed across the pavement in a swirl of black skirts, a floaty scarf trailing bits of scarlet. She hung the plastic bag on the door handle, and tiptoed back to the car. I glimpsed her mischievous smile as she stepped in and closed the car door with a secret click. The car purred off down the street, its aura of aqua and lemon brighter than before.

I cried after her, and carefully observed which way she went. Angie was going to be part of my journey.

�Hello, Timba!� Leroy�s face popped up next to me, his hands reaching to lift me down. I wondered what terrible idea he would have to �entertain� me with that day.

The early sunshine looked inviting, I thought, but in the kitchen Janine was already angry.�Sunday bloody Sunday,� she muttered, pushing mugs and bowls around on the worktop. �And why is this so sticky?�

Leroy didn�t answer but stood in the doorway with me clinging to his shoulder. �You want your breakfast, Timba?� he asked. I meowed back. I hadn�t yet learned what �breakfast� was, but I was starving and it seemed a good idea to meow about it.

�Don�t give him cornflakes,� said Janine. �Look in this bag. It was on the doorstep. And you can guess who left it there � interfering woman. I never did like the schoolteachers.�

Leroy�s eyes shone. He put me down next to Angie�s blue plastic bag on the worktop and looked inside. �Kitty milk!� he gasped and took out a round tin. �And � look, Mum, proper cat food in sachets � for kittens. Look, Timba. What do those other words say, Mum?�

��Specially formulated to give your kitten the best start in life� � and when are you gonna learn to read?�

Leroy arranged the sachets along the wall. They had glossy pictures of kittens looking satisfied, and one was like my tabby-and-white sister! I touched noses with the picture.

�He wants that one,� said Leroy and began to tear the top of the sachet.

�Don�t be so impatient with everything,� grumbled Janine. �And don�t give him too much. His tummy is the size of a walnut, it says here.�

�What�s a walnut?�

Janine rolled her eyes, but she didn�t tell Leroy what a walnut was. �Best mix him some kitty milk first.�

�I want to do it. Let me, Mum. LET ME,� shouted Leroy, and he pushed his mother out of the way as she tried to open the tin.

�Stop pushing and shoving.� Janine snatched the tin from Leroy�s eager hands. �Or I won�t let you do it � ever. Badly behaved BRAT.�

�But Timba is my kitten.� Leroy started his loud crying again. He tried to tug the kitty milk tin out of Janine�s hands and it crashed to the floor and burst open. The precious kitty milk powder scattered across the grubby tiles.

In a frozen moment of horror, we all stared at it, and to me it smelled delicious. I wanted to jump down there and lick it up.

Then Janine exploded.

�Look what you�ve done! Look at it, you evil little brat!�

�I didn�t mean to, Mum,� whimpered Leroy. He looked up at her, desperate for a spark of love to rescue him. But Janine�s eyes were barren and tired. The sight of Leroy�s crying face, and the milk on the floor, and me wobbling on the edge of the worktop seemed to ignite a bonfire of rage. It flared through her aura, and she screamed at Leroy, hitting out at his head again and again as if she couldn�t stop. He fell against the cupboard, howling and pleading. �Stop it, Mum. Stop � please, Mum.�

Shaken and afraid, I tumbled off the worktop and ran, low to the ground, searching for somewhere safe. I dived behind some bulging black rubbish bags stacked against the wall. Between the two of them, I found a wigwam of space, and cowered in there, hungry and bewildered.

I heard Leroy�s feet stamping up the stairs and his loud nasal crying. The sound of Janine breathing and moaning, �I can�t cope. I can�t do this any more. That kitten will have to go.�

Chilling words. I was too young to be sure exactly what Janine meant, but I sensed foreboding in the tone of her voice. The fear of it was stronger than the hunger in my belly. The memory of how I had stood up to the dog gave me courage and pride. Solomon�s best kitten, the biggest and the best.

I crouched there watching her scraping the kitty milk powder back into the tin with a brush.

Footsteps thudded out in the street and went quiet outside the door. I was immediately on alert, my whiskers twitching and my nose trying to smell whoever it was standing silently out there, apparently listening, then knocking. Not friendly.

Janine glared at the door, as if it was the door�s fault. She put the brush down, muttering curses. �If it�s that sodding social worker ��

She flattened herself against the wall, her eyes wide and scared, her lips pursed. The knock came again, louder, and Janine�s legs began to shake.

Leroy appeared at the top of the stairs.�Mum, someone�s knocking at the door,� he whispered.

�Shh!� Janine held her finger to her lips and held the other hand up as if to stop Leroy. He rolled his eyes and went back to his bedroom. I stayed where I was, cowering behind the rubbish bags, getting hungrier by the minute.

The knock came a third time, insistently, and a man�s voice called out. �Mrs McArthur. Answer the door, please.�

Janine shut her eyes and pressed herself harder against the wall.

�Mrs McArthur. I know you�re in there. Answer the door. You�ll be in trouble if you don�t.�

Still she didn�t move.

�Mrs McArthur. It�s Trevor from Getta Loan. You are now six weeks in arrears with your payment. If you don�t pay we�ll be taking legal action to reclaim the money you owe us.�

Janine just stood there until eventually the man said,�I�m going now, but I�ll be back tomorrow and I shall expect a payment.�

A piece of paper shot through the letterbox, and I heard the man walking away. Janine�s back slid down the wall, and she sank to the floor, breathing in gasps and whispering, �What am I going to DO? Oh God, what am I going to do?�

After a while she got up and resumed sweeping up the powdered kitty milk from the floor.

�Timba. Timba. Where are you?�

Janine was searching for me. Calmer now, she scuffed around in her slippers, looking under furniture and behind curtains. Thoroughly frightened, I stayed hidden. Instinct told me that a cat should not reveal a hiding place in case it was needed again. Wait until their back is turned, then magically appear, with your tail up as if everything is fine.

I waited until Janine was at the worktop, vigorously mixing some of the powdered kitty milk with water. It smelled wonderful, so I emerged, meowing, with my tail up, absolutely starving.

�Oh there you are.� She put a saucer of kitty milk on the floor. �Here you are, sweetheart.�

I lapped and lapped, enjoying the creamy milk, even though there were lumps in it and flecks of dirt from the floor. Strength and comfort flooded into my small body. I cleared every last grain of it from the saucer, and sat back. I was so fat that my tummy swung from side to side when I tried to walk.

�You WERE hungry.�

Watching me feed seemed to bring out a different side of Janine, a tenderness. I wondered why she didn�t treat Leroy as nicely as she was treating me.

Gingerly she picked me up and carried me over to the sofa. She slumped into the cushions and closed her eyes. I walked around on her spongy body, glad of a few moments of peace, away from Leroy. He had stopped crying and was bouncing his football harder and harder against the walls and floor upstairs. Every time it knocked something over, Janine tensed and her face, neck and shoulders went hard. Both of us were on alert. What would happen when Leroy came downstairs?

Chapter Four

THE OWL WOMAN

The next thing Leroy did that same day was the worst so far. In the small back garden, amongst the piles of discarded stuff, was a supermarket trolley upside down. Leaving me shut in the house, Leroy dragged it out of the brambles and wheeled it inside when Janine was upstairs.

�Come on, Timba. I�m taking you for a ride,� he said, looking at me with one bright eye. The other one was swollen shut from Janine�s frenzied attack on him. He picked me up and lowered me carefully into the wire trolley. I didn�t like it in there. My paws slipped between the wires and I couldn�t stand up. It was uncomfortable.

�You want something to sit on, Timba?� he asked � nicely � and took my answering meow as a yes. He grabbed a red-and-white tea towel from the kitchen, folded it, and put it in the trolley. He sat me on it, but it was still uncomfortable. I didn�t like it and tried to climb out. �No, Timba. It�s too high for you,� Leroy said, and kept me there. He looked up at the stairs, and listened. �Mum�s asleep,� he whispered. �I�m taking you out in the sunshine.�

He opened the front door very quietly, and pushed the trolley out into the street.�I got a key, Timba,� he said, and showed me a shiny thing on a string around his neck. He closed the door and I sat still on the red-and-white tea towel, sniffing the afternoon air and distant, familiar smells of grass and honeysuckle. There was the sky above me and the sun was warm on my fur.

For a few minutes I was OK and might even have felt happy, but Leroy started to run, the trolley bouncing crazily over the rough pavement. Shaken, I clung to the tea towel, meowing in fright.�Stop, please stop!� Crying now, I sent him that desperate thought, but he didn�t get it. At the end of the street he stopped by a portly red letterbox. He picked me up and held me against it, pushing my head into the black slot. �That�s where you post letters, Timba,� he said. I wriggled and kicked with my back legs skidding on the shiny red paint, terrified he was going to drop me into that hole. I twisted round and looked at him, and my eyes must have been black with fear.

�Don�t be scared, Timba,� he said. �I�ll look after you.�

He put me back in the trolley, swung it round and raced down the road, scooting with one foot and smiling at the fun he was having. I clung on, now terribly distressed, my little body bruised from the hard wire. Up and down the road we went, wilder and wilder, with Leroy shouting and laughing.

Until suddenly there was alarm in Leroy�s eyes. He stopped still, looking at a hand clutching the trolley. An old lady who looked like a furious owl stood blocking the pavement.

�What do you think you�re doing, young man?� Two spots of angry red burned on the owl woman�s plump cheeks. �Where did you get that trolley?�

�It�s me mum�s.�

�No it isn�t. That belongs to Tesco. It�s got �Tesco� on it. And SURELY that isn�t a kitten you�ve got there!�

�It�s my kitten.�

�POOR little darling.� She reached in and tenderly lifted me out, ignoring Leroy�s protests. I hurt so much that I made funny little meowing noises in my throat. I was already weak, and this ordeal had made me worse. My strong back legs felt tired, my ears rang painfully, and my paws were sore.

�You poor little angel!� The old hands were woody, like tree roots, yet they shone. Healing hands, I thought, amazed � I�ve found a human with healing hands. I leaned against the woman�s vast bosom, which was draped in layers of flowery cotton. Her eyes switched from compassion to disapproval when she looked at Leroy.

�It�s my kitten,� he said again.

�Well, are you trying to kill it?� the owl woman thundered and Leroy looked shocked.

�No. I was only taking him out in the sunshine.�

�But it�s hurting a young kitten to be banged about on that dreadful trolley. He must be bruised all over. He�s stunned and bewildered. Why are you treating him like this?�

Leroy looked mortified.�I didn�t know,� he said, and began to cry, this time quietly. Silent tears of shame and fright.

�Does your mother know what you are doing?�

Leroy shook his head. The owl woman had some power over him. Her sharp eyes pinned him to the pavement. He reached up and touched the top of my head with one finger.

�I�m sorry, Timba,� he said in the faintest of whispers.

�I should think you are,� thundered the owl woman. �I know where you live, Leroy McArthur, and you are going to turn that trolley round and wheel it home, nicely, in front of me, and I shall walk behind you and carry this darling kitten, and when we get to your house I shall want an explanation from that mother of yours.�

�Mum�s in bed,� said Leroy.

The owl woman tutted.�In BED? Is she ill?�

�No � and can I have my kitten back � please?�

�Certainly not. You aren�t fit to keep a kitten and I shall tell your mother. Oh I won�t mince my words � and if she�s in bed at three o�clock on a lovely afternoon, I shall get her up.�

�Mum might swear at you,� Leroy warned.

�I don�t care. Now � you turn that trolley round, and walk � go on. Walk slowly. This baby kitten is badly shaken.�

Lying in her healing hands on the long walk back was like floating in a golden bubble. I closed my eyes and purred. For the first time since we�d been abandoned, I actually felt safe.

�And by the way � Leroy � let me look at you,� she said, and Leroy paused and looked into her face. �What happened to your eye, child?�

There was a long silence.

�Mum �� began Leroy, then he hesitated. �I got hit by a football at school.�

Immediately his aura darkened. Why was he lying?

�I see.� The owl woman said no more but strutted behind Leroy, carrying me with such love, as if I was a baby bird that had fallen from the nest.

Leroy was trembling as he unlocked the front door.

�I�ll take the trolley back to Tesco,� he said, �but please � please let me have Timba back. He�s my kitten.�

�No, you shall not have him back. You go and wake your mother and if she doesn�t come down here immediately, then I�ll go upstairs and see her.� The owl woman wedged herself in the open door, and we waited together while Leroy trudged up the stairs. We heard fierce whispering and eventually Janine came down.

�Mrs Lanbrow,� she muttered, looking shocked. �What�s wrong?�

�This is what�s wrong. This half-dead kitten being thrashed up and down the road in a shopping trolley. It�s terrified, and it�s badly bruised. I wouldn�t be surprised if it dies.� The owl woman had power in her voice, but she spoke with a quiet that seemed to spook Janine. �And don�t blame the boy,� she continued as Janine turned on Leroy. �He�s only a child and he doesn�t understand. How come he was allowed to treat a kitten like that? I want some answers � and they�d better be good.� She lowered her voice an octave. �Because I�m taking this poor kitten down that road to the vet, and he will want to know what happened. This is animal cruelty, Mrs McArthur � animal cruelty � and it�s punishable by law.�

�She means the police, Mum,� Leroy whispered.

�Shut up, you. You�re in enough trouble.�

�I can see that,� said the owl woman, and she put a kindly arm around Leroy. �That swollen eye looks very nasty.�

Janine opened her mouth to speak and shut it again, her face going white as the owl woman looked scathingly at her and said,�And don�t even think about saying it�s none of my business. I make it my business to care about animals � and children � and I don�t care what people think of me. Now then �� She looked down at me very still and quiet in her hands. �I�m taking the kitten down the roadto the vet, whether you like it or not.�

�Can I come? He�s my kitten,� Leroy said.

�No you can�t,� snapped Janine.

With a blend of contempt and compassion in her eyes, the owl woman left them arguing and swept out, billowing down the street with me now half asleep in her cupped hands. I was aware of Leroy�s running feet catching up and his anxious expression. Was I OK?

I wasn�t OK. In a haze of pain, I saw those I loved drifting towards me � my mum Jessica, my dad Solomon, and Vati�s elfin face with its knowing eyes. Vati was there with me. He didn�t want me to die. Vati and the owl woman were holding me in a glistening cradle, and the pain was leaving my body one sparkle at a time. I didn�t need the vet. All I needed was the owl woman�s huge coral-coloured aura, and Vati. Vati was wise. He would know what to do. I had to find him.

In my dream-like state, I saw myself being put gently on a soft rug under a warm light. I was limp and useless, and so sad. My self-esteem and my ambition to grow into a magnificent, independent cat seemed futile. I was now a pathetic scrap of fur.

�Where did you get this kitten?�

Three people were looking at me � Rick, the vet, the owl woman and Leroy. I felt love from all of them, even from Leroy who was still crying silent tears. I heard him telling Rick where he had found me and how he had called me Timba.

Rick was some kind of a radiant being, and he spoke gently to Leroy.�And how did you feel when you found Timba?�

�Excited,� said Leroy, �cos I love animals and I always wanted a cat or a dog, but Mum never let me. I didn�t know I was hurting Timba. I didn�t � you gotta believe me.�

�I do,� said Rick. He examined me with careful, shining fingers and listened to my heart. Then he said something wonderful. �Timba is going to be a most beautiful cat. He deserves the best treatment we can give him, don�t you agree?�

There was a husky�Yes� from Leroy, and the owl woman said, �Absolutely� and I shall pay the bill.�

Rick looked at Leroy with raised eyebrows, in silence, until Leroy fidgeted and mumbled,�Thank you,� to the owl woman.

�Well, I don�t suppose your mum can afford it,� she said, and looked at Rick. �Single parent,� she confided in a whisper.

�What I want to do,� said Rick, �is keep Timba here for a few days. He can have rest, peace and a controlled diet, and lots of TLC, and we�ll give him his jabs against cat flu.�

Leroy pouted.�But I want him home.�

�I know you do � but you have to let him get better first � give him a chance, Leroy. OK?�

After Rick said I was going to be a beautiful cat, I slept blissfully, knowing the owl woman was with me in spirit, and so were Vati and Leroy. In my dream, the owl woman was making colours with her hands, colours that soaked into my bones and made them strong. She was mixing herbs and the aromas of sage, mint and catnip were infusing their therapy into my being. She was chanting a deep-toned song, and its resonance carried me on a long, long journey to a country where the land teemed with life and throbbed with heat. I tasted the hot dust, and saw the green twilight of plant life.

The owl woman took up a drum and began to beat it rhythmically with her powerful hands. In my sleep I felt the drumbeat pulsing far across the world to the distant country, and then I saw the great White Lion padding towards me.

For three days I slept curled up between the velvet paws of the Spirit Lion. His heartbeat merged with the owl woman�s drumbeat, and with every thought-laden beat I grew stronger. The White Lion�s paws never moved but held me steady in a globe of light. Below me was a cushion covered in mystic stardust, and above me the sky rippled with the blue-white tresses of the Lion�s mane. He did not speak, and yet his silence said everything I needed to know.

At regular intervals, a hand intruded, and the humans lovingly persuaded me to wake up. They touched me with extreme gentleness, and talked softly to me. I didn�t know who they were, but I managed to purr my appreciation, and my purr was gradually improving. They gave me tiny portions of thick, delicious milk and morsels of solid food, telling me what it was. �This is tuna.� Or �This is chicken.� It was YUMMY, and when it became clear that Icould have my meal in peace and not feel threatened, I began to eat ravenously and meow for more. Soon I had the energy to wash, and enjoy grooming my fluffy coat. My bruised body healed, and began to tingle with life. My back legs felt twitchy and powerful. I even played a little between sleeps.

It was a time of healing and a time of learning something important. Humans could be good and kind, and sensitive to a cat�s needs. Humans loved and wanted cats. Somewhere out there was a particular human who wanted ME. I hoped it would be Angie.

I heard the sound of Leroy�s scratchy voice.

�Can I see my kitten, please? I want him back.�

�You can�t come in here without an adult.�

�I had to cos me mum wouldn�t come with me.�

�Then go back and tell her what I said.�

The girl at reception had dealt briskly with Leroy� or so she thought. Before she could stop him, Leroy bounded into the room where I was being kept. He saw me and came to the cage with a wide smile.�Hello, Timba.�

I puffed out the fur around my face and sat up. I wanted to tell Leroy to go away, that I wasn�t going to be treated like that again. But he was determined. With nimble fingers he started unfastening the door to my cage.

�He looks bigger,� he said, beaming in at me, both his eyes open now.

�You can�t do that.� The girl shut the cage door and leaned against it, facing Leroy. �You�ve got a cheek, coming in here. No one is allowed in here.�

�I don�t care. Timba�s my kitten and I want him back.� Leroy stood his ground, his legs wide apart, his fists ready for battle. �You can�t stop me.�

�OUT!� The girl lunged towards him and tried to push him out, but she�d reckoned without Leroy�s warrior strength. He sat down on the floor.

�I ain�t moving till I�ve got my kitten back. The vet said come on Thursday.�

�You can�t take him without an adult. And there�s a bill to pay. Now move, please, or I�ll call for assistance.�

�No. And Mrs Lanbrow said she�d pay the bill.�

�All right then. I�ve got your mum�s phone number. I�ll ring her.�

�She won�t answer. She�s in bed.�

While they argued, I was planning my life. I wasn�t going to be Leroy McArthur�s cat. If he took me, I�d run away at the first opportunity. My back legs quivered with new strength and excitement, ready to leap out and escape. My time of recovery had passed, and the heat of courage flooded back into my body. If Leroy tried to bully me, I�d hiss at him and scratch his hands. I�d never let him catch me again.

The door opened and Rick the vet came in. To me he was like a human angel. His aura shone white and cool blue, and he emanated calm. He knew exactly where he had to go, what to do next, who needed him most, and it was the troubled boy sitting belligerently on the floor.

�Hello, Leroy! What are you doing down there?�

Leroy looked up at him.

�I want Timba back, and SHE won�t let me have him.� He stabbed an angry finger at the receptionist, who rolled her eyes.

Rick didn�t try to make Leroy get up, but sat on the floor with him, and looked intently into the boy�s eyes. �You�re upset, Leroy, I can see that,� he said kindly. �Are things not going too well?�

Leroy�s mouth quivered.

�I don�t want none of my toys, or computer games, or my football, or nothing,� he wept. �I just want Timba.�

�You love him very much, don�t you?�

Leroy nodded hard, great sobs shaking his small body.�I wanted a pet all my life, and I found Timba � it�s like he were put there for me. I never meant to hurt him, and I won�t hurt him again. I promise.�

�Has anyone taught you how to look after a cat?�

�No. Me mum just shouts at me. She don�t teach me NOTHING,� Leroy cried bitterly. �And I get bullied at school all the time cos she don�t wash my clothes and the other kids say I stink.�

�That�s really tough,� Rick said quietly. �So what is it about Timba that you like?�

�I dunno.� Leroy hesitated and turned his big eyes to look at me. �It�s like � cos when I hold him he�s alive, and I can feel his heart beating, and I know he loves me � don�t you, Timba? And it don�t matter to him if I�m a bad boy.�

�A bad boy? Are you?�

�Yeah.�

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 beyondprice.

�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.

Chapter Five

SORRY ABOUT THIS

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 forever 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 itawakened 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.

I wriggled out of Angie�s grasp and leaped, spreadeagled, to the floor. My little legs couldn�t yet land from such a height and I fell on my face in a jumble of panicking paws. I gathered my scattered limbs and fled into the garden. Graham went on �singing�, but Angie laughed her bubbly laugh.

Quivering, I crouched under an umbrella of rhubarb leaves and tried to calm down.

�That was so funny!� I heard Angie say, but Graham wasn�t laughing and he had stopped �singing�.

�Better get him in before he digs up my seed bed,� he said, and I could tell from his voice that the frown was back.

�Oh let him go. He�s a free spirit now,� Angie said. �He�ll find his way around, and come back when he�s ready.�

A free spirit. A FREE spirit! My mood lifted. Was I free for the first time in my young life? Free to explore the green garden and the mysterious world beyond? I needed to get a sense of direction and make a map of what would become my territory, find out who lived there, who passed through, and who might be asleep under the ground or in the branches.

Excited, I sat under the rhubarb leaves, my nose twitching, my eyes noticing every tiny movement, even the flick of an insect�s antenna. I watched a ladybird working its way up a stalk, and I stared back at a hard-faced grasshopper who was regarding me with yellow eyes. The silvery purple seed heads of grasses arched out into the light where they danced and sparkled. I considered playing with them, but play was noton my agenda right now. This was serious stuff � adult-cat stuff.

A hole led under the garden fence, with a well-worn track, obviously used by creatures of the night I had yet to encounter. I sniffed at wisps of fur and droppings, not all of which I could recognise.

I waited, wanting to go through and see the world, but something was happening. The ground under my paws was shaking, and there was a rhythm to it, a one, two, three, four. Mesmerised, I stared through the hole and saw four huge hard round feet plod past on the other side, darkening the light that shone through. Then something snorted and a set of yellowy teeth tore at a tuft of grass, ripping it out from under the fence.

My fur bushed out with fright. My tail went stiff. I felt as big as two cats. Obviously this grass-grabbing giant had no idea that a black kitten sat just a whisker away from its nose.

I ventured through on tiptoe, my stiffened fur making it awkward for me to find room to move. Should I, who had slept between the paws of a lion, be so scared of this unknown creature? I made my neck longer and peeped out at the green field stretching away to wooded hills. The grass bobbed with yellow flowers, and to my right was a gleaming chestnut rump with a long tail swishing.

The horse must have sensed me, for it turned, snorting, its head low to the ground. I was the bravest kitten ever. Poised for a quick exit, I sat there and made eye contact. The liquid-brown benevolent eyes looked back, politely interested in me. The energy was female.

Start as you mean to go on, Timba, I thought, and I sent her a telepathic message.�I�m the new cat in this household. I�m Angie�s cat.� I felt proud of that status. Angie�s cat!

The horse was not impressed. She blew a blast of hot air at me, ruffling my fur, and sent me a message back.�I�m Angie�s favourite horse. Try not to get under my feet.�

She started to walk away, her nose skimming the grasses, then stopped and looked at me.

�You do realise that Angie is an earth-angel,� she said. �And earth-angels always take on more than they can manage.�

I watched her meander across the field towards a group of smaller horses. I was a lucky cat. An earth-angel, and a Spirit Lion, and now a polite horse. I must be someone really special.

It felt good to rest in the barley grass at the edge of the field in the mellow sun of late afternoon. I needed to keep absolutely still, like an Egyptian statue of a cat, for I sensed a miracle was about to happen, which would link me with Vati. Stillness. Waiting.

It came silently. The air above the grass shimmered with millions of the tiniest imaginable spiders, each on a thin thread of gossamer, each beginning a magical journey. The grass was bedecked with a network of silver, and the sun made a pathway of gold stretching far away across the fields.

I wasn�t sure what it meant, but Vati would know. Vati was like the other half of my consciousness. Somewhere out there he too might be watching the sun glisten on gossamer. Vati would know where the secret roads were, and how to find them when the sun went down. He would know how to feel the energy beneath his paws, and use it to bring us home � to each other.

Chapter Six

ANGIE�S CAT

�It�s only for one night. I promise,� Angie said, stroking me protectively as I lay beside her on the sumptuous pillow. I snuggled into the crook of her neck, my little paws buried in her sweet mane of hair.

�You know I don�t like cats in bed,� objected Graham who was sitting up reading a leathery black book. Its fat wad of gold-rimmed pages fluttered tantalisingly when he turned them, and he noticed me watching. I bobbed back nervously, hoping he wasn�t going to �sing�.

�But Timba�s just a poor lost baby. Mmwha!� Angie gave me one of her kisses.

Graham glowered and pushed his glasses back up his nose.�Don�t let him get his claws into the satin duvet.�

�I won�t. He shall be a model kitten!� said Angie, and I got another kiss.

Feeling pampered and important, and with a full tummy, I drifted off to sleep.

As the morning sun rose over the woods, I sat in the window and thought hard about Vati.�Talk to me,� I pleaded. �Where are you, Vati?� I visualised his wistful face with the white dot on the nose.

A golden thread glinted in the sun. In the night a spider had swung out from the edge of the roof, spinning her silk ever longer, wilder and wilder, until she touched a leaf on the apple tree and clung there, leaving her lifeline stretched through the dawn as if to remind me how to find Vati.

I sent him a golden thread of love, and waited. His eyes looked into mine from across those fields where the badgers were. East, into the rising sun � and he wasn�t far away. But in front of his wistful face were squares of wire. Vati was in a cage. He wasn�t free like me. I felt his longing. I�ll find you, I vowed. We shall be together again.

So profound was my stillness and concentration that I did not notice Angie close to me, sharing the sunrise. She must have understood I was in a trance that was not to be broken � except by food of course!

We headed for the kitchen, and I realised that Angie was dressed in an old shirt, jeans and long brown boots. While she mixed my kitty milk she talked to me.

�I�m an early bird � like you, Timba! I have to get up and help Laura with the horses, and the rabbits and chickens. Then I grab toast and coffee, shower, and go to work. You�ll have to stay here with Graham while I�m at work � then you�ll be on your own for the afternoon when he goes to the theatre.�

I lapped the milk while she sailed to and fro across the kitchen, watering plants and putting silver spoons and shiny plates on a table. Then she flung the door open and stepped into the dew-spangled garden. She stood in the sun and lifted her arms and face to the sky.

With the door wide open, I thought some of the night creatures might want to come crowding in and share my kitty milk. So I finished it quickly and dragged my fat tummy to the doorstep. It proved to be a brilliant place to sit washing myself and observing. A doorstep was a�between place�, offering choices and helping me to establish territory.

I was learning how to smile. When Angie turned to look at me and said,�Timba!� in a loving voice, I noticed how her long Egyptian eyes sparkled just because of me! So I put my tail up and tried to smile by tilting my head from side to side to make my eyes twinkle in the sun.

�You are the BEST little cat in the Universe,� she said, and picked me up tenderly. �The Universe has brought us together, don�t you think so, Timba?�

At the end of the garden path was a gate leading into the drive where Angie�s car was parked next to a gleaming black limo. On Sunday afternoon, Angie carried me down there to see it, helping me to understand the layout of our home.

