Authors: Sheila Jeffries
‘Do you mind if I hang around for an hour or so?’ Rick asked. ‘I’d like to finish this work I’m doing with Vati . . . and see Angie when she arrives.’
‘Sure,’ Graham said. ‘I’ll make some coffee.’
‘No,’ Rick said quietly. ‘It’s important that you sit here with me, Graham. Don’t break this healing circle we’ve created for Vati. We need your
energy.’
Graham rolled his eyes, as if he was going to say something scathing about ‘mumbo-jumbo’, but Rick looked at him with steel in his eyes. ‘Will you hold Timba now?’ he
asked. ‘I want to see if Vati will come to me.’ Rick airlifted me to Graham’s chest where I continued purring, and arranged myself so that I could see Vati.
Vati knew he was inside a bubble of magic. Moving gracefully, he slipped onto Rick’s chest like a piece of velvet. He lay gazing at Rick, his hurt paws stretched out. Graham’s
mother’s clock went on ticking, the melting snow dripping, and I saw the stars come down. One soft bright star on each of Vati’s paws, and a pure blue star for his mind.
Like the star lion in the sky.
The timing was perfect.
When the healing was complete, Vati jumped down and stretched. He put his tail up and wove himself around Graham’s ankles. ‘That’s the first time he’s had his tail
up!’ Graham said, and Vati meowed at him and headed for the kitchen.
‘Don’t give him that dried food,’ Rick said. ‘He needs something juicy.’
Graham opened two sachets of Whiskas and put them in a bowl for us to share. Vati ate ravenously, and we shared without growling, best friends and brothers.
Soon we were sitting side by side, gazing into the fire and appreciating its bright warmth, while Rick and Graham talked over coffee.
‘How did you learn to do that kind of healing?’ Graham asked. ‘Spiritual healing, is it? I bet you didn’t learn that at uni.’
‘No, I didn’t,’ Rick said. ‘A wonderful old lady taught me . . . Mrs Lanbrow.’
I did a purr-meow and stared at Rick. ‘Yes, Timba . . . you remember her. She rescued you and brought you in when you were a kitten.’
‘It certainly seems to work,’ Graham said, frowning. ‘I’ve never believed in all that stuff . . . but look at Vati now!’
My priority was to stay with Vati. I had made that perfectly clear. So what would happen when Angie came to collect me?
The sound of her car was bittersweet for me. The love, the ache of longing had stayed in my heart through my long lonely journey. I wanted Angie. I wanted Leroy. Yet now, as I sat expectantly
looking at the door, my thoughts were tinged with anxiety. Even as those quick, beloved footsteps sounded, the idea of making a run for freedom came into my mind. But how would Vati survive in the
wild without claws? Could I do the work of two cats? Protecting and feeding both of us, living for ever with matted fur and aching hunger, and a lonely heart?
‘Don’t do it, Timba. Don’t even THINK about it.’ The voice of the Spirit Lion boomed in my head. He was there, in the room with us. I could see his light as he prowled
around, for a reason I had yet to discover.
‘Come in, Angie,’ Graham called, and stood up eagerly. He’s still in love with her, I thought.
Leroy burst in, his eyes finding me immediately, his face lighting up with passion. I did the loudest meow EVER and found myself trotting across the room with my tail up.
‘TIMBA!’
Leroy couldn’t speak. He picked me up and in wordless joy buried his face in my fur.
‘Darling cat!’ Leroy let me go and I climbed over to Angie, and wrapped my paws around her neck. I did a whole stream of purr-meows, and licked the tears from her face.
‘Aren’t you going to say it?’ Graham asked, beaming.
‘Say what?’
‘Thank you, Universe,’ he teased.
Angie smiled into his eyes. They looked at each other for a long moment. ‘When I can stop crying,’ Angie said, and Graham took THE HANKY from his top pocket and handed it to her.
‘Oh dear . . . I’ve missed this hanky too . . . it’s good to see you, Graham . . . and, yes . . . thank you, Universe!’
‘Let me have Timba . . . please, Angie,’ Leroy said, and I went, purring, back to him and touched noses. Leroy had grown taller and stronger. His aura was huge, and he seemed
quieter, more grown-up.
‘You’ve had a long drive in the snow,’ Graham said. ‘Will you stay and have lunch? Lisa’s not here, but we can have toast and soup, or something.’
‘OK, thanks. Then we’ll take Timba home,’ Angie said, and no one seemed to notice Vati who was sitting on the rug, watching everyone, his eyes lonely and anxious. He
didn’t want me to go. What should I do? I looked at the sunshine now streaming through the window, drying the last drops of melted snow.
