Solomon's Tale

by Sheila Jeffries

  ‘Is John asleep?’ Pam whispered, sitting herself down on the seat opposite.

  ‘Yes. He’s out for the count, Pam, you needn’t whisper,’ said Ellen. Her voice sounded wobbly.

  ‘I came to see if you were all right.’ Pam’s eyes were full of kindness. ‘I heard Joe go off like that in the car. I couldn’t help hearing the row.’

  Ellen started to cry. She cried and cried, and Pam just sat there offering her tissues out of a box, and making motherly comments like, ‘Oh dear. Oh dear, oh dear. Oh you poor girl.’

  ‘I hate it here in this caravan. I can’t cope with being here, Pam. We lost our home you see – they repossessed it. It was my mum’s home and she left it to me, but Joe got into debt and mortgaged it. They took all our furniture, they even took my piano. If Nick hadn’t let us in here we’d be homeless. I thought we’d try and make the best of it but it’s getting worse and worse, Pam, especially with – now that Joe is …’ Her voice came to a halt. She couldn’t speak. I stretched out my paws and lay over her heart, my chin on her chest. She felt bony and thin and her inner light was very very dim as if it was about to go out.

  ‘Joe’s on benefits,’ said Ellen. ‘We both tried to get jobs, but there just aren’t any here in Cornwall. They keep telling us there will be jobs in the spring when the tourist season starts, but how can we survive until then?’

  ‘He’s drinking isn’t he?’ asked Pam, and a new wave of pain seemed to engulf Ellen and came pouring out in a deluge of words and tears, her whole body shaking and sobbing.

  ‘I know,’ Pam went on. ‘I don’t miss much. Anyway, you can smell it on him. How’s he going to get home?’

  ‘I don’t know, Pam.’ Ellen shook her head. ‘He’ll have to walk. Sometimes he stays out all night. Oh Pam, I’m so frightened. If he goes on like this, Nick will chuck us off the site. Then where will we go? We’ve got nowhere to go, Pam, nowhere.’

  Pam leaned forward and made Ellen look at her courageous blue eyes. ‘I won’t let him,’ she declared. ‘And you can come in with me any time. You remember that. I’ll be like a – a mum to you, and I’ll be a granny for John. I love him, and you, and this beautiful cat.’

  ‘We’ve got no money,’ Ellen wept. ‘It all goes on Joe’s booze and the rent.’

  Pam shook her fist. ‘He’s got to be stopped.’

  ‘No Pam, don’t you get involved,’ said Ellen, but I knew that Pam would. I could see that Pam was like Jessica – gutsy and brave, even if she was an old lady. She was going to have a go at Joe. I couldn’t wait.

  ‘He used to be a lovely man,’ said Ellen. ‘He was over the moon when John was born.’

  Pam got up and made two mugs of steaming cocoa. Then she rummaged in the cupboard and found a tin of Whiskas rabbit, my favourite. I jumped down to eat it, and I got a compliment as well.

  ‘This cat, Solomon, he’s special,’ Pam said, stroking my back as I tucked in. ‘He’s the most beautiful, loving cat I’ve ever seen. He’s trying to look after you, Ellen. Don’t you ever let him go will you? He’s heaven sent, this cat.’

  After that, I felt so much better that I settled down in the caravan with Ellen and John. Joe didn’t come back, and despite the wild storm outside, we had a night of peace. Jessica came slinking back through the hole in the door and we curled up together on the amber velvet cushion.

  We survived the rest of the winter. Joe came and went, losing his temper and apologising, then he’d try to be nice for a few days. It never lasted.

  As spring turned to summer, life seemed easier. John was growing fast and running around the campsite with other children. Ellen had the washing outside in the sun, and even a few pots of flowers. While Joe spent whole mornings lying in bed, Ellen was cleaning and polishing and keeping John happy. Jessica and I had a bit of fun, chasing each other up and down trees. She liked to go up to Nick’s house and tease Paisley by sitting on top of the gatepost. The poor dog would shiver and shake, and if Jessica jumped down into his garden, he would bolt indoors, yelping.

  I showed Jessica all my refuges, including the badger hole, and we had a few experimental naps in it. She wouldn’t come down the road with me to visit Karenza’s cottage, so I went alone and socialised with her cats. I kept friends with the badgers too, it was part of my plan to build a support network to help me in times of trouble.

