India! Ben had never known anyone who came from further away than Birkenhead, but he was pretty sure that India was a long way off. There was a globe in his classroom at school and their teacher, Mr Mallory, was fond of pointing out all the pink countries on it. ‘Pink is the colour of the British Empire,’ he had told them. And then he would name the various countries including, Ben was now sure, India. Yes, that was it! India was where the tea came from, and tigers, elephants, ivory, rice, sugar … Impulsively, Ben turned to his companion. ‘India’s
a hot country, ain’t it?’ he enquired. ‘But I thought Indians were brown, and wore turban things on their heads and long white robes. You dress quite ordinary, for a girl, and you’re awful pale.’
With flashing eyes, the small girl drew herself up and turned away from the window with a flounce. ‘I am
not
a native, you horrible boy,’ she hissed. ‘My father happens to be one of the most important businessmen in Delhi and he is one of the richest men in the city as well,
and
the most powerful. Why, he’s a merchant prince!’
‘Oh aye, and I s’pose you’re a merchant princess,’ Ben sneered, all his dislike of the girl coming to the fore once more. ‘How were I to know …’ But before he could say anything further, the girl had abandoned the window and set off along the pavement. ‘Oh, bleedin’ hell, trust a woman to scream at you and then fly off before you can explain.’
Miss Elliott, however, lingered, even though her charge was scurrying away as fast as her legs could carry her. ‘Miss Leonora’s been spoiled rotten,’ she explained to Ben, giving him a friendly smile. ‘She was born and raised in India with servants to do everything for her; they even laced her shoes and buttoned her coat. What is more, the only other children she met were like herself, over-indulged by everyone. She never got to know ordinary children like you, so I was downright pleased when I saw the pair of you chatting.’ She heaved a deep sigh. ‘But I might have guessed the little madam would start throwing her weight about the moment she got a chance; that’s Lonnie all over. Won’t I just give her a piece of my mind when I get her to myself. The trouble is, she’s lonely, even though she doesn’t know it. That aunt of hers has got a big house and
loads of money but she doesn’t want the bother, do you see? She’s furbished up the old nursery at the top of the house and expects the child to spend her life in it, apart from the odd walk of a morning or afternoon. I told her Leonora’d have to go to school once she was settled in so that she could meet other children, but she’s done nothing about it yet.’ The young woman smiled ruefully down at Ben. ‘I don’t know why I’m telling you all this; I suppose it’s because I’m as lonely as Lonnie is. By the way, what’s your name, young man?’
‘I’m Ben Bailey. You come from India, too, don’t you? I’m sorry I fell out wi’ that girl, but it fair made my blood boil, the things she said.’ He glanced up the road and saw, with some satisfaction, that Leonora was retracing her steps, head down, feet dragging. ‘Better say nowt else,’ he said hastily, in a lowered voice. ‘She’s coming back.’
‘Yes, she would come back. She’d never find her way home. We haven’t been in England long enough for her to get used to your ways. Although she’s eight years old, I doubt she could understand the road signs, let alone follow the route we took to get here.’ Miss Elliott raised her voice as the girl approached. ‘Well, Lonnie? Have you come back to say you’re sorry to this young man? He was going to tell you the names of the kittens – aren’t you interested?’
‘Wait on a mo’,’ Ben said in an undertone. ‘You said her name was Leonora Victoria something or other, but you just called her Lonnie. Why’s that?’
‘Shorter,’ the other girl said briefly. ‘Besides, her
ayah
could never get her tongue round Leonora, so she’s been called Lonnie ever since she was knee high to a grasshopper.’ Ben was not at all sure that he would ever like someone as stuck up and strange
as Leonora, but already he realised that he liked Miss Elliott. She had talked to him as though he were grown up and she smiled a lot, not just with her mouth, but with those big dark eyes as well. So he turned back to the window and began to recite the names of the kittens and was presently struck by a wonderful idea. ‘Why don’t you ask Miss Elliott if she’ll buy you one of the kittens?’ he asked urgently, keeping his voice low. ‘You’d like a little cat of your own, wouldn’t you? You could have Tip, he’s the biggest and strongest. Go on, ask Miss Elliott if she’ll buy a kitten for you.’
He expected Lonnie to greet this suggestion with enthusiasm but instead she took a step away from the window, her expression a mixture of fear and of longing. ‘Oh, but suppose it scratches me and gives me rabies or blood poisoning or something horrid?’ she asked plaintively. ‘Suppose it bites me? Miss Elliott’s father was bitten by a snake and he died.’
