by Ruth Hay
I spotted the figure of a woman hunched over by the fireside, and went straight to her with all the furious anger I had stored up for days, for just this confrontation. I knew my eyes were flaring in response to my feelings. That alone would be enough to frighten this woman.
“Joan Crawley! What kind of person are you? There are dozens and dozens of starving animals in that barn. You need to……………………..”
I stopped in full flight as the woman turned toward me. She was old and frail and dressed in a strange assortment of mismatched clothing. She wore on her feet the black boots with untied laces that I had seen before.
What I saw next put her appearance and identity into a new perspective.
Her eyes were clouded over with cataracts.
She was blind.
“Oh dearie, did Alan send you to me? I did not hear you over the rain and thunder.
Sit down by the fire. Let me hold your hand so I know where you are, dear.
Can you shut the door? I feel the cold mightily nowadays.”
I moved to close the door in a state of complete disbelief.
Blindness was no excuse for the condition of these animals in that barn. If Alan was the man in the pet shop in Exeter, he must share the major part of the blame. The number of animals had not accumulated overnight. Neither had the sorry state of animal neglect, been arrived at quickly. This dire situation was the result of appalling neglect over a long period of time.
My fingers itched to call the police but I was in an isolated place in the midst of a dreadful storm. The chance of help arriving swiftly was not good at all.
First the woman.
Next the barn.
“Joan, tell me about the animals.”
“Well my dear, it all started with one or two. I had my sight then and I could cope. Alan sold the baby animals at the shop and I looked after the older ones.
When I became blind, I had to stop going to the barn. It was not safe for me anymore. Alan took over the animal care for me. He comes once or twice a week usually, and he said he would find a girl to help me. I pay Alan for the animal food and he said he would pay the girl from the shop profits.
I am glad you came, dear. I have not had a good meal for a day or two. I am a bit afraid of the gas stove now.
Could you make me tea?”
I was in the midst of a major mental readjustment.
It might help if I concentrated on the domestic for a short time. I found the stove and made tea for Joan. The bread in the bin was old, so I toasted it and found some cheese and a pot of homemade jam to sweeten the effect.
Joan Crawley’s gratitude for this simple repast was pathetic. I only wished I could do something similar for the inhabitants of that barn next door.
My anger grew again. This time its focus was solely on Alan Crawley. He was a villain of the worst possible kind. Stealing from his aunt, reneging on his promises, using and abusing helpless animals, I could have gone on with much more, but I had to save what strength I still had for summoning help to this remote location as soon as possible.
While Joan ate and chatted away by the fire, I took out my phone without much hope that it would work at this altitude so far from a town. There was only one other chance I could think of.
“Joan, do you know if there’s a battery-operated phone here?”
“Oh, I think so, dearie. I can’t use it, of course. My husband, God rest his sweet soul, bought it for emergencies.”
I bustled about as quietly as I could, so I did not alarm Joan. I found the instrument in a cupboard in the small untidy bedroom. I tested the battery and it was working although for how long was uncertain.
I had to make a choice. Summon help this way, or go back into the barn and take photographs for evidence. The second choice meant horror for me and delayed my drive back to reach Exeter.
The first choice would rely on whomever I was able to connect with, using the battery phone.
I took a deep breath and called Dr. Hudson’s number, praying he would be available.
Every second of waiting for an answer was agony. The weight of all those hungry, sick, animals was bearing down on me.
I reached a secretary. The line was poor, but my voice said much more in the way of emergency than my words could convey.
“I need Dr. Hudson immediately. This is urgent. I do not have much power on this phone.”
The secretary did the required connections quickly. She must have understood my panic.
When I heard Dr. Dan’s voice at last, I felt faint with relief, but I rushed ahead with my request.
“This is Justine. I am on Dartmoor. There is a barn here full of animals in great danger.
Call the RSPCA and send them to the highest ridge in the area where there is a tall barn and a small old house. All the evidence they need for a prosecution is here. I will stay until they arrive and maintain this signal as long as I can. Please hurry.”
Fourteen
Sometimes the gods are on your side. By the time I had made, sipped and nibbled, a second round of tea and toast, the storm had abated and the sky began to clear. I monitored the battery phone and the signal was becoming weaker but still holding on.
I had done all that I could for now but my anxiety was not stilled. I calculated how much time would elapse before the RSPCA could muster its resources and attempt to find this place.
What I did not count on was the influence a respected vet such as Dr. Daniel Hudson could bring to bear.
In an hour, the storm was gone and rain dripped from every surface.
In one hour more, I heard a helicopter in the distance.
At first, I thought the thunder had returned but, as soon as I realized what the sound actually was, I ran outside to the highest spot on the property with the fast-fading receptor in my hand and waved frantically to attract the attention of the pilot.
He circled around and spotted a flat area near the barn. I had to plaster myself against the barn’s side or risk being blown away by the blast of sound and the force of the whirling helicopter blades.
