Timba Comes Home
Authors: Sheila Jeffries
Also by Sheila Jeffries
Solomon’s Tale
Solomon’s Kitten
First published in Great Britain by Simon & Schuster UK Ltd, 2015
A CBS COMPANY
Copyright © Sheila Jeffries, 2015
This book is copyright under the Berne Convention.
No reproduction without permission.
® and © 1997 Simon & Schuster, Inc. All rights reserved.
The right of Sheila Jeffries to be identified as author of this work has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act,
1988.
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Hardback ISBN: 978-1-4711-3762-4
eBook ISBN: 978-1-4711-3764-8
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to
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To Hayley
Chapter One
SOLOMON’S BEST KITTEN
Chapter Two
LEROY MCARTHUR’S CAT
Chapter Ten
PURE CELESTIAL ENERGY
Chapter Eleven
THE SCREAM OF AN ANGEL
Chapter Twelve
ACROSS THE SHINING RIVER
Chapter Fourteen
THE DARK FOREST
Chapter Fifteen
CROSSING THE BRIDGE
Chapter Sixteen
YOU SMELLY OLD CAT
Chapter Seventeen
HEALING THE HURT
Chapter Eighteen
CHANGING THE WORLD
In this story you will find references to ley lines, earth energies and golden roads. I believe these are an ancient network of energy lines which criss-cross the Earth,
linking sacred sites such as stone circles, churches and holy wells. I have studied these mysteries for years with the help of the late Hamish Miller who taught me to dowse, and by reading the work
of Alfred Watkins, Kathleen Maltwood and John Michell.
The White Lions of Timbavati are real, and I was inspired by reading
Mystery of the White Lions
by Linda Tucker and
The White Lions of Timbavati
by Chris McBride. I appreciate
the information given to me by my wonderful friend, Rose Shuttleworth, who drove across Africa to see the White Lions.
The house was full of Ellen’s love, and now my wonderful kittens were playing upstairs. No matter what Joe did, the house would always be good. I’d lived two
lives here now, and it was home.
These thoughts amplified my purring, during the time of sunset with Ellen. Sadly she couldn’t understand them, but I could understand her human speech and what she was saying came as a
deep shock to me. ‘We’ve got to sell our house, Solomon. We’re leaving,’ she sobbed. ‘And I don’t even know if we can keep you.’
I didn’t want to share the dreaded cat basket with Jessica. Joe had caught her by the scruff, bundled her inside and slammed it shut. She turned round and stared out
at everyone, her beautiful eyes desperate. I sat close to the basket, kissing her through the hard iron bars, trying to calm her down, but she wouldn’t be pacified. She was frightened, and
broken-hearted. Her three lovely kittens had gone out in that same cat basket the day before, and Joe had come back with it empty. ‘You did take them to the cat sanctuary, didn’t
you?’ Ellen asked. ‘Course I flaming did. What d’you take me for?’ Joe said angrily. He was in an ugly mood, slumped on the sofa with his head in his hands. ‘Just
leave me alone, will you? It’s bad enough losing our home without you starting.’
I looked at him sceptically. What had he done with our kittens?
Extract from
Solomon’s Tale
Chapter One
SOLOMON’S BEST KITTEN
‘I hope you’re not alone.’ The young woman spoke to me from the window of her red car. She must have seen my tiny black face peeping out of the grass at the
side of the road. We stared at each other, and an overpowering feeling stirred in my sad heart. I was an abandoned kitten, and this young woman with the mane of bright hair was the person I wanted
to be with. And she needed me. Her sweet, compassionate face was haunted with stress, as if she hadn’t got time to stop, even for a fluffy black kitten. ‘I’m sorry, kitty. I HAVE
to get to work. You go back to your mum-cat.’
How could she know my mum-cat wasn’t there?
‘Please stop. Please pick me up. I’m in trouble.’ I sent her that thought, and my hungry meow sounded like a scream.
‘Angie will come back and check you out later, you little darling,’ she said. ‘And if you’re still here, I’ll take you home . . . Oh damn!’ she cried as
something went wrong with the car. ‘Damn this car. Come ON. I’m late for work.’ She forgot about me as she struggled with the problem, revving the engine and filling the lane with
black smoke that made my eyes sting.
Disappointed, I shrank back into the thick grass. My legs wobbled, and I lay down, too weak from hunger to move any more. I hoped Angie would come back for me. She had to. Didn’t she?
