The California Club (19 page)

‘The cubs help promote us. We take them out on the road to local fairs to get people interested in visiting us here and hopefully adopting a cat or making a donation.'

The two cats get into a lively scrap, squealing as they chomp on each other.

‘They're getting to the age where they're trouble!’ She smiles. ‘They're even more rambunctious in the cooler weather.'

'Can you still handle them?' I ask.

'Well, they're starting to want to bite – they think it's fun to use your leg like a chew-toy!'

Ouch!

Out of the corner of my eye I see Ty letting himself into the padlocked area, presumably to do some more counseling with Oliver.

'Did Ty grow up around big cats?' I'm curious.

'Not really, he didn't start as an animal trainer until he was twenty-eight. Before that he was an actor.'

‘Ty was an actor?' My eyes widen in disbelief. I can't imagine him being too obedient on set.

'But he doesn't really like to talk about that time in his life.'

Well, that's good to know. I load the ammunition, getting ready in case he decides to attack Sasha again.

We spend the afternoon clearing stray debris and weeds from the wasteland and testing each other on the cat names.

'I wonder how big Cassidy and Kid will be by the time Paradise Park is built?' Sasha ponders, straightening her back. 'Wouldn't it be great if we could just magic it up by the end of the week!'

'That would be one in the eye for Ty.'

'Wouldn't it?' Sasha gets a rarely seen glint of determination in her eyes. 'There must be something we can do.'

'I don't know what. We don't know anyone here. Maybe we should find out how far along they are over dinner?'

'Good idea!' Sasha nods. 'Then we can come up with a plan!'

Though Carrie is happy to chat away about Paradise Park – or rather her hopes for it – it turns out they don't even have enough money to purchase a single bamboo shoot at present. Ty utters barely a word throughout the meal and excuses himself directly after a helping of peach cobbler, gruffly announcing, 'I'm going to spend the night with Stella.’

Later as Sasha and I lie side by side in our sleeping bags, Sasha asks, 'There wasn't a cat called Stella was there?'

‘I don't remember,' I mumble, trying to mold my pillow to better accommodate my head.

'Do you think that's his girlfriend?'

I stop pummeling. 'You don't still fancy him, do you?'

'No,' she pouts.

It's too dark to tell if she's blushing so I reach out and touch her skin. Hot!

'Sasha – you do!'

She squirms, then reasons, 'It's just … there's something about him. The way he is with the cats.'

'But he's such a grouch! And he's been so mean to you.'

Sasha doesn't reply, just muffles into her pillow giving a resigned huff of: 'Of course he's got a girlfriend.'

Oh yeah, he's a real charmer, I think to myself. The last thing I want is for her to get even more hurt than she already is. Of course her emotions are out of my hands but unless Ty starts being a bit more civil, I'm going to have to have a word with him. He might be scary but he doesn't know how fierce I can be when it comes to my friends.

I hunker down into my sleeping bag. Hmmm. This has been a good lead up to camping, it won't be so much of a shock to the system now. As a matter of fact I think I might enjoy it – Elliot and I in a little nylon triangle making shadow puppets and telling raccoon stories, how cozy!

I try and picture the others tucked up – Zoë in some satin-swathed mirrored boudoir, Elise strapped to a metal hospital bed, or similar. Then a lion roars. Wow, this is a trip! I'd actually feel pretty content at this moment in time if it wasn't for the sound of Sasha softly crying.

‘Lara, quick!' Sasha shakes me. 'You've got to come and see Ty!'

I open one reluctant eye. 'What's he doing now? Mounting Naomi Campbell's head on a plaque for the lounge?'

'Just get up!'

I yawn, creaking my body into a sitting position. 6am. Not good. 'I think I just had a dream where he dared one of the lions to put their head in his mouth,' I shudder.

'Quick!' Sasha urges, unzipping the sleeping bag to spare me having to wriggle out. The second I'm on my feet, she's yanking me down the corridor on tiptoe.

As we approach Ty's room, she guides me to the best vantage point, just outside his doorway. At first all I see is a sun-shrouded silhouette but gradually, as my eyes adjust, the detail reveals Ty sitting nursing a tiger cub eagerly sucking on a baby bottle, white-tipped ears. flipping forward rhythmically with every glug. I look back at Sasha and smile. Even with an ogre in the frame, it couldn't be a cuter picture.

'Isn't it amazing?' she whispers.

