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.’