Timba Comes Home (15 page)

‘Timba’s really scared, Angie,’ said Leroy. ‘He’s got his tail bushed out.’

Why didn’t Angie stop? Why was she driving on, into that unknown danger? It wasn’t the smell . . . it was a feeling. A sense of anger and displacement. It wasn’t human! It was
animal. More animal than I’d ever believed existed in our quiet green countryside.

‘A zoo!’ Leroy shouted, and Angie did slow down. She wasn’t frightened like me, but she obviously didn’t like seeing the zoo.

‘Can we go in?’ Leroy asked, and then answered his own question with a big sigh. ‘I get it. Not now! But can we, one day?’

Angie drove slowly past some high walls with wire along the top, and two tall iron gates.

‘I didn’t know this was still here,’ she said. ‘I can’t believe they haven’t closed it down. It’s a private zoo, and those animals are not happy in
there. I can feel their desperation. Let’s get clear of it.’ She drove on very fast, and I relaxed a bit as the smell faded away. I hoped we weren’t going to live near that
zoo.

‘You haven’t let me do anything I wanted.’ Leroy pouted and started to cry. ‘I wanted to climb up the bridge, and I wanted to see if there were fish in the river. Then I
wanted to see if there were bears in that forest . . . and you wouldn’t let me.’ He kicked angrily at the car floor.

Angie was kind. ‘Aww, don’t cry,’ she said. ‘Poor Leroy . . . I know it’s tough, and you’ve been SO good. We’ll do all those things when we’re
settled in. I’ll need your help with Timba. He’s terribly frightened, poor love, and you’re so good with him now.’

Leroy calmed down. He turned to look at me. ‘I’m good now, Timba,’ he said. ‘Don’t be scared. I’ll look after you.’

Despite my plans to run away, I tried to settle down in the new house. Angie put my basket next to the Aga in the kitchen so I was cosy. It wasn’t quiet like
Graham’s house. We could hear voices and traffic, and the rumble of huge shining aeroplanes which made the cups rattle. At first Leroy watched them constantly and asked Angie where they were
going and why.

‘Do they go to Africa?’

Angie shrugged. ‘Maybe . . . yes, I think there is a flight to Johannesburg.’

‘Is that near Timbavati?’

‘I don’t know, Leroy. We’ll look on the internet later.’

She dismissed it as unimportant, but I could see the dreams streaming through Leroy’s mind. Dreams too big and intense to share.

The first time I was let out into the small square of garden, I remembered what Vati had taught me, and checked it out, walking slowly over the grass, feeling energies through my sensitive paws.
I found a place where moles were living under the ground, I found an underground spring, and I found an energy line. It was in an odd place, close to a big stone in the wall of the house. Talking
to Vati seemed possible when I sat there, but the contact was muffled. I missed him so much.

I kept an eye on Angie, who was getting used to a new job, and making new friends. She came home tired, and Leroy was difficult and demanding. He wanted every last bit of Angie’s love and
energy.

Leroy was obsessed with the zoo, and he pestered Angie every day. ‘Why can’t we go? I’ve never been to a zoo.’

‘I will not spend my money visiting THAT PLACE,’ Angie declared. ‘When we have time I’ll take you to a proper zoo where they care about the world’s
wildlife.’

‘But I want to go to that one,’ Leroy argued. I saw the look in his eyes. He was going to go there, no matter what, with or without Angie. I sensed it burning in his soul.

In the spring Angie bought Leroy a bike and a helmet to wear. Straight away, Leroy disappeared. He whispered goodbye to me and his eyes flashed with excitement. ‘I’ve got a bike,
Timba. Now I can go to the zoo.’ I sat on the windowsill and watched him wheel the bike into the road.

‘Don’t go too far, Leroy. Just up and down outside, and be careful,’ Angie called from the kitchen.

‘Yeah . . . OK. See you later,’ Leroy shouted. He disappeared down the road at full throttle, pedalling with such energy that I thought the bike would fall apart. He was pushing it
and pulling it at the same time, and lifting the front wheel off the floor, then banging it down.

I sat on the doorstep, and waited for him to come back.

Soon Angie was standing in the street looking for him, her eyes anxious. ‘Where has he gone?’

I knew, but how could I tell Angie? I followed her up and down the street with my tail up, wanting to help, and in the end she picked me up. I tried sending her images, but she didn’t get
them. All I could do was cuddle against her and purr as she got more and more anxious, and cross with herself. ‘How could I have been so stupid? Oh God, if he gets hurt on that main road,
I’ll never forgive myself.’