As Sasha's no animal lover I can't help wondering if, in her eyes, the cubs have been upstaged by the sex appeal of the man holding them. Until now I'd been so put off by Ty's hostility, his hottie license had automatically been revoked. But, this current situation easily affords him a second chance. I turn back and peer a little closer. It's only now I notice that his shirt is entirely unbuttoned and that his smooth leather-brown skin forms a couple of neat creases just above his belt buckle.

Still focusing on the cubs, Ty says, 'Do you wanna come and say hello?'

I freeze. Has he seen me? Perhaps he's talking to someone else.

'Lara?' He looks directly at me.

'Um. I'm not really dressed …' I tug at the collar of my pyjamas.

‘They won't mind,' he shrugs, adding, ‘We’re not in Paris now,’ as he notices Sasha.

Oh, he just had to go and spoil it, didn't he? Sasha turns to leave but I grab her hand and pull her in alongside me.

'Wanna hold one?' Ty extends an arm with a dangling furball on the end.

'Are you sure?'

'Just make sure you put a hand under their butt so they feel secure.'

The cub looks so much like a toy I'm surprised to find him warm-bodied and wet of tongue. I shuffle him round so I can rumple the fur on his head. It's soft but not as sleek and silky as I was expecting. In fact, bar his downy pink tummy, his stripy beige ensemble looks and feels like teddy-bear fur that's worn and tufty from excessive cuddling.

'That's Max.'

'Hey boy,' I coo, besotted.

'Short for Maxine. It's a girl,' Ty corrects me.

'Oh.'

I go to pass her to Sasha but she immediately backs off.

'No, it's okay.’

Ty looks up, surprised.

'You can take her,' he says gruffly.

'I'm all right, I'd rather watch.'

'They haven't got fleas, if that's what you're worried about.'

'No, I'm not really good with animals, she'll probably start crying.'

Ty hesitates a moment and then says, ‘Take Theo. He won't cry if he's got a bottle in his mouth.'

Lordy Miss Claudie! Are we having a breakthrough? I watch Sasha awkwardly take hold of the cub, trying not to break the contact between his busy mouth and the bottle. 'It's easier if you sit,' Ty suggests, offering his seat.

I watch him watching Sasha and for a moment I see his sneer merge into something that could be mistaken for longing but then he looks towards the ceiling and gives an almost imperceptible shake of his head. I would love to know what's going on inside his mind. Maybe one of the gurus at Elise's retreat could give me an insight?

'Mwwaacch!' Uh-oh. There's a weird bleating-squawking sound coming from Maxine.

‘What should I do?' I panic.

'Just set her down on the floor,' Ty tells me.

She looks relieved but also slightly bewildered to be back on all fours. After taking a couple of uncertain steps she plonks herself down and starts chewing on one of Ty's shoes.

'Do you just let them roam around?'

'Not outside. We'll keep them in the house for a few more months.'

'In a cage?'

'In a kids' playpen actually.' He nods over to the corner where there's a wooden-barred one all set up. 'When they're a bit older we'll take them out like Cassidy and Kid for publicity – it helps us raise funds for this place.'

I sigh. 'I can't believe Hollywood is only an hour away. All those mega-buck movie stars … What about Julia Roberts? She doesn't seem to lead a particularly extravagant lifestyle – she must have a spare million she could donate?’

'I know she likes horses!' Sasha chips in.

'We feed them horses.’

‘What?' I gasp.

'If they've been put down from an injury or something.'

Silence.

'Breakfast?' says Ty, scooping up the tiger cubs, one in each hand.

Sasha and I exchange a queasy look.

For the first time I see Ty grin. 'I'll get the coffee on.'

By the time we get to the kitchen Ty is long gone, having just left us a scribbled note, 'Finish what you started yesterday.' Hardly poetry but I notice Sasha stash the piece of paper in her pocket as if it were a personal love letter. This concerns me mildly but I say nothing.

After fortifying ourselves with toast and apricot jam we resume our clearing of what will one day be Paradise Park. I'd swear we'd only been working for an hour when Ty calls, 'Lunchtime!'

'Thank god!' I cheer. 'I'm starving again!'

Sasha leans her garden rake against the wall and I switch off the hose I've been using to fill Ryan's playpool and together we hurry towards the house.

Ty stands waiting beside a marble tabletop just outside the kitchen. As we approach he throws down a slab of bloodied meat.