�Try not to scratch Graham�s precious Volvo,� whispered Angie. �He likes everything pristine!�

She showed me the quiet lane beyond the drive, and pointed.�That way goes to the main road � don�t you go down there, Timba, but you can go the other way. It leads to the woods.�

I took it all in, aware that Angie didn�t know how much I understood. I wanted to tell her about Vati, but she was human, and humans have mostly forgotten how to use telepathy.

But suddenly Angie was tense and annoyed.�Who on earth is that? Oh no � I can�t believe that woman knows where I live.�

A car turned into the drive with a squeal of tyres and a smell of hot rubber. Janine got out, dressed in black tights and a shiny black jacket. I thought she looked like a beetle.

�Don�t panic, Timba,� Angie whispered, her hand protectively on my fur. �You go on purring. She�s not having you back.�

Angie kept the lid on her anger and spoke to Janine kindly.�Hello! I wasn�t expecting to see you, Janine.�

�Yeah, I know � sorry � but I really need to talk to you.� Janine looked at Angie with a blend of defiance and desperation in her eyes. �And I had the chance of a lift. This is Dave �� She waved an arm at the man in the car. He nodded without smiling. Then he turned the stereoup and sat with his elbow out of the window.

�Ten minutes, babe.� Dave tapped the chunky metal watch on his wrist. �I�ll wait in the car.�

Angie led Janine to a seat by the garden pond.

�Timba�s adorable,� she said.

�Yeah � I haven�t come to get him back,� Janine said. �It�s about Leroy. I need to � like � explain something.�

�I�m listening,� Angie said, and her eyes were full of love.

Janine seemed to be struggling. I went to and fro, from one lap to the other, trying to decide which of these two women needed me most. I settled on Janine�s heart, and she started to cry.

�Take a deep breath, and just tell me,� said Angie kindly.

�It�s Leroy,� Janine sobbed. �I�m on the brink of putting him in care. I can�t cope with him no more. I do love him. I do. But now he�s getting bigger, it�s one long battle from morning to night. I�m exhausted � and not very well � and � and I�m actually terrified of my own son.�

�That�s so sad for you � and for him,� Angie said.

�I�m under the doctor,� Janine wept. �I get migraines and depression, and I never sleep cos Leroy gets up in the night and draws all over the walls, or he turns the TV on and watches stuff he shouldn�t be watching. He�s out of control. I don�t know what he�s going to do next �and then there�s the bullying, it never stops, and it�s always because his clothes aren�t pristine and he hasn�t got decent trainers. I can�t afford stuff, Angie, I�m in debt � I had no one to turn to � not till Dave came along. I�m going to � like � lose my house if I can�t pay rent any more, and Dave wants me to move in with him. But he won�t have Leroy. I�ve got such a difficult choice to make.�

�That�s tough, really tough. I sympathise,� Angie said, and her eyes looked sad.

�But I�ve partly come here to warn you,� Janine said, talking more calmly now. �Leroy went ballistic over losing Timba. He�s trashed his bedroom. He knows where you live, Angie, and he says he�ll walk over here and get Timba back � he would too.�

A cold anxious feeling filled me as I understood what Janine was saying. Leroy intended to snatch me away from my beloved Angie.

�There has to be a better way of dealing with it.� Angie looked thoughtful.

�Not for people like me there isn�t.�

The conversation ended abruptly when Graham came stalking mystically out of the house with angry eyebrows and his hair boiling up like a thundercloud.�Would you mind turning that objectionable racket down?� he said to the surprised Dave. �I am a professional opera singer, and I don�t want my practice ruined by you and your stereo.�

The music stopped and Dave grinned out of the car window.�Keep yer cool, mate. It�s good music,� he said, and called out to Janine, �Come on, babe. Before I get evicted.�

Janine scurried back to the car.�Don�t forget � what I warned you � about Leroy,� she said to Angie. �You keep an eye on Timba. Heaven help him if Leroy gets hold of him.�

Chilling words. I felt threatened yet again. Why couldn�t they just let me grow up and be a cat in peace?

When Monday morning came, Angie reminded me that she had to go to work. I was to be left alone with Graham for most of the day.

�Tomorrow I�ll take you to see the horses,� she said. �Today you must stay around the house and garden. Get used to the place � it�s your home now.�

She put me down on the doorstep and ran, her hair flying, round to the back of the house. I heard the horses making a weird noise in welcome, and a thundering of hooves, lots of squealing and stamping around. Angie was talking to them and laughing. She seemed like a flame, bringing light and warmth to every living being.

I stayed on the sunny doorstep until she returned, red-faced and happy, and before long she had changed into her swirling skirt and posh shoes. She picked me up, kissed me and popped me into a round basket with a sumptuous red cushion in it.

�You sleep, little cat. I�ll be back later � and I shall tell Leroy how well you�re doing. Mmwah!�

I hadn�t planned to sleep, and the mention of Leroy bothered me. Supposing he came to get me like he�d threatened! The compelling thought drove me into the garden again to check out some hiding places. If Leroy did come, I�d be ready.

The fear got hold of me. Without Angie there the place was new and full of dangers. Graham might decide to�sing�. The horses might stampede into the garden. Leroy might turn up. Then there were two buzzards wheeling overhead, crying their wild cry. What if the buzzards got me!

I slunk across the lawn and under the summerhouse, a dusty, brick-strewn hollow, dimly lit by a rim of sunlight filtering through the foliage. A good hiding place. Or was it? I spied a gigantic hole in the earth. I sniffed it, and, predictably, my fur started to ruff out with alarm. Hiding there would be bad news. Some kind of creature was asleep deep inside that dark hole. I retreated with the utmost stealth, and belted back across the lawn to the doorstep. Phew!

I didn�t want to be a kitten any more. I wanted to be a cat. Eat, I thought, and returned to my dish where Angie had left me some tuna. I stuffed and stuffed, and staggered back to the doorstep just in time to see a scaly pair of legs descending from the sky and two vast blue-grey wings. Shockingly huge. Surely birds couldn�t be that big?

My instinct took over and locked me motionless except for my fur bushing out � again. There was safety in stillness. Even a twitch of my ear or a blink of my eye would tell that dragon of a bird that I was alive and edible. How I wished I�d stayed on the lovely red cushion. I wanted Angie. I wanted Vati. I even wanted Leroy!

The enormous bird didn�t look at me but unfurled its snake-like neck and stood on one leg at the edge of the pond, its eyes scrutinising the water while I imagined exactly what that long yellow beak could do to a kitten.

At the same time, inside the house, Graham started to�sing�. �Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, AH.�

It was all too much for me.

This time instinct fired me towards the apple tree. In a terrible panic I fell over myself getting to it. My claws were brilliant. They hooked into the rough bark of the tree trunk. Thrilled to find myself climbing, I pushed with my back legs, on, up the tree into a flat place between two branches. I paused there, my high-speed heartbeat way out of control, my tail spiky, my eyes staring at the lofty blue-grey bird. He moved. His wings spread wide and he took off, effortlessly, and flew away towards the woods.

Bursting with pride at my achievement, I decided to make the most of it and stay in the apple tree. To find myself so good at climbing was awesome. I looked up into the tree�s mossy tangle of branches against the sky. Why not go higher? I thought. The big bird had gone, the garden was quiet, and the sound of Graham�s �singing� was inside the house and muffled.

Higher up, the branches were thinner and there were multiple choices for me. Which way to go? Inexperienced, I didn�t choose carefully, and, in my rush to get to the sky, I soon found the climbing difficult. The spurs of leaves and clusters of green apples got in my way, and now I was clambering precariously along narrow twigs. My balance wasn�t mature enough to cope.

Climbing up to the sky didn�t seem such a good idea. The blue had gone, and heavy clouds steamed over the sun. A warning breeze chilled my fur and made the branch sway alarmingly. I looked down at the lawn, and it was too far to fall. Then I discovered that turning round was impossible.

It didn�t help to have a feisty little wren hopping expertly around in the tree. It kept its stubby tail up and its beak open, squawking out dreadful curses and threats. The question of how to get down became paramount. Even if I did manage a three-point turn, I�d still have to get down the steep trunk.

Jessica would have shown me how, or Vati and I might have figured it out together. Loneliness came over me like one of those clouds overhead. Extra-large raindrops began to fall, harder and faster, splashing into my fur. Soon I could feel water chilling my skin.

I was in serious trouble.

The meows of a lonely kitten are LOUD, and mine filled the garden and the land beyond, but nobody came. I must have stayed there for hours, soaking wet and scared. Occasionally someone walked along the lane and paused at the gate to listen. The thick foliage made me invisible.

The rain stopped but the leaves dripped on me and the tree shook in the wind. Graham appeared, and he wasn�t �singing�. He was calling me! �Timba, Timba.� He brought my dish outside, tapping it with a spoon, and it had food in it � something deliciously meaty. I wailed and wailed.

�Where are you?� Graham put the dish down and picked his way across the wet grass. �Surely you�re not up there?� He peered into the apple tree and we made eye contact. A blessed moment, but he spoilt it by saying, �You silly kitten.�

He walked away and came back with a clanking ladder.�Don�t you worry, little one. Good old Graham will rescue you.� He climbed the ladder and stretched out his hand to me. �Come on, baby.� I managed to move the short distance to his hand and this time it felt warm and comforting. Humans can be awesome.

�You�re soaking wet. Come on, come to Graham.� He held me firmly, put me on his massive shoulder, and climbed down to the ground. He took a folded white hanky out of his pocket and dried me with it. We stared into each other�s eyes. �I promise not to sing,� he said, and I stretched upto touch noses with him to show my appreciation.

�When I�m a cat,� I said, sending him the thought, �I�ll be your best buddy.�

�Aw, what a sweet kitten. He�s so fluffy.�

�Here, you hold him.� Angie carefully handed me to Laura and I liked her straight away. She smelled strongly of horses, and her brown eyes were happy and kind. I crawled inside her jacket and listened to her heart while Angie told me who she was. �Laura is our neighbour,� she explained, �and she�s got all these lovely horses and ponies. Some of them are rescue ponies, and they live in the field at the bottom of the garden.�

�I hope the children will get a look at Timba,� Laura said, and I came out from inside her jacket and touched noses.

�Oh they will � definitely,� said Angie, �and I�ve invited Leroy to come to our Saturday club, if that�s OK with you, Laura? He really needs a bit of horse therapy.�

I meowed at the mention of Leroy�s name. I was anxious and Angie picked that up immediately. �He treated Timba VERY badly, but only from ignorance, not intention � I hope Timba�s forgiven him � have you, Timba?�

I did a yes-meow, which was a skill I�d been developing. I could now do yes-meows, purr-meows, call-meows, and fragmented squeaks which I used in conversation only with humans. Then there was the extended-meow, a really useful kind of wail to use in emergencies, and beyond that was the amplified extended-meow, strictly for specialoccasions.

�You�ll be nice to Leroy, won�t you, Timba?� Angie asked and I replied with a silent stare. I needed to think about that. What to do if Leroy tried to kidnap me.

By the end of the week I was much more confident. I�d met the horses, and the rabbits who were in wire runs and cages, and the chickens. None of them took much notice of me, but Angie and Graham gave me lots of attention. Graham persuaded me to get used to his �singing� by humming tunes to me when I was stretched out on his chest. He did itso gently and I quite liked the vibration � maybe it was his way of purring, I reasoned.

One night I became aware that all was not well between him and Angie.

She made him a special meal and put flowers and candles on the table, then rushed upstairs and came down in a slinky dress that sparkled like the night sky. I thought she looked beautiful.

But Graham didn�t arrive. Angie paced between the kitchen and the front window, watching for his car. She got more and more agitated, pulling trays of food in and out of the oven, turning it on, then off.

�WHY is his mobile switched off? What is he doing?� she raged, and hurled the oven gloves across the kitchen. �This meal is RUINED!�

I sat quietly in my basket on the red cushion, tired from my evening playtime, but I couldn�t go to sleep while Angie was stressing.

It was dark outside and the candles on her table had gone out when Graham�s car finally swung into the drive.

Angie was waiting for him at the door, a burning spot of colour on each cheek. Her bust and her chin were lifted high with fury.�Where have you BEEN?� she demanded.

Graham looked evasive.�Sorry, love, I am a bit late.�

�A bit late? It�s ten o�clock, and our meal is ruined. It was ready three hours ago. And why was your mobile turned off?�

�Calm down, and let me get inside.� Graham held up his hand in a sort of peace gesture.

�Don�t you tell me to calm down!� Angie had sparks flying from her aura. She flung her hands in the air. �Not only is it our anniversary, but you knew I was cooking a special meal. I�ve been to endless trouble over it, Graham. It�s an insult to me, it�s discourteous and � and � � She gave a growl of rage. �It�s an insult to the UNIVERSE to waste food and my time.�

He sighed.�Don�t go on about the Universe, Angie. I�m really tired.�

�You�re tired! What do you think I am? I�m absolutely beside myself with FURY, Graham. How dare you treat me like this?�

He stalked past her and flung his coat over a chair.�I�m beginning to wish I hadn�t come home at all.�

Angie gave a howl of frustration, her fists clenched in the air.�I give up,� she said in a high-pitched voice. �Your dried-up meal is in the oven. Get it yourself. I�m going to bed. GOODNIGHT.�

�If you�d just stop being so angry�� began Graham, but Angie was already halfway up the stairs.

I heard the bedroom door slam and Angie cried,�Why is the Universe doing this to me?�

It went quiet, and Graham came over to my basket.�Hello, Timba,� he said in a conspiratorial whisper. �I�m afraid I�ve been a bad boy.�

Chapter Seven

VATI

�What is the matter, Timba?� Angie scooped me out from behind the fridge and tried to stroke my hedgehog fur. �Such big black eyes. Why are you so scared?�

Clinging to her shoulder, I stared out of the window. Sniffing around the garden was a dog, and it wasn�t any old dog. It was Harriet, the dog who had taken my brother and sister.

When I first saw her I don�t think my paws actually touched the ground. I nosedived into the house and fell over the mat. My chin stung from the impact. The sensation of my fur standing up by itself along my back and tail was like being prickled all over � losing control. Not pleasant.

Angie followed my gaze.

�Oops!� she said. �A dog in the garden. Someone left the gate open � probably me. You stay there, Timba. It�s only old Harriet.�

She put me on the windowsill where I sat in draconian pose. What was Angie going to do? I practised growling in case she brought Harriet into the house. I watched stiffly as she went out there.

�Hello, DARLING,� she said � to the dog! She had called that dog �darling�!

Harriet had the grace to look ashamed; obviously she knew she shouldn�t have been there.

�Where�s your mum?� Angie made a fuss of Harriet and took hold of her collar. At the same time an old woman in a funny hat appeared at the gate.

�Oh there you are. Bad dog! I�m so sorry, Angie,� she said.

�No problem, Freda,� Angie said kindly. �It�s my fault for leaving the gate open. Not your fault, is it, Harriet? Lovely girl. Oh I wish we had a dog. Graham hates them.�

�But I see you�ve got a kitten � there in the window,� said Freda. �A little beauty! Where did he come from?�

�It�s a long story,� said Angie.

The two women stood in the garden with Harriet firmly clipped to a lead (Phew!). The danger had passed, and it was time for me to wash and smooth my annoying fur. I couldn�t hear much of the conversation but sparks were popping from both the women�s auras. They were gazing earnestly at each other, and waving their hands around.

�Where did you say Leroy found the kitten?�

�Lying in the grass in Frog Lane � on a Friday.�

�Then � it has to be the third kitten,� said Freda. �Harriet went back a third time, and she was gone for ages, but came back with nothing.�

�So what happened to the other two?�

The woman walked over to the gate and leaned on it, talking intently and quietly now. Suddenly Angie gave one of her screams.�Oh God, Freda � this was meant to be! I�m going over there right now. Thank you, thank you, thank you!�

Once Freda and Harriet had gone, Angie skipped into the kitchen and grabbed her car keys and handbag.�I won�t be long, Timba. You stay there, and I might � just MIGHT � bring you a surprise.�

The key turned in the lock, and I watched, puzzled, as Angie�s car drove out faster than normal. Angie didn�t often go out after work. She�d change into jeans and a T-shirt and play with me, or carry me around. It was our special time before Graham got home.

I went to my dish. She�d forgotten to feed me! Where could Angie be going?

The Spirit Lion came to me at certain times, and in certain places, always when I was alone. On that summer afternoon, I braved the cat flap and headed out into the sunshine. In the back garden was a circle of stones in the long grass, and it seemed to be a place of mystery. It gave me a buzz to sit there and feel the heat of the sun reflected from the crystalline stones. A time to be still, and listen, and sense what was coming through the glistening light.

The paws of the Spirit Lion were so stealthy that they appeared silently, one each side of me like pillars of light. I felt him shuffling, shifting himself around me with the utmost care. Then I saw his cascading white mane, his soft muzzle, his benevolent eyes, and I felt totally safe, and locked into a trance.

The words came slowly from his ancient mind, and this time he called me by my name.

�Timba, Timba �� The resonance was like Graham�s voice humming through me. �Have confidence in the power you have been given. Don�t be afraid. Remember who you are, Timba � the leader, the best kitten.�

I listened, fluffed out with pride.

�It�s not over with Leroy,� he said. �This child was born to help the White Lions. Do not hide from him. He needs you, Timba. Always go to him. Always welcome him with your tail up.�

�But I don�t want to be Leroy�s cat,� I said. �I want to stay with Angie.�

�You won�t be Leroy�s cat, or Angie�s cat,� breathed the Spirit Lion. �You are your own cat.�

He said no more, but held me in the place of light between his paws. We purred together, and I noticed his purr was spaced out, so different from mine. But I felt satisfied with my purr � it was loud for a kitten and I already knew how to use it to comfort Angie and Graham. Had I purred for Leroy? I couldn�t remember. Thetime with him had been so full of fear and pain. Yet Leroy, more than anyone, needed the comfort of a purring cat.

I slept blissfully, and when I awoke the sun was setting, and Angie�s car turned into the drive. I saw the red of it through the hedge. Whenever she arrived, the horses whinnied and the chickens clucked hopefully. Usually she went round to see them before coming into the house, but this time she came straight in. Her face was bright with joy, and � she wascarrying a cat cage!

I ran to meet her with my tail up.

�Hello, Timba darling,� she said, and smiled in a mysterious way. I followed her inside. She shut the door and put the cat cage gently on the floor.

And then a miracle happened.

The best miracle ever.

Angie opened the cat cage, and out stepped an elegant black kitten with a white dot on his nose.

My brother Vati!

Angie had found Vati, and brought him home.

�Oh not another one, Angie!� said Graham when he saw Vati sharing my dish. �How many more waifs and strays are you going to bring home?�

Angie flared up immediately.�As long as there�s room in my heart, Graham. If the Universe sends me a gift, I wouldn�t DREAM of turning it down. I�m here to love, and that includes you � you sexy hunk.�

She stood on tiptoe, wound her arms around Graham�s neck, and kissed him until his aura filled with light and blended with hers. He slid his arms around her waist and held her close, murmuring words of love into her hair. Angie peeled off his jacket and flung it over a chair, then she loosened his tie and unbuttoned his shirt, all the time with her eyes locked into his.

They hurried upstairs, with Angie giggling and Graham thundering after her on his big feet. The bedroom door slammed shut and the house rang with Angie�s laughter.

Vati and I went on eating.

It was a good time for him to arrive, I thought, with the house full of the energy of love. While we were eating, I had a good look at Vati. He was smaller than me, more streamlined in his coat of satiny black fur. His tail had grown, and it had a kink at the tip. His eyes were turning lemon-green and were full of secrets. I knew he had much to teach me, and I sensed a nervousness in him. He needed my leadership and courage, just as I needed his wisdom.

Vati was scared of being in a new house, so the first thing we did was wash each other. I enjoyed rubbing cheeks with Vati and licking his wistful face, and seeing him close his eyes so trustingly as I did so. As he washed me back his eyes inspected the room and he seemed to be listening to the twilight sounds from outside, and the particular creaks, drips and hums from the house itself. I wondered what he would do when he heard Graham�sing�.

I wanted to take Vati out through the cat flap, but he wouldn�t go. I wanted him to play with me, but he wouldn�t play. I raced around on my own and he crawled onto the sofa and sat there watching me, and when I finally sat quietly with him, he seemed glad to have me there. I tuned into his mind and picked up sadness. Vati was sad. I asked him why.

�Nobody wants a black cat,� he said.

�I�m black,� I said, �and Leroy wanted me like mad, and so did Angie.�

�But you�re fluffy. No one wanted me. I was in a cage for days and days on my own, and people kept looking in and saying they didn�t want me. Until Angie came, and I don�t know her. I don�t feel I belong to her.�

I heard myself quoting the words of the Spirit Lion:�You are your own cat.�

Vati looked stressed and bewildered.

�And why is she calling me Vati?� he asked. �What kind of a name is that?�

�We are named after the White Lions of Timbavati,� I said. �Angie�s got a picture of them. Vati is a really important name.�

Vati didn�t look convinced. He sat there looking tired, his black whiskers drooping. He crept into the corner of the sofa and went to sleep. I was disappointed. Something was wrong with Vati. He hadn�t eaten much, he wouldn�t go out, and he refused to play with me. I was bursting with energy, but I curled up beside him, and put my paw over his slim body. I purred, but Vati was silent, his sweet face peaceful. In his sleep he stretched out an elegant paw and curled it around my neck. That made me so happy that I didn�t move and we slept blissfully entwined as we had always done.

�How sweet is that?� exclaimed Angie when she discovered us there. �Will you look at these darling kittens, Graham?�

I opened one eye and saw her taking a photo of us on her mobile.�Poor little Vati � he�s exhausted,� she said, and I remembered how I had slept for three days in the vet�s place. I�d been physically, mentally and spiritually tired. Maybe it was the same for Vati.

In the morning he seemed OK. But after breakfast he went straight back to the corner of the sofa and sat with his paws bunched under himself. Angie had gone to work, and Graham strode past us on his way to the music room. I braced myself for Vati getting a fright when the�singing� started. Today it was particularly loud, and it made me shudder. Vati must have heard it, but it didn�t seem to bother him. He seemed to be in a dream.

He wouldn�t talk to me. He wouldn�t play.

Eventually he got down from the sofa and crept around the floor, his whiskers twitching as he went to and fro. It was odd behaviour, I thought. I coaxed him into the garden and he did exactly the same thing � creeping over the lawn, but stopping now and again to sit staring at the ground and listening.

�What ARE you doing?� I asked, going up to him and putting my face close. To my utter astonishment, Vati hissed at me and batted me crossly. He didn�t want me! Unabashed, I tried again, and got another swipe.

�Leave me alone,� he snarled. �You�re breaking my concentration. I need to do this.�

Miffed, I tried to demonstrate my progress with climbing the apple tree, made a mess of it and crashed to the ground, but Vati went on doing what he was doing.

As the shadow of the blue-grey wings hung over the lawn and the big bird again descended, I was desperate to warn Vati. A heron, Angie had called it. I fled to the doorstep thinking Vati would follow, but he didn�t. The heron stood at the edge of the pond, his dagger-like beak poised in the air, his sharp eyes staring.

I couldn�t believe what Vati was doing.

�Vati � NO!� I sent him the thought, but he ignored me and continued padding towards the heron � WITH HIS TAIL UP.

You�ve got it all wrong, Vati, I thought. I�ve only just found my brother, now I�m going to lose him again. And I waited for the terrible yellow beak to snatch my brother and fly off with him into the sky.

Vati was so cool. He sat down next to the heron, both of them keeping perfectly still for a long time. Just once I saw Vati look up at the heron, and he looked down at Vati. It was as if they were smiling at each other. Then stillness again, until Vati leaned forward to look into the pond. At the same time the heron stabbed down with his long beak. A shower of water glittered in the sunlight and the heron rose into the sky, a bright orange fish flickering in his beak. He flew away with it, on slow wings, water dripping from the fish.

Vati turned his sleek head and looked at me, pleased with what he had done.

In a burst of joy we trotted towards each other doing purr-meows, and at last Vati wanted to play. He arched his back and leaped sideways, and we chased each other all over the garden. Vati was incredibly agile and beautiful. He could leap and twizzle round and make a face at the same time. He shot up the apple tree and impressed me by turning neatly and doing a flawless jump down to the lawn. I was proud of him.

I�d never before had so much fun �

Tired from our wild game, we sat together on the sunbaked doorstep.

�What were you doing creeping around like that, Vati?� I asked.

�Don�t you know?� he said, and studied me with mystic eyes. �I was checking out what was happening under the ground.�

�What do you mean?�

Vati gave me a pitying look.�Follow me,� he said, and took me on a tour of the lawn, according to Vati. �Exactly here is a sleeping badger � I can feel his energy. He�s deep down, and the entrance to his home is under that summerhouse � and he�s lonely. His mate was killed on the road, and he loved her �isn�t that sad?�

I was speechless. Vati was only a kitten like me, yet he had so much knowledge. My respect for him grew as I followed him around the lawn.

�Here is an ants� nest,� he said next. �And the ants told me how frustrated they are because, every time they try to build a mound, a noisy lawnmower comes and chops it off.�

We sat watching the ants scurrying around. One was carrying an egg. I�d never noticed them before.

�Now here, very, very deep down � much deeper down than the badger�s home � is an underground stream � it makes the earth tingle,� Vati continued. �But don�t sit there. Underground streams are bad places for cats to be near.�

�How do you know all this?� I asked, amazed.

�It�s my gift,� said Vati. He looked deeply into my soul. �And you know it too. You have only to remember, Timba. You do know because when I was in the cage you sent me a thought along one of the golden roads.�

Later that day Vati wanted to spend time on Angie�s lap. Ever so slightly jealous, I stormed out into the evening sunshine to have my usual mad half-hour on my own. I practised belting across the lawn and diving into the bushes that grew along the foot of the wall. The thin bendy branches were good to play with and I did a lot of leaping, catching one between my paws and dragging it down, letting it spring back into the air.

Then I tried again to climb the apple tree the way Vati had climbed it. Halfway up, I was concentrating on turning round safely, when I heard a scratchy whisper.�Hello, Timba!�

Startled, I dug my claws deeper into the bark and paused, peering round to see where the voice had come from. I meowed, and it came again.�Timba!�

I looked up, and Leroy was sitting astride the wall under the overhanging foliage. The whites of his eyes shone out from the dark leaves. His trainers were kicking at the stone; he had an open bag in his hand.

�I�ve come to get you, Timba,� he said in a strange whisper. �You�re MY kitten.�

Chapter Eight

LEROY

�Always welcome him � with your tail up.�

The words of the Spirit Lion resounded in my head as Leroy and I stared at each other through a whirlpool of decision-making. Vati needed me. I wanted to stay here with Angie and Vati. But my Spirit Lion wanted something else � and it was unreasonable. I didn�t � did NOT � want to be Leroy McArthur�s cat!

Something had changed in me. I was strong now. I could twist in the air like Vati, and run really fast. My back legs power-boated me across the lawn and through the cat flap with an impressive slam. Eat, I thought, and paused in the kitchen to scoff the remains of Vati�s mashed chicken with gravy.

I tried to forget about Leroy, but I was trembling inside. I couldn�t forget.

Vati was still on Angie�s lap and he gave me a slitty-eyed, blissed-out stare. Angie was asleep with her head on a pink corduroy cushion, and one hand over Vati�s sleek back. They looked cosy and peaceful, while I felt stormy and upset.

Leroy was in the garden. He had come for me. What should I do? I�d already done one wrong thing. Now I did something even worse. I was sick on the sofa.

�Oh for goodness� sake, Timba!� Graham shook his newspaper at me. �Outside.�

Outside was not an option for me. Instead, I sat on the windowsill pretending to wash while Graham fussed around, huffing and sighing, with rolls of paper and disinfectant. The smell gave me a headache. I sat still, hoping he would leave me alone, and he did.

While Angie and Vati went on sleeping, I had a good view of the back garden and the horse field. A small determined figure marched across the field towards a dappled grey pony who raised her head and watched him with interest.

Leroy suddenly looked small and lonely amongst the horses. Angie�s horse, Poppy, stood tossing her chestnut head, her tail swishing. I sensed her anxiety as Leroy and the grey pony walked towards each other.

On Saturday mornings I�d watched the children who came to help Angie and Laura with the horses. They spent ages talking to them, brushing them and making friends before riding, and nobody ever rode the grey pony. She was wild, Angie said.