‘Don’t run away again, Timba,’ said Leroy, as if he’d read my mind. He stroked me thoughtfully. ‘We’ve got to sort your fur out . . . make you all nice and
glossy again.’
A lot of talking went on over lunch, and Vati slept, but I kept awake, listening for clues, and watching the white light from the Spirit Lion who had settled along the back of the sofa where
Rick and Leroy sat with trays on their laps. The Spirit Lion was waiting for something to happen, and it did.
Leroy took a mobile phone out of his pocket and showed it to Rick. ‘I got a smartphone now,’ he said proudly. ‘Would you like to see my art work?’
‘OK. Yeah . . . show me,’ said Rick, with not much enthusiasm.
‘It’s awesome,’ said Angie.
Leroy was flicking the screen, his eyes sparkling with excitement. ‘I only do lions,’ he said, and began to show Rick his pictures. ‘These are the White Lions of Timbavati in
Africa.’
Rick came alive. He stared at the pictures in stunned silence. ‘You didn’t do these, did you?’
Leroy nodded.
‘They are . . . mind-blowing. Brilliant!’ said Rick, and looked intensely at Leroy. ‘So why the White Lions?’
‘They came to save the world,’ Leroy said, and he began to talk fast and passionately. ‘There’s only a few of them left . . . three hundred in the wild, and some are in
zoos. In Africa they believe the White Lions came from the stars . . . Angie’s reading me the book.’
‘Oh I know about them, Leroy,’ said Rick. ‘I’ve been there. . .to Timbavati, and seen the White Lions. I went on a volunteer conservation scheme, when I was training to
be a vet.’
Leroy stared at him in awe. ‘I’m gonna go there when I’m old enough . . . aren’t I, Angie? I’m gonna help the White Lions change the world.’
‘I don’t know about changing the world,’ said Rick. ‘But it changed my life, going there. I didn’t want to come home. But it’s not easy to raise the money,
Leroy, and you need to be a strong person . . .’
‘I don’t care.’ Leroy looked fierce. ‘I’m a good survivor, aren’t I, Angie?’
‘But these pictures are extraordinary. They’d love them at the Timbavati Centre.’
‘When I’ve got enough,’ said Leroy, ‘Angie’s gonna help me frame them, and I’m gonna have an exhibition and sell them for loadsa money. Then I can buy a plane
ticket and go to Timbavati and work with the White Lions.’
‘You’re deadly serious, aren’t you?’ Rick said.
‘Yeah . . . deadly serious.’ Leroy stared at Rick, and the light of the Spirit Lion was all around him. ‘I don’t want to do nothing else . . . and I don’t care what
anyone else thinks. No one’s gonna stop me.’
His words were electric, and even Graham and Angie were listening to him, spellbound. And Vati’s eyes were dancing all over the place, watching the sparks and the light of the Spirit
Lion.
‘I believe you,’ said Rick. ‘You’re an amazing young man. How old are you?’
‘Twelve.’
‘Wow. You are so talented,’ said Rick, ‘and determined. I really believe you’ll do exactly that . . . and good luck! I shall come to your exhibition, and I’ll be
the first to buy one of those incredible lion pictures.’
Leroy beamed. ‘Can I have your mobile number, and your email?’ he asked. ‘I’ll add you to my contact list. BUT,’ he added, wagging his finger at Rick, ‘those
pictures are gonna be EXPENSIVE.’
My dilemma was solved for me very neatly later that day when Angie picked Vati up for a cuddle. ‘Poor little Vati, he’s so thin,’ she said tenderly, and Vati
stared at her intently. ‘He’s not himself, Graham. What’s wrong with him?’
Graham sighed and started tapping his fingers on the chair arm. ‘I’m afraid Vati has never been the same since Lisa had him de-clawed.’
There was a furious silence, and Angie’s face went crimson.
‘WHAT?’
Vati nearly jumped out of her arms with fright. Immediately she lowered her voice, and calmed him. ‘It’s OK, darling,’ she whispered tenderly. ‘Let me see those darling
paws.’
Vati started to tremble again, and wriggled out of her arms. He came and sat with me, pressing himself into my fur as close as he could get.
He really needs me, I thought, and looked at the afternoon sunshine gilding the window. If we were going to escape, it had to be very soon.
‘That’s appalling,’ Angie said. ‘How could she? How did you allow it, Graham?’
Graham faced her angry eyes calmly. ‘Lisa just did it, without telling me. She was paranoid about him scratching Heidi.’
‘Poor, poor little Vati. I can’t bear it!’ Angie ranted on and on.
