Solomon's Tale

by Sheila Jeffries

  Karenza was a cat healer. She lived alone in the cottage and all her love was poured into looking after her cats. I was so lucky, I felt ashamed of my angry thoughts and the way I’d turned my back on my angel. But the pain of losing Ellen, and then Jessica, was overwhelming. I shuddered, and Karenza was there for me instantly, stroking and soothing, and telling me to go back to sleep.

  In the morning Abby the vet turned up to see me.

  ‘He’ll be fine,’ she said, after she’d given me a load of injections and told Karenza what they were. ‘Worms, fleas, mange, cat flu jab and a vitamin boost. Just keep him warm, keep him away from the other cats until he’s stronger, and feed him little and often.’

  ‘He’ll get lots of TLC,’ said Karenza. ‘And this afternoon he’s getting a surprise.’

  A surprise? I thought that might be a catnip mouse, but I wouldn’t have the energy to play with it. All I wanted to do was sleep. Karenza carried my new fluffy bed to the fireside and I lay there gazing into the golden flames. I chose one flame that had a rim of sapphire blue, then orange, then white hot in the middle. In my mind I walked through that white-hot door into the land of pure light, and Jessica was there, washing her pink paws. She looked beautiful and perfect, but far away where I couldn’t reach her.

  My angel came, and she said, ‘You must heal in body and soul, Solomon. It will take a long time, so be patient with yourself. Now go back to sleep.’

  I did, feeling like the warmest cat in the world.

  In late afternoon when the winter sun was filling the cottage with beams of gold, I heard a car pull up outside. I heard feet running up the path.

  ‘You wait till you see who this is, Solomon.’ Karenza winked as she swept past me to answer the door.

  She opened it, and there stood my Ellen.

  If cats could cry, I’d have cried with happiness. I stepped out of the fluffy bed, and my legs felt stronger already. My tail went up by itself and I ran to greet my Ellen.

  ‘Solomon,’ she breathed, and picked me up. I licked the tears from her cheeks and purred.

  ‘You darling, darling cat. And you’re so thin. What have you been through?’

  I wanted to tell her, but even if I’d had the words, I couldn’t have spoken. It was too big, too painful to tell her about Jessica dying in the cold woods, the old badger leading me home, and the Diary of a Desperate Cat.

  ‘Look at his fur,’ Ellen said, smoothing me.

  ‘The vet said it will grow back. She came out this morning, and gave him some injections. She said he’ll be fine.’

  ‘Thank you, Karenza.’

  Ellen gave Karenza a hug with one arm. She sat down by the fire with me on her lap. I noticed she looked better, there was a glow on her cheeks and she was wearing a beautiful sparkly scarf.

  ‘I’ve left John with Pam,’ she said. ‘She’s bringing him down in a short while.’

  ‘So what’s been happening?’ said Karenza.

  ‘John and I have been in a B & B,’ explained Ellen. ‘John hated it. But– I’ve just been to see Nick and he said we can have the caravan back. Joe left three weeks ago, he’s gone up country to stay with his dad.’

  ‘Was it drink?’ Karenza asked.

  ‘Yes. And his dad is getting him into rehab,’ said Ellen. ‘But I’m never going back with him, Karenza. Of course he’ll have to see John. I’m much better on my own though, even in a B & B.’

  Karenza grinned at her.

  ‘Cats are better than men,’ she said. ‘I figured that out long ago. So when can you move back?’

  ‘Next weekend,’ said Ellen. ‘Nick has kindly said he’ll do a few repairs on the caravan, and he’s going to put in a little wood burner, so we’ll be cosy.’

  ‘Well, I’ll look after Solomon until you’re ready.’ Karenza gave my head a rub. ‘Is that all right, Solomon?’

  ‘He understands everything,’ said Ellen. ‘I just wish he could tell us where Jessica is.’

  I sat up and gave the saddest meow I could muster. It came out as a wailing sound. Ellen and Karenza looked at each other. Ellen put both arms around me and looked right into my eyes.

  ‘Has Jessica died, Solomon?’ she whispered, and I did an even sadder meow and buried my head in her scarf because I couldn’t bear the sadness.

  ‘He’s grieving,’ said Karenza. ‘I know a grieving cat when I see one. He’ll need lots of time and love. I took him to bed last night and I’ll do it again for him.’