But Leroy didn�t know that. He stood close to the pony and got hold of her long mane. Then he vaulted onto her back. For a moment his smile lit up the field. He dug his trainers into the pony�s flanks. Her ears went back. She shook herself as if trying to shake him off, then she took off at a gallop with Leroy clinging onto her neck. She headed for a patch of stinging nettles and bucked furiously. Thrown into the air like a rag doll, Leroy crashed into the nettles and lay still.

The excitement fired up the rest of the horses and they joined in the galloping and bucking. The thunder of their hooves woke Angie.�What�s going on?� She quickly put Vati down on the chair and came to the window. �What�s the matter with those horses?�

She watched for a few minutes, but couldn�t have seen Leroy. He was lying almost hidden behind the clump of nettles. Only I knew he was there.

�Oh they�re just having a gallop round.� Angie sat down again and picked up a book.

I had bonded with Leroy. Now I sensed he was in danger. What should I do? I tried sending Angie a telepathic message. I tried meowing at her. I tried sending her an image of Leroy lying on the ground. She didn�t get it.

But Vati did. He jumped up to sit beside me and we both attentively watched the field. Still Leroy didn�t move.

The horses lost interest and wandered away, their heads down, munching grass.

It was Angie�s horse Poppy who knew what to do. She stared at Leroy and the blaze of light floating towards her. It was coral gold, with streamers of white, and wings that fizzed with energy. Leroy�s angel! She looped around the pony and somehow coaxed her to move. Poppy walked carefully towards Leroy, her neck arched and ears pricked as she followed the angel.

She lowered her head and gave Leroy a gentle push with her nose.

�Don�t you two kitties want your tea?� Angie called from the kitchen, but Vati and I sat like statues, like the Egyptian cats we had once been, our necks long, our whiskers stiff, our tails neatly curled around ourselves. We were mesmerised by a horse, an angel and a motionless boy.

Poppy lifted her head and turned to face the house. She pawed the ground and whinnied, loud and shrill, an alarm call that soon brought Angie to the window. Poppy saw her and again lowered her head to nudge Leroy with her nose. Then she swung round and once more whinnied at Angie.

�Oh my God! Someone�s lying there � it looks like a child!� Angie gasped, and at the same moment Graham started to �sing�, �Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, AH.�

Incensed, Angie tore the music-room door open.�WILL you stop that bloody singing, Graham, and come and help me. We�ve got a crisis!�

The sight of Leroy�s small body lying on the sofa had a surprising effect on me. I did what the Spirit Lion had told me to do: I went to him with my tail up.

�Here�s Timba!� said Angie in a comforting way. She sat at the table nearby, the phone in her hand. �I don�t think it�s an emergency,� she said into the phone, �but we do need a paramedic or a doctor to check him out.�

�Timba!� Leroy smiled for the first time, and his eyes shone. I jumped up and kissed his cold face. He was shivering, and clutching a soft blanket which Graham had put over him. Now Graham was sitting on a stool, close to Leroy, his eyes attentive with concern.

I knew exactly how to stretch myself over Leroy�s bony chest and flex my little paws rhythmically. I wanted him to feel the warmth and strength from every part of me � my soft furry tummy, my paws, my tail � and, most important, the power of my purring. Once I got it started, it rolled through me like a song from the angels.

�He loves me,� Leroy said in a scratchy whisper, and his eyes filled with tears. �Did you miss me, Timba?�

�It�s OK to cry,� said Graham kindly, and I remembered how loudly Leroy had cried through those long, painful hours in his home. Now his tears ran silently over trembling cheeks. Graham extracted the folded white hanky from his top pocket and gave it to Leroy. He pushed it away. �I�ll make a mess of it,� he said.

�That�s what hankies are for,� Graham said, and I noticed his aura was bright, and that Vati had crept up to lie on his shoulder and soak up the healing atmosphere.

�You�ve got two kittens,� said Leroy.

�This is Vati.�

�Vati! Timba�s brother. Timba and Vati.� Leroy smiled again. I went on purring, sensing Vati�s approval, giving my whole self to the stream of healing light. Where it came from was no mystery to me. It was woven into the webs of life all over the Planet Earth. I had only to choose a strand from a gold-and-silver thread and let it flow through me. Easy.

�The paramedics are on their way,� said Angie. She sat on the floor by the sofa. �Aww, look at Timba! He�s giving you healing.�

Leroy turned his frightened eyes and looked at Angie.�I only wanted to see Timba,� he said. �But he ran indoors, so I went to see the horses.�

�So what happened?�

�I got on that grey to have a ride. I been on a horse before, on a roundabout, but this grey one went mad and chucked me off.�

�She�s a young pony. She�s never been ridden,� Angie explained. �She must have been very frightened.�

�I didn�t know that, Miss � I didn�t think horses could be frightened.�

�Why not?�

�Cos they�re big.�

�I�m big,� said Graham, �and I get scared.�

�What are you scared of?� Leroy asked.

�Owls and spooky stuff.�

�I ain�t scared of anything,� said Leroy proudly. �Except my mum.�

�So where is your mum?� Angie asked. �She�s not answering the phone. Do you know her mobile number?�

�She hasn�t got a mobile now � she got into debt with it.�

�Where is she then, Leroy?�

Leroy shrugged.�Dunno.�

Angie and Graham looked at each other, and I sensed the telepathy passing between them. Graham frowned. He shook his head ever so slightly, and the bright light drained from his aura. He was going down into a dark confining space, and trying to drag Angie with him. Angie wasn�t having it. Nothing fired her passion like negativity and resistance.

�Here are the paramedics.� She pursed her lips, squared her shoulders and went to open the door. Two men in orange came in and Graham picked up Vati and me, one in each hand, and airlifted us into the kitchen.

When the paramedics had gone, we were allowed back in, and Leroy was sitting up looking more like himself.

�I�ll take you home in the car,� Angie said.

�No.� Leroy shook his head.

�No? Why not?� asked Angie.

Leroy looked up at her with desolate eyes.�Mum�s not there.�

�So where is she?�

�I dunno.� He shrugged again. �She left home.�

�What?� Angie looked alarmed. �Since when?�

�Since � I dunno � about a week ago.�

�A WEEK! Who�s looking after you, Leroy?�

�No one. I got a key � and I got half a loaf of bread, and some cornflakes.�

There was a silence. Leroy looked at the floor for a long time. When he raised his eyes they were even more desolate.�I didn�t tell no one, Miss. I don�t want to go into care. Can I live with you, Miss? Please � I won�t be no trouble.�

Angie stared at him.�Why me?�

�I don�t like anyone else.� Leroy�s voice was painfully husky. �Only you � and Timba. Please, Miss.� He shuffled towards Angie and gave her a hug.

�Oh Leroy! You poor kid.� She hugged him back, and Graham stood with his arms folded, shaking his head and mouthing �NO� at Angie.

The carefree atmosphere in our home changed from that day, and it was all about Leroy. Angie and Graham talked far into the night, one each end of the sofa, Vati and I blissfully asleep between them. Vati wasn�t bothered about what the humans were talking about, but I was. Pretending to be asleep, I listened to snatches of the conversation and felt sure that Angie was winning. I was gunning for her, being her lucky black cat. She talked fast, waving her hands around, and Graham was grunting and sighing. I kept opening one eye to peep at Angie and let her know I was on her side. If only she knew what I knew about Graham � the secrets he�d often confided to me when he came in late and Angie was in bed.

�I�m glad you can�t talk, Timba,� and then he�d tell me about a woman called Lisa and how he couldn�t help falling in love with her, and wanted to be with her. �But Angie must never know. I don�t want to lose Angie, or hurt her, Timba. It�s our secret, isn�t it?� Each time he said that, I�d look still deeper into his soul with my clear golden eyes, and see how his �secret� was troubling him, and how tightly he was clutching all the threads of his life. I couldn�t make him let go. I couldn�t change him. All I could do was love him. It�s what cats do.

�That was my mother�s clock,� he said now, as the clock chimed midnight. �And she had a big heart � a heart of gold � like you, Angie.� He reached across the back of the sofa and touched her hair, moving a curl away from her cheek. �If Mum was here, she�d want me to say yes.�

I looked at the blaze of light by his left shoulder, and saw within it a lovely old lady, with a face like Graham�s, a coil of silver hair, and a smile that warmed the air in a circle around him and Angie. She looked at me kindly, and I gave her a cat smile. Then she waved, and vanished, leaving a glow around us all.

�So � yes � OK. Let�s give it a go,� Graham said heavily.

Angie leapt to her feet and flung her arms around him.�I knew you would! Bless you, Graham. It�s right. I know it�s right.� And she danced round the sofa. �The Universe has sent us a child!�

Graham smiled, reluctantly, as if his face was out of control.�Don�t get too euphoric,� he warned. �It won�t be easy with young Leroy.�

�I can put up with the cats,� Graham said heavily. �In fact I quite like them. But I can only tolerate THAT BOY in small doses.�

I knew he meant Leroy. Vati and I sat together in our basket, dozing, our eyes half closed, listening to the apparently endless discussions about Leroy. Graham only ever said that to Angie in private. When the�social workers� came with their sheaves of paper and laptops, and serious faces, Graham pretended to be busy. Or he would shrug and be dismissive. �Angie and I are not married,� he said now. �As far as I�m concerned she�s free to do whatever she wants. If she wants to foster Leroy,that�s fine, but she, not me, is responsible for him.�

�But will you welcome him into your home?�

�I am prepared to,� Graham said. �I realise Leroy hasn�t had a male role model, and I�ll do my best. But Angie is the foster parent, not me.�

�He�s brilliant with him actually,� Angie said.

�But is your relationship strong?�

Angie and Graham looked at each other.

�Totally,� said Angie, with fire in her eyes. �We are soulmates.�

�Hmm.�

Graham maintained an uncomfortable silence, and obviously the social workers didn�t �do� soulmates.

I gave Vati a shove with my nose. The humans were getting too serious. We jumped out of the basket and confronted each other, making terrible fish faces and pretending we were deadly enemies. Vati arched his back, leaped sideways and embarked on a wild, rug-crunching challenge with me trying to catch him, then hiding and trying to head him off. When I pounced out at him, we collided in mid-air with our paws wide open like flowers.

Angie laughed, but no matter what we kittens did, Graham�s mouth just twitched, the social workers stayed po-faced, and the talking droned relentlessly on.

Eventually I jumped onto Angie�s lap and tried to calm her down. She was trying too hard, and I sensed it. To me she seemed like the only person in the room who was truly alive. Her passionate words were beating against a wall of resistance, and finally she lost her temper.

�We are talking about an abandoned child,� she stormed, and I felt the heat from her aura and the drumbeat of her heart under my fur. �Why make it so complicated? Leroy�s mother has abandoned him. He needs a home � NOW � not in six months� time � and he wants to be with me. He�s made that perfectly clear. I�ve made my offer to be his foster mum � and it�s a good offer, so let�s stop nit-picking and make a decision for the sake of this child�s emotional well-being.�

Vati climbed the bookshelves and sat up there disapprovingly, like he always did if there was a row. He told me he was getting clear of the bad energy, sitting close to the ceiling.

I stayed with Angie. Her fire had never hurt me, and it didn�t now. �Bless you, Timba,� she whispered into my fur, as the social worker snapped her laptop closed and stood up.

�I hear what you�re saying, Angie,� she said with infuriating calm. �We will make an assessment and let you know. Until then, Leroy can spend Saturdays with you. We�ll bring him out.�

When they had gone, Angie marched around, imitating the social workers.�Make an assessment!� she raged. �Meanwhile that boy is desperate. Ooh, I wish I could KIDNAP him.�

Chapter Nine

THE STRUGGLE

Vati spent most of his quiet time with Graham, who seemed bewitched by the attention from the elegant little cat. Vati waited until Graham was sprawled in a chair, and then walked gracefully up his arms, round his neck and shoulders, nibbling his ears and kissing his face. He usually ended up spreadeagled across Graham�s vast chest, being rocked gently by his breathing. Once Vati followed him into the music room with his tail up, and got away with walking along the keyboard. But then he sharpened his claws on the furniture and Graham shouted at him. �Stop that, Vati. NO.� But Vati coolly went on doing it until he was satisfied. Graham tried to chase him, but Vati just sat there and looked up at him beguilingly, and in the end Graham picked him up, sighing. �We�ll have to find a way of stopping you doing that,� he said.

Vati didn�t like Leroy, and when the boy came in on Saturday morning, and tried to pick him up, Vati used those sharp claws to scratch his hands.

�Ow!� Leroy looked at the beads of blood emerging from his skin, and Vati sat washing himself as if to cleanse all trace of Leroy from his fur.

�He�s different from Timba,� Angie said as she rubbed some cream on Leroy�s scratches. �Timba is tolerant. Vati is a hypersensitive cat. If you want to pick him up, you must ask permission.�

�But how do you know whether he says yes or no?� Leroy asked, frowning.

�Well, he said NO very clearly, by scratching you,� said Angie. �But it doesn�t have to come to that. A cat wouldn�t come over and scratch you for nothing, Leroy. So you have to approach him gently, and sense if he wants contact with you � and if he doesn�t, then you leave him alone.�

Leroy didn�t look convinced.

�You wouldn�t like some giant to come and grab you and lift you up into the air, would you?� said Angie.

�I�d fight him.� Leroy raised his fists. �Wham!�

�Well that�s what Vati did. He�s teaching you.�

�He�s not a teacher! He�s a cat.�

�Cats are great teachers � and so are horses.� Angie had a way of making her eyes sparkle with excitement when she was telling children something. Her eyes held Leroy mesmerised.

�But they can�t talk,� he said. �Teachers have to talk, don�t they?�

Angie shut her mouth and shook her head. Still looking at him, she picked up a rope from the pile of horse harnesses that was lying in the kitchen, and tried to give Leroy a silent demonstration of how to tie a knot. He ended up giggling, and so did she.

I loved to hear humans laughing. It fired me up like nothing else. I charged across the floor and pounced on a horse harness, getting it in a tangle, and making Vati leap in the air like a grasshopper. The house rang with laughter.

Only Graham was silent, skulking behind a crackly newspaper which was covered in gloom. The soles of his feet twitched as if he was annoyed by the fun rampaging through his house � and it was his house, not Angie�s house, as he frequently reminded us.

The long hot summer was a happy time for Vati and me. We were young cats now, almost fully grown. Everyone admired me, and that helped me to become loving and confident. I loved it when Graham looked at me and said,�That cat is really chocolate box.�

Angie spent a lot of time patiently teaching Leroy how to talk to me, how to hold me kindly, and how to tune in to my needs. He seemed like a different boy, the boy he wanted to be. On his weekly visits I never heard him cry, and all the time his eyes were wide open with wonder at the new things he was discovering.

Graham refused to take much interest in Leroy, until one wet Saturday when Leroy sidled up to him with a book in his hand.�Will you read me a story?� he asked.

�Ask Angie,� Graham said.

�She�s getting lunch,� said Leroy, and stood looking at Graham beguilingly. �Please.�

I decided to get in on the act and jumped onto Graham�s lap to soften the hard shell he was trying to maintain. A stare from my golden eyes and a silent meow soon had him sighing and reluctantly taking the book. �Aren�t you a bit old to have stories read to you?�

Leroy looked disappointed.�But I like your voice,� he said. �It makes the story come real and Timba wants a story too, don�t you, Timba?�

Graham gave in and started to read with Leroy sitting on the arm of the chair, his eyes wide and inquisitive, and me purring on his lap. It soon became obvious that Graham was enjoying it as much as Leroy. Even Vati wanted to be part of it, and he draped himself over Graham�s shoulder from where he could see the pictures in the book and feel the rumble of Graham�s voice.

I sensed the angels, and basked in the warm, smooth glow they were building around us, binding us together, wanting us to be a family. But Graham was still harbouring that secret in his eyes, and when I stared into them it was a shadow dancing, waiting for its time.

On another Saturday, Vati and I were sitting in the sun on the hot stony slabs beside the pond. Vati was completely absorbed by something. Now and again he twitched his tail and stretched his neck, as if whatever he was watching had moved.

�What are you looking at?� I asked.

Vati ignored me. He was too intent. So I moved round and peeped at his eyes. They glinted green with a mystic sparkle which I loved to see. Vati seemed to be twice as alive as me.

�I�m witnessing a struggle,� he said. Following his gaze I saw an ugly, crusty-looking creature clinging to a reed. It seemed to be stuck with its head in some kind of tight casing, its sectioned body arched, straining to free itself. It had a rhythm of struggling and resting, struggling and resting, and nothing much changed. I got bored watching it, but Vati didn�t. �I�m tuning in to this being,� he said. �It�s desperate to fly free before the sun goes down. I think it�s going to be beautiful, and I want to give it to Graham to show how much I love him.�

�What you looking at, Timba?� Leroy sat himself down next to us. He�d learned from Angie and the horses that he had to approach animals quietly, not at full throttle, so when he arrived, neither of us moved. I did grant him a muted purr-meow and a sidelong cat smile.

His self-control vanished when he saw the creature heave and twitch to escape from its shell. Leroy jumped to his feet and pounded towards the house.�Angie! ANGIE � quick, there�s a THING in the pond,� he shouted.

�It won�t be there much longer if you shout like that,� Angie said as she emerged, drying her hands on her jeans.

�Quick � quick! It might be an ALIEN,� whispered Leroy, and the garden rang with Angie�s laughter.

�Don�t touch it,� she said firmly.

I sensed that Angie was stressed, despite the laughter. Earlier, she and Graham had been arguing about why he was always home late. As soon as the car turned in and Leroy�s �social worker� brought him to the door, the argument had stopped and hung in the air like a hostile rain cloud. Nothing had been resolved, and I�d done my best, walking to and fro between them, trying to coax a spark of forgiveness. When Leroy came, Graham spoke to him briefly, thentook his laptop to the music room. Angie pasted on a smile and pretended she was happy.

We cats see it all.

The four of us sat watching�the thing� still struggling on the reed. A beam of sunlight touched the curve of its scaly body with a glint of brightest blue. It heaved, then stopped and kept still.

�Is it dead?� Leroy whispered.

�Probably not,� said Angie.

Leroy started to take his shoes off.�I�m gonna paddle in there and help it get out.�

�NO!� Angie looked fierce enough to make Leroy freeze with one shoe in his hand.

�Why not?� he asked.

�Because � it�s the struggle that makes it strong,� Angie said, and as she spoke the creature gave a final heave and the rest of its body popped out and straightened into a tail of iridescent turquoise. Two glistening wings slowly spread out to dry in the sun. Leroy gasped. �A dragonfly! It�s massive.�

The dragonfly turned its complex eyes and looked at us with luminous wisdom.

�Hello, dragonfly,� said Leroy. His smile beamed round the garden and his aura flared with light. �Can you fly now?�

I meowed to encourage the beautiful creature, and Vati�s eyes flashed green in the sun, the tip of his tail twitching. But Angie looked unexpectedly sad. I ran to her and rubbed myself against her. In the deep heart of her mind a pain was rising. I could feel its unstoppable power.

Something was wrong with Angie.

�You stay and watch it fly away,� she said quietly to Leroy. �But don�t touch it. Promise?�

�Promise.� Leroy beamed and banged his hand against hers.

Angie tried to smile but her face was stiff. She stood up and walked slowly back to the house, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. I ran beside her with my tail up, and she was repeating and repeating the words:�It�s the struggle that makes it strong.�

For once she didn�t pick me up for a cuddle. I sat on the windowsill and watched over her, offering the odd fragment of a purr, as she whizzed around the kitchen chopping vegetables and scooping them into a pan. Her aura was unusually dark, and her eyes joyless. She didn�t want to stop and look at me, and I figured it was because she knew that I knew. Talking about it, even to me, would be too painful.

Moments later a harrowing sound rang through the garden. Leroy was crying, louder than ever before. I peeped out and he was lying face down on the lawn, beating the earth with his fists. And Vati was padding proudly through the kitchen with the dragonfly hanging, broken, from his mouth. Resolutely he headed through the open door of the music room with his precious gift for Graham.

The singing stopped. Graham�s nose and mouth curled in disgust as he saw Vati�s gift lying by his shoe. At arm�s length he picked up the broken dragonfly by one of its glassy wings. �Yuk!� Snarling, he crossed the room and held it high up above the trash can, which was a shiny tin with music notes painted on it. Graham dropped the dragonfly in there, and we heard the ping as it landed. �You horrible cat!� he growled at Vati. I winced. Vati�s eyes filled with shock and pain. Running low and scared, he streaked out of the music room, his tail down, his eyes dark and frowning.

I followed Vati to the edge of the horse field and found him crouched inside an old barrel that was on its side in the hedge. He was devastated.

�I�m not going back,� he said. �I took Graham the nicest gift, the best thing I�ve ever caught, and he called me a horrible cat. And Leroy wants to kill me. What is it with humans?�

There were no words to comfort him, so I kissed his face and licked him, purring and caring. He soaked it up in silence, but he wouldn�t come back to the house with me.

�I want to spend time with the moon and the stars,� he said, and looked towards the blue hills far away across the fields.

�This isn�t a very nice place to sit,� I remarked, sniffing at the dirty old barrel he had used as a haven.

�Oh � but it is,� Vati said. �Open your eyes, Timba. This barrel is on a sacred node point where two of the golden lines intersect. Surely you can feel it?�

I couldn�t.

�It energises me to sit here,� Vati said. �If you want to listen to your Spirit Lion, you should come here and it will be easy for you.�

�So what�s wrong with Graham?� I asked.

�He is trapped, like the dragonfly was, and struggling to get free.�

Leroy cried for hours over the dragonfly. To him it was a tragedy, to Vati it was a triumph and a perfect gift. To Graham it was something horrible.

Angie took the crying Leroy back out into the garden. She opened the shed, and he peered in.�We�re going to do something AMAZING,� she said, and put a spade into his hand. �You carry that.�

I followed them with my tail up into the vegetable garden, where I sat watching. I wanted to learn how Angie would stop Leroy crying so much.�I know it�s sad,� she said, �but we�ve done enough crying, don�t you think?�

Leroy shook his head miserably.

�Well I�m going to move on,� said Angie, �otherwise I�ll miss out on some of the other miracles happening in the garden. Now � do you remember what we buried in the ground, Leroy? Ages ago, in the spring?�

His eyes brightened.�A potato,� he said huskily. I ran to him and rubbed my fur against his bare legs, purring, trying to coax him out of his grief.

�Well, now we�re going to dig down and see what�s happened to it. Who�s going to dig?�

�Me. Let me!�

Leroy dug eagerly, flinging earth across the garden like a dog digging. I darted out of the way, flicking my tail, and sat up on a pile of wood to watch. I worried in case Leroy dug up the sleeping badger.

Angie helped him loosen the potato plant, easing it out in a shower of earth. From its roots hung a bunch of creamy white new potatoes. Leroy gasped. His mouth and eyes opened in astonishment. He scooped up the baby potatoes and dropped them into a bucket.�FIFTEEN!� he shouted, and his radiance lit up the garden. �We got fifteen potatoes.�

�There�s the old one �� Angie showed him the dusty old potato in the middle of it all. �And there�s more � look!�

Together they scrabbled in the earth like two rabbits.

�It�s like buried treasure.� Leroy grinned happily, his hands covered in soil, his eyes shining. �I didn�t know you could get potatoes out of the ground.�

�Shall we cook them?� said Angie. �Quick, help me before Graham goes out. We�ll have new potatoes with butter.�

�New potatoes with butter,� repeated Leroy.

�You�re strong. You carry the bucket.�

Leroy set off, proudly, the bucket clanking in his hand.�New potatoes with butter,� he sang, and the three of us headed for the kitchen, me with my tail up.

Angie was definitely an earth-angel, I thought, and almost believed I saw the shimmer of her wings. But what had Poppy meant when she said,�Earth-angels always take on more than they can manage�?

Chapter Ten

PURE CELESTIAL ENERGY

It seemed a long time to me before Angie finally got what she wanted. Vati and I were cats now and we had lived through our first autumn and winter. Our coats were glossy, and we were beautiful and strong. The only bad time was when Angie took us to the vet to have us�done�! �Sorry, guys,� she explained. �But it�s better for you long-term, and better for the Planet. We don�t want you making hordes of unwanted kittens.� Rick was gentle with us, and we went to sleep together and woke up together, and got safely home in the luxurious travellingbasket Angie had bought us.

When the blossom was on the apple tree and the bees humming in the spring sunshine, the social workers finally allowed Leroy to come and live with us. I supervised while Angie set up a bedroom for him with a cosy bed. She put posters on the walls, and bought him a blanket with lions on it. He had a brightly coloured beanbag, which I loved, and a bookshelf, and boxes of stuff which I remembered from his home. Even the old teddies were there, freshly washed and pleased with themselves.

The only thing Leroy wanted when he arrived was me. He seemed awed by the majestic cat I had grown into.

The other thing Leroy wanted to do was climb the apple tree, and we did that together, Vati and I showing off as we led him up through the branches. When he�d done it once, Leroy called out to Angie, �I climbed the flower tree.�

�The flower tree?� Angie came out into the garden, looking puzzled.

�That one,� said Leroy, pointing to the apple tree.

�Oh � that�s an apple tree!� Angie said, her voice kind.

�No it�s not,� Leroy grinned. �It hasn�t got apples on it � it�s a flower tree.�

Angie smiled at him.�You come and look at this, and I�ll tell you a secret.� She held one of the blossoms still for him. �See that little blob in the middle of the flower?�

�Yeah.� Leroy frowned.

�THAT,� said Angie, �will turn into an apple.�

�No it won�t.� Leroy rolled his eyes incredulously.

�It takes all summer,� said Angie. �The petals fall off and that little green blob swells up like a balloon and becomes an apple.�

�You�re kidding!�

�No, it�s true. You�ll see it happen. In a few weeks the flowers will have gone and you�ll see tiny green apples, too small to eat. BUT � � Angie widened her eyes even more, and Leroy looked mesmerised. �It won�t happen unless a bee goes into the flower. There�s one � look. Let�s watch it and see what it�s doing.�

�It might come out and sting you.�

�No it won�t, it�s too busy pollinating.�

�Pollinating,� repeated Leroy. �Are you joking, Angie?�

�No.�

Leroy didn�t look convinced. �Well, Mum got her apples from Tesco,� he said. �She didn�t get them off a tree.�

At night Leroy�s bedroom door was left open so that I could go in and lie close to him, purring, as he slept.

One night he didn�t go to sleep, but lay there talking to me. �My mum didn�t want me, Timba. She left me alone in the house and the social workers took me into care. They wouldn�t listen when I said I wanted to live with Angie. That�s why I missed playing with you when you were a kitten, but I still love you now you�re big.�

He got up and put the light on. Then he roamed around the room in his bare feet, a box of pens in his hand. I watched anxiously. I knew what he was going to do!

The walls in Leroy�s bedroom were covered in posters, and he couldn�t find a space. He drifted out onto the landing and listened with his ear to the closed door of Angie and Graham�s room. He turned and gave me a thumbs-up and a beaming smile. �They�re asleep,� he said in a stage whisper. He switched the lights on and surveyed the pale green bare wall along the landing, took the lid off a pen, and began to draw. First he did a pair of hypnotic yellow eyes. I watched anxiously, my tail twitching, as he drew with swift, skilful strokes, and the rest of the lion appeared on the wall.

A fox was barking out in the night, and the wind blew scatters of rain against the window. Leroy worked on, in a silent frenzy. I felt as if that lion was in the house, drawing its own picture through the wildly moving arm of a pyjama-clad boy.

I knew that in the morning Leroy would be in terrible trouble. I wanted him to stop. An ordinary meow had no effect, except that Leroy put his finger to his lips and whispered,�Shh, Timba. We gotta be quiet. I�ll draw the curly mane now � in colours!� And he worked furiously, doing crinkling lines around the lion�s face. His pens fell to the floor, the white tops rolling everywhere, and I couldn�t resist playing with them, batting them through the banisters to the hall floor below.

Vati sensed the excitement and came trotting upstairs. He slunk up to Leroy�s lion, and peered at its eyes, and dismissed it as unimportant. We played with the pen tops, filling the silent house with whirrs and clicks and the muffled thud of paws belting up and down the stairs.