I dared not move until the blades stopped. Then I ran right to the helicopter’s door and looked inside to see what help had been sent. There were three men, plus the pilot, and they were well prepared in a type of hazmat suit and with a bag of medical supplies that I was sure contained hypodermic needles. I did not see the kind of food resources the barn animals needed but these men knew what they would be dealing with and I must trust to their experience and skill.
When the team disembarked, I gave them a quick rundown of the situation in the house as well as in the barn. The officer in charge recognized, in my succinct account, that I had some experience of traumatic events.
“Ma’am, thank you for what you have done here. We will take over. Social services will be responding to the old lady’s needs. Our people are on their way here by road to rescue whichever animals can be salvaged.
You have provided us with an essential piece of a puzzle that we have struggled with for some time now. You can leave the rest to us. Crawley’s Cuties has ceased to operate as of this moment. A ground-based officer is on his way to the pet shop in Exeter to arrest Alan Crawley as we speak. Daniel Hudson filled in much of what you said on the phone.
Once again, thank you.”
In a matter of seconds, I was relieved of most of my concerns and freed from the burden.
I made my way back to the house to see if there was anything more I could do to help Joan Crawley. She would not be able to stay in this house on her own. There were many changes coming her way but she would be in safe hands for once.
I did not watch what must be happening inside the barn. I made sure Joan was comfortable and had enough food and water to hand for the few remaining hours she would be in this remote location. I tried to explain the noise of the helicopter and warn her of the vans that would arrive to rescue the animals that had a chance to survive. The RSPCA would advertise adoptions for these lucky creatures once they wer
e thoroughly checked out, and restored to health by the Royal Society’s own vets.
The very thought of this, immediately brought my own Catling to mind.
I was seized with the desire to get home fast.
The return journey was mostly downhill and I did not spare the red car. I made the decision to head for the North Coast and Perranporth. My few belongings could be sent to me by the Exeter hotel in due time. For now, I needed normalcy and comfort, in the house on the hill with the sea view.
It was late in the afternoon by the time I reached my own Perranporth hill. My car was close to empty but I forged on. All my thoughts were centred on Catling, and her temporary carers.
I could only hope they had coped with their strange assignment.
Dark-haired Penny opened the door to my knock. She was clearly in a state of excitement.
“Dr. Hudson called us to say you were on your way. Clara is with Catling. Be prepared for a big surprise.”
Before I could ask for an explanation, Penny said, “Go on into the kitchen!”
I dropped my purse and coat on the doorstep, and did as she told me. My heart was beating fast. I knew I could not bear another shock, such as the day had already brought to me. An injured Catling would put me over the edge into a kind of madness of pain and sorrow.
What I found in the kitchen was more than I ever expected to see.
Clara was on her knees on a carpet of towels. Close to her was my Catling but a Catling I had never seen before this moment.
She was transformed from a weak little creature, dependent on me for everything, into a kitten, jumping to catch a string Clara was wiggling around just above her head.
I reached for the nearest chair and plopped down in amazement. My legs would not hold me.
“What on earth? How did this happen?”
Clara looked up at me and chuckled.
“We started off following your advice about Catling’s care but it became clear that she had not read the instructions.”
“How do you mean?” Clara’s words were not making any sense to me.
Penny took over the story.
“We figured out that Catling knew you were not around and she set out to look for you. She was mewing all the time and would not settle, so we put her down in case she fell off the bed. As soon as she felt the floor beneath her paws, she took off. At first, she was unsteady but she was determined to find you and she got stronger with every step. We followed along as she explored the bedroom and the bathroom sniffing around her all the time.”
Clara nodded and explained further.
“We decided to lift her up so she would not roll down the stairs. On the lower level, she seemed to gain strength and continued to roam about until she reached your armchair near the window. That was where she settled. Your smell must have been stronger there.
She slept for a while, with us watching her every breath.”
Penny took over the tale again.
“When she woke up we were ready with milk and a little of the baby food Dr. Hudson recommended. Catling ate like a little tiger cub. I guess all that exercise gave her an appetite.
We spelled off each other so one of us could sleep for a bit while the other kept a close eye on Catling.”
Had I not the evidence of their words right in front of me, this tale would have been impossible to believe. I could see the changes but it was still difficult to understand how, in such a short time, such a thing could happen.
I stumbled over the words to ask for an explanation.
“But, but, help me to understand? Catling looks so different, like a new creature entirely. It’s like a miracle! She has real fur now, and her eyes are functioning perfectly and her little legs have grown.
I can’t comprehend it. You two have accomplished something amazing here.”
Both girls beamed with pleasure at my words. They tried to assure me Catling was right on the verge of these changes and they could have occurred just the same if I was here instead of them.
I would have doubted their claims, had not Catling raised her head at the sound of my voice and moved away from Clara toward me.