The next-door neighbour, Issy, got involved, and her cat came out too, and sat glaring at me. He was a portly tabby with one ear folded down, and he hadn’t made friends with me, even
though we’d been through each other’s cat flaps.

‘Leroy’s such a wild impulsive child,’ Angie told Issy.

‘You can’t take yer eyes off the little buggers these days,’ Issy said. ‘Especially boys. I’m glad my lot are grown-up. They all had bikes, and skateboards, and I
spent half my life in A&E with ’em. But sometimes you just have to let ’em go and let ’em learn, that’s what I say.’

‘You’re right,’ Angie said, but her eyes still searched up and down the road. ‘But Leroy had such a bad start. I have to protect him from himself.’

‘Let’s put the kettle on,’ said Issy kindly. ‘And by the time we’ve had a coffee, he’ll be back, Angie, you’ll see.’

Angie looked tempted, but she shook her head. ‘Thanks, Issy, it’s kind of you, but I can’t. I must find him. I’d better get the car out.’ She put me down on the
garden wall. ‘Will you keep an eye out for him, Issy? I’ll drive to the park and other places he might go. He can’t have gone far.’

I did a purr-meow. Leroy was already far away, I knew that, and I so wanted to tell Angie. I had to watch her drive off in totally the wrong direction. I went to sit on the energy point by the
big stone, and called the Spirit Lion by sending a silent message into the light. He came instantly, filling the garden with radiance. I asked him why humans were so limited in their ability to
communicate.

‘Centuries ago they took the life out of language,’ he said, ‘by carving it into stone. Now they scribble it with pens, and tap it out on keyboards. All they want is to see it,
to read it, and to them that is truth. In doing so they condemned telepathy and called it witchcraft.’

‘Witchcraft?’ I asked, and felt my spine turn to ice. Had I once been a witch’s cat? The memory sailed into my mind. A proud memory. I had been a witch’s cat, and the
witch had been Angie! We had talked wordlessly to each other. We had healed animals and plants, and we had teleported along the golden roads. It was my best lifetime.

The Spirit Lion saw my thoughts. ‘Humans can still do it,’ he said. ‘They have only to remember . . . and some of them do. That’s why cats are so important. Cats are
fascinating to humans. Cats are wordless communicators, and teachers.’

‘So how can I teach Angie? How can I reach her now?’

‘When she wants to learn, she will sit with you,’ said the Spirit Lion. ‘In the meantime you can only be there for her, let her make her mistakes and just love her. Some of her
mistakes, like going in the wrong direction, are meant to happen. It is part of the plan. She can’t control Leroy. What he is doing right now is part of his destiny.’

‘What is he doing?’ I asked, and the Spirit Lion fell silent. His eyes met my questioning stare. ‘Merge with me,’ he said, ‘and I’ll show you.’ I became
one with him as my aura blended with his radiance where he shared his thoughts wordlessly.

First he showed me Leroy’s bike. It was lying in the dappled sunlight under an oak tree, and Leroy’s red helmet shone in the piles of leaf mould and mossy roots. Leroy was nowhere to
be seen. But my hackles were up, my whiskers twitching. That smell! A stench of confined animals . . . their droppings, their hot fur, the tang of fear, and the smoulder of desperation.

Once the smells settled into our consciousness, there were sounds to identify. Unfamiliar, strident bird cries and the flutter of wings, the clank of rusty metal, the high-pitched chattering of
active, hyped-up creatures I couldn’t identify. We listened, and heard the wind teasing petals from blossom and sweeping it into corners. Then the scrape-scrape of a lion’s paws on
rough concrete, an endless rhythm, a hopelessness as he padded to and fro, never going anywhere except from one wall to the other.

And then we saw Leroy.

He was clinging to the outside of the boundary wall, his feet wedged into the cracks between bricks, his eager eyes searching upwards for a way through the strands of wire along the top. I felt
moved. Leroy was brave. Braver than me, and I was a cat!

Safe in the haven of my Spirit Lion, I watched, and hoped, and tried to send Leroy love. Painfully he climbed on, helped by a sturdy ivy plant, dragging himself up and up until he was looking
down at the padding lion with an awestruck smile. The lion glanced up at him, sniffed, and continued padding as if he didn’t care. He’d been there, done that, and didn’t want to
be bothered with humans.

Leroy’s hands stretched towards the wire. He touched it, and all hell broke loose. A deafening siren started, sending the animals into panic, and a man burst out of a door, a shovel in his
hand. His angry eyes scanned the top of the wall, and saw Leroy clinging there.