The dawn chorus was starting when Leroy decided the lion was finished. He stood back to look at it with a satisfied smile. Leaving the pens scattered on the floor, he went back to bed, and the house fell silent.

I followed Vati downstairs and out through the cat flap into the light of the rising sun. We caught a mouse each and took them back into the house to play with. I ate mine, but Vati chucked his on top of the piano and left it there for Graham. He went straight to sleep in our favourite armchair, while I stayed awake, washing and listening. I was nervous about what Leroy had done. I wanted to warn Angie before Graham woke up. I felt it justified an amplified extended-meow, so I sat outside her bedroom door and did one, a real beauty. Then I stuck my claws out and tapped on the door, politely, like a human.

I heard a groan and a yawn. Graham opened the door.�What�s up, Timba?� I looked around at the scattered pens and the lion on the wall and felt it was my fault.

Leroy appeared, and he didn�t look nervous at all. His eyes danced with excitement. �You like my lion?� he said to Graham. �It�s a surprise.�

In one of Leroy�s story books was a picture of a very hairy, very angry giant towering over a downtrodden little farmer. Graham looked exactly like that giant as he stood there in his boxers, staring open-mouthed at Leroy�s lion. I saw a red flash burn upwards through his aura until it reached his head and Graham pushed his fingers through his hair and made it wild and scraggy.

The smile was disappearing from Leroy�s face, and the silence hung in the air. I felt it reaching into my memory, and I recalled the time in my early kittenhood when a man had shouted, and instantly extinguished any spiritual light. I didn�t want Graham to shout at Leroy and destroy the bright joy in the boy�s heart.

So I did another amplified extended-meow and gave Graham a stare that he couldn�t ignore. It helped him with the rage he was struggling to control.

�You angry?� whispered Leroy.

Graham raised his eyebrows and made his voice quiet. He sat down on the wide window seat.�Come here, Leroy. I need to explain something to you.�

Leroy shuffled over to him.

�Look at me, please,� Graham said, and his own eyes were so full of light that Leroy looked at him attentively, seeming fascinated by this giant of a man who could speak quietly when he was angry. Graham used that same hushed tone to create suspense when he was reading stories to Leroy.

�This is my house,� Graham said. �And I like it, in fact, I love it. I lived here when I was a little boy, like you. I like it to look clean and bright, and if I want a picture, I put it in a nice frame, with glass over it, like that one there.� He pointed to a nearby painting of the sea.�It looks good, doesn�t it?�

Leroy grunted.�Yeah.� He fidgeted and I could see he was still expecting Graham to shout at him the way Janine had done.

�So � I�ll tell you what we are going to do about that lion that�s appeared on the wall � look at me, Leroy,� Graham continued. �I must say � it�s a quality drawing � very good. BUT.� His voice rose slightly. �I don�t want it on our nice clean wall. So, what I�m going to do is take a photo of it with my digital camera, and you can help me make a posh frame for it � then we can hang it on the wall. We can even put it on Facebook.� Leroy�s smile was reappearing, only to vanish as Graham spoke, low and sinister. �However � I am going out after breakfast, until lunchtime, and when I come back I want to see that wall painted a nice apple green like it was before. Otherwise the photo will stay inside my camera. Do you understand, Leroy?�

�Yeah.�

�AND � � The red flash burnt through Graham�s aura again. �Look at me. I want a promise that you�ll never, never, never EVER draw on my wall in my house again.�

�OK,� Leroy mumbled.

�Is that a deal?�

�Deal.� Leroy banged his small hand against Graham�s giant one.

�But � we�ll put my lion on FACEBOOK?�

�We�ll put the lion on Facebook,� Graham promised, and Vati came running upstairs with his tail up, and made a fuss of Graham, purring and gazing adoringly at him. Cats like quiet voices too.

Later, Angie covered the floor with a sheet and set Leroy up with a tin of apple green paint and a roller. Painting over his lion made him cry, but he got on with it, and made a mess. His hair and his hands were smeared with paint, and there were drips everywhere.

�Keep those cats away from the wet paint,� Angie said. �We don�t want two apple green cats!�

Too late. Vati and I had already played around on the slippery sheet. Vati had trodden in one of the drips and left apple green paw marks along the landing and down the stairs. And I had managed to sit in a pool of paint.

�Timba�s got an apple green bum,� said Angie, laughing. �Oh dear � I�ll have to bath you, Timba,� and I had to endure being �encouraged� to sit in a bowl of warm water and let her slosh it over my fur.

The day ended with supper in the garden, blackbirds singing and petals from the apple blossom drifting around us. We were family, sharing ups and downs and growing closer. But only I knew the secret that haunted Graham�s mind.

The trouble between Angie and Graham came to a head in the autumn.

Vati led me into ever more daring escapades. He would scale the wire around the chicken pen and jump down onto the roof of the wooden chicken house. Then he�d sit there coolly observing the hens, while I sat sensibly outside the pen, looking in.

I was on a polite nose-to-beak relationship with the cockerel, strictly through the wire, and not too often. Just common courtesy and respect. But Vati really pushed his luck, and one day the cockerel flew at him with his colours blazing. I would have retaliated, but Vati simply rolled onto his back and waved his paws in the air. The sight of his sleek tummy and shining black pads seemed to disarm the outraged cockerel who turned and stalked off.

�I�m a peacemaker,� Vati often told me. He�d actually made friends with Leroy, allowing a tentative stroking session, and the occasional cuddle, strictly on Vati�s terms.

I wished Vati could make peace between Angie and Graham. There were more and more times when Graham came home late, and one day when Angie was at work and Leroy at school, he brought a woman friend into our home. Her name was Lisa, and she didn�t like cats. Especially me.

�I couldn�t stand a cat like him,� she said to Graham. �Look at the fluff he leaves everywhere. I don�t mind the other little cat. Vati, is it? He�s kind of cute.�

I felt hurt. I didn�t deliberately leave my fur around the place! Eat, I thought, and retreated to my bowl where I tucked into my generous portion of �rabbit with tuna�.

�And look at the size of him,� Lisa said scathingly. �I bet he is a really greedy cat.�

When I started on Vati�s meal, Graham came and whipped the dish away. �That�s Vati�s food, you greedy cat,� he said. I lashed my tail, and glared at him. It wasn�t like Graham to insult me. We were buddies, weren�t we?

I wanted Vati to curl up with me, and calm me down, but he went swanning into the music room with Graham and Lisa. The singing began, and Lisa had a high soprano voice like a cat. I resented her. How dare she criticise ME when she was the fattest human I�d ever seen. Her tummy stuck right out, nearly touching the piano as she sang, balanced precariously on two slim legs and a pair of sparkly gold sandals.

Something felt wrong. When the singing stopped Graham knelt on the floor in front of Lisa and leaned his head against her fat tummy.�How�s the little person in there?� he asked.

�She�s fine.� Lisa patted her tummy. �She was moving around when we were singing. She likes music!�

I curled up, alone in my basket, wishing Angie and Leroy would come home, wishing I could go to sleep and shut out the sound of Lisa and Graham. They sat on the sofa, cuddling and talking quietly. Betrayal, I thought angrily. Couldn�t Vati see it?

The gift of sleep eluded me as I watched them discreetly with my eyes half open. I definitely didn�t feel like purring, but I could hear Vati�s economical little purr as he seduced Graham, lying on his shoulder like a drape of silk. Soon Vati was deeply asleep, leaving me to listen in horror to the conversation.

�I�m not going to share a house with HER,� Lisa said. And I understood that the loud �HER� meant my beloved Angie.

�Of course not, darling. She�ll have to go,� said Graham. �Damn it, this is my house. I inherited it from my parents � I was an only child. I grew up here� can�t imagine living anywhere else. Oh yes � Angie will have to go � and her chickens, and THAT BOY she is insisting on fostering.� Graham frowned, still smoothing Vati�s silken coat with one hand. �And the cats � but I might keep this little fellow.�

�Have you told Angie yet?� Lisa asked.

�No,� Graham said heavily. �I will, when the time is right.�

�You said that last time.�

�Sure � I did. But it is not a task I relish, Lisa. Angie is very volatile. She�ll fly into a rage. I dread it � and, if I�m honest, I don�t know how best to tell her.�

�You�ll have to grasp the nettle. You�re not married.�

�No.� Graham sighed and fidgeted.

�So when are you going to tell her, Graham?�

�I wish I didn�t have to.�

�Do you still love her?�

�No.� Graham looked defensive. �But I don�t want to hurt her. She�s stressed enough with Leroy and the teaching job. I should at least wait until the end of term.�

�That will be Christmas. You can�t chuck her out on Christmas Eve, Graham. Even I know that!�

�Can we put this discussion on hold, please?� Graham pleaded. �Let�s focus on the concerts.� He held up his hand as Lisa tried to protest. �I promise I will tell Angie, in the fullness of time.�

Devastated, I slunk out of the house, feeling I couldn�t bear to stay in there. Angie had promised me a �forever home�, and Vati. What was going to happen? The conversation hung over me, and the words swerved and twisted in my mind. �Angie will have to go � and her chickens, and THAT BOY � and the cats.�

It was unthinkable.

I headed for my magic place, the circle of stones on the back lawn. Thick grey clouds were piling in from the west, and the wind ruffled my fur. I couldn�t get comfortable. Driven by the need for total stillness and shelter, I trotted across the lawn and found the barrel Vati had used. A node point, he�d said, a place of enchantment where the golden roads crossed. Right now I needed something like that.

I heard the sounds of Graham taking THAT LISA home in his car. I wondered where Vati was. I needed him.

But I stayed in the barrel, and felt nothing except anxiety and the chill of autumn.

Then I heard Angie and Leroy arriving, Leroy�s feet thundering around the place as he looked for me. �Timba. Timba, where are you?�

I stayed hidden.

Cats shouldn�t have to worry about humans, I thought, as I waited for the Spirit Lion. He came wrapped in white light, his eyes peaceful and amused. He coaxed me out of the barrel, and the sky had cleared. Pale and warm, the afternoon sun seemed to arrive with the Lion, even though it was autumn.

�You�re a fine cat, Timba,� he said as I settled down between his pillow-soft paws.

�But what�s going to happen to me?� I asked, and the whole problem suddenly magnified in my mind. Where would Angie take us? How far away? I loved our home at Graham�s. Vati and I knew every corner, every wall and every tree. We knew where the sun rose and where to shelter from the wind. We had friends here, good friends like Poppy and Laura, and the heron who came to the pond. I couldn�t imagine living somewhere else. This was home.

�You will be strong enough for everything you need to do, Timba,� he said reassuringly. �Angie will take care of you and Vati. Don�t worry about places � wherever you are on this special Planet, you have lines of communication, and when you go on a journey, you can follow the golden roads.�

�How can I find a golden road?� I asked.

�I�ll teach you how to find one.� The Lion closed his eyes. �Be very still, and close your eyes with me. Then you�ll be able to see so much more. Do this, always, when you are lost. And don�t tuck your paws up like that. Your pads are very sensitive. Use them,� he continued as I quickly rearranged myself. �When your pads are touching the earth they will pick up information � and when you feel the buzz and see the gold in your mind, then you are on a golden road. Keep your eyes closed � for when they are open your finer senses are weakened.�

I thought about my paws, and the way they felt on the damp earth. My pads began to detect a buzzy sensation, as if I was touching a bumblebee. It was coming from deep under the earth, and it wasn�t confined to one spot, it was travelling in a limitless flowing stream. It wasn�t water. It wasn�t fire.

�What is it?� I asked the Spirit Lion.

�Pure celestial energy,� he said, �such as you had in the spirit world, Timba. Don�t you remember?�

�No,� I said.

�The memory is there � in your mind � somewhere,� said the Spirit Lion, and his voice deepened. �Before you were born into this life, you crossed the river of forgetfulness, and for you that was a powerful block. You were intended to be a brave and loving cat, a leader, a real Earthcat � a support cat.�

�A support cat?� I queried.

�A cat who is so important that a human cannot live without you. And I think you know who that human is, Timba.�

�Leroy.� I couldn�t hide my disappointment. �But I wish it was Angie.�

�Angie is your earth-angel. She loves you, but she�s not dependent on you. Leroy is. You are the first soul on Earth to offer him unconditional love.�

�I am?�

The thought was so awesome that we both sank into silence, a nurturing, creative silence that drifted into purring. I felt the Spirit Lion melting away like a cloud of steam vanishing into the landscape � still there, but gone!

I focused on what he had told me, closing my eyes and keeping my pads on the earth to feel the�pure celestial energy�. Vati knows about that, I realised, and the instant I thought about him, my beautiful, poetic brother came gliding through the long grass to find me.

�You need to lighten up, Timba,� he said. His eyes sparkled with mischief. He dived into the barrel and went mad in there with sticks and straw, making explosive rustlings. Then he pounced on me, leapt in the air and challenged me to a wrestling match. We lashed our tails and made faces at each other, then rolled on the floor in a tangle of pedalling paws. The excitement sent us flying around the garden with me chasing Vati, both of us on fire with joy.

What would I do without my amazing brother?

Chapter Eleven

THE SCREAM OF AN ANGEL

Christmas passed in a comfortable haze of fairy lights and plates of turkey. Angie made us a playhouse from a big cardboard box, and we were given a new catnip mouse each. We experienced the frosty garden and came in with our fur ruffed out and diamond drops on our whiskers. Angie laughed a lot and took funny photographs of Vati and me warming our bellies in the glow of the wood burner. Happy cats.

I loved the winking fairy lights, and I enjoyed watching Leroy tearing the paper off his presents. Inside one parcel was a sleek silver laptop, and that was the first time I ever heard Leroy say�thank you� with a look of pure wonder in his eyes. He seemed overwhelmed and sat on the floor staring at his presents, while Vati and I crunched the torn paper and skidded around. It was pure happiness.

The Spirit Lion tried to warn me that things could change.�Christmas is a strange time for humans,� he said. �It�s too much artificial happiness and it collapses into a black hole.�

Two days later, I found out what he meant.

Leroy had gone out for the day with his social worker to see his mum. Janine had been found living in a distant town, and she had agreed to see Leroy regularly, with his social worker. The visits disturbed Leroy, and he would come home moody and sad. As soon as Leroy had left, Graham handed Angie a letter. He looked guilty, like a dog who had dug a hole in the lawn.

�What�s this?� Angie sat down on the sofa and unfolded the white paper. Graham stood over her, fidgeting, and I sensed his heart thumping too fast in that huge chest.

A strange light came into Vati�s eyes, lemon bright and suspicious. Sensing trouble, he immediately climbed to the top of the bookshelves, and sat up there, hunched and attentive. I rolled on the rug and couldn�t be bothered to move.

An icy silence chilled our happy room. I turned to watch Angie. Her aura was sparking, and there was a sense that time had stopped in the air above a chasm. Her thoughts were spinning. She grasped the arm of the sofa and stuttered out some words.�You can�t do this to me, Graham.�

Graham stood there like a teddy bear, his eyes fixed and glassy, his fingers and thumb pulling at his collar.

Angie�s skin flushed crimson.

�It�s my house, Angie. We�re not married,� said Graham quietly.

�You BASTARD!� Angie leapt to her feet and screamed in a way I would never forget. The scream of an angel is the most harrowing sound on Earth.

Shaken to the edges of my fur, I quickly jumped up to sit in the window, behind the velvet curtain. The glass was cold, and the winter wind whipped across the garden, blowing hard beads of snow.

�All the LOVE I�ve put into this place.� Angie�s words flew at Graham like wasps. �The WORK I�ve done. It was bleak when I came here. Graham, you�ve used me. You�ve betrayed me. And who is this bloody woman?� Her voice shattered into another scream, her hands clenching at her hair.

�Please don�t swear,� said Graham coldly, �and her name is Lisa.� He flicked his mobile phone. �There�s a photo of her here, look � it�s a nice one. She�s a sweet girl, you�d like her.�

�Like her?� Angie jumped to her feet and tore Graham�s letter into flakes that fell like snow onto the carpet.

The row raged on and on. I only caught fragments of it as I hid behind the curtain looking out at the snow. I glanced at Vati and he�d obviously seen it too. We made a telepathic agreement to inspect it later.

�And what about Leroy?� Angie said. She looked at Graham with fierce, hot eyes. �All that stuff I�ve been through with the social workers, fighting for him, fighting to get full-time foster care � and just when he�s settling down � you pull the rug out!�

�Everything I have to say is in that letter,� Graham said. �You�d better piece it together and read it. Or open your laptop. I took the precaution of putting it in an email too. I�m not going to stand here arguing. I�ve got a rehearsal.�

�Oh go on � walk away!� Angie screamed. �You heartless, devious BASTARD!�

Graham stalked out and shut the door. Moments later we heard his car pulling into the lane. I watched its red lights disappear into the whirling snow.

I ran to Angie who had crumpled onto the sofa. She seemed numb with shock.�Oh Timba! Dear darling, lovely cat.� She cried into my fur, and I felt the gratitude she was sending me through her pain. I leaned against her heart and spread myself right out, wanting to give her all my warmth, my loudest purr, my long soft paws reaching up to pat her burning face. I almost couldn�t bear her pain. It was hard for me to stay there, but I knew I had to. A frenzy of snowflakes hit the window. I wanted to play, and just be a cat.

Angie picked up the phone.�Can you come round, Laura? � please � I�ve had a devastating shock.�

Minutes later, Laura was there, shaking the snow from her coat. She took her boots off and came to sit with Angie on the sofa.�My God, you look terrible, Angie. What�s happened?�

There was a brief silence, and then Angie really let go of her feelings, almost shaking me off her lap. I pretended not to notice and went on purring.

�Graham � the love of my life � is chucking me out.�

�WHAT? He can�t do that, Angie!�

�He�s got some other PIG of a woman.� Angie wept bitterly. �How I hate her. Lisa, she�s called � and she�s everything I�m not. A singer, with a face like a Barbie doll � oh he had the cheek to show me a photo of her, would you believe?�

�How insensitive. That�s so cruel.� Laura sat with her arms around Angie, her eyes full of caring love.

�And she�s such a good little home-maker � cup cakes and shiny gadgets,� stormed Angie, �and, wouldn�t you know it � she�s pregnant as well � oh God, that�s hurt me more than anything, Laura. I SO wanted a baby, and I kept miscarrying, and � it broke my heart. Three times. It�s so unfair. What have I done to deserve this? Tell me that, Laura.�

�Nothing,� Laura said fiercely. �You�ve been brilliant, Angie. You�re a fantastic friend � and look what you�ve done here. This place was a tip.�

�I�ve worked so hard. I put everything into the relationship. Graham never notices � and when I lost those darling babies, he � he just expected me to go on as if nothing had happened � and I tried � oh God how I tried. No one knows. Maybe I should have been miserable � but that�s not me. I�m a positive person. Why has this happened to me? WHY?� Angie was now so distressed that her voice was high-pitched and croaky.

�Don�t torment yourself with the WHY stuff, Angie. Life is just so cruel sometimes.�

�It�s not life. It�s HIM.�

�Is that his letter on the floor in bits?� asked Laura.

Angie stood up.�Can you hold Timba?� she asked and I was put on Laura�s lap which smelled of horses. �He�s sent it by email too.� She opened her laptop and the screen flickered into life. �I mean � read it, Laura.�

�Haven�t got my glasses,� Laura said.

�I�ll read it to you then.� Angie took a deep breath and began.

��Dear Angie� � don�t know why he bothered putting �Dear� � �I know you will be upset, but I feel the time has come for us to part. It�s not working for me any more, and I have been very lucky to find Lisa, a sweet girl, an opera singer like me. We�ve known each other for two years� � TWO YEARS the bastard�s been seeing her � �and she is expecting my child. It�s right for her to live with me here. Therefore� � �THEREFORE�! How pedantic is that? � �I must ask you to find somewhere else to live, Angie, and move out as soon as you reasonably can. I thank you for the happy years we�ve had. Yours, Graham.��

�Hang on, Angie � no � don�t trash your laptop.� Laura put a restraining hand on Angie.

�I�d like to smash it over his head,� Angie growled.

Vati was looking down at me from the top of the bookshelf. He was sending me a telepathic thought.�Why are you rolling around purring in the middle of all that human rage?�

I sent a thought right back at him.�Because I�m a support cat. It�s my job.�

�Don�t trash your stuff!� Laura said.

Angie�s wild eyes alighted on one of Graham�s shirts she had been ironing earlier. She got up and ripped it from the hanger. She tore into it like a cat tearing at a piece of meat, chucking the strips of it high into the air. I glanced at Vati. Should we play with those tantalising ribbons of frayed shirt? Vati didn�t think so. But I was feeling rebellious. I got down, aware that my eyes had gone black with excitement. I picked up a long strip of shirt in my teeth and went into the kitchen. I wanted it on a slippery floor where I could twirl with it.

�He�s taking it out in the snow!� said Laura, and suddenly the two women were laughing hysterically.

I mean � I was only doing my job as a support cat � and today it was turning tears into laughter.

When Laura had gone, I crept back onto Angie�s lap, and the crying started again, quietly this time.

�Thank you, Timba,� she sobbed. �Why is the Universe doing this to us?�

I looked up at Vati who was still on the bookshelf and suggested he came down to help me console Angie. He did come down, still with that strange, lemon-bright look in his eyes, but he didn�t come to Angie. He sat with his back to us in the window, fascinated by the snow now magically falling in large flakes.

Angie stopped ranting and was ominously quiet. She stared at the floor and didn�t look once at the snow. I trusted Angie. I was sure she would take me with her, wherever she went, and Vati too.

But Vati made his feelings perfectly clear. He came down from the windowsill, avoided Angie, and jumped into Graham�s favourite chair. Deliberately he curled up on a blue sweater Graham had left there, and went to sleep.

I was shocked. Vati was making a statement. He was going to stay with Graham.

I loved my brother. I needed him.

Now it was my turn to feel betrayed.

Weeks passed, and Angie did nothing but sit in the window, stare out at the garden, and cry. She did talk to Laura when she came, bringing flowers and hugs. One day Laura showed her the snowdrops standing stiffly in the winter wind, crowds of them under our apple tree.�I can�t bear to look at them,� Angie said. �Graham and I planted them together when I came here. I can�t look at anything beautiful any more. Only Timba and Vati.�

When Leroy was there, she made an effort to be happy, giving him what was left of her joyful spirit. Leroy was not convinced.�Why are you sad, Angie?� he asked, and brought her little gifts of cards he had made and pictures of lions he had drawn.

�That�s brilliant!� she gasped when he handed her a detailed drawing of a lion, done in white on black paper. �You�ve got the curly mane so well, and the paws � but � there�s something powerful � it�s his eyes! They�re really alive.�

Leroy glowed.�It�s my best picture,� he said, �but you can keep it. I�m doing an even better one.�

Angie proudly put the picture in a frame and hung it next to the poster of the White Lions above the fridge in the kitchen.

�Shouldn�t you be taking things down, not putting them up?� asked Graham.

�Oh don�t you worry � I�m making plans.� Angie looked at him coldly.

�What plans are those?�

�That�s for me to know, and you to find out.�

She picked me up and carried me outside into the crisp blue light. The noontide sun was pale and bright, and the twigs of the apple tree glistened with frost. A single apple still hung there, like a reminder of fruitful times. The snowdrops trembled a little as some creature disturbed them.�A bee!� shouted Leroy. �Look, Angie. It�s massive. Why is it out in the winter? It�s too cold for bees.� He sent a puff of breath steaming into the light.

�Oh she�s got a fur coat,� said Angie.

�But where does she live? And how do you know it�s a she?�

�It�s probably a queen bumblebee,� Angie said, �and she�s got a cosy nest under some long grass.�

�She�s brave,� said Leroy. �Queen bees gotta be brave.� Not for the first time Leroy�s words did something to Angie. She stood up straighter, and carried me to the gate from where we could see the distant landscape.

�See those dark blue hills, Timba?� she said. �That�s where we�re going. Far away, over those hills and across a shining river. We shall find a little terraced cottage with a garden, my mum�s old place.�

�Am I coming, Angie?� asked Leroy, his face anxious as he sidled close.

�Yes, you�re coming.� Angie smiled. �And Timba and Vati. But we�ve got to cross our fingers and hope I get a job.�

�Is your mum there now?� Leroy asked. �She could be my nan.�

�Sadly no, Leroy. She would have loved to be your nan, but she died three years ago, and left me the cottage. It was let to a young couple, but now it�s empty � so we can go there. We might have to decorate it � but you�ll help me, won�t you? It�ll be fun.�

�Can I paint lions on the walls?�

�Yes, you can paint one lion on one wall. I�d love that.� Angie began to sparkle, like her old self.

�What about my mum?� said Leroy. �She won�t know where I am.�

�Yes she will. We�ll write the address down for her � and she can come and visit you.�

�IF she turns up.� Leroy looked sad. He kicked at the frosty grass with his small foot. �My mum don�t want me, do she, Angie?�

�She does, Leroy. She�s just stressed and needs to be by herself for a while.�

Leroy shook his head.�She don�t want me. It�s true.�

Angie gave him a cuddle.�I care about you, Leroy. I�m here for you, no matter what. OK?�

�And Timba?�

�And Timba � yes, he loves you, don�t you, Timba?�

I did a purr-meow, and Leroy reached up to stroke me. We stood in the cold air, looking at those distant hills. Angie had given me a picture of our journey. Blue hills and a shining river, far away from where I was born. I didn�t want to go.

�Don�t be scared, Timba,� said Angie, reading my mind. �You and Vati shall travel safely in a beautiful padded basket in the back of my car.�

A few days later Angie opened her laptop, her aura brightening. She stiffened, then stared at the screen. She leapt to her feet and shouted,�YES!� and danced around the room snapping her fingers. �I got the job! Thank you, Universe!�

On the day of the move, I was so angry with Vati that I attacked him � for real.

�I�m staying with Graham,� he said firmly.

�You can�t do that!� I argued. �We�re brothers. We need each other.�

�Then you should stay.� Vati gave me a kiss on the nose, but I didn�t respond. I was too angry for kissing.

�But I�m your protector,� I said, �and we made a pact � two black kittens against the world.�

�That was kitten stuff,� Vati said. �We�re cats now.�

�Angie rescued you so that we could be together.�

�We have been together. Now it�s time to move on.�

�Graham won�t look after you the way Angie does,� I warned, �and Lisa doesn�t like cats.�

�She likes me. She thinks I�m cute.�

�But she might do something terrible to you, Vati.� As I spoke those words, I had a disturbing vision of Vati lying on the vet�s table, very sick. Then I saw him hunched miserably in the corner of the sofa, shocked and depressed, the way Angie had been. �Please, please don�t do this, Vati,� I begged.

�I�m staying with Graham,� he said stubbornly, his paws locked neatly together, the tip of his tail twitching.

I flew at him, my fury beyond words. We rolled on the floor, screeching and yowling. For the first time ever, our claws were out and we were hurting each other. I bit Vati�s ear and he fled upstairs. I thundered after him and cornered him on the landing. We faced each other like two furious dragons, our tails lashing. Vati�s pink mouth was open in a convincing snarl, but his frightened eyes were black with disbelief.

Vati was lithe and strong, but I had the weight, and the fury, to dominate him. We might have seriously injured one another if Leroy hadn�t intervened.

�Timba and Vati are killing each other!� he shouted to Angie who was stacking books into boxes.

�Oh they�re just playing.�

�No � it�s for real. And Vati�s got a tuft of Timba�s fur in his mouth.�

Leroy grabbed Vati and dragged him backwards. Vati struggled wildly, his claws out, leaving Leroy with long red scratches on his arms and hands. He chased Vati downstairs and lay on the floor, glowering at him under the sofa and cursing.�You are a horrible cat, hurting my Timba, and scratching me.�

�Never intervene between two fighting cats,� said Angie wisely as she once again patched Leroy�s scratches and calmed him down.

Eat, I thought, and headed for the kitchen, meowing. Predictably Angie came and fed me.�Are you OK, Timba?� she asked, running her fingers through my fur. �You look a bit ruffled. You�ve got such thick fur, you won�t miss a bit of it.�

Vati stayed under the sofa.

Soon it was time for us to go, and Angie put me in the luxurious travelling basket. There was plenty of room for two cats.

Graham stood in the window silently, with Vati in his arms.

I never even got to say goodbye to my beloved brother.

