‘This is a new kind of cat harness,’ she said. ‘He’ll be quite safe in it. And we can walk him down to Isaac’s place. That’s the natural way for a cat to travel, and he won’t be frightened at all.’
‘It’s five miles, Karenza, and look at the time.’
‘I don’t bother about time,’ said Karenza. ‘I’ll come with you, and we’ll go across the fields. I know the way. And we’ll take turns carrying Solomon if he doesn’t want to walk.’
‘That’s wonderful of you – thanks,’ said Ellen, taking the sock thing from Karenza. I let her slip it over my head and gently pull my front paws through the two arm holes. It was comfortable and I felt OK in it. Karenza clipped a long lead onto it, and I rolled around on my back, playing with it for a few moments of being silly.
Then we set off into the golden evening, walking west. We walked through bluebell woods and along lanes perfumed with clouds of white flowers, through a village and over a bridge. It was a long way.
‘He loves it,’ said Ellen. ‘He’s had his tail up all the way.’
On top of a hill we stopped for a rest, and the two women drank from bottles of water as we watched the sun going down.
‘That’s Isaac’s place.’ Ellen pointed to a huddle of buildings in the valley below. ‘It’s an old farmhouse. You’ll love it, Solomon.’
I hoped it was going to be OK.
Seeing Ellen so happy with Isaac, I was a bit jealous. They both loved me and gave me everything I needed, but I still missed Jessica. Sometimes I wanted her so much that I ached inside.
Isaac’s place was a roomy farmhouse with deep stone windowsills lined with cushions. And it had STAIRS! I did try to play on my own, and everyone encouraged me. John ran up and downstairs dragging a catnip mouse on a string, and I enjoyed that game.
Isaac had a magnificent piano and I took to lying on his lap and purring while we both soaked up the beautiful music Ellen loved to play. I grew to trust Isaac totally, and I could see that Ellen and John had a happy life with him.
The garden was a wild tangle of overgrown shrubs festooned with honeysuckle and bramble. Underneath was a network of green tunnels, used by various wild creatures. Exploring on my own was spooky, but I persevered, and one day I made an amazing discovery.
I found a gate overgrown with ivy, and beyond it was a secret path winding between tall pink foxgloves. It looked mossy and inviting, and as I sat staring at it, I suddenly felt that Jessica was with me. She would have gone straight down there. My fur started to bristle with excitement. I squeezed under the gate and trotted down the path, not knowing what I was going to find.
The grass was hot and bees were buzzing, but there was a rhythmic swishing sound. It changed suddenly to a majestic roar as the path opened onto a rocky hillside, and there before me was the sea.
Now I knew where to go to think about Jessica.
I selected a warm rock and sat on it for a long time, gazing at the blaze of sunlight on the water. I watched enormous sparkles pirouetting at the edges, dancing away and then massing together. It seemed to me that the sea was full of angels, and if I stared for long enough I would see them. I never did, but if I closed my eyes and imagined that mass of silver sparkles, I saw my own angel clearly.
Time passed. Autumn, Christmas, and spring. Another year, and then another. I lost track of how many, but I was aware that my body wasn’t quite as agile as it used to be. My legs were stiff in the mornings, and I wasn’t so good at climbing trees. But I still loved to explore and make friends with badgers and catch mice when I could be bothered.
One day when I was exploring the wild cliff-side beyond the garden, my angel told me to listen. I did, but heard only the seagulls and the wind in the bushes, and the zee-zeet of grasshoppers.
‘No,’ she said. ‘Listen deep.’
I focused on the deep dark places under the thick canopy of gorse and heather, and listened again, picking up a brittle whisper of something moving in there. Then I heard a squeak that might have been a meow, and my hackles went up. After what happened to Jessica, I didn’t want to meet a feral cat.
I sat quietly and waited.
Minutes later I heard the squeak again, and a delicate golden face peeped at me from the undergrowth. It didn’t look or feel threatening so I meowed back. A small ginger cat crept out and ran to me eagerly. She was terribly thin and her eyes looked haunted. We touched noses, and my bristling fur subsided. I lay down and she snuggled next to me. I started to lick her ginger fur to reassure her, and I could feel her bones, she was so thin. I sensed her loneliness and hunger. She didn’t seem able to talk to me, but I knew she was in trouble, so I encouraged her to follow me. I led her along the path, under the gate and into the garden, right onto the patio outside the kitchen door where Ellen had put my lunch.
I shared it with the tiny ginger cat, and she ate ravenously. When she was satisfied she sat with me on the warm stones, and washed her skinny little paws.