‘Why, ye-es, but that’s India,’ Ben pointed out. ‘We don’t have things like that in England, you know, and anyway, cats don’t scratch or bite unless you tease ’em. My mam always says if you treat folk nice, they’ll be nice back and I reckon it’s the same wi’ animals. If you’re kind to the kitten and get its meals reg’lar, it’ll be kind to you, see?’
‘Oh, but suppose I tease it by mistake?’ Lonnie said. ‘I’ve never had a kitten, you know. I wanted a monkey ever so badly, or even a parrot, but my
ayah
screamed and had palpitations every time I suggested it, so I never got a pet of my own, though of course I had my own pony and a mongoose called Freddie, but he ran away when I was six and Father never replaced him.’
Ben stared. A pony of her own; she certainly was
a lucky kid. He began to say as much, then remembered that the child had been talking of her past. It was no comfort now that she had once owned a pony and a – a goose or whatever it was she had said. Lonnie turned her gaze back to the kittens in the window, then pointed a trembling finger. ‘They’ve got teeth like little white needles and they
do
scratch … look at that one!’
Ben looked. Tip had finished cleaning the milk off his paws and was, rather unfortunately, sharpening his claws on a block of wood placed in one corner of the cage for that purpose. ‘That’s wood, stupid,’ Ben said crossly. ‘That’s why it’s in the cage, so’s the kittens can sharpen their claws. They don’t do it on
people
. Why don’t we jest go into the shop and take a closer look at ’em?’
He half expected Lonnie to object but he had reckoned without Miss Elliott, who had evidently been listening to their conversation. She came briskly up beside them and took Lonnie’s hand, saying bracingly: ‘
What
a good idea, Lonnie! A kitten will be company for you when I’m busy elsewhere and you’ll soon grow fond of it, you know. As for monkeys, I’ve heard many a servant say that their bite is poisonous, though I don’t believe it myself. Which of the kittens did you like best?’
Ben, leading the way into the shop, wondered if Lonnie might rebel, but though the small girl scowled frightfully and folded her lips into a long, tight line she said nothing, and when Mr Madison lifted the kittens’ cage from the window and placed it upon the floor of the shop so that they might see the occupants more clearly she dropped to her knees and put a finger tentatively through the bars of the cage, gently caressing the tiniest kitten before
looking up at the older woman and saying, rather breathlessly: ‘I like this one best, Miss Elliott. I don’t believe it would bite anyone – or scratch, either. Can I have this one?’
Mr Madison gave Ben an approving look; clearly, he thought the boy had been touting for business and appreciated his salesmanship. What was more, Joseph, being the smallest, was the one least likely to survive in the shop, for he would never get as much to eat as his larger, bolder brothers and sisters. Mr Madison extracted the kitten from the cage and put him straight into Lonnie’s arms. ‘You’ve chosen well, miss,’ he said, beaming down upon his customer. ‘This here’s as pretty a kitten as I’ve seen in a long day, tortoiseshell being my favourite colour an’ all. What’ll you call her?’
‘Oh! But this – this boy said its name was Joseph,’ Lonnie informed him, clutching the kitten gently against the front of her red cloth coat. ‘Can you change a kitten’s name, then?’
Miss Elliott chuckled. ‘Joseph’s a boy’s name,’ she said. ‘You could call her Josie, I suppose, but wouldn’t you like to choose a name yourself?’
‘Well, I’ll call her Kitty,’ Lonnie said immediately. ‘There’s a song …
Oh, I like little kitty, her coat is so warm, And if I don’t hurt her, she’ll do me no harm, So I’ll not pull her tail, nor drive her away, But Kitty and I very gently will play
.’
‘Well done, missie,’ Mr Madison said unctuously, rubbing his hands together and cocking one gingery eyebrow at Ben. ‘Now there’s a few other things you’ll be wanting, since, I’ll be bound, little Kitty here will get nothing but the best from such a smart young lady. You’ll be wanting a nice little bed for her to sleep on, a fluffy ball for her to play with, and later
on you’ll be needing a little collar wi’ a bell on it, so’s you know where she is.’
Leonora was nodding eagerly at every suggestion, but Miss Elliott was a trifle more practical. ‘How do you know it’s a female?’ she enquired, digging in her pocket for her purse. ‘I’m not sure we want a male, because they spray, I believe, and smell awfully.’
