Timba Comes Home Read Free

human, and she reminded me of a squirrel as she stood there all bushy with anger.
    ‘They are for the likes of us,’ Janine hissed. ‘We don’t have money in the bank. I have to watch every penny. Leroy can’t have nothing he wants . . .
nothing.’
    ‘So how can you afford to feed a cat?’ demanded Angie.
    ‘Cats don’t need much,’ declared Janine. ‘We had cats when I was a child and they lived on scraps.’
    SCRAPS! I didn’t like the sound of that. It didn’t fit with my plan to grow into the biggest, fattest, most independent cat.
    ‘This is a very young kitten,’ Angie said. ‘He’s lost his mother and his home, and he’s weak. He needs feeding up with proper kitty milk . . . you get it in a tin
from the pet shop, and mix it up. . . it’s specially formulated for weaning kittens.’
    Janine snorted. ‘Well, I can’t afford fancy stuff like that . . . good old cow’s milk will have to do.’
    ‘I’ll be happy to get you a tin of kitty milk . . . as a gift,’ Angie said. ‘And I’ll get you some sachets of proper kitten food. You can have it on me.’
    Janine puffed herself up. ‘No thanks. We don’t need charity.’
    ‘It’s not charity. I’m just concerned for this little kitten’s well-being.’
    ‘And I’m not, I suppose? I don’t want no bloody handouts from the likes of you. You don’t know NOTHING about how we have to live.’ Janine edged closer, her
shoulders squared for attack, her face drained and joyless. ‘I want my Leroy to have the same as his friends.’
    ‘I ain’t got no friends, Mum,’ Leroy piped up.
    ‘Be quiet.’
    ‘This kitten’s gonna be my friend. Aren’t you?’ Leroy said, and his small hands clutched me so fiercely against his heart that I squeaked in alarm and tried to escape by
crawling up his sweater.
    ‘I said shut up. NOW. And don’t let him ruin your school jumper.’
    ‘But I love him. I do, Mum.’ Two gleaming tears ran down Leroy’s cheeks and dripped onto my fur. ‘Tell her, Miss.’
    Angie sat down at the table, bringing her head level with Leroy’s defiant stare.
    ‘Then try not to squeeze him like that, Leroy. He’s fragile,’ she said tenderly. ‘His little bones are like matchsticks. Let me hold him for a minute, please.’
    Leroy clutched me tighter then, so tight I could hardly breathe.
    ‘You can have him back,’ Angie said, her eyes looking directly into his. ‘I just want to give him a goodbye cuddle. He’s so sweet.’
    To be picked up by Angie was heaven for me. I snuggled into her cushiony chest, and listened for the heartbeat, steady and strong under the ruffled blouse she wore. Home. This was home. I
couldn’t believe she was letting me go like this . . . to Leroy McArthur! I gave her a meaningful stare, and began to purr for her. ‘I want to be YOUR cat,’ I was telling her.
‘I belong with you.’
    ‘He’s purring. Listen.’
    Leroy brought his head close, and a magical smile lit up his face.
    ‘What about his name, Leroy?’ Angie asked. ‘Are you going to give him a name?’
    Leroy’s eyes roamed around the classroom and focused on a poster behind the teacher’s desk. He pointed, so I looked, curious to see what name he was going to give me. And there,
unexpectedly, was a picture of the face of a White Lion. The moment exploded into magic. My neck got longer and longer as I stared at the Lion’s serious eyes. Was it MY Lion?
    Leroy turned, beaming, and shouted out, ‘Timba!’ Then he reached to stroke me – this time gently – and he looked right into my eyes. ‘Hello, Timba.’
    ‘That’s a brilliant name, Leroy,’ said Angie.
    ‘Timmy will do for me,’ said Janine. ‘We don’t want nothing fancy.’
    ‘No, Mum. TIMBA,’ insisted Leroy, his eyes round and his voice husky with passion. ‘It’s cos of the White Lions of Timbavati. They came to save the world. Miss told us
about them.’
    Then Leroy added something amazing. ‘And if he had a brother, Miss, I’d call him