'Are we having a barbecue?' I ask.

'It's Tahira's dinner, not yours. I need it cut into cubes,' he instructs, handing Sasha a knife.

'I'm vegetarian,' she says, shrinking back.

'Just as well I'm not asking you to eat it then.'

Again he thrusts the knife at her.

'I can't.'

'Is it horse?' I ask ghoulishly.

'No,' Ty rolls his eyes.

Sasha contemplates the moist flesh. 'It feels like murder.'

'D'you wanna try and be a bit more dramatic?' he scoffs.

'How can you call yourself an animal lover and do this?' Sasha gulps.

'It's not nice but it's a fact of life. These cats can't hunt for themselves, I've got to do what it takes to feed them.'

Sasha raises the knife, blanching as she goes to make the first incision, then stumbles back, shuddering.

I reach out to her. 'Are you okay? You don't have to do this.'

'No, you don't,' Ty confirms.

We look up at him, surprised by his compassion.

'Just go along and tell Tahira she's going to go hungry today. She's the one in the back cage. I'm sure she'll understand.'

And with that he turns his back, heaving a wheelbarrow full of quartered chickens towards the cages.

My phone goes. It's Elise. The last person I want to speak to but I remember my promise to Helen to give her equal airtime and seeing as Sasha has ducked out to the toilet, I listen patiently to an exhaustive rant about what a waste of time the morning's 'Facing your Fury' class was. When she's done I tell her that I know at least one person who could benefit from a little anger management, i.e. Ty. Elise is not convinced so I proceed to gross her out with the chopping-raw-meat story.

'I mean, why do you think he’s bullying Sasha like that?' I wail, forgetting for a moment that I don't value Elise's opinion.

'It's obvious,' she clips. 'He fancies her.'

'Bit of an Ozzy Osbourne-style courtship, don't you think? No, it's not that.'

'Are you sure?'

'Trust me, you wouldn't think so if you saw how he looks at her.' Other than the fleeting moment with the cubs, it's been pure visual vitriol.

'Ah, but that's a reaction to how she's making him feel about himself, not what he really feels about her.'

Blimey! Two days at Guru Camp and she's already fluent in psycho-speak.

'Wait there – let me get Martha, she's brilliant at this kind of thing.'

'Elise!'

'What?'

'I thought you said it was all hokey crap!'

'Well, it's no use to me because I don't have temper tantrums but for some of the frothing-at-the-mouth crazies here I'd say it's been quite beneficial.'

What a wonderfully supportive environment she must be supplying for the rest of the group.

Martha comes on the line, fully briefed.

'I need you to tell me exactly what he's said and then we'll work out a way to get him to roll over,' she promises.

It's got to be worth a shot so I relate every sentence Ty has spat at Sasha. When I'm done Martha says she could do with some more background information and reminds me that this isn't my battle to fight, but I don't agree – Sasha is wounded and even if she wasn't I'd feel protective. Besides, it's actually easier fighting other people's battles, don't you think? At least that way you know it's worth the fight.

The rather more pressing factor is that I've only got a matter of hours to sort this thing out. I can't just drive off and leave her, I'd feel I was throwing her to the lions. Now I've got a few starter insights from Martha (and Sasha's occupied in the toilet) I decide I'm going to confront him. Even if he does have some pretty lethal friends on his side.

As I open the gate the leopards start hissing and screeching, scrapping with flick-knife claws flailing. A couple go at each other on their hind legs while another opts for curious intimidation tactics – crouching low and twisting its fully fanged head up at another. The noise of the fracas is incredible.

What on earth is going on? Do they know that I'm out to get their master? Has Freddie's arch-rival Malachi instigated some crazy mutiny? Then I see Ty trundling up with a fresh wheelbarrow of chickens. They know it's feeding time and they obviously have very strong feelings about whether they want a leg or a wing.

Ty tips the wheelbarrow upright at the fencing, pressing the meat into waiting jaws. I expect them to savage their quarry, gulping it down in one but instead they find their own private space to dine, away from the dusty-earthy floor – either on the top of the den box or on the concrete border of the cage, presumably to prevent the 'sand in your sandwiches' factor. I watch Freddie lick the skin until it stretches away from the pink flesh and slithers up into his mouth. Taking a moment to debate which bit to eat next, he decides to break it down, splintering the bones with a satisfying crunch.