  ‘You’re an angel. How can I ever thank you?’

  John and Pam arrived next, and there were more tears. I was glad to feel John’s small hand stroking me.

  ‘Poor Solomon,’ he kept saying. ‘I missed you, Solomon.’

  Pam had a big plastic bag, which she gave to Ellen.

  ‘I brought you a present.’

  ‘Oh Pam.’ Ellen reached into the bag and took out the amber velvet cushion.

  ‘I rescued it, after he’d chucked it out,’ said Pam proudly. ‘And I’ve washed it, and dried it, and even made it smell nice.’

  ‘Wow!’ Ellen buried her face in the cushion. ‘It smells of lavender. Thank you, Pam. You’re an angel.’

  Another angel, I thought. Pam and Karenza. Two earth angels. If I were a person instead of a cat, I would give them a bunch of roses each.

  I was quite nervous about going into the caravan again. The memory of Joe’s bad tempers would be in there, and the damp washing, and the way everything rattled in the wind.

  After a week of Karenza’s TLC, I was much better. My fur was growing back, my thin body was filling out again, my legs were strong and my tail was up most of the time. When the day came, Karenza carried me all the way up the lane inside her coat, and I knew my eyes were shining again as I looked around. High in the trees a song thrush was singing, and there were snowdrops and yellow celandines along the sides of the lane.

  John had gone to school, but Ellen was there to welcome me home. She’d bought me a new basket and lined it with a cosy rug, and a new dish with food already in it for me. The caravan looked and smelled different. The best thing was the new stove full of a crackling fire, and it was hot in the caravan. It felt peaceful. I inspected everything, strutting around with my tail up. I went into John’s bedroom and touched noses with his two teddy bears, then into Ellen’s room and saw her slippers under the bed. I sniffed at Jessica’s cupboard. It had been cleaned out and packed with boxes, but right in the corner I found Jessica’s catnip mouse. I took it into my new basket, and settled down there, wondering what kind of life we would have here now, without Joe. ‘There will be peace,’ my angel had said.

  She was right. Ellen, John and I were peaceful together. The caravan wasn’t a house, but it was a cosy sanctuary, and there was no more shouting and screaming. Ellen spoke quietly to John and to me, and on wet afternoons the three of us would curl up together in front of the fire and Ellen would read John a story or play a game with him. We were as happy as we could be. I had something in common with John. Both of us were grieving, me for Jessica, and John for his daddy. At first John cried a lot and I was glad to be able to comfort him. I’d stretch myself out with my long paws over his chest, and my chin on his heart, purring and purring.

  ‘You are SUCH a healing cat,’ Ellen said to me once. ‘But I know you still miss Jessica, don’t you? You don’t play like you used to.’

  It was true. I didn’t feel like playing. Jessica’s death had left a big hole in my life, and I thought about her constantly. Ellen had a photo of Jessica’s cheeky face on the wall near my basket, and I often sat gazing at it. I still loved her, and I kept her memory alive by remembering the fun times we had had, and all that she had taught me.

  Cats are not brilliant at counting, so I don’t know how long we lived there like this, peacefully in the caravan. Summer passed, and I was sleek and glossy again, and autumn rolled on into winter. John was growing bigger, and I knew that every two weeks Ellen took him to see his daddy, and both of them came back stressed an
d upset. But Joe never came to the caravan, and for that I was glad.

  One bright winter morning, everything changed.

  I was sitting on the caravan steps, washing my paws in the sunshine, when my angel appeared in a flare of white light. Usually I had to struggle to see her, but now she was sharply in focus and fizzing with stars.

  ‘Be at your best, Solomon. Someone is coming, and he is very important. You must stay close to Ellen, and use all of your senses.’

  ‘Who is it?’ I asked, but already a gleaming black car was turning into the campsite, and my angel disappeared in a plume of light. I sat up and made myself look important, with stiff whiskers and fluffed-out fur.

  The car drove quietly and carefully up to the caravan and stopped. A bailiff, I thought. Not again.

  But a beautiful man got out and stood looking at the caravan. He was beautiful because of his aura, which I could see. It was huge and luminous with lots of turquoise and white, and the man reminded me of the sea. He had interesting blue eyes, which lit up when he saw me sitting on guard.