‘What the HELL are you doing?’ he bellowed. ‘Get down off that wall right now or I’ll come out and drag you down.’

Shaking with fright, Leroy scrambled backwards. We heard the tearing of the ivy plant as he fell in an explosion of leaves. Then he ran, rubbing the blood from his arms, seized his bike and
flung himself onto it. Leaving the red helmet lying in the leaf mould, he pedalled wildly into the traffic and headed home.

At that point the Spirit Lion gently disengaged from me. We both knew I had to be a support cat for when Leroy made it home.

When he finally came riding up the street, Angie was pacing up and down like the lion.

‘Where have you BEEN?’ she asked.

Leroy shrugged.

‘Nowhere,’ he said.

I ran to him with my tail up, and, while Angie ranted, I purred and loved and showed her how to welcome a tired, distraught child.

I got used to the place, but the homesickness never left me. I was OK when Angie and Leroy were there, but when Angie was at work, and Leroy at school, I was left alone for
long hours. I missed Vati terribly, and I missed Graham. I missed Poppy, and the chickens, and the freedom of a big garden. Here the back garden was boxed in by other gardens where there were cats
who didn’t want to be friends. I tried to establish a territory, but it was limited. The spring was cold and rainy, so I spent hours indoors by the Aga, or sitting in the window. Angie and
Leroy played with me and brushed me, and then I was a happy cat. But I yearned for those exciting playtimes with Vati.

In my heart I didn’t feel at home.

Angie sat with me on her lap when Leroy was in bed. She shared her sadness with me. She missed Graham. She hated Lisa. She felt betrayed. ‘But we must make the best of it, Timba,’
she often said. ‘Think positive.’ Then she would talk about Leroy. ‘I love that boy. I so want to help him. He’s got such a talent . . . and such dreams. We have to help him
make those dreams come true, Timba. Don’t we?’ I always agreed with a yes-meow and lots of purring.

One wet Sunday the sparks were flying from both their auras as Angie and Leroy sat in front of Leroy’s laptop. Curious, I jumped onto the table and sat with them, looking at the screen.
They were looking at the White Lions!

‘Don’t walk on the keyboard, Timba.’ Leroy moved me gently aside, but I wanted to touch noses with one of those lions. I stared and stared, feeling my neck getting longer.
Slowly I stretched forward, my whiskers tingling with excitement, and touched noses, nicely. The lion didn’t respond, and Angie and Leroy laughed at me, but I felt I’d reached across
the world and given wordless love to this brave, important lion.

‘It says their coats can be whiter than the whitest snow,’ said Angie. ‘A White Lion is the most sacred animal in Africa.’

‘Yeah, but they’re not albinos,’ Leroy said. ‘No one knows where the White Lions came from. It’s a mystery! Come on, Angie, let’s read the legends
again.’ He clicked something and a load of writing appeared instead of the interesting pictures of lions. ‘I can nearly read this now . . . but you help me with the long words,
Angie.’

‘WOW! Listen to this,’ said Angie. ‘“The name Timbavati is from an ancient Shangaan language –” AND – “it means
the place where star lions
come down from the heavens”.
WOW.’

Leroy’s face shone. He searched the block of text on the screen and pounced on another word. ‘“Golden”,’ he said. ‘“Timbavati is on a golden . .
.” I can’t read that, Angie.’

My spine began to tingle. A golden road, I thought.

Angie took over the reading. ‘“Timbavati is on the Golden Nile Meridian,”’ she read.

‘What’s that?’

‘It’s an energy line . . . a sacred pathway across the world,’ Angie whispered, and her words excited me so much that I did an amplified extended-meow. More laughter. I
didn’t think it was funny. Miffed, I stared into Angie’s eyes. ‘Timba understands that, don’t you, lovely cat?’ she said warmly, and got a yes-meow in return.

Leroy was racing ahead, his eyes searching the writing. ‘“Sphinx,”’ he said. ‘It’s on the same line. What’s a sphinx?’

‘Google it,’ said Angie, and Leroy tapped the keyboard and clicked. The screen flickered, and a picture appeared of the ancient stone sphinx in the desert. It spooked me, and my
memory flipped into life. I remembered a time, centuries ago, when Vati and I had been proud Egyptian cats. We had played in the hot sun, and slept between the glistening stone paws of that mighty
sphinx.

‘Timba understands this too.’ Leroy looked into my eyes, and in that moment I understood something else. Leroy was developing telepathy. He could read my thoughts. ‘Do you miss
Vati, Timba?’