by Julia Romp
George had been practicing for weeks. At first he’d told me that he didn’t want to be in the concert because he didn’t want people staring at him. Then he’d told me he was sick of giving up his lunch break for rehearsals—Marjorie Kinnan went to town at Christmas every year and all the children took part. Now the day itself had arrived and I had a stomach filled with butterflies and a head pounding with nerves. Would George sing? Or would he refuse and stand silent amid all his classmates? Some of them were playing instruments as the parents waited for the concert to start, and as kids started filing on stage, I sat up extra tall to see George. I didn’t know when he’d be coming on, so my eyes were darting everywhere until I saw him.
George had his head down. He was holding a light in one hand and wore a red T-shirt. I so wanted him to sing and as he took his position on stage and the music started, I looked at him, willing him to join in as his classmates began singing. Then suddenly he opened his mouth, and as excitement rushed through me I made the ultimate mum mistake and my hand shot up in the air to wave at him. I just couldn’t help myself as I thought back to all the school events he hadn’t taken part in, the concerts or plays where he’d stayed stock still and silent. Now George was joining in at last.
The moment he saw my hand go up, his eyebrows shot up too and I stopped waving: I didn’t want to put him off. It was hard to contain myself, though, as I watched him sing and when the music finished, I jumped up and started clapping so hard I thought my hands might fall off. George looked around at the hall full of people. I knew he wouldn’t like all the noise of the applause but as I wiggled around in excitement, feeling as if I was going to burst at the sight of him, he looked at me. Then as his eyes locked with mine his mouth curled into a smile.
Best Christmas ever.
When the concert had finished and I’d stopped myself from making so much fuss that George would make sure he never took part in another one, we went home and opened the front door to find the house strangely quiet. Usually Ben ran to the door to meet us, but there was no sign of him tonight.
“Baboo?” George called and we started searching.
Ben wasn’t in the living room or the kitchen, and the chair in my bedroom upstairs was empty; he wasn’t lying on his pillow and there was no sign of him in George’s room either. As I carried on hunting, George went downstairs to look again.
“He’s decorating the tree,” I heard him shout before he started laughing.
I ran downstairs and into the living room. I couldn’t see Ben anywhere.
“He’s there!” George said, pointing at the 6-foot tree that had pride of place in the corner of the lounge.
My eyes travelled up—and up—until I saw Ben’s green eyes staring out from the very top of the tree. He was sitting surrounded by lights and baubles and gazing down. He was the Christmas cat surrounded by tinsel and decorations, and from high up in the Christmas tree, Ben looked down at us and miaowed. George and I started laughing.
“I think he likes the tree, Mum,” George said.
“Maybe a bit too much,” I replied. “Now shall we get him down?”
PART THREE
Losing Ben
Chapter 14
Maybe the months after the winter wonderland really were the best that George and Ben had together, or maybe that’s just how I remember them. By the time we were getting ready to go on holiday in September 2009, I was worried that George was going to refuse to leave Ben, because they were even more inseparable than ever. But a friend I’d looked after during many years of ill health wanted to take us to Egypt and I knew it would be a dream come true for George to see the blue sea and fishes that he had loved for so long. Somehow I had to persuade him to go. I didn’t have much luck at first: George refused to be budged. He just didn’t want to leave Ben. It was only when Howard offered to move into our house while we were away to look after Ben that he finally agreed. Knowing Ben would be happy in his own home, George had told me he’d go away. Now our bags were waiting by the front door as we climbed the stairs to say goodbye.
Ben was asleep on his pink blanket as we walked into my bedroom. He was lying on the bed, looking so peaceful that I didn’t want to wake him, and my heart turned over as I looked at him. Two weeks felt like such a long time now as George and I stood at the foot of the bed.
“I will never go away again,” George said. “He knows I’m going. Ben’s sad. That’s why he’s staying asleep because he knows we’re leaving him, don’t he?”
“He’s going to be well looked after,” I told George. “He’s going to be here with your dad and he’ll hardly know we’ve gone. We can ring him every day and Dad will put the phone on loudspeaker so that Ben can hear our voices. He’s going to be fine.”
As George sat down softly on the edge of the bed, Ben opened his eyes. Looking at us, he gave a long meow. It was the meow he used to say hello—a long one with two notes in it that he made whenever we came back from going out. Otherwise, Ben had a long but flat meow that he used when he was unhappy and a shorter one to say yes.
“I’m going to bring you lots of presents home,” George said as he picked up Ben. “I’m going to bring you home some sand from the sea too.”
His eyes filled with tears and I suddenly wondered if we should even be going away. Was I wrong to think that this trip was something we had to do together? Or should I have just stayed here where I knew George and Ben would be happy? I told myself to stop worrying. I knew we’d all miss each other, but how could we not go on a trip that George would remember forever? When he got to Egypt he would love it and have the time of his life.
I would be glad to get away as well because for some reason I didn’t understand a man on the estate seemed to have really taken against me and George. I didn’t know why but it felt like he was set on making us feel uncomfortable. Things had gotten so bad, in fact, that I’d almost started to dread leaving the house. Whenever I went out, it felt like his eyes were on me and it had all made me feel quite uneasy.
