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?’