‘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.
[Êàðòèíêà: 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?