I was impressed with her intuition. Amber seemed terribly uncomfortable with me rubbing against her throat and kissing her. She lifted a paw and put it on my back, and when I twisted out from under it, she jumped back as if she expected me to scratch her.
‘They’ll be fine,’ said Penny. ‘Tallulah’s so laid-back.’
But I was disappointed. I’d fallen instantly in love with Amber and I felt rebuffed. I jumped up into TammyLee’s arms for a cuddle, and she carried me slowly round the room, whispering to me, telling me what everything was. She carried me into the conservatory and showed me the garden, and Amber’s bed. Amber followed us, her tail down, her eyes worried. She got on to her beanbag bed and stamped it round and around with a loud crunching noise, then slumped down on it and lay staring at the floor.
I needed time alone with Amber, and it didn’t happen until early the next morning. I’d slept in three places: first, in the cat bed, ten minutes, then I tried all the chairs and found a little old one with a saggy seat, which was perfect. Two hours later, I got up, stretched, and explored every corner of the downstairs, up over the bookshelves first. I even took out a book with my paw and opened it, thought about shredding it, but there was too much else to inspect: over the mantelpiece, up the thick curtains and along the shelf at the top, where I found a spider to play with; under the massive sofa, where I practised being a flat cat. A lot of stuff was under there: slippers, a soggy tennis ball, a revolting old bone, a plastic rabbit, a tweed cap that smelled like a car. Obviously, these were Amber’s treasures, and she was too big to get them out. Respectfully, I reversed out and went to the closed door of the conservatory, to look at Amber through the glass. Curled up in a ball on her bed, she was having a nightmare. Her paws were twitching and she was making squeaky little woofs in her throat.
I felt lonely and wanted to be with her, but she didn’t like me. Upset and alone in the strange house, I crept through the hall and sniffed the night through a crack in the front door. I yearned to go out and taste the summer night, lie on the cool soft grass and watch the stars above me. My entire life had been doors and cages. I looked at the stairs, wanting to communicate with TammyLee. She had to understand my need for freedom.
So I ended up slinking upstairs and into her bedroom. It smelled like flowers, and there were piles of glittery clothes and beads and hard shoes everywhere. A line of teddy bears patrolled the shelf above the bed, and I’d never really seen teddy bears before. They weren’t asleep, and their glass eyes spooked me so much that I wailed in fright.
‘Come on, darling, magic puss cat.’ TammyLee was awake instantly and patting the bed quilt. I’d never been allowed on Gretel’s bed, so I hesitated.
‘Come on, Tallulah. It’s OK. You’ve got me now.’ She reached down and scooped me into the softest pillowy place I’d ever experienced. It smelled of pansies, and felt softer than the deepest grasses. I sank my paws into it, dough punching and purring, and went to sleep, a happy cat, withTammyLee’s hand on my fur.
TammyLee was fast asleep when I heard the dawn outside. Pigeons were cooing and jackdaws chack-chacking. I jumped onto the windowsill and sat in the pink sunlight, watching the swallows, tiny and fast, zooming in wide arcs through the sky, and their high pitched voices sounded free and joyful. I wanted to be out there, prowling on the lawns, exploring, climbing the fence and inspecting the garden next door. I wanted to feel the earth under my paws, and taste the grass, and hear the bees waking up as the sun rose.
The smell of toast and bacon wafted up the stairs, so I padded down with my tail up and found TammyLee’s dad at the table in the kitchen with Amber leaning against his legs. She turned when she saw me, but only her ears moved, and the very tip of her tail wagged. I longed to pounce on it and play, but it was too early to take liberties like that.
‘Hello, Tallulah.’ Max didn’t move but kept his arm protectively around Amber, and his coffee mug in the other hand. I rubbed myself adoringly on Amber’s creamy gold chest and she stuck her nose high in the air to avoid me.
‘I must get off to work now.’ Dad got up and took his plate to the sink, giving Amber a scrap of bacon rind, which she snapped and swallowed. Then he gave me some milk and wagged his finger at Amber. ‘Don’t you TOUCH it. That’s the cat’s breakfast. Leave it.’
I lapped it up quickly, while Amber sat watching me. Max headed for the door, a black case in his hand.‘No, Tallulah,’ he said. ‘You’re not allowed out yet. You get to know Amber.’ And his soap-scented hand pushed me back gently as I tried to go out.
Was I still a prisoner?