‘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.’