Graham listened kindly, and even dared to put his arm around her shoulders. She shook him off. ‘Don’t touch me,’ she flared. ‘I’m so angry. You could have stopped
her, surely. She must have said something.’ Angie seemed to be boiling over with rage she had bottled up for years. ‘You and THAT BLOODY LISA,’ she stormed. ‘She ruined my
life, now she’s ruined Vati’s life. How would she like to be de-clawed and have her precious fingernails pulled out?’
Leroy sat cross-legged on the hearth rug, his hands stroking both of us, his eyes watching Angie. ‘I got the answer,’ he said firmly and both heads turned to look at him.
‘Vati’s going to be OK if he stays with Timba. Can’t we take Vati with us?’
There was an uneasy silence. Angie looked at Graham. ‘Well?’
Graham drummed his fingers faster on the chair arm. ‘I love that little cat,’ he admitted, ‘but Leroy’s right. Timba and Vati need to be together . . . Vati’s
already more alive since Timba came . . . so, yes . . . I’ll let him go.’
Problem solved!
Vati and I were to travel together, in the luxurious basket . . . we were going home to live with Leroy and Angie. Over the blue hills, across the shining river, and through the dark forest.
I only wished that Graham was coming too. There was a loneliness that hung around him now, a desolation of the soul. Like the rest of us, he needed Angie. He’d made a terrible mistake and
his life was in its shadow.
Graham and I had been buddies. And he’d stuck up for me against Lisa and her broom. I decided to go and say thank you to him nicely. Humans don’t like their men to cry, but as I lay
on his chest, gazing and purring, I could feel that his huge body was tight with tears. I tried, but he held on to them.
I expected Vati to go under the sofa when Leroy brought the travelling basket in, but his face brightened and he went straight over and inspected it. Then he walked across elegantly with his
tail up and said a beautiful, courteous goodbye to Graham.
‘I’ll miss you, little cat,’ Graham murmured, ‘and . . . please forgive me.’
Vati touched noses with him, and ran back to the basket. We sat in there, together, facing outwards.
Two black cats against the world.
Vati and I are ten years old, Angie says, and we’ve just had our birthday. My fur is glossy and well brushed, and I’m still the best cat in the street. Vati has
learned to play again, and we have mad half-hours in our happy home. On moonlit nights, the forest calls to me, but I won’t go there. I’m a support cat, and my job is to care for Vati,
Angie and Leroy.
Leroy is a young man now, and he’s very rich, he tells me. He sold lots of his wonderful lion pictures and saved all his money. But early this morning he was packing a big rucksack, and he
picked me up and said goodbye! And he said, ‘Thank you! Thank you, Timba. You been my BEST, BEST friend.’
I sat in the window and watched a minibus pick him up at the door, and Angie was crying and crying.
Now it’s nearly noon. The sun is high, and Angie is standing in the garden with Vati and me in her arms. I wonder why she’s watching the sky so intently.
Suddenly she stiffens.
‘That’s it!’ she says, and points to a shining plane that is climbing up and up into the blue sky.
Angie is still full of tears. I lick one from her cheek. ‘Don’t worry, Timba,’ she says. ‘These are happy tears. Tears of joy. I’m so happy for Leroy, and so proud
of him. But we’ll miss him, won’t we, guys?’
We watch the shining plane until it becomes a bright bead, trailing a white arrow of smoke.
And finally, Angie tells us what is going on.
‘That’s Leroy’s plane,’ she says. ‘It’s taking him all the way through the blue sky to Africa . . . to Timbavati to work with the White Lions.’
Angie was unusually quiet after Leroy had left. Her bright flame seemed to have gone out. She only came alive when we were looking at her laptop, Vati and I sitting on the
table beside her, our heads weaving from side to side as we saw pictures of Leroy onscreen. Running down the steps from a big aeroplane and climbing into a truck with some other young people.
‘He’s making friends . . . at last!’ Angie said. ‘He’s found kindred spirits.’ But Leroy’s eyes were homesick as he talked to Angie. ‘I miss you,
Angie, and Timba and Vati.’
When we finally saw the White Lions onscreen, we were awed. They looked so sumptuous and huge, powerful but relaxed. We cats were proud. Proud to belong to the global family of cats. The White
Lions had come to change the world . . . but so had we, and we had one more job to do . . . for Angie.
‘She’s lonely,’ I said as the two of us gazed into the embers of the fire. ‘We’ve got to do something.’ I thought about the journey I had made through the
forests and across the shiny river. Was I too old to try again? And how would Vati cope?
He picked up my thoughts immediately. ‘Don’t even think about it, Timba.’