And Angie didn�t say goodbye to Graham, but stepped into the car with her shoulders back, and a brave smile on her face.

The parting was painful.

Driving down the lane we passed the gate to the horse field, and Poppy was standing there whinnying and kicking the gate with her hoof. Angie stopped the car and got out.�Stay there � I won�t be a minute,� she said to Leroy, and bounded over to Poppy.

The horse changed her shrill whinny to a soft whicker of greeting. She lowered her head, her chestnut mane fluttering like a flame in the breeze, her eyes loving and anxious. Angie flung her arms around the horse�s neck and clung there as if she�d never let go. I knew, from the way her shoulders were heaving, that she was crying.

�Goodbye � darling, darling Poppy,� she wept. �Laura will look after you, and one day � one day we�ll be together again. Thank you for all the rides.� She paused, trying to breathe the tears away, and her voice cracked into fragments. �Angie � will always � always loveyou.�

She might have stayed there hugging Poppy, but a car came along the narrow lane, and stopped, unable to get by.

�Sorry, guys!� Angie climbed back into the car and drove on, leaving Poppy watching us go, her dark eyes sad.

The three of us, Leroy, Angie and me, set off on our journey. Over the dark blue hills and across the shining river. The brave half of a broken family.

Chapter Twelve

ACROSS THE SHINING RIVER

The Spirit Lion managed to talk to me while we were bombing along in Angie�s car. I was meowing a lot, wanting to tell the world how sad I felt about parting with Vati, how I didn�t want to be a lonely cat and have to make decisions on my own. How frightened I was, despite the lovely travelling basket. How badly I wanted to go home.

Leroy kept twisting round to talk to me.�It�s OK, Timba. We going to live in WALES,� he said, �and there�s mountains and steam trains.�

�Timba�s not impressed,� said Angie. �It might be best to tell him we�ll have a cosy home with a fire, and a kitchen with dishes of tuna.�

�Cheer up, Timba. You can have a massive dish of Whiskas chicken,� Leroy said. �And there might be a cat next door you can play with.�

I heard him, but couldn�t stop meowing. It was like crying. The contact with Leroy did help marginally, his big eyes looking at me in concern, and his finger pushed through the top of the basket. A tiny speck of comfort in my hollow cave of grief and anxiety.

Angie had shown me the dark blue hills, but they didn�t seem to be getting any closer. As for the shining river � I�d never seen a shining river, but I knew rivers had something to do with water. Bad news for a cat!

Exhausted from worrying, I quietened down and tried to go to sleep. When I closed my eyes, the voice of the Spirit Lion shook me.�Stay awake, Timba,� he boomed. �Pay attention to this journey, for one day you will need to find your way back. Watch the hilltops for stone towers and lone pine trees. Remember the shape of the hills.�

Even as he spoke, I remembered the hill with a stone tower that was visible from the top of the apple tree. We were driving close to it now.�Glastonbury Tor,� said Angie.

�Who lives in that tower?� Leroy asked in a whisper. �Does a giant live there?�

�No. No one lives there. It�s an old church tower.�

�Does God live there?�

�Nobody knows,� said Angie.

�Remember the shape of the hills,� the Spirit Lion had said, so I stared, trying to imprint the hill with the stone tower on my memory. We drove on through the morning and the hills turned from blue to green as they loomed closer, and on top was a tall metal tower going up to the sky. I felt the earth energy changing. The air was colder, the land covered in scrubby brown heather, and sheep were grazing in bright green patches of grass. At the crest of the hill, I felt we had reached a point of no return, and I began to grieve for the home I had loved. For Vati. For Graham, and Poppy, and the warm rug by the wood burner.

It wasn�t fair.

I wished I was brave like Angie. She drove on, bushy and alert like a squirrel, ready to change, take risks and leap into a new space.�Home doesn�t have to be a place,� she�d said. �Home can be who you�re with.� And she�d shared her courage with Leroy. For him it was an adventure.

�I�d climb up there. Right to the top,� said Leroy as we drove past the metal tower, �and I wouldn�t be scared. Then I could see all the way to Africa and see the White Lions!�

Angie smiled.�Maybe you could.�

The precious poster of the White Lions of Timbavati was rolled up in the back of the car, on top of the bags and boxes of books, and Leroy�s toys.

The Spirit Lion kept me busy noticing landmarks, but, tired from the stress, I did eventually nod off to sleep. The car droned on, and when I awoke the sun was higher in the sky, and the hills were a distant smudge of blue, behind us now. Leroy�s cry of excitement woke me.

�Cor, that�s MASSIVE!� he shouted. �Look at that bridge. Is that a suspension bridge, is it? Is it, Angie?�

I sat up to see.

�Look, Timba! That�s the shining river,� Leroy said. �You could go fishing in there. Has it got tuna in there, Angie?�

I saw the shining river, awesome, like a heavy snake of water, and the long, long bridge stretching over it. Beyond were more hills, dark with trees.

�Don�t talk to me for a minute � I need to get this right,� said Angie, and her face looked stressed as we joined a noisy stream of traffic.

I braced myself, feeling the thunder of the lorries hemming us in as we hurtled towards the river. In the cold air the exhaust fumes were hot and poisonous. The howl of engines rang in my ears and my throat burned from meowing. Leroy turned his big eyes to look at me.�It�s OK, Timba.� But I was crazed with fear. He touched me. �Timba�s fur is coming out!� he said, but Angie clutched the steering wheel and drove on looking even more like a hyped-up squirrel.

I meowed again; this time it was a loud wail of distress. My life was out of control. I was trapped. I was being taken into the blue beyond, without my permission.

Leroy was squealing with excitement and bouncing around in his seat.�Can we stop � please, Angie? I want to look at the river. I want to climb up the bridge � I could go high up � oh please stop.�

�I can�t stop. It�s the motorway.�

�Please, Angie. You never do anything I want. It�s not fair.� Leroy kicked his feet on the floor of the car.

Angie spoke to him sharply.�Sit still, or you�ll make me lose control of the car. Just, for God�s sake, don�t have a tantrum right now, Leroy. Save it for later!�

I saw the gleam of a tear on Leroy�s cheek, but he managed to keep quiet. Angie hardly ever shouted at him, and when she did he took notice.

We sped on across the bridge. It was like a highway in the sky with the energy and power of the river surging far below.�Remember the bridge,� the Spirit Lion said. How could I forget!

Where was Vati now? How far away? If only Angie would stop and open the travelling basket. I�d jump out and head back home on burning paws, my tail kinked over my back. But what chance would a little cat have on that hectic road?

My meows grew ever louder and more echoing. I was haunted by the thought that Vati, the wise one, had made the right decision � to stay at home � while I had made the wrong one.

�You must learn to trust,� said the Spirit Lion. �Trust Angie. She�s your earth-angel.�

By now we were driving on calmer roads through a dark forest. I paid attention to that. Even from the car, I could smell the trees and the creatures who lived there.

�We�re nearly there,� Angie kept saying, and we emerged from the forest and headed downhill towards a town in a green valley. Angie drove on, but I wanted her to stop. I sensed danger. It came to me in a smell � of something that didn�t belong in this quiet green land. It got strongerand stronger.

�Timba�s really scared, Angie,� said Leroy. �He�s got his tail bushed out.�

Why didn�t Angie stop? Why was she driving on, into that unknown danger? It wasn�t the smell � it was a feeling. A sense of anger and displacement. It wasn�t human! It was animal. More animal than I�d ever believed existed in our quiet green countryside.

�A zoo!� Leroy shouted, and Angie did slow down. She wasn�t frightened like me, but she obviously didn�t like seeing the zoo.

�Can we go in?� Leroy asked, and then answered his own question with a big sigh. �I get it. Not now! But can we, one day?�

Angie drove slowly past some high walls with wire along the top, and two tall iron gates.

�I didn�t know this was still here,� she said. �I can�t believe they haven�t closed it down. It�s a private zoo, and those animals are not happy in there. I can feel their desperation. Let�s get clear of it.� She drove on very fast, and I relaxed a bit as the smell faded away. Ihoped we weren�t going to live near that zoo.

�You haven�t let me do anything I wanted.� Leroy pouted and started to cry. �I wanted to climb up the bridge, and I wanted to see if there were fish in the river. Then I wanted to see if there were bears in that forest � and you wouldn�t let me.� He kicked angrily at the car floor.

Angie was kind.�Aww, don�t cry,� she said. �Poor Leroy � I know it�s tough, and you�ve been SO good. We�ll do all those things when we�re settled in. I�ll need your help with Timba. He�s terribly frightened, poor love, and you�re so good with him now.�

Leroy calmed down. He turned to look at me.�I�m good now, Timba,� he said. �Don�t be scared. I�ll look after you.�

Despite my plans to run away, I tried to settle down in the new house. Angie put my basket next to the Aga in the kitchen so I was cosy. It wasn�t quiet like Graham�s house. We could hear voices and traffic, and the rumble of huge shining aeroplanes which made the cups rattle. At first Leroy watched them constantly and asked Angie where they were going and why.

�Do they go to Africa?�

Angie shrugged.�Maybe � yes, I think there is a flight to Johannesburg.�

�Is that near Timbavati?�

�I don�t know, Leroy. We�ll look on the internet later.�

She dismissed it as unimportant, but I could see the dreams streaming through Leroy�s mind. Dreams too big and intense to share.

The first time I was let out into the small square of garden, I remembered what Vati had taught me, and checked it out, walking slowly over the grass, feeling energies through my sensitive paws. I found a place where moles were living under the ground, I found an underground spring, and I found an energy line. It was in an odd place, close to a big stone in the wall of the house. Talking to Vati seemed possible when I sat there, but the contact was muffled. I missed him so much.

I kept an eye on Angie, who was getting used to a new job, and making new friends. She came home tired, and Leroy was difficult and demanding. He wanted every last bit of Angie�s love and energy.

Leroy was obsessed with the zoo, and he pestered Angie every day.�Why can�t we go? I�ve never been to a zoo.�

�I will not spend my money visiting THAT PLACE,� Angie declared. �When we have time I�ll take you to a proper zoo where they care about the world�s wildlife.�

�But I want to go to that one,� Leroy argued. I saw the look in his eyes. He was going to go there, no matter what, with or without Angie. I sensed it burning in his soul.

In the spring Angie bought Leroy a bike and a helmet to wear. Straight away, Leroy disappeared. He whispered goodbye to me and his eyes flashed with excitement.�I�ve got a bike, Timba. Now I can go to the zoo.� I sat on the windowsill and watched him wheel the bike into the road.

�Don�t go too far, Leroy. Just up and down outside, and be careful,� Angie called from the kitchen.

�Yeah � OK. See you later,� Leroy shouted. He disappeared down the road at full throttle, pedalling with such energy that I thought the bike would fall apart. He was pushing it and pulling it at the same time, and lifting the front wheel off the floor, then banging it down.

I sat on the doorstep, and waited for him to come back.

Soon Angie was standing in the street looking for him, her eyes anxious.�Where has he gone?�

I knew, but how could I tell Angie? I followed her up and down the street with my tail up, wanting to help, and in the end she picked me up. I tried sending her images, but she didn�t get them. All I could do was cuddle against her and purr as she got more and more anxious, and cross with herself. �How could I have been so stupid? Oh God, if he gets hurt on that main road, I�ll never forgive myself.�

The next-door neighbour, Issy, got involved, and her cat came out too, and sat glaring at me. He was a portly tabby with one ear folded down, and he hadn�t made friends with me, even though we�d been through each other�s cat flaps.

�Leroy�s such a wild impulsive child,� Angie told Issy.

�You can�t take yer eyes off the little buggers these days,� Issy said. �Especially boys. I�m glad my lot are grown-up. They all had bikes, and skateboards, and I spent half my life in A&E with�em. But sometimes you just have to let �em go and let �em learn, that�s what I say.�

�You�re right,� Angie said, but her eyes still searched up and down the road. �But Leroy had such a bad start. I have to protect him from himself.�

�Let�s put the kettle on,� said Issy kindly. �And by the time we�ve had a coffee, he�ll be back, Angie, you�ll see.�

Angie looked tempted, but she shook her head.�Thanks, Issy, it�s kind of you, but I can�t. I must find him. I�d better get the car out.� She put me down on the garden wall. �Will you keep an eye out for him, Issy? I�ll drive to the park and other places he might go. He can�t have gone far.�

I did a purr-meow. Leroy was already far away, I knew that, and I so wanted to tell Angie. I had to watch her drive off in totally the wrong direction. I went to sit on the energy point by the big stone, and called the Spirit Lion by sending a silent message into the light. He came instantly, filling the garden with radiance. I asked him why humans were so limited in their ability to communicate.

�Centuries ago they took the life out of language,� he said, �by carving it into stone. Now they scribble it with pens, and tap it out on keyboards. All they want is to see it, to read it, and to them that is truth. In doing so they condemned telepathy and called it witchcraft.�

�Witchcraft?� I asked, and felt my spine turn to ice. Had I once been a witch�s cat? The memory sailed into my mind. A proud memory. I had been a witch�s cat, and the witch had been Angie! We had talked wordlessly to each other. We had healed animals and plants, and we had teleported along the golden roads. It was my best lifetime.

The Spirit Lion saw my thoughts.�Humans can still do it,� he said. �They have only to remember � and some of them do. That�s why cats are so important. Cats are fascinating to humans. Cats are wordless communicators, and teachers.�

�So how can I teach Angie? How can I reach her now?�

�When she wants to learn, she will sit with you,� said the Spirit Lion. �In the meantime you can only be there for her, let her make her mistakes and just love her. Some of her mistakes, like going in the wrong direction, are meant to happen. It is part of the plan. She can�t control Leroy. What he is doing right now is part of his destiny.�

�What is he doing?� I asked, and the Spirit Lion fell silent. His eyes met my questioning stare. �Merge with me,� he said, �and I�ll show you.� I became one with him as my aura blended with his radiance where he shared his thoughts wordlessly.

First he showed me Leroy�s bike. It was lying in the dappled sunlight under an oak tree, and Leroy�s red helmet shone in the piles of leaf mould and mossy roots. Leroy was nowhere to be seen. But my hackles were up, my whiskers twitching. That smell! A stench of confined animals � their droppings, their hot fur,the tang of fear, and the smoulder of desperation.

Once the smells settled into our consciousness, there were sounds to identify. Unfamiliar, strident bird cries and the flutter of wings, the clank of rusty metal, the high-pitched chattering of active, hyped-up creatures I couldn�t identify. We listened, and heard the wind teasing petals from blossom and sweeping it into corners. Then the scrape-scrape of a lion�s paws on rough concrete, an endless rhythm, a hopelessness as he padded to and fro, never going anywhere except from one wall to the other.

And then we saw Leroy.

He was clinging to the outside of the boundary wall, his feet wedged into the cracks between bricks, his eager eyes searching upwards for a way through the strands of wire along the top. I felt moved. Leroy was brave. Braver than me, and I was a cat!

Safe in the haven of my Spirit Lion, I watched, and hoped, and tried to send Leroy love. Painfully he climbed on, helped by a sturdy ivy plant, dragging himself up and up until he was looking down at the padding lion with an awestruck smile. The lion glanced up at him, sniffed, and continued padding as if he didn�t care. He�d been there, done that, and didn�t want to be bothered with humans.

Leroy�s hands stretched towards the wire. He touched it, and all hell broke loose. A deafening siren started, sending the animals into panic, and a man burst out of a door, a shovel in his hand. His angry eyes scanned the top of the wall, and saw Leroy clinging there.

�What the HELL are you doing?� he bellowed. �Get down off that wall right now or I�ll come out and drag you down.�

Shaking with fright, Leroy scrambled backwards. We heard the tearing of the ivy plant as he fell in an explosion of leaves. Then he ran, rubbing the blood from his arms, seized his bike and flung himself onto it. Leaving the red helmet lying in the leaf mould, he pedalled wildly into the traffic and headed home.

At that point the Spirit Lion gently disengaged from me. We both knew I had to be a support cat for when Leroy made it home.

When he finally came riding up the street, Angie was pacing up and down like the lion.

�Where have you BEEN?� she asked.

Leroy shrugged.

�Nowhere,� he said.

I ran to him with my tail up, and, while Angie ranted, I purred and loved and showed her how to welcome a tired, distraught child.

I got used to the place, but the homesickness never left me. I was OK when Angie and Leroy were there, but when Angie was at work, and Leroy at school, I was left alone for long hours. I missed Vati terribly, and I missed Graham. I missed Poppy, and the chickens, and the freedom of a big garden. Here the back garden was boxed in by other gardens where there were cats who didn�t want to be friends. I tried to establish a territory, but it was limited. The spring was cold and rainy, so I spent hours indoors by the Aga, or sitting in the window. Angie and Leroy played with me and brushed me, and then I was a happy cat. But I yearned for those exciting playtimes with Vati.

In my heart I didn�t feel at home.

Angie sat with me on her lap when Leroy was in bed. She shared her sadness with me. She missed Graham. She hated Lisa. She felt betrayed.�But we must make the best of it, Timba,� she often said. �Think positive.� Then she would talk about Leroy. �I love that boy. I so want to help him. He�s got such a talent � and such dreams. We have to help him make those dreams come true, Timba. Don�t we?� I always agreed with a yes-meow and lots of purring.

One wet Sunday the sparks were flying from both their auras as Angie and Leroy sat in front of Leroy�s laptop. Curious, I jumped onto the table and sat with them, looking at the screen. They were looking at the White Lions!

�Don�t walk on the keyboard, Timba.� Leroy moved me gently aside, but I wanted to touch noses with one of those lions. I stared and stared, feeling my neck getting longer. Slowly I stretched forward, my whiskers tingling with excitement, and touched noses, nicely. The lion didn�t respond,and Angie and Leroy laughed at me, but I felt I�d reached across the world and given wordless love to this brave, important lion.

�It says their coats can be whiter than the whitest snow,� said Angie. �A White Lion is the most sacred animal in Africa.�

�Yeah, but they�re not albinos,� Leroy said. �No one knows where the White Lions came from. It�s a mystery! Come on, Angie, let�s read the legends again.� He clicked something and a load of writing appeared instead of the interesting pictures of lions. �I can nearly read this now � but you help me with the long words, Angie.�

�WOW! Listen to this,� said Angie. ��The name Timbavati is from an ancient Shangaan language �� AND � �it meansthe place where star lions come down from the heavens�. WOW.�

Leroy�s face shone. He searched the block of text on the screen and pounced on another word. ��Golden�,� he said. ��Timbavati is on a golden �� I can�t read that, Angie.�

My spine began to tingle. A golden road, I thought.

Angie took over the reading.��Timbavati is on the Golden Nile Meridian,�� she read.

�What�s that?�

�It�s an energy line � a sacred pathway across the world,� Angie whispered, and her words excited me so much that I did an amplified extended-meow. More laughter. I didn�t think it was funny. Miffed, I stared into Angie�s eyes. �Timba understands that, don�t you, lovely cat?� she said warmly, and got a yes-meow in return.

Leroy was racing ahead, his eyes searching the writing.��Sphinx,�� he said. �It�s on the same line. What�s a sphinx?�

�Google it,� said Angie, and Leroy tapped the keyboard and clicked. The screen flickered, and a picture appeared of the ancient stone sphinx in the desert. It spooked me, and my memory flipped into life. I remembered a time, centuries ago, when Vati and I had been proud Egyptian cats. We had played in the hot sun, and slept between the glistening stone paws of that mighty sphinx.

�Timba understands this too.� Leroy looked into my eyes, and in that moment I understood something else. Leroy was developing telepathy. He could read my thoughts. �Do you miss Vati, Timba?�

I walked over the forbidden keyboard and kissed Leroy on the nose.

Chapter Thirteen

JOURNEY SOUTH

It happened very quickly.

One minute I was a contented cat, and the next I was faced with a life-changing challenge.

�You�re the best cat in the world, Timba.� Angie pressed her cheek against my fur, and I looked up at her, blinking my eyes slowly and purring. �I hope we never lose you.�

Odd that she said those words, as if she sensed I was on the brink of a momentous decision. I took my job as a support cat very seriously. Most cats only had one human to look after. I had two. Angie, who was still hurting from Graham dumping her, still missing Poppy, and trying too hard to be an earth-angel to Leroy. And Leroy, who needed me even more.

On that drowsy afternoon in late summer, my life should have been blessed. I should have been full of gratitude for a home where I was loved and pampered. I was the best cat in the street and, when I sat up on the garden wall, everyone who passed by admired me.�Aren�t you beautiful!� and �What a magnificent cat,� and �You�re so fluffy, and so friendly. I wish you were my cat.� I soaked it all up, like fan mail. It was like an insurance too. I knew that if I followed any one of those adoring fans down the road, they would adopt me.

But something was missing from my life: Vati. I tried to get used to it, the way Angie was coping without Graham. The way she still laughed and smiled and got on with it. I was managing OK, until the momentous decision arrived like an unstoppable rain cloud darkening the sunlight.

I was sitting against the wall, close to the big stone in the place where I�d sensed a precious line of communication. My direct chat line to Vati. So far our long-distance chats had been misty but joyful. Vati had appeared with his tail up, looking sleek and mystic. He told me he was OK with Graham and Lisa. He told me Lisa had a baby girl, Heidi, and Heidi was crawling all over the house like a cat.

The Spirit Lion had taught me how to sense the energy line with my pads, so I did that now, and visualised Vati�s winsome little face with the white dot on the nose. His eyes flashed up before me, black and terrified. My paws began to burn with pain. �What is it? What�s happened?� I asked, but Vati seemed totally unable to communicate. I tried and tried and got no response. Darkness inked its way along the golden pathway, right into my heart.

I sat there, stunned.

Something terrible had happened to Vati.

I ran to Angie. She was leaning on the garden wall, watching the road.�Leroy should be back soon, from his first day at big school,� she told me, and scooped me into her arms. Normally I would have purred and made a fuss of her, but now I felt my heart was breaking.

I had to go.

I had to find Vati.

Sadly and silently, I licked Angie�s dear face which was warm from the sun. It was my last chance to love her. I should say goodbye nicely, I thought. I should purr. But I couldn�t. I felt like a cat torn in two.

The best I could manage was a long stare into her sensitive eyes, and immediately Angie saw that something was wrong.�What�s the matter, Timba?�

I couldn�t bear to say goodbye. I slid out of her arms and jumped down to the pavement.

�Timba? Are you OK? Timba ��

I half turned, flicked my tail, and gave Angie a silent meow. Then I trotted purposefully down the road, my tail down, my heart heavy. I didn�t look back, even when I heard the school bus, and the sound of Leroy dragging his school bag along the ground. He�d had a bad day. And I was a support cat. What was I doing?

The only glad thought in my mind was that I�d eaten all of my lunch, every last crumb of the delicious, easy food Angie made for me. I was healthy and strong, my coat luxurious and well brushed. It would keep me warm through the lonely nights of my journey south � back through the dark forest, and over the shining river, to the green hills where I�d been born.

Angie thought I would come back, like I always did. She�d trusted me, and let me be free, and it had been the best life a cat could have. She�d patiently helped Leroy, taught him how to love me the way a cat should be loved, and he was getting it right. I had grown to love Leroy. Now he�d think I�d abandoned him.

For a long time I heard Angie and Leroy calling me, but I trotted on automatically, as if my mind and body were totally separate. On and on through the streets, not even pausing to put my tail up and let somebody stroke me, not worrying about traffic or dogs, or which way to go. I knew. My instinct was crystal clear, and I let it guide me south. I kept going, until the voices and memories faded, and a sense of detachment hung over me like the shadow of night.

Crossing the road was VERY scary. I spent a lot of time crouched under parked cars, watching for a clear space. Judging the speed of cars was a skill I hadn�t developed and, after a couple of near misses, my confidence was shaken. The endless, confusing streets and the exhaust fumes gave me a headache. In the deepening yellow light of late afternoon, I took refuge in a garden. The gate was open, so I crept in and hid under an evergreen covered in scarlet berries. I scent-marked its stout trunk and leaned against it, feeling the calm energy of the plant world stabilising my agitated heartbeat. It was good to have a wall between me and the traffic.

I listened, hoping to detect the last calls from Angie and Leroy, but now I was too far away, lost in the roar of a town I had never bothered to explore. I�d been a home cat, my territory modestly limited to the surrounding gardens. The listening seeded an ache in my heart, a yearning to hear the voices one last time: �Timba. TIM � BA.� Who would call me Timba now?

No one would know who I was. I�d chosen to leave my home; now it became clear I was leaving behind my identity. I was any old cat now. Nameless and shameless. If I was going to live without love, then I�d have to be tough. The hunter instinct surfaced alongside the hunger now growling around my belly. I surveyed the strange garden and the imperious blackbirds hopping about on the lawn. My tail twitched. Catching one would be easy. But less convenient than the tasty supper Leroy would have been giving me right now.

But, hey, this house had a cat flap! I was powerful and bossy. I could deal with any cat who might be in there. Go for it, I thought. Stealthily I prowled up the path, low to the ground, and glided through the cat flap. Inside was an array of dishes on the floor, and one had a substantial dollop of fishy-smelling cat food. Nobody was there so I scoffed it down.

�You cheeky cat! OUT!� came the voice, and a woman who looked like a toad came at me with a squeegee mop. No one had ever treated me like this! I half put my tail up and tried to cat smile at her, but my friendliness seemed to enrage her even more. �That�s my cat�s food!� she shrieked. �OUT � go on � OUT!�

I�d never been afraid of a human, and I wasn�t now. A few minutes of tail up and rubbing lovingly round her legs would soon melt her cold heart. But it didn�t work out.

With a scrabble of paws, a beefy little dog charged into the kitchen, almost airborne in its rush to get to me.

I looked at it disdainfully, and wished I knew how to laugh. The entire dog was vibrating with its hysterical barking, even its ridiculously short legs and flippy little ears.

You don�t turn your back on dogs. Your back end is vulnerable, especially the tail. My mum Jessica had perfected the art of reversing through a cat flap, but I hadn�t tried it, and hadn�t needed to until now.

I arched my back and made a savage snarly face. Predictably, the dog ran out of steam and stopped a few feet away from me, its white body trembling, its eyes uncertain. Majestically I crab-walked towards the cat flap, my tail lashing. I whipped round and dived out through it, and felt a horrible tearing sensation as the dog ripped a tuft of hair from my tail. What a cheek!

I fled down the garden and straight across the road into the path of an oncoming white van. There was a screech of tyres, and a volley of swearing. I changed my mind in mid-air, my whiskers brushing the hot rubber wheel as I turned and dashed back. Thoroughly frightened, I crept, black-eyed, under the same evergreen and stayed there. The tip of my tail was sore and bleeding, and it looked awful. Tails are sensitive and important, and that feisty little dog had ruined mine. I attended to it immediately, licking and cleaning and rearranging the fur that was left.

My nerves were shattered and I remembered what Angie had said when Leroy had squeezed me.�His little bones are like matchsticks.� An unexpected flood of respect for my body came to me now. I needed to rest. Yet something pushed me onward. I wouldn�t stop until I found the edge of the noisy town.

Many streets later I finally reached the quiet. Stubble fields stretched away from me, the edges cushioned with tussocks of wild flowers and grasses. My tired paws sank into the softness and found it still warm from the sun. So welcome, now that the twilight had a taste of cold, as if winter might arrive in the night.

I made myself a round nest under an ash tree. Vati had taught me about different trees and their effect on cats. Ash trees were stabilising and healing. This one splayed its leaves over me like a guardian of the plant world. I slept under it for hours, and when I awoke, my fur felt damp.

Against the night sky the fields and hedges were the colour of blackberries. Above me the stars seemed to be entangled in the ash tree�s branches.

At midnight at home I would usually walk around on Leroy�s bed, loving him while he slept. Or I�d go downstairs and find Angie still awake at the table, her head bent over a pile of children�s school books, a red pen in her hand. Or she�d be in the kitchen baking midnight cakes. We�d have a cuddle and, if the night was clear, she�d carry me outside to look at the stars. Those same stars I was looking at now.

The thought made me unbearably homesick. What had I done? How had my love for Vati taken precedence over everything I treasured? I vowed that, when I found him, I would bring him home, home where he belonged with me and Angie and Leroy.