  One hot summer day, after a wild chase through the copse with Jessica, I got a prickle stuck in my paw. I licked and fussed but it wouldn’t come out, and days later it turned into an abscess. My paw was swollen and throbbing painfully. It was full of poison. Miserably, I crouched in the shade underneath the caravan. I didn’t want to eat or move.

  Ellen kept picking me up and holding my bad paw in a basin of hot salty water. It was comforting, but soon I felt so ill I just crawled deeper under the caravan and sat there, shivering.

  ‘I’ll have to take you to the vet, Solomon.’ Ellen wriggled under the caravan on her tummy to get me out. I lay in her arms, all floppy like a dead cat.

  ‘Get the cat basket, Joe,’ she said. ‘I’m taking Solomon in right now. He’s really sick.’

  ‘We can’t afford vet’s fees, Ellen.’

  ‘I don’t care. I’m taking him.’

  ‘And who’s going to pay for it?’

  Ellen didn’t answer. She put me down and dragged the cat basket out of its cupboard. Within minutes she and Joe were arguing while I lay there with a headache.

  ‘I am not letting Solomon die because of your selfishness,’ Ellen said angrily. ‘What’s the matter with you, Joe?’

  She put me into the cat basket. I felt so ill that I didn’t much care whether I lived or died. It would be OK to die. I could go home to the spirit world, to the lovely valley with the cushiony grass. An easy option. But Ellen would be left here with all the problems. I hadn’t done my work. So I lay there, struggling to stay alive, my paw hot and throbbing.

  Ellen was fighting to hang on to the car keys, which Joe was trying to prise out of her hands, and John was clinging to Ellen’s sleeve.

  ‘Please let me come, Mummy. I don’t want to stay with Daddy.’ He started to scream. ‘Mummy, please.’

  ‘Shut up.’ Joe pushed John and he fell backwards out of the caravan. John got up slowly, rubbing his elbow and howling.

  ‘Oh, sorry son. I didn’t mean you to fall.’ Joe was suddenly quiet again, shamefaced. But the shadow of his temper was still there. I watched it sadly through half-closed eyes, feeling powerless and very sick. I opened my mouth and managed a really loud meow, more like a cry, and even though he was hurt, little John came and pressed his hot face against the bars of the cat basket.

  ‘Poor Solomon,’ he cried. ‘I love you, Solomon. I’m coming with you and I won’t let that vet hurt you.’

  Even in my comatose state I looked into John’s eyes and saw the beautiful caring soul that was in there. The whole child was shining in an aura of golden light. I managed to reach out a good paw and pat him gently through the bars, feeling encouraged. I’d found another friend who loved me.

  Ellen and Joe were looking at each other silently. One small loving gesture from John had turned into a golden moment of healing that wrapped itself around the troubled family.

  ‘I’ll drive,’ said Joe quietly. ‘I’ll be really careful, I promise.’

  I was too ill to feel frightened. I just lay in the cat basket, my chin on the amber velvet cushion, and I felt more at peace. Little John had done my work for me. Now he sat beside me in his car seat, talking to me, telling me how he was going to grow up and be a vet and heal animals.

  All three of them came into the surgery with me, and I was grateful for their presence as I lay limply on the cold steel table.

  This vet was a pretty dark-eyed woman called Abby. She examined me gently and spoke softly to me.

  ‘He’s very ill,’ she explained. ‘He needs an immediate shot of antibiotics which I’ll give him now.’

  John went on stroking my head with his sm
all hand while Abby gave me some injections.

  ‘You are a good lad,’ she said to John. ‘I could do with a helper like you.’

  ‘And I’ve got a bad elbow,’ John said. ‘I fell out of the caravan. But I stopped crying for Solomon’s sake ’cause he’s got a sore paw.’

  Ellen and Joe stood close, just looking at each other and holding hands. Ellen was very pale and still had tears on her cheeks.

  ‘This stuff is a painkiller,’ explained Abby, giving me a second injection. ‘You’re being such a good cat, Solomon. I wish they were all like you.’

  Then she did something to my paw, cutting the abscess, and I could feel the hot pain draining away. I felt suddenly sleepy and soft.

  ‘He’s purring. Mummy, he’s purring,’ said John.

  ‘He knows he’s being made better,’ I heard Ellen say as I drifted off, and Abby’s words were even more distant.

  ‘Keep him warm and quiet. Give him one of these tablets every six hours and make sure he swallows it. He’s a young strong cat and he should get better.’

