I first saw the ginger kitten darting through the hedges on my morning walk, but Mrs. Ethel Thompson had organised a game of DuckDuckGoose and I never got close enough to catch it. The kitten was as orange as the boy I knew, Liam, though I still wasnt sure whether kittens even have eyelashes. Liams mother used to say the sunshine had kissed him, and shed kiss Liam herself before she passed away. After that, no one ever kissed him again. His father was always too busy, and his grandmother, Eleanor, seemed to dislike Liam for some reason.
If the sunshine had really kissed him, could the little ginger cat have been kissed by the sun too? Do kittens even have eyelashes? Those thoughts fluttered through Liams mind during nap time.
Liam, why arent you asleep? Mrs. Ethel adjusted his blanket. Close your eyes, love. He obeyed, shut his lids, but sleep wouldnt come. He lay listening to the staff room where Mrs. Ethel was talking to someone: How long can we keep this up? One assistant for two groups with the number of children we have is absurd. Who will take such a salary?
Thank heaven Annas gone, a voice replied. The way she treated the children, wed be better off without a nanny.
We dont need another one, but how are we supposed to manage the kids? Mrs. Ethel answered, and the conversation faded. Liam had been frightened of the former playgroup nanny, Agnes Vale, and he wasnt the only one. She would scold the children, and if they refused the porridge with lumps, shed shove a spoon into their mouths hard enough to make their tongues ache. One day she forced the spoon down Liams tongue so violently that it spat out onto the table. He screamed; Mrs. Ethel washed and changed him, and told Agnes not to do that again. Soon enough someone complained, and Agnes never returned to the centre.
During an evening stroll, Liam tried again to spot the kitten, but only a flash of orange tail slipped through the shrubs by the gazebo. Then his father appeared. Since his mothers death, his father hardly spoke to Liam and barely noticed him. Hed bring Liam home from the playgroup and send him off to his room to play. One afternoon his grandmother snapped at his father: David, Ive told you a dozen times youre raising a child that isnt yours. He doesnt look like you, do you see that?
Mother, he looks like Nadine, David replied.
And he doesnt look much like Nadine either. Why not run a paternity test? Its easier than dealing with a child that isnt yours.
Yes, but Ive been looking after him for four years, almost five now.
Then youve had your makeshift family, a wife who hung an unknown child around her neck, and now shes gone. You need to sort out your own life and have your own children. If you think Ill keep fussing over a boy, youre sorely mistaken. I wont have that.
Liam didnt understand a word of it. Eleanors angry, dissatisfied tone had become the background noise he ignored.
One morning a new nanny arrived. She was nothing like Agnes. She didnt shout; she spoke softly to the children, and they ate. Liam, curious, set his spoon down and stared at her. She knelt beside him. Hello! Whats your name? Liam? Im Irene Scott. Why arent you eating, Liam?
I dont like porridge with lumps.
Liam, Ill tell you a secretI dont like those lumps either, and I never force the children to eat them. You can leave any lump on your plate. Later well see who found the most.
The idea intrigued him. He began hunting for lumps, only to discover there were hardly any. In the process he finished his porridge without noticing. Irene praised him, calling him a great boy. No one had praised Liam in ages, and his smile returned.
From then on Liam loved going to the playgroup even more. Irene helped the teacher everywhere, and the children quickly grew fond of her. One day Mrs. Ethel asked Irene to look after the children during nap time while she slipped into the headmistresss office. The kids whispered quietly, and Liam still couldnt drift off.
Liam, why are you still awake? Irene stroked his head.
Do you know my mother is in heaven? he whispered.
Irenes throat tightened. Shed taken a liking to the quiet, gingerhaired boy. Shed already noticed that Liam was constantly being taken either by his busy father or the irritable grandmother, never by his mother.
No, I didnt know, she said softly.
Also, the sunshine kissed me.
I saw that, she smiled.
Do kittens have eyelashes?
Probably. Why do you ask?
Liam whispered the whole tale: the ginger kitten hiding in the bushes, perhaps also kissed by the sun, maybe his brother. He wanted a brother, even a kitten, because no one else kissed him now that his mother was gone.
Can kittens kiss children? he asked, his voice trembling.
Irene brushed his messy orange hair, nodded, and whispered, Yes, Liam, kittens can kiss children. Their tongues are a bit rough, though. Try to sleep now, alright?
Rough? Liam repeated, eyes closing. He drifted off almost at once.
Later, the teacher confided in Irene: His mother was from a childrens home and died not long ago. His stepgrandmother never accepted his stepmother. She kept telling his father he wasnt his real son. I dont know whats happening now. The boy is cleanshaven and tidy, but his smile has faded. He used to shine like the sun, all about his mother.
A few weeks later Liam stopped coming to the playgroup. He fell ill, and the virus that roamed the town in early summer kept him away for weeks. He wont return, Mrs. Ethel told Irene. His father had arranged for him to be placed in a childrens home and was sorting paperwork with the headmistress.
Into a childrens home? With a living father and grandmother? Irene was stunned.
Yes, his father turned out not to be his biological dad. They did a DNA test with the grandmother. After five years of raising him, they discovered the truth. What a mess.
Irene walked home in a fog, the image of the trusting ginger boy flashing before her: Do kittens have eyelashes? Suddenly a bright orange bundle tumbled from the playgroup fence right at her feet. She fumbled, caught it, and realised it was a kittenbright ginger, dirty, but still sweet. It wasnt a tiny newborn, more a teenaged cat, but it could be cleaned. And, as it turned out, kittens really dont have eyelashes.
That night Liams father, Tom, came home from work, and the clean, wellfed cat darted to meet him at the door.
Look, weve got a new addition! Irene, will it damage the furniture? Tom joked, noticing his wifes worried expression.
Im fine with it, Irene replied. I just asked because the kids said cats are mischievous.
Anything happen with your mother? At work? Tom asked later, trying to keep the conversation going.
They talked until midnight. Finally Tom asked, Irene, are you sure this isnt just a stray cat we found?
She was sure. Shed taken the job at the playgroup because she had no children of her own, so caring for other kids felt right. Tom said everything would sort outdoctors, paperwork, adoption services. He was grateful for his decent salary and the spacious flat they lived in. The headmistress had helped through her contacts. Even Liams grandparents called from the north, shouting that they wanted the boy to visit them.
When Liam was finally allowed back, he smiled shyly, still unable to believe that a little patience would bring him back to Irenes care. At home the orange kitten waited, ready to share every day.
Everyone, look! Liams back! announced a staff member.
Good afternoon, Liam! Mrs. Ethel replied. And you know, kittens really dont have eyelashes, but their tongues are indeed rough!
In two years time Liam will start Year1. Hell be escorted by his mothers memory, his father, two grandmothers, his grandfather and his little sister, all together with the orange kitten by his side.