When Catling put her little claws onto my pant legs and began to clamber up to me. I had to believe it was not a temporary improvement I was seeing, but a real forward jump in her progress.
I bent over and took her up in my hands so I could breathe on her and cradle her against my neck. At close quarters, I could see the colour of her eyes was now pure gold.
Dimly, I heard the girls sigh and murmur at the sight. Their soft sounds turned to anxious words, however, when I dissolved in the tears I had been storing up for several days.
I could not stop crying. I handed the kitten over to Penny before Catling’s lovely new fur got soaked through.
Clara rushed to make coffee and I simply sat there on the kitchen chair, bent over my arms on the tabletop and sobbing as if my heart would break.
I rarely allowed myself to give way like this, but it was long overdue. All the stress and tension of the past weeks, all the sleep deprivation, all the worry over the uncertainty about the dead kittens, all the horror of the barn on Dartmoor, all the accumulated strain from Lenzie, everything converged in this one moment of sheer relief.
Clara gave me a hand towel; a Kleenex would not have been of any use at this point.
I continued to sob intermittently until it was over. I mopped up my face, arms and chest and immediately felt lighter and happier. I took back Catling and spoke to her softly about my feelings, while the girls took over the kitchen and prepared a supper for all of us.
During the meal, Catling slept on my lap and after I had eaten a huge portion of the lasagna the girls had in the oven, a gift from Pauline, I asked what they had heard about the situation at the barn.
“Dr. Dan called us,” said Penny. “You should know he is a regular visiting professor at our college in Plymouth. We got this gig because he pleaded for us and said it would be an excellent topic for a study paper.”
“He was right about that!” continued Clara. “The whole business of puppy and kitten mills is a national disgrace. It’s part of a movement by the RSPCA to improve animal welfare by stopping wild animal trade and live animal exports. There’s now a big Government proposal, recently announced, to tag Britain’s eight million cats and allow their owners to be traced by simply running a scanner over the microchip. Dogs are already legally required to be chipped.
You don’t know it, Justine, but you have done us a big favour by giving us a frontline view of all of this. Dr. Dan kept us in the loop with the helicopter rescue.”
“Right!” added Penny, again.
These two acted like a tag team!
“This is a big deal. Apart from the college paper we can write, don’t be surprised if the story appears in the news soon.”
This was not what I wanted to hear. Hopefully, my small part could be kept out of any reports. Dr. Hudson could handle any of that.
I just wanted peace and quiet to raise my newly active Catling.
Fifteen
Penny and Clara were so right about the changes in Catling.
She forged ahead with more strength and energy each day. I introduce her to a litter box made from a box lid with a small lip so her little legs could cope. More boxes provided sleeping places lined with the hand towels that had her scent. There were two of these beds but she often preferred to sleep on my chest and, truthfully, I enjoyed the feel and comfort of her furry coat and her gentle breathing.
With increased appetite and regular feeding, Catling slept much better and so I was able to sleep longer also.
The weather had warmed into summer and I ventured outside with my kitten to see how she would manage in the big outdoor world.
It was then, in the small garden space behind my house, that I first noticed something very unusual.
It was afternoon and both of us had eaten well. I was sitting on the bright blue painted wooden chair, while Catling roamed at
my feet sniffing the grass and diverted by every insect that flew near enough for her to jump up to catch. She often tumbled backwards in these attempts but I knew not to laugh at her. Cats of any age have their dignity to protect.
I was admiring the fur that now grew thickly over her body. It was, basically, a rich brown colour but there were golden glints and red hints woven throughout. Her paws were white and their size promised she would be a large and imposing animal in due time.
I breathed in the healing scent of lavender from the blooming plant at my side, and relaxed completely.
It had taken me some weeks to get to this stage of relaxation. Nightmares occasionally disturbed me, and Catling, of course. Although I had been assured by Dr. Dan, as I now also called him, that the barn had been cleared out, and Joan Crawley was in a nursing home, there was still unresolved the capture of Alan Crawley. He had gone missing shortly after he had given a statement to police about some of the places where he had “Dropped off unwanted kittens and puppies”.
I most certainly never wanted to see him again, but his face sometimes appeared in my nightmares. There was a search warrant out for him and his picture was being circulated in newspapers and on posters. I could avoid most of these pictures, but nightmares are not so easy to control.
I was dozing happily in my chair, when suddenly I felt a jab of something that came from outside of me. It was not a word or a feeling so much as an alert of a kind I had never before experienced. I opened my eyes and could see nothing alarming around me. Catling had climbed onto a stone and was balancing herself there with some difficulty, but a quick scan of the whole view indicated nothing worrying.
Before I could resume my relaxed state once more, I heard the doorbell ring. It was faster for me to run around the side of the house than to go through, so I took a few steps to pick up Catling and holding her to me, I ran to see who was visiting me. Visitors were rare and I was not expecting anyone.
Daniel Hudson stood on the doorstep. He announced he had come to inspect the ‘patient’.