  I woke up in the caravan on Ellen’s lap. She was stroking me softly as if I was made of gossamer, and her hands were warm and full of stardust. It was so lovely, I pretended to be asleep again, floating and drifting, and in my dream I heard music. I remembered my past life as Ellen’s cat, how we had danced on the lawn, and the times when I had sat on top of the piano while she played music that tingled in my bones. What had happened to make Ellen change so much? I asked my angel.

  ‘Life has happened,’ she said.

  ‘So why have I been ill?’ I asked.

  ‘It’s a gift,’ said my angel.

  ‘A gift?’

  ‘Sometimes illness is a gift. It gives you a time to heal in body and soul. It’s like a spiritual holiday. And it calms and strengthens the people who have to look after you, it reminds them how to be kind. It’s a blessing in disguise.’

  I understood. I would rest and get better now, and let Ellen pamper me. But even as I lay there pretending to sleep, I kept one eye on Joe. He was sprawled in a corner, drinking can after can of beer and chucking the empty ones on the caravan floor.

  The next minute Nick was standing at the open caravan door, looking very serious.

  ‘Been drinking again, have you Joe?’ He looked into the caravan at the piles of empty cans. ‘I’ve come to collect your rent. Have you got it?’

  Joe stood up. I felt Ellen’s hands go stiff. What was going to happen now?

  ‘YOU CHEEKY CAT’

  John started school that autumn. Ellen took him every morning in the car. She started staying out for a long time, and we cats were left alone with Joe. The first thing Joe did was to pull Jessica out of her basket, holding her roughly with one hand under her tummy. Even if it was raining he dumped her outside, clapped his hands and shooed her away. One day he did the same to me. I felt so hurt. I turned around and looked at him reproachfully, flicking my tail, but he slammed the door. Clearly he didn’t want us.

  Jessica was catching mice in the hedge. She stashed them under the caravan and waited for her chance to sneak one inside and into her private cupboard. I headed down the lane to Karenza’s cottage, the chilly wind ruffling my fur. Jessica and I were hungry. Our food was getting less and less, and we relied on mice or the little treats Pam gave us more than ever. Today one of Karenza’s cats, a big ginger tom, kindly shared his dish with me. He had plenty so I ate as much as I could. Karenza opened her door and I peered in, tempted by the warmth of her cosy stove. I wanted to go in and curl up on the rug with the cats who were already there.

  ‘Hello Solomon,’ Karenza said brightly. ‘Oh yes, I know your name. Your Ellen’s been telling me all about you, what a special cat you are.’ She picked me up and gave me a cuddle, and I leaned on her, soaking up her warmth and cheerfulness. I thought she was going to carry me inside and let me sit by the fire, but she put me down again. ‘You go home, Solomon,’ she said as I rubbed myself against the black boots she always wore, and she guided me firmly outside and shut the door.

  Disappointed, I sat down on the doorstep to think. The easy days of summer had passed, and soon we faced another winter. The morning sky was yellow and grey, the wind zigzagged up the lane, stripping leaves from the sycamores. Above me on the telephone wires, a crowd of swallows had gathered, twittering and fussing. I watched them fly away to the south and I knew they were going to a better warmer place thousands of miles away. I wished I was a swallow instead of a cat.

  My angel was twinkling at me urgently.

  ‘Go home,’ she said. ‘Quickly.’

  I hurried up the lane, dashed across the copse and over the hedge to the caravan, a feeling of dread in my throat. What had happened now? I soon knew.

  Ellen was sitting doubled up with pain, a basin in her hand. Her face was yellowish white and frightened. Pam was sitting one side of her and Joe the other.

  ‘You’ve got to go to hospital, Ellen,’ Pam was saying, her arm around Ellen’s tense shoulders, and Ellen was shaking her head.

  ‘No. No, Pam. I can’t be ill. What about John, and the cats?’

  ‘I’ll take care of John,’ Pam said warmly.

  ‘And I can manage the cats for goodness’ sake,’ said Joe.

  Ellen just looked at him hopelessly.

  I ran to her and jumped on her lap.

  ‘Get out cat,’ Joe tried to push me aside.

  ‘Don’t call him cat,’ cried Ellen. ‘This is SOLOMON. Let him stay.’

  I glared at Joe and settled on the seat as close to Ellen as I could get. She was doubled over with pain and her body felt stiff.