But the next minute a stone flew out of the air and landed close to me. I jumped, then trembled as running feet pounded down the lane. Breathing hard, a boy reached down and snatched the stone.
He chucked it at some boys who were riding past on bikes. They were laughing at him and calling him names.
‘Leave me alone,’ he yelled back. ‘You bullies.’
‘Leroy’s a loser!’ they chanted.
I crouched there, too petrified to move as the bikes skidded to a halt, sending crumbs of mud flying over my fur. The biggest boy got off his bike and shoved Leroy into the prickly hedge,
pushing him again and again into the brambles until he was crying bitterly. Laughing, they rode off and left him there, wiping the blood from his face with his sleeve, and tearing his clothes on
the brambles. ‘My mum’ll kill me,’ he howled, pulling a long thread from the front of his sweater. He sat there in the mud, sniffing and shaking, and kicking the ground. I offered
him a tiny meow of comfort, and immediately wished I hadn’t.
‘WOW!’ he gasped. The crying stopped, and Leroy’s big eyes stared at me. His rough hand reached out and grabbed me round my skinny little tummy. He held me up close to his face
and I saw the anger draining away, and a look of pure delight dawning in his eyes. ‘You’re MY kitten!’ he announced, and pulled a stretchy red-and-white sock from his bag. I
screamed and struggled, but he stuffed me inside it, right down into the toe. My fur was squeezed flat, my legs twisted as my claws caught in the fabric, my tail hurting. I prayed for Angie to
rescue me, but she didn’t. Trapped in the boy’s football sock, I was bundled into a bag and bumped up and down as the boy ran. Then I heard a bell ringing and the sound of children.
I listened carefully, sensing that Angie was there amongst them, and suddenly I heard her bright voice. ‘Will you sit down, children, please?’
‘Miss! Leroy McArthur’s got a kitten hidden in his football sock.’
‘WHAT?’
‘He has, Miss. I heard it meowing.’
Terrified, I crouched inside Leroy McArthur’s red-and-white football sock, quiet now because I had no energy to meow. Three days without food and the shock of losing everything I loved had
left me too stunned to move. A sustaining flame of pride burned in my heart. I was the best of Solomon’s three kittens, my long black fur glossy and soft, my baby eyes still bright blue.
‘Open your bag, Leroy. NOW, please, and show me this kitten.’
The young teacher’s bubbly voice stirred a memory, buried deep in my consciousness, of another lifetime. I had been Angie’s pampered cat, her healer, and her one true friend.
I felt her lifting the sock into the light.
‘It might be a dead rat, Miss.’
She eased me out and cradled me in hands that had crystal rings and fingernails painted jet black. The air shone with the rainbow auras of children crowding around me.
‘Aw!’ they chorused when they saw me peeping out, and their love made a cushion of compassion for me. I managed a plaintive little squeak.
‘How could you do this, Leroy? To a kitten!’
‘I didn’t do nothing, Miss. It were lying in the grass.’
The boy’s scratchy voice made me look up at him. I stared, transfixed, into Leroy McArthur’s eyes, and a darker memory loomed. Long ago, in that distant lifetime, he had hated
cats.
‘It’s my kitten, Miss. I found it,’ he said, ‘and I were gonna take it home and feed it. Me mum won’t mind, honest, Miss.’
I didn’t want to be Leroy McArthur’s cat. Beyond the glaze of his eyes lurked bitterness that would manifest as bullying, with me as the victim. I was only six weeks old, and proud
of myself so far. How had my life gone so wrong?
It all began when we three kittens lay cuddled up to our mum-cat, Jessica, in a cosy basket under Ellen’s bed. A beautiful lady came to visit our dad, Solomon. She was so
full of light that all of us wanted a touch or a word from her. Quivering with excitement, I sat close to my brother and waited while she focused on my pretty tabby-and-white sister. ‘This is
a special kitten,’ she said tenderly. What would she say about ME? I was the biggest and the best, my black face bright with anticipation.
But she ignored me – and my brother.
I was livid.
When she had gone I felt the sting of jealousy. I growled at my little sister and smacked her face with my paw. Jessica gave me a disapproving swipe. It wasn’t fair! Angry, I made up my
mind to binge on food and grow into the strongest, most independent cat on the Planet.
Being ignored is the ultimate put-down, and seeing my brother’s disappointed face strengthened my resolve. He was smaller and sleeker than me, and he had a white dot on his nose which gave
him a wistful look. He was hypersensitive and vulnerable. I felt protective towards him. In that moment of intense humiliation we bonded for life.