I climbed into the ash tree, glad that my eyes were so good at night. Up there everything was crystal sharp, the leaves black, the stubble fields a shimmering silver; the distant rim of the sky glowed orange, and lights twinkled from the town I had left. I turned my face to the south, and on that horizon loomed the forest, my next destination. A beam of excitement cut through the heavy mist of homesickness. The forest was one part of my journey which appealed to the wild cat still curled up in my soul.

The Spirit Lion turned up at dawn. In my nest of dry grass, I was listening to the chatter of gathering swallows, flocks of them swooping and diving over the fields, moving south without appearing to do so.

The Lion came slinking across the networks of gossamer that bedecked the stubble and festooned the brambles around the ash tree. He came from the east, silent, almost invisible, but real. He took a long time to arrive, as if demonstrating his manifestation skills.

I waited, feeling better just knowing he was there for me: he was choosing to find me. Was he going to send me back home to Angie? Would he tell me what was wrong with Vati?

Slow and thoughtful, he enfolded me in those giant paws, the mane tumbling like a waterfall, the eyes guarding a secret more global than the concerns of a fluffy black cat.

He began with wordless communication, loving me, encouraging me to relax and purr. The purring reassured me, and for once I was purring for ME. Purring was not only for humans: it was for me to calm myself, to heal my hurts. To send a message across the Earth.

The Spirit Lion looked satisfied when I understood this startling truth. It came close to what Vati had tried to teach me about the energy lines.

�Planet Earth is full of messages,� the Spirit Lion said. �You must learn a different way of listening, Timba, a listening that is more like touching. Stretch out on the earth and listen with the whole of your being. Do this often on your journey, for if you don�t you will become lost.�

�Vati needs me urgently,� I said. �I can�t go fast enough to reach him. It�s a long way.�

The Spirit Lion was silent, his eyes absorbing my words. Then he said,�Winter is coming, Timba. You must go quickly. Don�t run with your feet, think with them, and be smart. Your times of stillness must be used for attunement and meditation.�

�Meditation?� I asked, curious. Angie had used that word passionately and often, but it had drifted over me in my preoccupation with food and play.

�Meditation,� the Lion repeated, �is like daydreaming, Timba. When the body is still, the mind can travel through space and time. Gaze back across the centuries and reclaim the wisdom and intelligence of the cat. Much of it has been used to heal and support humans, but you can use it on your journey to manipulate humans into giving you the right kind of help.�

�Vati can do that kind of stuff,� I said.

�Vati is a highly evolved, supersensitive being,� said the Spirit Lion. �That�s why you are perfect together � twin souls. Between you, you have all the gifts.�

�We�re brothers,� I said proudly. �The sons of Solomon.�

�Yes � but for now, Timba, you must do the work of two cats. Vati cannot work right now. Your strength and pragmatism, and Vati�s sensitivity. You are right, he needs you urgently � urgently.� The Spirit Lion became ominously quiet. His presence turned misty, and the light around him flickered alarmingly.

�Don�t go,� I said. Our conversation wasn�t finished, and he was drifting precariously. �You haven�t told me what�s wrong with Vati.�

The Spirit Lion darkened. The colours of night filtered down through his curly mane. A frown gathered like a thunderstorm on his brow.

�Don�t go,� I repeated, suddenly gripped by a fear beyond anything I had ever experienced. This wasn�t fear of getting hurt or lost. This was cosmic. Cosmic fear of some undiscovered mistake that was building into a global catastrophe.

The Spirit Lion�s last words were a hollow whisper echoing in my soul. �I can�t say it,� he breathed, and the hush of cosmic sadness descended from the morning sky. The birds fell silent. The air was becalmed, and the beads of dew on the gossamer lost their sparkle. Leaves fell like tears from the ash tree.

The Spirit Lion breathed in deeply.�I can�t say it,� he said again. �It is universal. A happening, a terrible happening that is seeding fear in cats � all over the Earth � all � over �� he whispered, and the sadness eclipsed his shining light. In seconds he was gone.

I sat there, numb and shocked, watching a bank of white mist stealing in from the valley, as if the energy of the Spirit Lion had been dissolved and was floating away, shape-shifting, becoming a cloud billowing over the bright sun.

My Spirit Lion had gone � not joyfully � but immersed in sadness. There was something out there he couldn�t bear to talk about. He�d given me his love, and his wisdom. Now he�d left me. Once again, at my time of greatest need, I was alone.

The mist settled like a fleece over the fields, hiding the landscape from me when I needed to see it. I wanted to work out which way to go. I tried to talk to Vati, to tell him I was on my way to rescue him, but all I saw was the black of his eyes, and the stillness of his crouched body. For some reason Vati was not moving, and not communicating. Alive, but closed down. Unresponsive, unmotivated, numb.

What had happened to this beautiful, creative little cat?

I knew in my bones that, if I didn�t get to him soon, Vati would will himself to die.

Chapter Fourteen

THE DARK FOREST

The Spirit Lion told me not to run without thinking first, but I pushed on relentlessly, driven by the pain in Vati�s eyes and the urgency of his need. I didn�t think of the distance that separated us, but focused on one day at a time. I ran along the hedges, parallel to the road. Flocks of birds flew ahead of me, feeding on scarlet berries that bobbed in the branches above. I felt like an impostor. Themagpies and crows cursed me in their raucous voices, and the blackbirds warned each other about me. No one wanted a fluffy black cat in the countryside. For a cat who was used to lots of love and attention, it felt bleak and lonely.

Late afternoon was the time when foxes emerged from their holes, hungry, full of energy. I was wary of them, but quickly found I could outstare an interested fox, or outsmart it by climbing a tree. But after several encounters, my wariness mushroomed into fear. A fox could kill me if it caught me off guard, or sleeping.

As I drew near to the forest, another creature scared me: a buzzard that flew out of the trees with wings like giant hands. Its cry haunted me because it resembled a cat meowing, and it swooped low and flexed its powerful wings above me so that I felt the rush of air from its feathers, and saw the talons and the cruel yellow eyes. And there were always two buzzards, hunting together, watching for movement in the grass.

Tension began to build in my mind, tiring me, not allowing me the rest I needed.

Towards evening the mist cleared and the sun hung low and bright, like a peach on fire. On the opposite side of the sky the moon was rising, and it was pink. I hurried on, up a hill, heading south between sun and moon. Aching tiredness slowed me down to a steady trot, my eyes fixed on the luminous sky at the crest of the hill. Would the hill never end?

Twilight was falling as I reached the top, and the cool colours of night stained the brim of the sky. Exhausted, I lay down under a pine tree, glad of its soft carpet of needles and moss. A perfect bed for a cat who needed to watch the stars and study the distant landscape.

All I needed was a plate of mashed chicken with gravy. Even if there had been a handy mouse, I was too tired to catch one. I slept and slept, my paws twitching as I crossed roads in my nightmare. Hunger gnawed at my dreams, and my tummy felt weak and empty. Nothing else disturbed me, and as usual I awoke at midnight. The moon was far away in the southern sky. Silent and pale, an owl passed by on muffled wings. It turned a heart-shaped face and checked me out with intelligent eyes. I looked back, proudly, unafraid of this creature of the night who had once terrorised me.

The owl turned in a wide arc and returned to check me out again. I thought of Vati and the way he had a mysterious rapport with wild creatures. How he�d searched their minds, and seen the good in them, the hunger, and the fun.

As the owl swooped by for a third time, I sent him a telepathic message.�I�m Timba, and I�m on a long journey to find my brother Vati � because I love him.� I saw the message arrive like a spark of understanding in the owl�s black eyes. I watched him hover over a tangle of grasses, and heard the swoosh of wing feathers when he pounced on some creaturewho had dared to pop out of a hole.

The next minute the owl dived towards me, looking at me with intense eyes. It hovered above me, pale wings catching a glaze of moonlight.

There was a soft thud, and a dead mouse, ready to eat, was dropped right in front of my paws. A midnight feast, delivered with style to a starving cat!

I looked up and meowed in astonishment, and the owl gave me a permissive sort of nod, screeched, and flew away.

Between me and the forest was a vast meadow in which a herd of cattle grazed. So far I�d been running along the hedgerows, day after day, crossing the occasional lane. Once I paused by an isolated cottage to see if it had a cat flap. The door was open and I slunk over the polished stone doorstep and peeped in at a table with food on it � and nobody there! Angie hadn�t allowed me on the kitchen table, but I�d never been this hungry since I was a kitten. Moving smoothly like a cloud, I glided in, grabbed a cheese sandwich and fled back to the safety of the hedge. The butter and cheese tasted good but not the bread. Bread was bad for me, even with Marmite on it.

Tempted to hang around and become an accomplished thief, I found a sunny corner and tried to wash. I had brushed against a burdock plant and my lovely fur was matted with prickly burrs. Annoyed, I worked at getting them out and was distressed to find I couldn�t shift them. I rolled on the floor, scratched, and tugged at my matted fur, but the burrs refused to come out and began to be painful. Angie had never let my fur get in such a state.

Time was passing. The leaves were falling, the songbirds silent, the nights longer. Winter was coming, and I would be cold and alone. The immediate challenge was the field of cattle. They weren�t amiable milking cows. They were hefty young bullocks, alert and interested in anything that moved. The field was enormous, and I wasn�t used to long runs. Short bursts of speed were OK. A field that huge, with no cover, looked impossible. The bullocks might surround me, and blow their hot breath at me, and toss me in the air, or even trample on me.

So I sat outside the gate in the middle of a lemon-scented patch of wild camomile, and once the bullocks had seen me and done some snorting and stamping, they got bored and wandered away. My only chance was to wait until they reached the far side of the field, then make a dash for it.

I had to believe that I could run that far, that fast, on tired paws at the end of the day! I waited ages for the cattle to retreat, and I was getting more and more agitated.

When the last bullock reached the far side, I made a run for it. Low and fast was how I wanted to go, but the turf was covered in thistles and cowpats, so I was jumping and dodging.

I was out in the open when I heard their roar and felt the thunder of their hooves. I ran for my life, my paws splashing through mud. The bullocks crossed the field in seconds, their tails in the air. I was going to die, horribly, in the pungent stench of them and the mud. I tried and tried to run faster, but there was no place to hide. Bewildered, I turned and found myself surrounded by steaming red-brown faces.

In my moment of need, Vati flashed into my mind, and I remembered the way he used his winsome little face and kinky tail to bewitch any creature who threatened him. The power of the cat! Come on, Timba, use it!

I sat down in the middle of those red-brown faces, and scrutinised their minds. Actually they didn�t WANT to kill me. They were just having fun. If they killed me, it would be by accident, not intention.

I was terrified, but in control. The intense power of my absolute stillness shone like a dazzling star. Stiff whiskers gleaming, my aura fierce with light, I focused on one particular bullock. Eyeball to eyeball, we exchanged an animal rights agreement.

I, Timba, have a right to occupy my bit of Mother Earth, even if it�s smaller than your bit. I, Timba, am a cat, and cats have been here longer than cattle. You are going to end up on someone�s plate, covered in gravy and next to a potato. Whereas I, Timba, will become an indispensable, pampered cat with supreme influence over my humans. Therefore, you will grant me free exit from this field, at my own pace, with my tail up.

Then I did something VERY brave. I walked towards the ring-leader and kissed his outstretched nose. I visualised myself as a shining cat, my light so vivid that no one would harm me.

With deliberate slowness and calm, and with a flagrant wave of my tail, I walked away and on towards the forest. The bullocks trailed behind me, clumped together and at a respectful distance. Keep it slow, Timba, keep it slow, I was thinking, and finally� finally, I was out of the field. I even turned and blinked my golden eyes, a cheeky goodbye to the bemused red-brown faces.

After that, I had no more trouble from cattle, ever again.

It�s important to have fun, even if you�re miserable, I thought as I strolled into the towering twilight of the forest. My paws were sore, my once lovely fur matted with burrs, my heart heavy with the weight of Vati�s mysterious problem. Added to that, if I sat thinking for too long I got homesick and wanted to turn back. But I was a young cat, bright-spirited and strong, and there was power in being totally alone in a place of magic.

Magic was everywhere in this forest. I sensed it shimmering between the leaves, teasing me with dancing patterns of light. Crisp autumn leaves floated down, twirling through the stillness, and landed light as cheese puffs. The urge to play with them tugged at the edges of my misery until I gave in and went totally mad, diving and sliding into them, leaping high in the air, my paws akimbo, my tail flying.

I felt brilliant. I was Timba again. My play got more and more creative. I hid behind the stout oak trunks, and leaped out, wild-eyed, my back and tail arched as I sped across the glade. Charged by the magic, I ran into another dimension. The joy was re-creating me: I was a spirit cat being born again from the tatty remains of a tired black cat with burrs in his fur.

I felt that Vati was there with me and my playing was drawing him out to the bright margins of his darkness.

Liberated, I whirled and capered until I heard laughter. At home I loved to generate laughter. Nothing made me happier. So, who was laughing at me, here in this lonely forest?

I paused, and found myself doing exactly what the Spirit Lion had told me to do: stretching out and touching the earth with the whole of my being. And listening.

My eyes had closed from sheer exhaustion, but I was in a state of trance. The laughter was high-pitched and silvery, and it was coming from hundreds of exquisite beings of light. Their eyes flickered as they laughed, not at me, but with me. These were beings of pure joy. Clustered high up in the trees, they too were listening to some finer, higher song from the Universe beyond.

I kept still and the tiny beings began to descend like glitter falling through the forest. They came closer and closer until I saw their colours, and felt their love cover me in a canopy of stars. And then I slept, like a dead cat sprawled across the forest floor, and I dreamed of a straight and secret path that would lead me to Vati. The path had the softest, most luminous green grass that healed my paws, and on either side of it rose tall plants with straight stems, growing densely and protectively together, like a guard of honour for me.

Day after day I trotted through the trees, sometimes running and leaping over clumps of plants, sometimes following narrow paths which looked promising as they wound between ferns. There were plenty of mice and voles for me to catch, as well as starlings, who descended in twittering flocks to feed on the berries, stripping whole trees bare in one sitting. They were easy prey as they paraded around the forest floor, driving their beaks into the ground to find worms and grubs. Mysteriously they moved as one mind, their plumage glistening with rainbows, their wings whirring as they took off in unison, darkening the sky with their swirling clouds.

The forest had hilltop places almost touching the sky, and I was drawn to them. Each time I expected to see the shining river, and the far-off land where Vati waited for me. I wanted to see the end of my journey. But each hilltop only gave me a view of another wooded hill, and another beyond. It was never-ending, and I started to feel downhearted. The nights were cold now and I chose to travel in the moonlight, sleeping in the daytime when the sun warmed my fur.

One night the moon seemed to be bobbing alongside me, silver white behind the black trees. The night was a dark crystal, sharp with frost, and all I heard was the whisper of my paws trotting through the cold. Ahead of me was a hill without trees, and the sky above it was coppery and alive with moving lights. At the top, I sat, spellbound, my tail twitching with excitement. Far away the river shone white in the moonlight, and the long bridge sparkled orange, like a necklace of beads strung across the water. There was the taste of traffic fumes in the frosty air, the hum of cars and lorries, their lights reflected in the water as they crossed the long bridge.

So far away � it both encouraged and frightened me. How could a little cat get safely across that busy bridge? I�d have to try.

On the forest floor the air was still but the west wind roared in the high branches as I spent many days sheltering miserably from a storm. I lost all sense of direction, and began to wonder if I was wasting precious time while Vati was edging closer and closer to death.

Utterly depressed, I curled up in the leaves, and tried to sleep, switch off, forget I was now a homeless, nameless cat on a mission. Rain glazed the surface of my fur, but I didn�t bother to move. Starlings flew down, but I didn�t bother to catch one.

Why bother? I was seriously lost.

My fur, which I�d been so proud of, was driving me mad. Itching, full of burrs, matted beyond belief, and, despite my efforts to groom myself, I ended up being sick from the hairballs I had somehow swallowed. There was even a piece of bramble caught in my tail.

So intense was my anxiety about Vati that when I finally saw the bridge again I didn�t hesitate. I didn�t stop and try to work out how best to cross it. I thought, Go for it, Timba, and soon I was trotting along the grassy edge of the slip road that led onto it.

I didn�t expect it to make me ill, but it did, right from the start, down there in the haze of pollution that hung over the tarmac. The winter afternoon was dove grey and still. A yellowish white mist drifted over the river, mixing with the traffic fumes.

The slip road was easy, but once the grass disappeared there was nothing but iron and tarmac between me and the traffic. The lorries towered over me. The rush of air and the vibration threw me sideways. Each time it happened, I ended up crouching, pressing myself against the metal with my eyes closed. The noise was thunderous and relentless. It rang in my skull. The whoosh of each vehicle blasted gritty air through my fur, almost lifting me off the ground.

I glanced up a few times at the drivers, hell bent on crossing that bridge as fast as possible. Didn�t anyone see me? Didn�t anyone care about a fluffy black cat, all alone, trying to survive? Surely someone would stop and pick me up, wouldn�t they? I was getting unbelievably tired. It needed every bit of my strength just to stay on the road and not be blown off balance, or knocked intothe river far below.

Nobody stopped for me. I thought about the love I had given to humans. Was I invisible? Did I actually look like a cat now, or like a piece of rubbish blown into a corner? I had a go at putting my tail up and trying to look like a successful cat, but it was impossible. The next thundering lorry sent me rolling sideways until I hit the iron and scrabbled desperately to get back on my feet. And then a man shouted at me from a speeding car.

�Get off the bridge, you stupid cat! Go back. You�ll be killed!�

The tone of his voice cut into my consciousness. I paused, realising I was not making progress. I was surviving, but only just, and for how long?

Turning to face the oncoming traffic, I saw the pathetic little distance I had covered, and realised how ill it had made me. My eyes stung so much it was hard to keep them open. My paws shook. My tail dragged in the oily dirt. Even breathing was painful.

In a moment of despair, I curled into a ball and pressed my face against the cool of the metal. What a place to die, I thought, here on this terrible bridge, alone, with no one to love me. I wanted to die on Angie�s lap, or in her beautiful garden. Not here. Not like this.

That one thought made me decide to give up. I couldn�t cross the bridge, but I could try to go back. Even to live again in the green forest with my matted fur and lonely heart had to be better than this. So, as long as I breathed, I would drag myself to a quiet haven where I could die in peace.

A blessed break in the traffic gave me a minute to recall a healing place. With absolute clarity I remembered the owl woman, Mrs Lanbrow, who had rescued me from the trolley. I saw her, and felt her, as if she was really with me, holding me in the glow of her hands. The memory encouraged me to try and save myself.

I didn�t dare stand on my wobbly legs, for the rush of air from the rumbling lorries would have bowled me over. So I crawled on my belly, my fur dragging on the dirt. Long reaching steps, like a panther stalking, my mouth open now gasping for breath, tasting the acrid smoke from the vehicles. The owlwoman seemed to be in front of me, guiding me with the power of her voice, teaching me to wait for gaps in the traffic when it was possible to run, low to the ground. Each time a lorry came I lay flat and clung to the road while the huge grey wheels trundled past.

At last I reached the slip road and the welcome softness of the grass. Had it not been for the owl woman constantly telling me to move on, I would have collapsed and probably died.�You must get away from the road, Timba,� she kept saying. �Get back into the clean air of the forest. Find some water, and rest.� I wondered how she knew I was in trouble.

It was dark when I reached the soothing canopy of trees. The damp moss had never felt so beautiful. I licked the moisture from leaves and grass. I wanted to wash, but my fur tasted poisonous, so I drifted into a deep sleep, only vaguely aware that rain was falling, cleansing me.

When I woke I remembered the owl woman helping me. She wasn�t there now, but she�d said, �Before long you will meet me again.� Did she mean meet her in my memory, or for real?

My fur was soaking wet. Cold, but clean! And I could breathe again. I stood up and stretched.

The longing to go home overwhelmed me. To hear Angie�s voice and have her brushing me so caringly, to see Leroy�s bright smile and hear him say, �Hello, Timba.� I loved my humans. What they did for me was awesome, and I enjoyed giving in return. It was an easy kind of giving � purring and entertaining and comforting.

I seriously considered turning back, across the miles of fields and lanes, through that nightmare maze of streets. Could I find my way?

Thoroughly miserable, I crawled into the solid arms of an ancient oak and found a dry place, protected by overhanging branches. I stayed there for most of the day, occasionally bothering to open my eyes and watch the sparkle of raindrops over the white sky.

The creatures of the forest were disappearing from my life. Winter sent them deep into the earth to sleep, and my sensitive pads told me where they were. Hungry, I circled the mouse holes and waited, but only the odd one popped out at the zenith of the day. I became dependent on the starlings. If they didn�t come, I had nothing.

I was getting thinner. My fur felt loose, and so did my bones. My whiskers drooped and I no longer had the energy to play.

My telepathic�chat line� to Vati seemed dead. Gloomily I speculated that Vati had actually died. Had he gone home to the spirit world, leaving me alone, the last of Solomon�s kittens? Was I too late?

But there was a voice in my mind. Why did I keep ignoring it? It was insistent.�Timba. Timba. Where are you, Timba?� Suddenly I came alive. I listened, not with my ears, but with my spirit.

�Timba. Timba,� the voice called huskily. Then it cried, and it prayed. Who was praying for me in that gruff voice? I sat up. My whiskers twitched, and my wet fur quivered as if an electric current had shot through me.

Leroy!

Was he searching in the forest? There was no smell of him, no running footsteps. He wasn�t there. Leroy was talking to me by telepathy. My heart leapt with hope.

�I know you�re not dead, Timba,� Leroy was saying. �Angie and I made posters and put them up everywhere. We are searching for you every day, and Angie taught me to meditate so I can talk to you. I�m talking to you now. Are you listening, Timba? I miss you, Timba.�

I was listening. My spirits lifted, and I sent a message back.�I�ve gone to find Vati. It�s a long journey, but I will come home one day soon. Hang in there, Leroy.�

I sensed that he was crying hard. Had he got my message? Momentarily the crying stopped, and he said,�Don�t forget the White Lion, Timba, and the lion in the sky. He�s made of stars and he�s in the south.�

The lion in the sky! Something clicked in my mind, and I remembered a starry night in the garden when Angie had shown Leroy the constellation of Leo, and on his paw was one of the brightest stars in the universe. Leroy had nearly burst with excitement, and every starry night he�d carried me into the garden and we�d faced south to find the star lion in the sky.

I yawned and stretched, and padded out into the glade. The rain had stopped. The magic was back. Between the bare trees I saw a blue-bright star. Was that the star on Leo�s paw?

I walked towards that star, and my tail was up for the first time in weeks. The tiny beings of light glimmered in the wet grass, lighting the way for me, their eyes winking from the darkest places. I walked a different way out of the glade. I paused and felt the energy with my pads, the way the Spirit Lion had taught me. It was strong. A definite subterranean tingle. Mindfully I followed it between the trees, and came out on a long straight track, leading south towards the star.

I had found a golden road.

Chapter Fifteen

CROSSING THE BRIDGE

In the morning I was on the golden road, the easiest journey so far. I relaxed and followed its arrow-straight track which cut through the forest, uphill and downhill. It wasn�t visibly golden. The �gold� was a kind of song, deep in the earth, a song that tickled my pads with its own particular frequency. It reminded me of the way Graham sang one note for a long time and the glass and china rang with it for an even longer time.

Vati had told me certain notes were healing. So why wasn�t he being healed now, in Graham�s house? I knew the answer. Vati had closed down. He didn�t eat, he didn�t purr, he didn�t play. Vati was like a frozen cat. Dangerously close to the point of no return. The thought drove me on, even when I was tired.

Rain had plumped domes of moss to springy softness under my paws. In places there were clear, shallow pools of water that tasted good and rinsed the dust from my pads. Altogether a paw-restoring experience. I began to feel kittenish and joyful again. The winter sun glinted on my whiskers, and warmed my back as I reached the top of the first hill where a group of deer were lying in the sun.

In places the track plunged downhill steeply and became a sunken road with high banks and overhanging ferns. The magic was there, and the tiny beings of light watched me with eyes that gleamed like raindrops.

On the third hill, my fur bushed out suddenly. I sensed danger, and couldn�t identify what it was. I sat close to an oak tree, ready to climb into the safety of its branches if I needed to escape.

What spooked me was a change in the earth energy of the track. Something intrusive, a coarse thud-thudding vibration. Footsteps! Men, with heavy, stealthy boots, invading the forest. I could smell them, a leathery, fusty, smoky tang, and I could smell dogs too. Silent dogs, quivering with excitement.

Two rabbits shot past me, closer than a rabbit would normally come to a cat, and fled up the track, their tails bobbing. Wood pigeons with their loud, flappy wings were flying out of the trees in a panic. The deer sped past, scudding as if blown by the wind, their dark eyes afraid. Bewildered, I stayed by the oak tree, watching more and more creatures fleeing.

When I identified the smell of fear, I climbed the oak tree and crouched up there.

The first gunshot was so close that I nearly fell out of the tree in fright. It was followed by a volley of shooting, the bangs so loud that the shock of them jolted the delicate bones of my skull. My ears hurt and hurt and I began to tremble all over. I wished I�d found a safe hole, not this very public oak tree.

More shots, and more, and to my horror I saw a pheasant falling out of the sky, somersaulting horribly, its bright wings flailing. It crashed to the floor close to my tree, and then, even worse, a brown-and-white dog came leaping through the bracken, its tail wagging manically. With elaborate care it picked up the dying bird and carried it away.

The shooting went on and on. Death had come to the wood; the wild creatures who had made it their home were being blown out of the sky. Terrified and upset, I clung to the oak tree and tried not to move. Two men came striding up the track, and I smelled blood. Hanging from their belts were dead pheasants and dead rabbits, swinging limp and upside down, their feet cruelly tied together.

What if they did that to me? The dogs had smelled me. One of them ran round and round the tree, looking up at me and barking.

�What�s up there?� The two men stopped under the tree. They peered up at me. I saw the glint of their eyes and their auras were a grubby red.

�It�s a cat!� said the younger man, and his eyes narrowed. �Bloody feral cats. I hate �em.� He raised his gun and pointed it at me. I stared down at him. He clicked something and his eyes squinted along the shining metal at me.

�No!� cried the other man, and he raised his arm and knocked the gun sideways. �Don�t shoot the poor devil. He might be someone�s lost cat.�

I heard kindness in the voice of this leathery man who had dead birds and rabbits hanging from his belt. I did what came naturally to me. I meowed at him. He looked pleased.�There you are, he�s friendly,� he said. �Feral cats do not meow at people.� I meowed again, louder. I wanted to tell him how frightened I was, and how I was a cat on a journey.

�What are you doing so far from home, puss?� he asked. �Are you lost?�

His concern touched my heart and I did an extended-meow which echoed into the tree. At the same time I eyeballed the dog who whined and retreated behind his master�s legs. Once I�d done that, I wanted to make contact with this man who shot birds but had a heart. I worked my way down to a lower branch and walked along it, nicely, with my tail up.

�My missus would love you,� he said, and even though I was tatty and had burrs in my fur, he added, �Aren�t you beautiful?�

My spirits soared. This man was going to help me, I knew it. The words of the Spirit Lion came back to me. Be smart, he�d said. We touched noses, and I had him.

�You need a bit of TLC, old fella,� he said, and turned to the younger man who�d been going to shoot me. �You take the dogs down and put them in the truck. I�ll bring the cat, if he�ll come.�

�You�re not seriously going to catch a scruffy old thing like that, Alf,� protested the younger man, clipping a lead onto Alf�s dog. �Look at him. He�s a flea bag.�

Alf sighed.�It�s payback time,� he said, patting the orange-red plumage of the dead pheasants that hung from his belt. �You should try it some time.�

�You�re an old softie.� The young man shrugged and set off, laden with his dead birds and his guns. �See ya.�

Alf sat down heavily at the foot of the oak tree. He unclipped the dead pheasants and laid them on the grass. The gunman�s footsteps faded, and peace settled back into the forest. Tiny movements restarted in the leaves and branches, a robin hopping, the twitch of a mouse�s whiskers as he peeped from his hole in the grass. A green woodpecker flew down into the turf and stabbed at an ants� nest with his red-rimmed beak.

Alf didn�t move. He didn�t invite me down or look at me. He just sat, with his blue eyes on the distant hills and trees. He didn�t shoot the woodpecker, but seemed to be enjoying his company.