  Joe stood up and took the car keys from their hook.

  ‘I’m taking you to hospital right now.’

  ‘How much have you had to drink?’ asked Pam sharply.

  ‘Nothing today, promise. I never drink until after lunch.’

  Pam looked at Ellen and raised her eyebrows.

  ‘Is that true?’

  ‘Course it’s true. I’m not a liar.’

  ‘Don’t you raise your voice at me, Joe.’ Pam’s eyes flared at Joe. ‘I’m going to be looking after John. I’ll fetch him from school on me bike and I’ll clean up for you too, so don’t get lippy with me.’

  Ellen looked too ill to care what happened. I stared deep into her eyes, trying to tell her I loved her. Then I kissed her on the nose, purring and purring. She took my face in both hands.

  ‘Thank you for being my cat, Solomon,’ she said. ‘Now you stay here, and Jessica too, and Joe will bring me back when I’m better.’

  Joe picked her up and carried her out to the car while Pam bustled around stuffing things into a bag: Ellen’s slippers, her hairbrush and wash bag. She took down a photo frame with a picture of John holding me and smiling, and popped that in. When I heard the bag being zipped up and the car starting I felt uneasy. I ran to sit on the steps, and as the car drove off Ellen looked back at me.

  In that moment of parting, I felt so close to Ellen. We had shared so much. Joe saw Ellen as a tired woman with haunted eyes endlessly shrieking at him, often frowning as she tried to cope. Only I knew the bright, creative soul of Ellen, the child with honey gold hair and passion in her eyes, who cared about tiny birds and animals, who only wanted to play beautiful music and dance in the wind. In that earlier lifetime she’d given me so much love and fun. It tore me apart to watch her being driven away to a place where I couldn’t reach her.

  Jessica crept out of her cupboard and we both sat on the windowsill, watching Pam cleaning up the caravan. She worked energetically, gathering Joe’s empty beer cans into a bag, stacking his motoring magazines, washing up and folding clothes. She tutted and grumbled, and talked non-stop.

  ‘He’s a lazy so and so, that Joe. He doesn’t deserve a lovely wife like Ellen, and two beautiful cats like you. Now you cats have got to be good.’ Pam turned and wagged her finger at us. ‘You’ve got to be good quiet cats and keep out of his way. I’ll have John in with me
, but I can’t have you two in my caravan because of me dog. Have you got that, Jessica?’

  Jessica’s buttercup eyes sparkled at Pam as if they shared a private joke.

  ‘And don’t you shred his precious magazines.’ Pam pointed her finger at Jessica who was enjoying the attention. ‘And don’t bring mice in. He hates that. You just be good quiet cats and I’ll keep an eye on you till Ellen gets back, poor girl. She’s gone to hospital, and that’s like you going to the vet. Not fun, but they’ll make her better, you’ll see.’

  Pam sounded confident and reassuring. I was glad to have her there. She seemed like an earth angel to me. When she’d gone to fetch John, Jessica and I settled down for a long sleep with the afternoon sun streaming through the window onto our fur.

  At dusk I sat on the caravan steps, waiting for Ellen to return. Paisley was ambling along the hedge on his own. He paused and looked at me, one paw in the air. I didn’t move. I knew that Jessica would come out, puffed up like a porcupine, if Paisley dared to approach. I still didn’t fancy tackling him on my own though.

  I could hear the badgers coming out of their hole, and the magpies chattering as they went home to roost. I listened to every car that came down the lane, and finally I heard the familiar rattle of Joe’s car and the squeal of tyres as he braked and turned into the campsite. Paisley’s eyes shone red in the headlight.

  ‘Daddy, Daddy.’ John came running. ‘I had tea with Pam. And she’s given me a cake for Mummy.’

  He flung himself at the car window, the cake in his hand. It looked nice. A fruit bun with a cherry on top.

  But the passenger seat was empty.

  Ellen wasn’t there.

  Joe heaved himself out of the car and locked it. He squatted down to talk to John.

  ‘Mummy’s very sick,’ he said. ‘She’s got to stay in hospital for a long time.’

  John stared at him, his face crumpling. Then he squashed the cake in his hand, hurled it under the caravan, and ran away into the darkness.

  ‘Get back here NOW,’ shouted Joe, but John ignored him.

  I understood what Joe had said about Ellen. It shocked me. How would we all live without Ellen? How could I be her cat if she wasn’t there? I made up my mind to go and find her.