I’d tried to ignore it at first, hoping the man would give up if he didn’t get any reaction. But then came the day when George’s school bus pulled up outside our house one afternoon and something happened that made me realize I couldn’t turn a blind eye anymore.
I was folding the washing upstairs when I heard the rumble of the bus and Ben curled around my feet as I walked to the window to wave hello. But as I went to call out to George, I saw the man stop as he walked down the road past our house. Then he started laughing as George walked past him to go up our drive.
“Oy, window licker,” he suddenly cried. “Learned anything at school today? Did you have a good time on the funny bus with all the dribblers?”
I stayed completely still.
“It’s the special bus,” I heard George say to the man as he walked toward our front door. “The special bus for my special needs school.”
“Oh yeah. Really special. Specially for window lickers.”
Rage boiled up inside me as I watched the man laugh. How could he speak like that to George? How could he say those things to a child? George didn’t say a word as I opened the front door and he walked into the house.
“Why don’t you watch a bit of TV and I’ll get you a drink?” I said and closed the lounge door behind him before marching out of the house to where the man was still standing. George was going to have to learn to fight his own battles one day but it wasn’t going to be this afternoon. Enough was enough.
“I’ve heard what you just said and I’m disgusted,” I called to the man as he started walking up the road.
He turned around and laughed. I felt the anger rising higher inside me. I knew his kind: the kind who had fights and feuds with people, picked on those weaker than themselves and gave council estates a bad name.
“You should be ashamed of yourself,” I cried, my temper rising even more. “You’re a disgrace. How dare you speak to my son like that?”
The man looked at me. He seemed a bit less brave
now he could see how revved up I was.
“Leave my son alone,” I told him. “It’s disgusting that you’d talk to him like that and if I ever hear you do it again then you’ll have me to deal with. I don’t know what we’ve done to upset you but whatever it is I’m sick of it. Just leave us alone.”
With that, I had turned on my heel and marched back inside. I’d probably just caused myself a whole new set of problems, but I wasn’t going to keep silent. That man had to be told right from wrong.
George was waiting for me when I walked back inside. He’d been standing at the kitchen window and heard everything.
“Don’t bother, Mum,” he told me. “I don’t care. It’s sad to call the people on my bus window lickers.”
I took a deep breath as I tried to calm myself down.
“Some of the kids on my bus are really sick,” George said. “But I’m not.”
He walked back to the lounge, talking to Ben as he went. “Coward’s the name. Picking on someone who can’t fight back. Coward, coward.”
We didn’t say any more about it and I hoped George would forget, because when he got anxious it could take days to calm him down and he hardly slept or ate. But even though George didn’t mention the incident again, it had obviously upset him.
“Does he understand? Does he understand?” he said to Ben during the days that followed. “Does he know what it’s like for these children? Does he know?”
It wasn’t that the man had upset George himself. He just couldn’t understand how he could be nasty about children like his classmates. When the man taunted him, George knew he was being cruel. So a few days later, I went to try to talk to him about what had happened.
“You’re going to meet people like that man sometimes, George, and you just need to ignore them,” I said softly.
George watched Ben as he strolled into the living room and looked at us.
“I’m not bothered,” he said. “They’re nice souls, aren’t they?”
“Who?”
“The children on my bus. Can they help being born like that? No. They’re good souls.”
“Do you know what a soul is, George?”
“Yes. It’s a being, it’s who’s inside.”
Ben jumped on to the sofa next to him and curled up, starting to purr. Knowing I couldn’t ask George how he felt, I decided to tell him how I did.
“What that man said about your friends made me want to cry. It wasn’t nice at all.”
George looked at me. “Don’t worry, Mum. People think they’re window lickers because Joshua dribbles on the window. But he’s nice. I like him and Ben does too.”
Ben flexed his claws in and out against George’s leg as he spoke, as if to reassure him that everything was going to be all right.
“Well, I think that if you and Ben like your friends on the bus that’s all that matters,” I said.
“They’re nice souls, they are.”
“I know, George.”
“Nice souls.”
But although George seemed to forget what had happened after that day, the man didn’t and things had gone from bad to worse, as he even tried dragging Ben into the argument.
“What would your boy do without that cat?” he’d crow as I walked past him. “He’d be lost without him, wouldn’t he? He does everything with that cat.”
Or sometimes I’d hear him laughing as he went by my house.
“Here, kitty kitty,” he’d call out. “Are you going to come and see me?”
Ben never went near the man because he knew what he was like and I didn’t confront him again. As long as he didn’t speak to George, I hoped that ignoring him would make sure he got bored of whatever game he was playing.
But even so, I was breathing a sigh of relief that George and I were going to Egypt. I’d heard that the man was going to move off the estate while we were away, which would finally mean an end to all the bad feelings. As I looked at George cuddling Ben goodbye, I couldn’t wait to get away.