  He didn’t say, ‘Hello puss,’ like most did. He padded peacefully towards me and stretched out a chunky hand to stroke me. But first he asked permission, in a deep rumbly voice that I liked.

  ‘May I stroke you? You are a beautiful friend.’

  I did a special sound for him, a cross between a meow and a purr, and stood up on my hind legs to show him I wanted him to touch me. His touch was calm and loving, and he stroked me for several minutes before knocking at the caravan door. When he had knocked, he stepped back respectfully for Ellen to open it.

  She stood there looking surprised and a bit anxious, wiping her hands on a flowery tea towel.

  ‘Excuse me, I was baking,’ she said.

  The man didn’t speak immediately and I saw he was looking at Ellen’s long golden hair glinting in the winter sunshine.

  ‘I’m Isaac Mead,’ he said, and held out his hand. ‘I’m a governor at John’s school.’

  Ellen shook hands with him, but she looked uneasy.

  ‘Oh dear,’ she said. ‘Has John been playing up?’

  ‘No – not at all. It’s because of something that John said though, that’s why I’m here.’

  ‘You’d better come in.’

  She took Isaac into the tiny kitchen, which smelled of warm cakes, and he sat down by the wood burner.

  ‘Does this gorgeous cat have a name?’ he asked.

  ‘Solomon. Because he’s so wise,’ said Ellen, and I climbed onto her lap and sat there protectively, studying the deep blue of Isaac’s eyes. He had a beard, and bits of it were grey, and he wore a duffel coat with toggles, which I wanted to play with.

  ‘So what’s this about?’ Ellen’s eyes were still wary. ‘Is it bad news?’

  ‘No my dear. No. You see the school is in rather a difficult situation. We’ve got the Christmas concert coming up, and now the pianist has had a heart attack. She won’t be able to play for a long, long time, and when we told the children this in assembly they were really upset. Then your John put his hand up and said, “My mum can play the piano and she’s brilliant.”’

  ‘Wow,’ said Ellen, and her face glowed. ‘Fancy him remembering. He was so young when we – we,’ she hesitated, and Isaac just looked at her kindly and waited. ‘We lost our home you see, and they took all our furniture, including my piano. So I haven’t played for years.’

  ‘Would you consider playing for the children?’ Isaac asked.

  Ellen couldn’t seem to answer. She’d always said no as a child when her mother wanted her to perform.

  There was a long silence. My angel had said Ellen missed her music, and that music would feed her soul. I knew Ellen had to say yes, and she wouldn’t. So I decided to answer for her.

  I looked at Isaac and gave a loud, firm meow. Then I batted Ellen’s face with my paw, and meowed at her. I kept doing it until she smiled and said, ‘OK, I’ll have a go,’ and I rubbed my head against her and purred.

  ‘Perhaps you’d better bring Solomon,’ smiled Isaac.

  ‘I could. He’s a very well behaved cat – and he loves music,’ explained Ellen. ‘Maybe he’d give me confidence. He always used to sit on top of the piano. He really loves Mozart.’

  ‘The children would love him,’ said Isaac. ‘And John would be so proud of you.’

  ‘I’d need to practise. There isn’t room for a piano in here, even if I could afford one. I’m a single parent.’

  ‘I’ve got a piano,’ said Isaac. ‘I’m afraid it hasn’t been played for years, but it’s a beauty – a grand. It’s a bit dusty, like the rest of my place. I live alone you see, since my dear wife died of cancer …’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ Ellen said kindly. She put her slim hand on Isaac’s arm, and tiny sparks danced in his aura.

  ‘I’ll go home now, and clear all my stuff off the top of it.’ Isaac’s eyes shone with enthusiasm. ‘Then you can come down and practise. I promise not to listen. I’ll be up a ladder putting a new roof on the barn. You can bring John. It would be good to have some life in the old place. It’s just me and the mice at the moment.’

  I meowed at Ellen again, and this time she responded.

  ‘I’d … like that. I really would. Thank you, and I’d so appreciate you not listening! I’ve always been shy about performing.’

  Isaac looked at her silently, nodding his head a little. His eyes glanced around the caravan, at the picture of Jessica, the bowl of oranges, the neatly stacked books and box of Lego, the cosy rugs and cushions.

