‘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.’
[Êàðòèíêà: 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.