“I love you, you love me,” George said, holding on to him tightly. “Do you want a kiss? I’m going on holiday to see the fish like Nemo. You’re staying here and you will be busy busy with Dad and playing Xbox.”
I walked over to the bed and bent down to kiss Ben so hard that he batted at me with his paw. I would miss him so much.
“We need to go, George,” I said. “We don’t want to miss the plane.”
“I miss you already,” he said to Ben as we walked to the bedroom door.
We stopped to smile at him one last time.
“We’ll be back soon, Baboo,” I said to him.
Ben gave us a long final look with his peaceful eyes as he lay on the bed.
Have fun. I will be fine here. I’m going to miss you but I want you to have the best holiday ever.
“I miss you already,” George said to Ben again as I pulled the door gently closed.
It was the evening of our second day in Egypt and George had loved every minute on the beach so far. We’d gotten back to our apartment a couple of hours ago and he’d just finished helping me feed one of the stray cats he’d already made friends with.
“Ben would like us to look after them,” George had told me as I scooped ham on to a plate for the strays.
I understood how he felt because I was missing Ben almost as much as he was. The first thing I’d done when we arrived the night before was phone Mum to check that he was OK—she was helping Howard look after him.
“Did he have his dinner early evening and then his supper just before bed?” I asked her. “Does he look sad or is he his usual self?”
“Ben’s fine, Ju,” Mum told me. “Now just relax.”
Earlier in the day, I’d even got a text from Wendy to reassure me that Ben was fine and I’d told myself to relax as I stretched out on a sun lounger. It was just so strange to be without him. I almost expected to see him appear on top of a sand dune or something.
Now my mobile phone started ringing and I picked it up absentmindedly as I thought of Ben in a Lawrence of Arabia outfit on top of a camel.
“Ju?” a voice said. “It’s Howard.”
“Hello!” I said as George wandered out of the kitchen. “How’s Baboo?”
“Well, that’s why I wanted to ring,” Howard said.
My stomach turned with unease. “What’s happened?”
“I’m not sure, Ju. But I haven’t seen him since yesterday evening and I thought you’d want to know.”
“What do you mean?”
“I put him out last thing as usual in the front garden but he’d gone by the time I went back a couple of minutes later.”
“What do you mean?” I asked. “Gone where?”
I couldn’t understand what Howard was saying. Ben never went anywhere. Each night, he’d walk down our drive, across to Wendy’s, back under my car and then on to the front doorstep. He did the same thing every evening.
“I don’t know,” Howard said. “I looked for him for hours last night and then again today. Your family have been round looking, and so have Wendy and Keith. We just can’t find him. One minute he was there and then he was gone. It’s like he’s disappeared.”
Something was terribly wrong. Ben never went off. He was too old to look for adventures and he wasn’t one of those cats who went hunting for days or had a few meals at someone else’s house because he fancied a change. He loved his home and didn’t usually do more than nip out into the garden or on to the driveway. My body felt cold and shaky.
“I don’t understand,” I whispered to Howard. “Ben can’t have gone.”
“I know, Ju. But he has.”
I hardly heard the rest of what Howard had to say and felt numb as I put down the phone, dazed almost, after he told me he’d phone later with any news.
Ben couldn’t be gone. He couldn’t have run away. We couldn’t be without him. It just wasn’t possible. He had to come home.
Sobs started to rip out of me and my breath came short and jagged. I felt s
ick. I couldn’t think straight. This couldn’t be happening.
“Can I have some juice, Mum?” George asked as he walked into the kitchen.
I could not speak as he stared at my white face. I had to get home. I had to start looking for Ben. He must be somewhere. He couldn’t have just disappeared into thin air. I could not tell George that Ben had gone.
“Mum?” he asked again.
I looked at his face, so happy and peaceful. How was I going to tell him this news? What words could I find to explain that Ben had disappeared and reassure him that he would be found? Even as I looked at George and wondered what to say, I knew that no words can stop a world falling apart when you know for sure that it’s about to.
“Baboo! Baboo!”
It was getting light as George and I scrabbled down the riverbank. We’d gotten back from holiday a couple of hours earlier after getting an emergency flight home. I knew some people wouldn’t have left a holiday to look for their cat, but we didn’t have a choice. The stabbing pain in my heart told me everything I needed to know. Ben was so much more to George and me than just a cat. He was as loved as any person, and I couldn’t stay another minute in Egypt knowing he was missing.
The news had tumbled out when George had found me with the phone in my hand after I’d spoken to Howard. I was crying and trembling as I told him; huge sobs rushed out of me in jagged gasps. George just looked at me. He’d never seen me cry properly before.
“Ben is missing,” I blurted out, unable to think clearly.
George was silent for a few seconds before speaking.
“He is probably dead,” he said and walked away.
His words cut deep into me and I stood completely still as George went into the bathroom and shut the door. It just wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be. Ben could not be dead. I knew I had to calm myself down. I took deep breaths and tried to stop crying before going to talk to George again. After persuading him to come out of the bathroom, I sat him down and he looked at my face, blotchy and red with tears. I knew it would scare him and I breathed even harder to try to speak normally.