  ‘You’ve made a beautiful little home here,’ he said, rather wistfully. His eyes looked at Ellen again, and suddenly I remembered meeting Jessica for the first time. As soon as I’d seen her challenging buttercup eyes, I’d fallen in love with her, and the love was forever.

  Isaac was being quiet and courteous. But I knew a secret, even before he knew it. Isaac had fallen in love with Ellen.

  On the night of the Christmas concert I was the proudest cat on the planet.

  Ellen had bought me a special cat harness, with a lead, and she’d taken me into John’s classroom. With the door firmly shut, I was set free and I knew exactly what to do. Tail up and purring I walked around loving the children, and they adored me. Then I showed them how I liked to sit on the piano while Ellen played. After a few of these sessions, I was allowed to go to the performance on a starry winter night.

  Pam was assigned to look after me, and she sat squarely in the front row close to the piano, in her best red coat. The children were used to me by now, but they still buzzed with excitement when Pam put me firmly on top of the piano. I sat up smartly, looking at everyone.

  ‘Please welcome our pianist, Ellen King,’ said the headmaster, and everyone clapped. I was so proud of Ellen, I could have burst. She swept in, wearing a black velvet coat, with her golden hair swinging down her back. I lay down immediately and had eye contact with her as she sat down at the piano.

  She began to play the Christmas music with great energy and love, and everyone listened. Ellen kept glancing at me, and I knew I was helping her. No one except me knew how nervous she’d been. The music helped her too. Once she had started, she was happy. The audience and the children stood up to sing and I really loved the sound they made. I watched Isaac and he was gazing raptly at Ellen.

  The children did a play, and John was a shepherd. He had a tea towel on his head and a stick he had cut from the hedge. When the play was over and everyone had finished clapping, I was allowed to go on stage. I strutted on with my tail up and all the children wanted to stroke me. I wanted to inspect the toy sheep that John was carrying, and I touched noses with it. Then I thought I ought to see what was in the crib they were all looking at, so I climbed up and touched noses with the plastic doll who was in there. Everyone laughed, but I didn’t see what was so funny.

  ‘Well done, Solomon,’ said the headmaster. He was leaning on the piano, so I ran back and touched noses with him, and the children laughed and laug
hed.

  Ellen’s eyes were sparkling as she started to play again, and everyone sang lustily, a song about a figgy pudding.

  ‘Eee,’ said Pam, as we all walked home under the stars. ‘That were the best night I’ve had in years. And that cat was the star of the show.’

  The following morning Ellen’s mobile phone kept ringing; and I noticed she was smiling a lot and singing the ‘figgy pudding’ song as she worked. She and John had decorated a small Christmas tree and the baubles fascinated me. I sat looking at a pink one, intrigued to see a tiny cat inside it who looked like me.

  ‘That’s you, Solomon,’ said John, and he appeared beside the cat in the bauble. ‘And me. It’s a reflection.’

  I stared at it, and when I moved the tiny cat moved too, and I could see Ellen in there hanging decorations in the window – paper snowflakes that she and John had made together. I patted the bauble with my paw, hoping to get it down on the floor and chase it. But Ellen spoke to me, firmly.

  ‘No, Solomon, please don’t play with the Christmas tree,’ and I meowed back and sat still to show her I understood.

  ‘It’s a good thing Jessica isn’t here,’ said John. ‘She’d trash it, wouldn’t she Mummy?’

  I looked sadly at Jessica’s photograph. A year had passed and I still missed her so much.

  I moved round to inspect the reflections on the other side of the bauble; the trees in the copse, the caravans, the entrance gate, all in miniature. Isaac’s shiny black car was arriving. He came so often now that I knew the sound of his car. I jumped down and ran to the door with my tail up.

  Ellen looked pleased, and so did John.

  We all ran out to meet Isaac, who got out of the car a bit sheepishly, with the biggest bunch of flowers I’d ever seen. Pink and red, yellow and white, inside a cone of crackly cellophane which Jessica would have loved.

  Ellen’s cheeks glowed as Isaac thrust the bouquet into her hands. I noticed she had done her hair nicely, tied back with a floaty red scarf, and her eyes were alive again, the way they had been when she was a child.