‘No, he’s not your cat,’ said Kaye. ‘But you can stroke him … or her, is it?’
‘Tat … mine,’ insisted the baby boy, and he held out his arms to me. I went to him, purring, and let him put both his chubby arms around my neck.
‘Don’t strangle the poor cat,’ said Kaye, laughing.
I let the baby boy love me and listen to my purr. I kissed his red nose and he giggled, patting me a bit too hard. I sat up and looked at him. I saw turquoise eyes, full of astonishment. I saw a mole on his cheek. And I knew why my angel had brought me here.
It was Rocky.
Chapter Eight
ROCKY
I stared into Rocky’s soul and he stared back. Going deep into those turquoise eyes, I saw that Rocky was ages old and full of light. I kept staring deeper and deeper until I discovered a pocket of darkness, which I recognised instantly as the pain of abandonment. Once I’d found it, I wanted to heal it, so I purred and purred, and stretched my paws over his steady little heart.
‘You can’t,’ said my angel. ‘It is part of him, part of his journey. He will always carry that memory, as you carry yours.’
I kept purring, sending stars into Rocky’s soul with all my energy, thinking I might never see him again, but knowing I had to find a way to reunite him with his true mother. I sent him pictures from my mind, of TammyLee, and how bitterly she regretted dumping him, how much she loved him. He accepted them, but his eyes looked puzzled. He pointed at Kaye.
‘Mum … mum,’ he said, and looked back at me ‘Tat! Mine.’
I kissed Rocky on the nose and he squealed with delight.
‘You shouldn’t let cats kiss babies,’ said Maddie, disapprovingly.
Kaye smiled.‘I don’t believe that. It’s medical paranoia.’
‘But what about germs?’ Maddie was holding her own baby very tightly.
‘What about them? We can’t let germs stand in the way of LOVE,’ said Kaye passionately. ‘This cat is giving him so much love. Look at her … purring like a sewing machine.’ She put her hand on my back. ‘I can feel the vibration right through her body. And Rocky’s loving it. Aren’t you, darling?’
‘Tat!’ shouted Rocky. Then he reached out and patted the square brass in the middle of the bench. ‘Dat?’ he asked.
‘That’s a commemorative plaque, sweetheart,’ said Kaye. ‘And it says “ROCKY’S BENCH”.’
There was a silence while the words sank into our minds.
‘Are you going to tell him about it?’ asked Maddie.
‘Not yet,’ Kaye replied, kissing Rocky’s silky dark head. ‘When he’s old enough. And IF Social Services decide we can actually adopt him. We want to so much. He’s my LIFE, aren’t you, Rocky?’
I turned my attention to Kaye, and gave her an intense stare.
‘This cat’s got such amazing eyes,’ she said. ‘Golden and so knowing.’
‘Wasn’t a cat there when Rocky was found?’ asked Maddie. ‘You showed me a press cutting. It did look like this one. Didn’t the police think it might belong to the mother?’
‘They did, but it belonged to an old lady on the other side of town,’ said Kaye, but the joy in her eyes had clouded and I saw that she was afraid of losing Rocky. She looked away, and I felt our contact had been abruptly shut down.
‘We’d better get back, Maddie. I’ve got to start Greg’s tea.’
‘Dad, Dad!’ shouted Rocky.
‘Yes … Daddy’s tea. And Rocky’s tea and a birthday cake with one candle.’ She stood up and gently lifted Rocky away from me. ‘Say goodbye to the lovely puss cat.’
Rocky struggled and screamed.‘Tat … mine.’ Kaye rolled her eyes and wrestled him into the pushchair. He kicked and stomped, shaking the whole pushchair, while Maddie was putting her quiet little baby into hers.
‘Come on,’ Kaye said, over the screaming. ‘The sooner we go, the sooner he’ll calm down. Calm down, Rocky, it’s not your cat. We can see her another day.’
Maddie wagged a finger at me.‘Don’t you follow us!’
I sat down on the warm bench and watched them go, Kaye walking briskly with her thrashing cargo. His screams faded into the distance.‘Tat … mine. Tat … mine.’
I decided to stay out, and make my way home after dark, thinking that most dogs would have gone home and it would be safe for me to run through the park. Rocky’s bench was perfect for me to sleep on. But first, I checked it out for any sign that TammyLee had been there. Right in the middle, near the brass plaque, I detected a faint scent of her. Then between the slats of wood, I saw something interesting.
I jumped down to investigate, and, hidden behind one of the bench legs, was a small posy of flowers, wild flowers mostly, but in the centre was a single red rose, tied together with one of the glittery rubber bands TammyLee used in her hair. Her scent was on it, and I knew for sure that she had been there and left a posy for Rocky.
It was dark when I arrived home, and TammyLee was in the garden with a torch, looking for me. My tail was bushed out and the fur along my spine was stiff with fright after my long trip home alone in the dark.
‘Oh, there you are!’ cried TammyLee. ‘Where have you BEEN?’