Observing Alf from my branch, I saw that his aura was not such a grubby red colour now. It was filling with light, the kind of light a wise old soul would have around him � blue, white and gold. He looked up at me.�You coming down, puss?� he asked, and waited until I felt confident that the guns and dogs had gone and we were alone on the golden road. Cautiously I climbed down, eager for a cuddle with Alf. He was the first human I�d been close to for weeks.

I stepped carefully around the dead pheasants and put an exploratory paw on Alf�s knee. A smile glistened in his eyes. �Come on then,� he said, and patted his heart where he wanted me to sit. I crept up his tweedy jacket and arranged myself, stretching out, resting my chin over his sturdy old heart so that he could feel my purring. I wanted to cry like Leroy. After my long, lonely journey, it was such a relief to be close to another being.

�Oh � you�re a healing cat,� he murmured and his hand stroked and stroked my fur, giving me a beautiful head-to-tail massage. We were healing each other. He didn�t care that my fur was in such a state. He loved me for who I was. Timba.

Alf stroked the dead pheasants with his other hand, his eyes sad.�Sometimes I wish I hadn�t shot �em,� he confided. �Sometimes I wonder if, when I die, they�ll all be waiting for me at the pearly gates � all those birds I shot.�

My greatest gift, as a cat, is unconditional love, so I turned the purring up a notch and, when Alf looked down at me, I did a cat smile right into his soul. Then Alf said something amazing.

�I tell you what, puss, since you�re so loving � I�m going to drive you across the bridge and take you home to my missus. Will you come?�

I felt like royalty as Alf drove me down from the forest across the bridge, despite sharing his magnificent car with some dead pheasants. They were dumped in the back and I sat on the front seat. Alf didn�t seem to care that he hadn�t got a cat cage for me. He asked me to sit still, and I did. The car was quiet and high up off the road so it didn�t vibrate like Angie�s car.

This time the river crossing wasn�t so scary. I�d watched the bridge from the hills at night when it was all lights, and nobody fell in the river. The water was so far below that it seemed we were flying across the sky like the starlings I�d envied. I thought of Vati, and felt he would be proud of me for getting myself a lift. Smart cat!

After the bridge, Alf drove on over the next hill, and the next, and my heart leapt when I saw the tall metal tower that Leroy had wanted to climb. In the dark afternoon, it had a light flashing at the top. It would guide me, night and day, nearer and nearer to Vati.

My intention was to say goodbye, nicely, to Alf when he let me out of the car. Then I�d run on, across the blue-green countryside towards the metal tower. Surely my journey would soon come to an end.

It didn�t work out like that. Alf swung the car into a yard with straw and chickens. He picked me up and carried me in his arms to the open door of a house.

Immediately my fur started to bristle, and a voice rang through my mind.�Don�t go in there, Timba.� It was insistent, and it was the voice of the Spirit Lion. I wanted a meal so badly. Something easy and tasty on a plate. I wanted a fire to warm my belly on that chilly day with the twilight deepening over a land that was strange to me. I deserved a bit of comfort. So I clung to Alf�s shoulder as he carried me inside. A woman was sitting in a chair by the fire, knitting, but I hardly saw her.

I froze, and dug my claws into Alf�s jacket.

A fox was looking at me. A real fox with his eyes glassy and his teeth bared. He wasn�t moving, but I swear his fur was bristling and his black nose smelling me.

�Don�t worry about him,� said Alf. �He�s been there twenty years. I call him Bert. Don�t worry, he�s only stuffed.�

Stuffed? I didn�t dare move in case the fox leapt down and savaged me.

�Oh what a lovely cat!� I heard the woman saying, but I heard her through a glaze of terror. It wasn�t just the fox. All over the walls were the glassy-eyed heads of creatures, a stag, a hare, and more foxes.

I couldn�t stand it.

With a thrust of my back legs I escaped from Alf�s grip, and landed on the floor. In my terror I hadn�t noticed where the exit was, and I ran through an open door into another room. On the floor was something even more horrific: it made my back go up and my eyes turn black with fright.

�Leave him. He�ll get used to it,� I heard Alf say.

If Angie had been there, she would have screamed.

Stretched out in the middle of the room was an enormous tiger skin, lying flat with the beautiful colours glowing. At the far end was its head. Compelled to see its eyes, I inched my way round it, my back arched, my ears flat. And when I saw the tiger�s face close up with its gleaming teeth and outraged golden eyes, I hissed and growled. The tiger didn�t react. Like the fox, it had been dead for years. Overwhelming grief was for ever locked into its hard glass eyes.

I looked sadly at its paws. The sensitive pads were gone, and the claws. Only the skin with its lush, richly coloured fur was splayed across the carpet, never moving. And it was a cat. It hadn�t been rescued and pampered like me. Why? I wondered. The question ruffled my fur like a freezing wind.

Alf was standing in the doorway, watching me.�It�s OK, puss,� he said, �it�s dead � been dead for years � it�s a rug now, you can walk on it � look.� He strode forward and placed his muddy boots on the tiger�s beautiful coat, where the colours were so achingly bright. I was appalled.

My terror became a fragment of the global sadness that engulfed me, along with the bewilderment. How could humans be so disrespectful? I glanced at Alf, and saw guilt deep down in his soul, simmering, seeking a way out.�I didn�t shoot him,� he said to me. �Bought him, years ago, at an auction. Splendid, isn�t he? We love him.�

Love him! I couldn�t stay in that house for another minute.

Running scared and low to the ground, I escaped through the open door, and saw the woman, who held a dish of cat food in her hand.�Here you are, puss,� she crooned. I flattened my ears and shot past her into the yard. Chickens flew everywhere, and the dog chased me triumphantly as I streaked across the yard. I ran hard, into unknown country, high hills covered in heather and gorse. The sky was starless and alive with big soft snowflakes, the first snow of winter. Alf�s words rang in my head. �It�s OK, puss.�

It wasn�t OK. It wasn�t. It never would be.

Day after day I ran on through the snow, my paws wet and icy cold. Hunger ached in my belly. Food was hard to find � the mice were tucked up sensibly under the ground, and the birds I stalked saw me too easily, a black cat against the snow. I was getting even thinner and weaker.

When I reached the metal tower, I was exhausted. Its winking light had guided me on starless nights and cloudy days. How long since I�d eaten? I didn�t know, couldn�t remember, and didn�t actually care.

The snow had made a thick crust over the gorse and heather, like a roof. Once I found a way in, there was a different world, a twilight of roots and dry branches, dimly lit under the crystal covering of snow. It was surprisingly warm and spacious, and lots of creatures were getting on with their lives in there: mice, slow-worms and hedgehogs. Grateful for such perfect shelter, I stayed under there for days. Long days when I didn�t see the sky, but if I listened I could hear the snowflakes softly landing on the canopy, making it thicker and thicker. I knew when the sun was shining by the shafts of yellow light beaming through cracks. It tempted me out.

The morning was icy blue and clear, a bitter wind singing through the tall tower. I found shelter under an overhanging clump of bracken, a dry haven the snow hadn�t reached. I dozed and slept through the morning, aware that sleep was not restoring me. I needed food.

After the experience with Alf, I�d chosen to avoid villages, and stay in the open countryside. But now, hunger drove me down over the crisp snow to a row of houses. I mustn�t get caught. I waited until dark, then raided two of the cat flaps, hungrily eating what those lucky cats had left, mostly cheap fishy stuff and hard little rings of dried cat food which took too long to eat when I was thieving.

I felt better, but missed being able to sit and have a leisurely wash in a warm place.

I inspected my paws which were sore from the wedges of hard snow stuck between the pads. Sitting under the heather I managed to wash my face, but trying to clean my thick fur was impossible, and the hairballs made me sick. I felt like giving up. It would have been so easy to turn up on a friendly doorstep with my tail up, and get invited in to sit by a warming fire.

At noon that day, I tried to talk to Vati.�I�m not far away, but it�s so hard. I�m cold and hungry, and my fur is in a mess. Couldn�t you come to meet me?� I asked. Silence. The black, haunted eyes looked blankly into my soul. Nothing had changed. �Why can�t I reach you?� I sent the question, but it hung in the air unanswered.

And then, white as snow, the Spirit Lion padded back into my life. This time he didn�t lie down and wrap me in his love. He simply asked me to follow him through the snow. I trotted after him, focusing on his shining light, and he took me to a ridge where the snowdrifts twinkled in the sun.

�Look, Timba,� he said. �You�re nearly there.�

I sat beside him, gazing at the land below the hills, and my heart leapt when I saw that it was green. Green like summer. There was no snow down there!

Eagerly I ran to sit between his paws, but he wouldn�t let me rest. �Look for the stone tower,� he said, and immediately I saw it, far in the distance, floating like an island in the hazy landscape. My pads tingled. That same sacred energy, deep in the earth, was there, even in the snow. It cut through the land like a silver sword, and rightat the end I could see Vati, sitting in his barrel � waiting for me, his eyes just a breath away from a sparkle.

�You must go now,� the Spirit Lion said. �More snow is coming, thick snow that will cover the green earth for many weeks. You are weak, Timba. Go now � NOW � while you still have strength.�

He was trying to tell me I could die in the snow if I didn�t move fast. I dumped the depression and the despair, and raced down the hill, through the blue shadows of hedges and gates, across lanes and through copses. By the end of the day I was down there in the green grass, and there were still mice around!

The golden road became a real road and this time it was raised on a high bank as it led through the levels. Deep ditches and knobbly willow trees lined the route and there was no traffic. Only the occasional loud tractor bounced past while I hid in the dead clumps of reeds. A few fields away was a busy road with lorries and cars.

When I paused to look back at the snow-covered hills with the metal tower, slate-coloured clouds were rolling, and the north wind howled through the willow trees. The blizzard was chasing me. The Spirit Lion was still with me, a flare of light brighter than the white snow. He was watching me, and that was comforting. Encouraged, I ran on, searching for signs of home. I still thought of Graham�s house as �home�. It had been my first real home and I loved it.

The longing and the ache of loneliness kept me moving, imagining the blissful sleep I would have by the fire, the plate of Whiskas rabbit in the cosy kitchen. And the welcome! The joy of being in Graham�s huge arms again, the warm comfort of the sofa, the sparkle in Vati�s eyes as he welcomed me. The touch and smell of my beloved brother.

I was SO looking forward to being home that I ran faster and faster, only stopping to shake the wet snow off my fur. My paws stung with cold, and I felt wretchedly tired. But Vati was close. I could feel him.

I crossed a field into a lane. Everything was different and muffled under the fresh snow. I followed one of the hard, slippery wheel tracks, finding it easier on the hard-packed, yellowish snow.

With one paw in the air, I paused by a gateway to listen. All around me was the muted patter of snowflakes, and the crack of twigs as the north wind tore through the trees. A child�s voice crying. A woman�s voice. And then � an old familiar sound that told me I was home.

�Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, AH.�

I belted across the lawn with snow flying from my fur, and charged through the dear old cat flap.

And in that moment I was a kitten again, full of hope and unconditional love. I shook myself, put my tail up, and swanned into the lounge.

Chapter Sixteen

YOU SMELLY OLD CAT

Vati was hunched in the corner of the sofa. His fur had lost its gloss, and his hip bones stuck out either side of his spine. His face was pixie-like and thin, his eyes black and frightened. He saw me, but he didn�t come to greet me. He didn�t move at all.

I jumped onto the sofa, my fur and paws soaking wet. Did Vati even know it was snowing? Why wasn�t he sitting in the window watching? I was overjoyed to see my brother again, and happy to be in the warm house which had once been my home. I wanted to give Vati lots of love and healing, so I immediately set about licking him, rubbing cheeks and purring. He didn�t respond.

�I�m here now,� I said. �I�ll take care of you.� Telling him about my long journey didn�t seem appropriate. Vati was traumatised, and maybe I was the only person who could bring him out of it. Words were pretty useless, so I purred and made a fuss of Vati. He lay there unmoving, like a china cat. I looked at his eyes, and they had a flat frowny line over the top lids. In the end I lay down and leaned against him, wrapping my tail round his back and letting my loud purr fill both our bodies.

Vati did look at me then, hesitantly, as if he didn�t dare to move. Then a chubby little girl toddled into the room. She squealed with delight when she saw me, and ran to stroke me. �Big new pussy cat!� she called, and Lisa appeared from the kitchen.

She gasped when she saw me on the sofa with Vati.�Don�t touch him, Heidi,� she snapped and pulled the little girl away. Then she screamed at me. �GET OUT, you smelly old cat!�

Astonished, I looked at her and purred. I even gave her a cat smile. But she went berserk, picked up a newspaper and swiped me as if I was a wasp.�Get OUT!� she screamed. �OUT�!�

I didn�t move, but I was shocked at being hit like that. Surely she hadn�t meant it. Had she?

She shrieked for Graham.�There�s a dreadful smelly old cat on the sofa, and it won�t move.�

I assumed Graham would come in and be pleased to see me. We�d been buddies, I thought proudly.

�Sorry, love. I�m late now and it�s snowing. I�ve got to go,� he called from the hall. �You deal with it. See you later. Bye.�

�MEN,� said Lisa angrily. �NO, Heidi � leave the cat alone. You are not to touch it. NO.�

Heidi began to cry like Leroy, and Lisa picked up the screaming child and dumped her in a round playpen in the kitchen. When she came back she had a broom in her hand.

�OUT,� she insisted and tried to sweep me off the sofa! I was appalled, and a bit frightened. I wasn�t going to leave Vati now that I�d travelled so many miles to find him. I crouched against the back of the sofa, shut my eyes, and clung on with my claws.

�You�re wet and disgusting. WILL YOU GO OUT!� Lisa screamed. �I don�t want you here. Have you got that, you stinking old feral cat? I don�t want you.�

Vati didn�t move. He seemed resigned to this sort of behaviour. I looked steadily at Lisa�s eyes and saw that she was afraid to pick me up or touch me. She was making a pantomime with a broom to scare me out.

I stayed put, and felt a glimmer of something resembling gratitude from Vati. He needed me. I had come to be his support cat. I radiated that thought to Lisa, and when she found I wasn�t going to let her chase me out, she gave up and threw the broom against the wall. �You wait till Graham gets home,� she warned. �He�ll deal with you,� and she took Heidi upstairs.

Meanwhile, Vati had gone back into his shell. The moment of response I�d worked so hard for had been crushed by Lisa�s hysteria. I�d have to start all over again, coaxing and encouraging my frozen brother.

First I needed to eat, so I headed for the kitchen where I found a cat dish with the dreaded dried food in it. So boring. I needed something succulent and sustaining, so I picked at the fridge door with both paws, pulling and pulling until it swung open. I stood there, sniffing the cornucopia of delicious smells. I pulled out a slab of cheese, but it was tightly sealed in plastic, so I left it on the floor for later. Standing up on my hind legs I inspected the next shelf, and pulled at some tin foil with my teeth. It floated, crackling, to the floor. Under it was a plate of cooked chicken. WOW! I meowed at Vati, but he still sat there like a china cat.

I pulled some chunks out onto the floor, and tucked into the best meal I�d had for months. I ate until I was satisfied, then picked up a really choice piece of chicken and carried it through to Vati. A fleeting look of surprise passed through his eyes. He sniffed the chicken, and gave it a lick. Then he pushed it away with his nose. It fell on the carpet and he resumed his frozen cat pose.

I felt like swiping him.

Instead, I sat beside him, washing and purring. Then I wrapped myself around him and drifted into sleep, warm and comfortable for the first time since leaving my home with Angie and Leroy. The north wind was blowing snow against the windows, and Graham�s mother�s clock still ticked and chimed. I could hear the beat of my heart and the anxious beat of Vati�s. We�d always slept intertwined. Now it was me doing the twining, and Vati sitting there like a stone.

Surprisingly, it was my sleeping and my silent presence that slowly began to unlock Vati. There was a magic moment when I felt him relax against me. He snuggled into my fur with a little sigh, as if he�d waited through a long hard time for the comfort of my brother love. Half asleep, I did a mini purr-meow to encourage him, and I felt his paws reach out and slowly wrap themselves around me.

The magic of the forest seemed there as we slept deeply. The tiny beings of light had somehow stayed with me, and blessed me. Now they clustered over both of us, and the warm radiance of my aura flooded into Vati�s pale thin rim of light, energising and restoring him. I didn�t have to do anything. Only love. And love brings light in all its myriad forms.

Loving Vati back to life was the easiest, most beautiful and nurturing experience. After the long hard journey, it was a sacred gift of contentment, and I knew that, no matter what the humans did, they couldn�t take that away from us. We were twin souls, Timba and Vati, named after the White Lions who had come to save the world.

I woke briefly and saw Vati nestled into me, his face turned upwards in a smile, and I asked for time. Time for the healing to be complete, before the humans came back and tore our lives apart. I longed for Angie and Leroy. Here, with Graham and Lisa, I wasn�t sure what would happen.

Lisa had called me a smelly old cat! Maybe she was only seeing my matted fur, not ME. It hurt. A lot. But I tried not to think about it. I focused on remembering Vati. He�d been such a bright spirit, such fun to play with, and full of mysterious knowledge. He was a hypersensitive cat, a gift of pure gold to the human race � so what had happened to him? I still didn�t know.

I was glad it was Graham, and not Lisa, who came in at the end of the afternoon, stamping the snow from his shoes and leaving them on the mat. He padded into the lounge, and recognised me immediately.

�Timba!� He stared down at me, and I gave him a cat smile and a purr-meow. I didn�t want to disturb Vati.

�I don�t believe it!� Graham said incredulously. �How did you get here, Timba? Surely � surely you didn�t find your way from South Wales!�

I did one of my yes-meows, and because Graham knew me so well, he understood. He sat down on the floor and looked at me with respect and compassion. Very welcome, after the way Lisa had treated me! I wanted to touch noses with Graham, but I felt committed to keeping still for Vati�s sake. I appreciated Graham bringing his face close to me so that we could touch noses. I felt emotional, so did he, judging by the tears in his eyes. He stroked my fur tenderly, his fingers touching the burrs and tangles. �You ARE in a sorry state, Timba,� he said. �And you came through all that snow! Poor fellow. And how did you get across the river? Oh Timba! All that way. What a brave, clever cat.�

Graham was talking to me so kindly, I wanted to cry. I kept doing my yes-meows in response. He looked at Vati who was still curled like a seashell, his chin upwards, looking blissful as he snuggled into my thick fur.�Vati needed you,� Graham said, �and you knew, didn�t you, Timba? Poor little Vati. I feel so, so guilty � I wish ��

He was going to tell me what had happened. I tensed, hearing Lisa coming down the stairs. She opened the door cautiously, peering through.�Have you got rid of it?� she demanded.

Graham looked sheepish, but he kept stroking me.

�Lisa, this is Timba,� he said. �He�s found his way here, alone, from South Wales for goodness� sake! Two hundred miles.�

�I don�t care, Graham. He�s DISGUSTING. I want him out of our house.�

Graham kept his hand on me protectively.�I am not going to chuck Timba out in the snow,� he said steadily. �He can�t help being a bit scruffy after a journey like that.�

�A bit scruffy!� Lisa looked at me angrily. �He stinks to high heaven, and he�s got fleas, and he�s made the sofa such a mess, Graham, and what about Heidi?�

�What about her? She�s OK, isn�t she? Is she in bed?�

�She�s asleep, thank God. Otherwise she�d be all over that filthy cat. Graham, it�s a health hazard, and I want it out.�

�You�re overreacting, darling. I repeat � I am not going to chuck him out. He�s staying right here until Angie can collect him.�

�Have you phoned her?�

�No � I�ve only been here for five minutes. I�ll phone Angie in the fullness of time.�

�The fullness of time! And meanwhile our home � your daughter�s home � is being messed up and � oh my God � is that a piece of chicken on the floor?�

�Where?�

�You�re nearly sitting on it.�

Graham turned and saw Vati�s piece of chicken where he had dropped it. He picked it up and put it on the sofa.

�Don�t put it on the sofa! It�s made enough mess on the carpet. We�ll have germs everywhere. Do you want Heidi to get salmonella?�

Graham refused to get ruffled. He waggled the piece of chicken and winked at me.�Who raided the fridge then?� he teased. �Tut tut! You know what, Lisa? This cat can actually open the fridge. He�s brought Vati a meal. Isn�t that sweet?�

�Stop being so infuriating.� Lisa�s aura was hanging in shreds. She stamped her foot and yelled at Graham. �OK � either you sort these cats or I�m packing my bag, taking Heidi to stay with my mum. Right now.� She turned and went out, slamming the door and making Vati jump. I purred into his ear and gave him a lick on the top of his head, and he settled back into sleep.

Graham sighed and rolled his eyes.

�I�d better ring Angie,� he said. �She�ll be ecstatic.�

In the deep of the night I found out what was wrong with Vati, and it was worse than anything I could have imagined.

As always, I awoke at midnight. I heard Graham�s mother�s clock chiming all of its chimes. I disentangled myself from Vati and climbed up to my favourite windowsill. The snowstorm was over, and a yellow moon shone on the silent snow. Each twig and branch of the apple tree was encrusted with glitter.

It occurred to me that, in the morning, I wouldn�t have to be on a journey. I was free to eat and play! First, I raided the fridge again and found the rest of the chicken. I took the best, most succulent chunk to Vati. This time he looked at me, and he did eat a little bit. Once he�d done that, he ate more, then he sat up and stared at me.I stared back and saw that he wanted me to notice the pain in his mystic eyes.

�So what happened?� I asked.

Silently Vati held out his front paw to me. It looked strange, and there was a sense of heat and pain. I sniffed it, then Vati silently held out the other one. It was the same.

�What happened?� I asked again.

I waited, and Vati began to cry and cry, the way a very distressed cat cries, in little squeaks and growls. His pain was beyond words, and it wasn�t physical pain, from an accident or illness. Vati had been assaulted. His beautiful paws, such a tender part of this sensitive little cat, had been deliberately damaged.

My dreams of playing in the snow with Vati disappeared under a black cloud. I let him cry, and sat close, licking and comforting him as best I could. When he had cried enough, he did manage to tell me the appalling truth.

�They took my claws away,� he said, and flexed his toes so that I could understand. His magnificent claws had gone. Just gone! And to Vati it felt as if his whole life had been ruined. He was no longer joyful and free to play and climb. He couldn�t defend himself. And he felt violated.

No wonder I had sensed that Vati was willing himself to die.

�Why?� I asked, devastated.

�Heidi pulled my tail, really hard,� he said. �It hurt all along my spine, and she wouldn�t stop it, so I scratched her. Then Lisa got the broom and chased me outside, and the next day when I was eating my breakfast, she grabbed me and put me in the cat cage. She took me to the vet and told him she wanted me de-clawed. Rick refused to do it, so she drove me to another vet and he did it � put me to sleep, and when I woke up my front paws were burning with pain. I couldn�t walk, and I couldn�t balance. I couldn�t believe what they�d done to me.�

�That�s terrible,� I said, and felt his pain intensely in my own paws, and in my heart.

�And it�s for ever,� Vati said.

I felt powerless and angry. Was this what the Spirit Lion had felt? Shocked beyond words at the cruelty imposed by humans. I seriously considered taking Vati off into the wild. We would travel on the golden road and live in the forest, in secret, away from humans, for the rest of our lives. I pledged never to leave my brother again.

The instant I thought about him, the Spirit Lion appeared. Vati�s eyes grew luminous and round and his aura brightened around his sleek fur. We were lying side by side, and the lion cupped us both in velvet paws. A lion purrs differently to a cat, only on the out-breath, but the purr is loud, like a drum roll. We snuggled together in the bliss of his light. I sensed that Vati had not purred since losing his claws, but he did now, and hearing his economical little purr blending with my loud one was calming and uplifting.

�You are not powerless, Timba,� breathed the Spirit Lion, �because you can love, and it�s never too late for love.� He looked at Vati tenderly. �You two cats have a destiny. You must stay together now, but not in the wild. Vati needs care. He can�t get his claws back, but he can learn to live again with your encouragement, Timba � something you�re so good at.�

I glowed with joy. To be praised at such a time was brilliant.

�Both you cats can teach and inspire,� added the Spirit Lion, and he showed me Leroy who was far away in South Wales, awake and at the window watching that same yellow moon on the snow. �Humans cannot teach Leroy. He has encrypted knowledge and courage to follow his dreams. He needs love inabundance, for he has chosen a lonely path. Every day of his life he faces bullying and hostility from those who seek to disempower him, yet he keeps a cheerful heart.�

�So what can we teach him?� I asked.

�Unconditional love. Always and for ever. And from the source, all good intentions flow. Power and courage and understanding. Unconditional love is the beginning of healing and the gateway to true knowledge.�

The Spirit Lion gave a huge sigh.�Remind him � and Angie � to have fun, for humour is the bridge over troubled waters.�

I felt him vanishing into the crystal silence of the snow.�Stay together,� he whispered, and left us, curled close in Vati�s corner of the sofa.

At first light, Lisa tiptoed downstairs and threw me a look of pure hatred. She came towards me, her hands engulfed in a pair of yellow rubber gloves. Then she changed her mind, and went into the kitchen. She slammed the fridge closed, took a roll of sticky tape from a drawer and taped the cat flap shut! She opened the door to the garden and cold air came in like smoke.

With her hands spread wide she approached me again. She was tense, and breathing fast, her eyes watching me. I got it. Lisa was going to grab me with those horrible yellow gloves, and chuck me out in the snow.

Vati sensed it too. He looked at Lisa and did the extended-meow. It was an appeal, straight from the heart.�Don�t take my brother away,� but Lisa kept coming. I dug myself in, pressed against the back of the sofa.

She grabbed me, but I hung on, hooking my claws into the upholstery. She pulled and pulled, but I resisted. She was panting now.�Come on � come on. You are going OUT,� she muttered, and I did something I�d never done before. I growled at her like a dog, and glared into her frustrated eyes. Vati joined in, growling and making a terrible fish face.

�You stubborn old bugger,� she ranted, and let me go. She was shaking all over. She went back into the kitchen, tore the tape off the cat flap and flung the yellow rubber gloves into a cupboard.

Vati and I looked at each other triumphantly. Round one � to Timba and Vati!

Chapter Seventeen

HEALING THE HURT

�Why do people keep calling me old?� I asked Vati. �I�m a young cat.�

�It�s your fur,� he said tactfully. �It needs a good sort-out.�

�Angie would know what to do,� I said, and we both looked serious. It occurred to me that Vati looked better and was responding to me now. I remembered what the Spirit Lion had said about fun. �We�re getting too serious,� I said, and looked around for the catnip mouse. Lisa had gone upstairs, so I got down and found it tucked away in a little basket under the window. Pleased, I took it over to Vati and put it under his nose. Light flashed through his eyes, just for a second, and I waited for him to play with it. Instead, he pushed it away and bunched his paws under himself again, setting his face back into frozen mode.

So I opted for a mad half-hour on my own � in this house I knew so well. Maybe Vati would join in, I thought, flinging the catnip mouse into the air. I took it over to Graham�s shoes and stuffed it into the toe. Then I had fun getting it out and chased it around. I even got bold and took it to the top of the stairs and dropped it through the banisters. I pretended not to notice Vati�s eyes on me, with that fleeting light of interest flickering through them. He wanted to play. Give me a few days and I�ll have him playing, I thought.

I got wilder and wilder, tearing up and down the stairs and over the back of the sofa, skidding along the kitchen floor and crumpling the rug that was in there. I found one of Heidi�s teddy bears and gave it a beating. I got right on top of it and kicked it with my back legs. Then I grabbed it by one ear, skidded along the kitchen worktop with it, and dropped it in the washing-up bowl. I hadn�t had so much fun for weeks.

But the sound of a door being opened upstairs sent me bounding back onto the sofa. I dug myself in, next to Vati. My eyes were wild and my fur itching like mad. I scratched furiously, scattering fluff all over the sofa.

It was Graham. Phew!

I wanted to tell him exactly how Lisa made me feel, how it had hurt to be called a smelly old cat at the end of a long, long journey, so I did an amplified extended-meow. He listened, and sat down beside us, smelling of shower gel and bundled in his cuddly blue towelling robe.�Don�t worry, Timba,� he said, �I�ve been chucked out of bed to ring Angie � catch her before she goes to work.�

I stared into Graham�s eyes and studied the strange mixture of kindliness and guilt. It was rare for me to do two amplified extended-meows � one was usually enough � but I wanted him to know how much Vati was suffering, so I did another one, and put my paw on Vati�s bony little head.