‘All tortoiseshells is she’s,’ Mr Madison said sweepingly. ‘Same as all gingers is fellers, or almost all, anyroad. Now you’ll want a sizeable basket for her, ’cos she’s a healthy little thing and will go off a pace once she don’t have to fight the others for her share o’ the grub. We do a nice line in woven reed, or wicker’s a bit more substantial …’
‘How much is the kitten?’ Miss Elliott interrupted. ‘We won’t bother with a basket since a nice cardboard box with a piece of blanket in it will suit her for a while yet. But we’ll have a fluffy ball, and when she’s bigger we’ll get a collar with a bell. Not that she’ll be outdoors much, since the nursery’s at the top of the house.’
Mr Madison looked uneasily at Ben, his eyebrows zipping up and down like a couple of caterpillars who have noticed a blackbird fixing them with its beady eye. Ben realised that Mr Madison would have been more comfortable if his young friend never discovered what he charged for the kittens. He was safe enough, however. All Ben wanted for his foundlings was good homes; if Mr Madison liked to price the kittens according to the customer, that was fine by Ben. Mr Madison turned his head away from Ben and dropped his voice. ‘Three shillin’ and that includes the fluffy ball,’ he muttered. ‘Does that suit, madam?’
From the willingness with which Miss Elliott dug
into her purse and produced a shiny florin and two sixpences, Ben surmised that Miss Elliott did not find the sum alarming. He had no idea what currency was used in India, but he did know something about the price of kittens and thought that a shilling apiece was what most shop owners asked.
Mr Madison beamed at the coins nestling in his palm and turned round to the shelf behind him, taking a large brown paper bag and a small grey object from it. ‘D’you want to pop the kitten into this ’ere bag?’ he enquired jovially. ‘You don’t want to lose her in the street. She ain’t used to traffic, nor sudden noises – she’s a country cat, she is.’
Ben gasped at this palpable lie and wondered whether Leonora would say something sharp, since he had told her the kittens were his, but Leonora said nothing, merely popping the kitten into the stout brown paper carrier and looking curiously at the little grey object Mr Madison was holding out. ‘What
is
that?’ she asked suspiciously. ‘Oh, it’s a horrid little dead mouse – take it away!’
Mr Madison chuckled comfortably. ‘It ain’t dead, nor it weren’t ever alive,’ he said. ‘It’s what they call a catnip mouse, missie. It’s just a bit o’ woollen cloth stuffed with catnip and your little kitten will have a grand time a-chasin’ of it when you’re safe home. Good day to you both and thank you for your custom. When the kitten’s old enough, you’ll be needin’ fish ends, cat’s meat and such, so I hope you’ll be poppin’ in again.’
The two females left the shop and Ben would have followed them, but Mr Madison stopped him. ‘You’re norra bad lad,’ the older man said appreciatively. ‘Fancy a Sat’day job and mebbe a bit o’ work after school, like? Only I could do wi’ a lad to clean out
cages, food and water bowls and so on. I can’t pay much but mebbe you’d be glad to earn the odd sixpence?’
‘Oh, Mr Madison!’ Ben said rapturously. Every kid he knew was eager to earn the odd penny for this was the Depression and money was hard to come by, even if you were a fully grown man. What was more, he had always loved animals and would enjoy nothing better than helping to keep them clean, fed and watered. ‘It’d be grand to work here. Can I start on Monday? I can be in by half-past four, if I comes straight from school.’
Mr Madison laughed. ‘That’ll do nicely,’ he said. ‘But right now, just you go with them young ladies and make sure they get that kitten home safe.’ He winked at his young companion. ‘More money than sense, wouldn’t you say? Though she parted with her dibs uncommon easy, an’ who am I to complain when a customer pays up wi’out a murmur? Pretty gal an’ all. Now off wi’ you, young man … what’s your name, by the way?’
‘I’m Ben Bailey.’
‘How d’you do, Ben?’ Mr Madison said, bravely holding out a large, clean hand. They shook. ‘Now off with you, because if your little friend loses that kitten there’ll be hell to pay. I were listenin’ when you was a-chatting together – I reckon she’s a real handful, the young ’un, so I’d be happier if you kept watch till they’s safe home.’
Hester Elliott ushered her charge into the big, imposing house in Shaw Street with an inward sigh of relief. She was beginning to wonder whether she would ever grow accustomed to being a governess. The trouble was, she mused, that she had led a
highly unconventional life for as long as she could remember, which made it even more difficult to try to get Lonnie to behave conventionally.