�Oh dear � I know, I know, Timba,� Graham said. �Vati is not a happy cat. I�ll have to tell Angie. She�ll go ballistic.�

He invited me onto his lap to listen to the phone call, but I was determined to stay close to Vati. We both listened to the sound of Angie�s phone ringing.

�Hello, this is Angie.�

When I heard that beautiful, warm, expectant voice again, I was overwhelmed with joy. Vati was listening too, and his eyes shimmered green as he looked at me. Is this really happening? he was thinking. We sat up, side by side, gazing attentively into the phone. I half expected a plate of Whiskas rabbit to come whizzing down the line. And a brush. That�s what Angie would have for me: a brush to heal my fur, and an angel cuddle to heal my soul.

�Graham!� she said brightly. �Why so early?�

�I tried to get you last night,� he said.

�Parents� evening,� said Angie. �It went on for ever. So come on � spill. Graham, it�s not like you to ring at this time. Has somebody died?�

�No,� said Graham, and his eyes sparkled with pleasure at what he was going to tell her. �Guess who turned up here?�

�Who?�

�Timba.�

�TIMBA! Surely not?�

�Yes, it�s Timba. He�s OK, here on the sofa right next to me.�

There was a brief silence. Then we heard the scream of joy that made Graham smile. Even Vati narrowed his eyes and gave a ghost of a cat smile. I could see how much Vati wanted Angie. He needed her healing love, desperately.

�But, Graham,� Angie said, �Timba went missing last autumn � it�s February now. Are you sure it�s him?�

�One hundred per cent,� said Graham, and he stroked the top of my head. �Purr for Angie.� He held the phone close to my face. I did yet another amplified extended-meow, and was rewarded with a second scream of joy.

�That sounds like Timba. It IS him. Oh my God! Oh wow � I can�t stop crying. Oh Timba � you found your way down there � two hundred miles � oh you darling, darling, clever cat. I can�t stop crying. Oh THANK YOU, UNIVERSE!�

Graham beamed from ear to ear.�A long time since I�ve heard THAT,� he said.

�Is he really OK?� Angie asked. �All his legs and tail � no injuries?�

�No. He�s in full working order,� said Graham. �His fur is a mess, and he was hungry � but he hasn�t forgotten how to open the fridge.�

�I LOVE it!� Angie said. I wondered what she would say if she knew that Lisa had called me a smelly old cat. �Hang on a minute, Graham � I�ve got to wake Leroy.� We listened and heard Angie�s swift footsteps, and the squeak of Leroy�s bedroom door. She didn�t yell at him, but whispered, �Wake up, Leroy. Fantastic news. You�ve got to wake up.�

There was a subterranean grunt of protest.

�Graham�s got Timba. And he�s OK.�

�Aw! Is that true, Angie? No kidding?�

�No kidding. Timba is BACK.�

We heard them bang their hands together and shout,�YES!�

�Gimme the phone,� Leroy said, and then I heard another sound I�d longed for on my lonely journey. A scratchy voice saying, �Hello, Timba.� I did purr-meows then, a whole stream of them. �Where you been, Timba? I missed you. I cried lots,� Leroy said.

�He�s kissing the phone,� Graham said, laughing at me.

I imagined Leroy�s bright face. The ache in my heart had gone, and I felt the love from both my humans. I felt like the luckiest cat on the Planet.

�He�s purring now.� Graham was still beaming from ear to ear, and he let me purr into the phone. I knew it had to be loud. That purr had to go rippling across the miles, over the shining river, through the dark forest, to reach my loved ones.

�Can you come and fetch him, Angie? Or shall I bring him up there?�

�Of course I�ll come and fetch him. Wild horses wouldn�t stop me,� Angie said. �Thank goodness it�s a Saturday. What�s the snow like at your end?�

�It�s thawing,� Graham said, looking at the window. I followed his gaze and saw the morning sun shining on melting crusts of crystal, diamond bright, sliding down the glass.

Graham didn�t stop smiling until he saw Lisa, her spine straight like an icicle, her face stiff with hatred. We all looked at her, and the energy changed. I moved myself between her and Vati, and hooked my claws into her sofa. Smelly old cat, was I? Then a smelly old cat I�d be, proud and magnificent, and fierce.

No one, not even Angie, was going to separate me from Vati. So what would I do when she came to fetch me?

Graham tried to take me to the vet before Angie arrived. I didn�t want to go, especially after what Vati had told me. Lisa might have me de-clawed too! So once again, I dug myself into the sofa, and as fast as Graham tried to unhook my claws, I clamped them in again.

�You really are being very difficult, Timba,� he said, exasperated. But when I looked at him and wailed plaintively, he got the message. �I know, you don�t want to leave Vati, do you? Well, he could come with us.� Vati threw Graham a withering look and went straight under the sofa. Graham sat down and put his head in his hands. �My life is full of difficult cats � and difficult women,� he complained, eyeing Lisa who was supervising from the doorway, with Heidi bright-eyed in her arms.

�Well, I am not � repeat am not � getting lunch for HER,� Lisa said, and I knew she meant Angie. Odd that Angie also referred to Lisa as HER. �And I want a new sofa. Tomorrow.�

Graham persuaded the vet to come to us. It was Rick, and I remembered him. He was a radiant being of light. Even Vati came out to inspect him, and once he saw that Graham had put the cat cage away, he crept back into his corner of the sofa. Rick sat down on the sofa with his long legs stretched out. I arranged myself over his heart, and he didn�t seem to mind my tatty fur. �You are a loving old boy,� he said.

�He�s only a young cat,� Graham said. �And he�s just been on a journey � two hundred miles � to find his brother. That�s why his fur is such a mess.�

�It will have to be cut, and allowed to grow back,� said Rick, stroking me with his long translucent fingers. �But I won�t do that. I�ll leave you a leaflet about long-furred cats, and I suggest Angie does that for him when she gets him home. We need to go one step at a time with Timba.He�s had a huge trauma.�

Rick was a genius of a vet. A secret healer. He managed to love me and give me two injections which were over before I knew it. He put some drops on me to make the fleas go away, and put stuff in my ears to stop the ear mites, all the time loving me and talking to me.

When he had finished, he didn�t just dump me, but let me stay stretched out on his body so he could feel my purr and my gratitude. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed Vati was sitting up and looking intently at Rick.

�So, what�s wrong with this little cat?� he asked. �Vati, is it?�

Graham looked guilty.�My wife had him de-clawed,� he explained. �He�s a sensitive cat and he was a real personality� but it changed him. He�s never been the same since. He doesn�t play, he hardly eats � as you can see.�

Vati held out his paw to Rick, his green eyes shimmering with pain. The two men looked moved. Silently Vati put his paw down and held out the other one. Rick took it gently and closed his hand around it.�Poor Vati,� he murmured, and his hand shone with celestial light. It changed colour, from blazing white to soothing emerald green, bathing Vati�s hurt paw in healing love.

We all sat respectfully still, for this was magic. Magic so rare and sensitive that it needed total peace in order to work. In those moments I heard the drip-drip of melting snow from the garden, the tick-tick of Graham�s mother�s clock, and my purring sending its ripples through the silence.

Rick closed his eyes, and seemed to be listening to something. The words came through, glimmering and slow, but strong, each one touching the pain that was knotted into the little cat�s heart. Vati was alert and listening, soaking up the healing as if it were sunshine on his fur.

�We can�t give you back your claws, Vati,� Rick said, �but you can learn to walk again, and play again. You mustn�t try to climb trees, but you can leap and run, and play with Timba.�

The light in Rick�s hands changed to a powerful resonant blue, and he moved them gently to touch the little cat�s head. �Let go, Vati,� he said, �let go of all the anger. Send it into the light and let it vanish for ever.� Vati gave a deep sigh and I saw the darkness leave his aura. �It can no longer harm you,� Rick said. �You are free.�

Sometimes I understood that certain things happen for a reason. It was meant to be. Rick was meant to be there, to heal Vati. And when Graham had tried to lift me from the sofa, I�d been given lion strength to resist. So Rick had come to the house, on his day off, he said, and given us his time.

I noticed Lisa, one arm holding Heidi and the other carefully wheeling a suitcase through the hall. I heard the click of car doors, and the businesslike whirr of her car as she left the house. For ever, said a voice in my mind. It�s for ever.

�Do you mind if I hang around for an hour or so?� Rick asked. �I�d like to finish this work I�m doing with Vati � and see Angie when she arrives.�

�Sure,� Graham said. �I�ll make some coffee.�

�No,� Rick said quietly. �It�s important that you sit here with me, Graham. Don�t break this healing circle we�ve created for Vati. We need your energy.�

Graham rolled his eyes, as if he was going to say something scathing about�mumbo-jumbo�, but Rick looked at him with steel in his eyes. �Will you hold Timba now?� he asked. �I want to see if Vati will come to me.� Rick airlifted me to Graham�s chest where I continued purring, and arranged myself so that I could see Vati.

Vati knew he was inside a bubble of magic. Moving gracefully, he slipped onto Rick�s chest like a piece of velvet. He lay gazing at Rick, his hurt paws stretched out. Graham�s mother�s clock went on ticking, the melting snow dripping, and I saw the stars come down. One soft bright star on each of Vati�s paws, and a pure blue star for his mind.

Like the star lion in the sky.

The timing was perfect.

When the healing was complete, Vati jumped down and stretched. He put his tail up and wove himself around Graham�s ankles. �That�s the first time he�s had his tail up!� Graham said, and Vati meowed at him and headed for the kitchen.

�Don�t give him that dried food,� Rick said. �He needs something juicy.�

Graham opened two sachets of Whiskas and put them in a bowl for us to share. Vati ate ravenously, and we shared without growling, best friends and brothers.

Soon we were sitting side by side, gazing into the fire and appreciating its bright warmth, while Rick and Graham talked over coffee.

�How did you learn to do that kind of healing?� Graham asked. �Spiritual healing, is it? I bet you didn�t learn that at uni.�

�No, I didn�t,� Rick said. �A wonderful old lady taught me � Mrs Lanbrow.�

I did a purr-meow and stared at Rick.�Yes, Timba � you remember her. She rescued you and brought you in when you were a kitten.�

�It certainly seems to work,� Graham said, frowning. �I�ve never believed in all that stuff � but look at Vati now!�

My priority was to stay with Vati. I had made that perfectly clear. So what would happen when Angie came to collect me?

The sound of her car was bittersweet for me. The love, the ache of longing had stayed in my heart through my long lonely journey. I wanted Angie. I wanted Leroy. Yet now, as I sat expectantly looking at the door, my thoughts were tinged with anxiety. Even as those quick, beloved footsteps sounded, the idea of making a run for freedom came into my mind. But how would Vati survive in the wild without claws? Could I do the work of two cats? Protecting and feeding both of us, living for ever with matted fur and aching hunger, and a lonely heart?

�Don�t do it, Timba. Don�t even THINK about it.� The voice of the Spirit Lion boomed in my head. He was there, in the room with us. I could see his light as he prowled around, for a reason I had yet to discover.

�Come in, Angie,� Graham called, and stood up eagerly. He�s still in love with her, I thought.

Leroy burst in, his eyes finding me immediately, his face lighting up with passion. I did the loudest meow EVER and found myself trotting across the room with my tail up.

�TIMBA!�

Leroy couldn�t speak. He picked me up and in wordless joy buried his face in my fur.

�Darling cat!� Leroy let me go and I climbed over to Angie, and wrapped my paws around her neck. I did a whole stream of purr-meows, and licked the tears from her face.

�Aren�t you going to say it?� Graham asked, beaming.

�Say what?�

�Thank you, Universe,� he teased.

Angie smiled into his eyes. They looked at each other for a long moment.�When I can stop crying,� Angie said, and Graham took THE HANKY from his top pocket and handed it to her. �Oh dear � I�ve missed this hanky too � it�s good to see you, Graham � and, yes � thank you, Universe!�

�Let me have Timba � please, Angie,� Leroy said, and I went, purring, back to him and touched noses. Leroy had grown taller and stronger. His aura was huge, and he seemed quieter, more grown-up.

�You�ve had a long drive in the snow,� Graham said. �Will you stay and have lunch? Lisa�s not here, but we can have toast and soup, or something.�

�OK, thanks. Then we�ll take Timba home,� Angie said, and no one seemed to notice Vati who was sitting on the rug, watching everyone, his eyes lonely and anxious. He didn�t want me to go. What should I do? I looked at the sunshine now streaming through the window, drying the last drops ofmelted snow.

�Don�t run away again, Timba,� said Leroy, as if he�d read my mind. He stroked me thoughtfully. �We�ve got to sort your fur out � make you all nice and glossy again.�

A lot of talking went on over lunch, and Vati slept, but I kept awake, listening for clues, and watching the white light from the Spirit Lion who had settled along the back of the sofa where Rick and Leroy sat with trays on their laps. The Spirit Lion was waiting for something to happen, and it did.

Leroy took a mobile phone out of his pocket and showed it to Rick.�I got a smartphone now,� he said proudly. �Would you like to see my art work?�

�OK. Yeah � show me,� said Rick, with not much enthusiasm.

�It�s awesome,� said Angie.

Leroy was flicking the screen, his eyes sparkling with excitement.�I only do lions,� he said, and began to show Rick his pictures. �These are the White Lions of Timbavati in Africa.�

Rick came alive. He stared at the pictures in stunned silence.�You didn�t do these, did you?�

Leroy nodded.

�They are � mind-blowing. Brilliant!� said Rick, and looked intensely at Leroy. �So why the White Lions?�

�They came to save the world,� Leroy said, and he began to talk fast and passionately. �There�s only a few of them left � three hundred in the wild, and some are in zoos. In Africa they believe the White Lions came from the stars � Angie�s reading me the book.�

�Oh I know about them, Leroy,� said Rick. �I�ve been there�to Timbavati, and seen the White Lions. I went on a volunteer conservation scheme, when I was training to be a vet.�

Leroy stared at him in awe.�I�m gonna go there when I�m old enough � aren�t I, Angie? I�m gonna help the White Lions change the world.�

�I don�t know about changing the world,� said Rick. �But it changed my life, going there. I didn�t want to come home. But it�s not easy to raise the money, Leroy, and you need to be a strong person ��

�I don�t care.� Leroy looked fierce. �I�m a good survivor, aren�t I, Angie?�

�But these pictures are extraordinary. They�d love them at the Timbavati Centre.�

�When I�ve got enough,� said Leroy, �Angie�s gonna help me frame them, and I�m gonna have an exhibition and sell them for loadsa money. Then I can buy a plane ticket and go to Timbavati and work with the White Lions.�

�You�re deadly serious, aren�t you?� Rick said.

�Yeah � deadly serious.� Leroy stared at Rick, and the light of the Spirit Lion was all around him. �I don�t want to do nothing else � and I don�t care what anyone else thinks. No one�s gonna stop me.�

His words were electric, and even Graham and Angie were listening to him, spellbound. And Vati�s eyes were dancing all over the place, watching the sparks and the light of the Spirit Lion.

�I believe you,� said Rick. �You�re an amazing young man. How old are you?�

�Twelve.�

�Wow. You are so talented,� said Rick, �and determined. I really believe you�ll do exactly that � and good luck! I shall come to your exhibition, and I�ll be the first to buy one of those incredible lion pictures.�

Leroy beamed.�Can I have your mobile number, and your email?� he asked. �I�ll add you to my contact list. BUT,� he added, wagging his finger at Rick, �those pictures are gonna be EXPENSIVE.�

My dilemma was solved for me very neatly later that day when Angie picked Vati up for a cuddle.�Poor little Vati, he�s so thin,� she said tenderly, and Vati stared at her intently. �He�s not himself, Graham. What�s wrong with him?�

Graham sighed and started tapping his fingers on the chair arm.�I�m afraid Vati has never been the same since Lisa had him de-clawed.�

There was a furious silence, and Angie�s face went crimson.

�WHAT?�

Vati nearly jumped out of her arms with fright. Immediately she lowered her voice, and calmed him.�It�s OK, darling,� she whispered tenderly. �Let me see those darling paws.�

Vati started to tremble again, and wriggled out of her arms. He came and sat with me, pressing himself into my fur as close as he could get.

He really needs me, I thought, and looked at the afternoon sunshine gilding the window. If we were going to escape, it had to be very soon.

�That�s appalling,� Angie said. �How could she? How did you allow it, Graham?�

Graham faced her angry eyes calmly.�Lisa just did it, without telling me. She was paranoid about him scratching Heidi.�

�Poor, poor little Vati. I can�t bear it!� Angie ranted on and on.

Graham listened kindly, and even dared to put his arm around her shoulders. She shook him off.�Don�t touch me,� she flared. �I�m so angry. You could have stopped her, surely. She must have said something.� Angie seemed to be boiling over with rage she had bottled up for years. �You and THAT BLOODY LISA,� she stormed. �She ruined my life, now she�s ruined Vati�s life. How would she like to be de-clawed and have her precious fingernails pulled out?�

Leroy sat cross-legged on the hearth rug, his hands stroking both of us, his eyes watching Angie.�I got the answer,� he said firmly and both heads turned to look at him. �Vati�s going to be OK if he stays with Timba. Can�t we take Vati with us?�

There was an uneasy silence. Angie looked at Graham.�Well?�

Graham drummed his fingers faster on the chair arm.�I love that little cat,� he admitted, �but Leroy�s right. Timba and Vati need to be together � Vati�s already more alive since Timba came � so, yes � I�ll let him go.�

Problem solved!

Vati and I were to travel together, in the luxurious basket � we were going home to live with Leroy and Angie. Over the blue hills, across the shining river, and through the dark forest.

I only wished that Graham was coming too. There was a loneliness that hung around him now, a desolation of the soul. Like the rest of us, he needed Angie. He�d made a terrible mistake and his life was in its shadow.

Graham and I had been buddies. And he�d stuck up for me against Lisa and her broom. I decided to go and say thank you to him nicely. Humans don�t like their men to cry, but as I lay on his chest, gazing and purring, I could feel that his huge body was tight with tears. I tried, but he held on to them.

I expected Vati to go under the sofa when Leroy brought the travelling basket in, but his face brightened and he went straight over and inspected it. Then he walked across elegantly with his tail up and said a beautiful, courteous goodbye to Graham.

�I�ll miss you, little cat,� Graham murmured, �and � please forgive me.�

Vati touched noses with him, and ran back to the basket. We sat in there, together, facing outwards.

Two black cats against the world.

Chapter Eighteen

CHANGING THE WORLD

Vati and I are ten years old, Angie says, and we�ve just had our birthday. My fur is glossy and well brushed, and I�m still the best cat in the street. Vati has learned to play again, and we have mad half-hours in our happy home. On moonlit nights, the forest calls to me, but I won�t go there. I�m a support cat, and my job is to care for Vati, Angie and Leroy.

Leroy is a young man now, and he�s very rich, he tells me. He sold lots of his wonderful lion pictures and saved all his money. But early this morning he was packing a big rucksack, and he picked me up and said goodbye! And he said, �Thank you! Thank you, Timba. You been my BEST, BEST friend.�

I sat in the window and watched a minibus pick him up at the door, and Angie was crying and crying.

Now it�s nearly noon. The sun is high, and Angie is standing in the garden with Vati and me in her arms. I wonder why she�s watching the sky so intently.

Suddenly she stiffens.

�That�s it!� she says, and points to a shining plane that is climbing up and up into the blue sky.

Angie is still full of tears. I lick one from her cheek.�Don�t worry, Timba,� she says. �These are happy tears. Tears of joy. I�m so happy for Leroy, and so proud of him. But we�ll miss him, won�t we, guys?�

We watch the shining plane until it becomes a bright bead, trailing a white arrow of smoke.

And finally, Angie tells us what is going on.

�That�s Leroy�s plane,� she says. �It�s taking him all the way through the blue sky to Africa � to Timbavati to work with the White Lions.�

Angie was unusually quiet after Leroy had left. Her bright flame seemed to have gone out. She only came alive when we were looking at her laptop, Vati and I sitting on the table beside her, our heads weaving from side to side as we saw pictures of Leroy onscreen. Running down the steps from a big aeroplane and climbing into a truck with some other young people.�He�s making friends � at last!� Angie said. �He�s found kindred spirits.� But Leroy�s eyes were homesick as he talked to Angie. �I miss you, Angie, and Timba and Vati.�

When we finally saw the White Lions onscreen, we were awed. They looked so sumptuous and huge, powerful but relaxed. We cats were proud. Proud to belong to the global family of cats. The White Lions had come to change the world � but so had we, and we had one more job to do � for Angie.

�She�s lonely,� I said as the two of us gazed into the embers of the fire. �We�ve got to do something.� I thought about the journey I had made through the forests and across the shiny river. Was I too old to try again? And how would Vati cope?

He picked up my thoughts immediately.�Don�t even think about it, Timba.�

�I�ve got to fetch Graham,� I said. �Whatever it takes.�

�No, Timba!�

But I got up and stretched, ate the rest of my supper, and headed out through the cat flap into the moonlit garden. Facing south, I searched the sky for the brilliance of that star on the lion�s paw. My tail quivered. I saw the star. And that homesick longing filled my heart. I wanted my old home. I wanted Poppy, and the apple tree. But most of all I wanted Angie to be happy again.

I had to fetch Graham.

I remembered the maze of streets, the field of cattle, and the endless magical forest.

I set off down the road to the south.

Vati pelted after me and sprang in front of me like a dragon cat. His lemon-green furious eyes confronted me on the moonlit pavement. He wasn�t going to let me go.

I sat down and felt my angry tail swishing to and fro over the tarmac. If my little brother thought he could stop me, I�d beat him up. My ears went flat, my fur bristled, and I hissed at Vati. To my astonishment he hissed right back at me, and the hiss lingered in the air between us. I tried to dodge around him, but suddenly Vati turned into a wild, hooky-looking demon. Even without his claws, he towered overme, the white moonlight glinted on his teeth, the orange street lights glazed the fur along his spine.

I hesitated. I wasn�t scared of Vati. In a way I was proud of him. He hadn�t got claws, but somehow he�d made himself strong enough to challenge me. He believed in his own power. And judging by the speed and sting of the swipe he gave me with a long whip of a paw, he was going to use it. On me!

Instead of fighting back, I sat there and looked at him until he calmed down. We studied each other�s eyes. �I won�t let you go, Timba,� he said. �There is a better way.� Still focused on my journey, I looked at him in silence, thinking I could sneak away later while he was asleep.

�There is a better way, Timba,� he repeated. �Just because you are in a physical body you don�t have to settle everything physically. Why go on that long journey when you can use your cat power?�

I stared at him. Cat power? All I�d done for the last few years was roll around on the hearth rug, purr and eat. People kept saying I was too fat.

�Follow me,� said my streamlined, velvet-coated, assertive brother, and he led me through the front garden and round the side of the house to where the old stone glittered in the starlight. We sat down, side by side, facing south. �Talk to me,� I said, fearing Vati was going into one of his mysterious trances.

�Remember the golden roads?� he said. �We�re on one, right now � you used to sit here, Timba, when we were apart, and I heard every one of your messages, even though I didn�t answer. I heard you. I saw you. And I felt you!�

The mist cleared from my mind, and I remembered the great white Spirit Lion who had come to help me at those times. The remembering was a nice feeling, like coming home. So I stayed close to Vati, our bodies trembling a little as we picked up the energy of the golden road.

�You do the purring,� said Vati, �and I�ll send the message. We�re a good team. We�ll send Graham a message.�

I don�t know how many hours we sat there on the golden road in the moonlight, but suddenly I could feel sadness. A grey emptiness, a yearning, and it was coming from Graham. He wasn�t singing. The lid of the piano was shut. Graham wasn�t moving. He was slumped in his armchair, staring into space. The way Vati had been. Numb.

For three days nothing happened. Except that Vati was now the boss, not me. He�d kept me firmly inside, out of the rain that wrapped the house in veils of pearl and silver. Angie came and went, and cuddled us, and watched the laptop for news of Leroy. I ate and slept, and rolled on the rug.

It must have been a weekend, because on the third day Angie got ready to go to work. Her mood was ominously dark as she stacked the children�s books and crammed them into a bag. I perched on the table and looked at her. I felt anxious. Something was going to happen. I could feel it through my fur. So strongly that I thought it justified an amplified extended-meow.

�What�s the matter, Timba?� she asked, and I did another one. I stood up on my back legs and put my paws on Angie�s chest. I stared at her. Her breathing changed and she started to cry. �You know, don�t you, Timba?� she said, stroking me on both sides of my face. �You�re such anunderstanding cat. I really don�t want to go to work today. But I HAVE TO.� She picked up her car keys and left.

I worried about Angie all morning until the sun came out, sending shafts of warm light through the windows. Vati and I looked at each other. We knew an overgrown garden where we could mess around and catch mice, even if I ended up catching them for both of us. We set off down an alleyway and under a broken gate, and spent the afternoon in the long grass, playing with the nodding seed heads and grasshoppers.

I wasn�t relaxed. Part of me was listening, sensing change and it had heavy footsteps. Strange in a town where hundreds of people were walking around, but my sensitive mind focused on those particular footsteps.

�We should go home,� I said, and Vati led me back through the broken gate and down the alleyway. We both knew something at home had changed. It spooked us, and we ran, low to the ground, our whiskers twitching.

At the corner of the street, Vati turned and looked at me with frightened eyes.�You stay here,� he said. �I�ll creep to the gate and check this out.� Alarmed, I watched him slink along the pavement to our front garden. I saw him peep round the gatepost and his neck stretched out with fright. He came charging back with his fur all stiff.

�What�s wrong?� I asked.

�There�s a man sitting on the doorstep,� hissed Vati.

�I sensed him all day,� I said, remembering the footsteps.

�What shall we do?� Suddenly Vati was like a scared kitten again, his winsome face waiting for me to lead him. I thought about the man on Angie�s doorstep. It could only be � my tail went up by itself. �Come on,� I said, and Vati followed as I trotted confidently along the pavement.My tail waved in the air behind me like a plume of joy. I knew that my eyes were sparkling like suns, my heart buzzing with anticipation.

I paused by the gate to arrange myself for a grand entrance. With my fluffy coat flowing, I shone in the sun as I trotted faster and faster down the path, doing purr-meows at the man on the doorstep. I felt like the most powerful cat in the Universe.

And I was right.

It was Graham. On the step beside him was a bunch of red roses.�No, Timba,� he said as I patted the crinkly cellophane. �Don�t shred the paper. These are for Angie � my Angie,� he added, and then asked me a question. �Do you think she�ll have me back?�

I did a yes-meow.

I couldn�t wait for Angie to come home. Vati and I sat on Graham, keeping him firmly under control in the afternoon sunshine. Until, at last, we heard Angie�s quick bright footsteps on the pavement. I was anxious then. Would she fly into a rage and tell Graham to go away?

Angie had been angry with Graham for so long.

Graham got to his feet, the bunch of roses crackling in his hand. He looked suitably shamefaced, but it was only a mask. I knew in that moment that love was stronger than anger. I watched it change on Angie�s face. When she saw Graham she paused in disbelief. Her school bag fell to the floor, its heavy burden of books spilling across the path. A smile dawned on her face and she ran to him, almost crushing the roses in a huge hug. Graham looked pleased, and I saw a tear sparkling in the corner of his eye.

�Angie �� he breathed.

Vati and I weaved and purred around their legs as Angie gazed up at Graham and into his eyes.�Does this mean what I think it means?� she asked.

�Angie,� said Graham again. He searched for the right words. I did a purr-meow to encourage him. �Will you have me back?� he asked nervously. �I made a terrible mistake, letting you go like that. I�ve regretted it so much. Please � could we start over?�

If cats could cry, I�d have cried with happiness when the smile reached Angie�s eyes and she gave a scream of joy. �Thank you, Universe!�

�Does that mean yes?� Graham enquired.

�Yes. A million times yes!�

I knew then that we�d be going home.

Vati and I exchanged knowing looks. We�d cracked it!

We didn�t follow Angie and Graham into the house. We sat on the doorstep, proudly, guarding the love-nest.

Two black cats against the world.