Tommy first saw the orange kitten while out for a walk, but Miss Clarke had organised a game of Duck, Duck, Goose, and he never got close enough.
The kitten was ginger, just like the one Tommy imagined, though he wasnt sure whether kittens even have eyelashes. Tommys mother had once said the sun had kissed the boys cheek. Shed also kissed Tommy, and then she passed away. Since then nobody had kissed him. His father was always busy, and his grandmother, Margaret, seemed oddly indifferent toward him.
If the sun really had kissed his cheek, did that make him a sunchild? Would the little ginger kitten have been kissed by the sun, too? Do kittens have eyelashes? Those questions fluttered through Tommys mind during quiet time.
Tommy, why arent you sleeping? Miss Clarke adjusted his blanket. Close your eyes, love.
He obeyed and shut his eyes, but sleep would not come. He lay listening as Miss Clarke whispered in the staffroom:
How long will this go on? One assistant for two groups isnt enough with the number of children we have. Its ridiculous. Who will work for that pay?
Thank heavens Anna left, another voice said. She was terrible with the kids; wed be better off without a nanny.
Dont you think we could manage without her? Miss Clarke replied, and the conversation faded.
The former nursery nanny, Mrs. Anderson, had frightened Tommy and the other children. She often scolded them, and if a child refused the lumpy porridge, she would thrust the spoon into his mouth until his tongue hurt. Once she pressed the spoon so hard that Tommys tongue was forced out onto the table. He screamed, Miss Clarke quickly washed and changed him, and Mrs. Anderson was told never to do that again. Soon after, a complaint was lodged and she never returned to the nursery.
During an evening stroll, Tommy tried again to spot the kitten, catching only a flash of an orange tail darting through the bushes near the gazebo. Then his father appeared.
Since his mothers death, his father barely spoke to him and seemed to ignore him completely. He would bring Tommy home from the nursery and send him off to play in his room. One day his father overheard Margaret hissing at him:
Mark, Ive told you a hundred times youre raising someone who isnt yours. He doesnt look like you, do you see that?
Mother, he looks like Nadine, Mark replied.
Not really. Why not get a DNA test? Itll be easier than dealing with a child who isnt yours.
Fine, but Ive been looking after him for four, almost five years now.
So you have a pretend family, with a wife who hung a child she didnt know on her neck, and now shes gone. You need to sort out your own life and have your own children. If you think Ill keep looking after this boy, youre badly mistaken. I dont need that.
Tommy didnt understand a word of it. Margarets angry, dissatisfied tone had become background noise to him.
One morning a new nanny arrived. She was nothing like the previous one. Miss Harper spoke softly to the children, never shouting, and they ate calmly.
Tommys curiosity sparked. He set his spoon down and stared at her. She knelt beside him.
Hello! Whats your name? Tommy? Im Miss Harper. Why arent you eating, Tommy?
I dont like the lumpy bits.
Tommy, Ill let you in on a secret: I dont like those bits either, and I never force children to eat them. You can leave them on the plate if they appear. Later well see who had the most left over.
That sounded like a game, so Tommy began hunting for the lumps. To his surprise, there were almost none, and while searching he unwittingly ate the rest of his porridge. Miss Harper praised him, calling him a great boy. No one had praised Tommy in a long time, and his face lit up.
From then on he loved going to the nursery even more. Miss Harper helped the head teacher wherever she could, and the children quickly grew fond of her.
One day Miss Clarke asked Miss Harper to stay with the kids during quiet time while she stepped into the office to speak with the head mistress. The children sighed peacefully, but Tommy still couldnt drift off.
Tommy, why are you still awake? Miss Harper stroked his head.
Do you know my mum is in heaven? he whispered.
Her throat tightened. She had taken a liking to the quiet, reddishhaired boy who never smiled much. She had noticed that his father was always rushing off and his grandmother was often irritable, but his mother was never there.
No, sweetheart, I didnt know.
I think the sun kissed me too.
I noticed that, Miss Harper smiled.
Do kittens have eyelashes?
Probably. Why do you ask?
Tommy whispered the whole story: the orange kitten hiding in the bushes, the belief that the sun had kissed it too, and his hope that the kitten might be his brother because no one else now kissed him.
Do kittens kiss children? he asked, his voice trembling.
Gently patting his shaggy orange hair, Miss Harper nodded. Yes, Tommy, kittens can give kisses. Their tongues are a bit rough, though. Now try to sleep, alright?
Rough tongues? Tommy repeated, then his eyes finally closed and he drifted off.
Later, the head teacher explained to Miss Harper that Tommys mother had been a foster child who died recently, and his stepgrandmother never accepted his mothers partner. The father had been told the boy wasnt his, and the whole family was strained. Tommy was a bright, wellkept child who had almost stopped smiling; he had once shone like the sun because of his mother.
Weeks later Tommy didnt show up at the nursery. He fell ill as a nasty virus swept through the town despite it being nearly summer. He missed a week, then two, then more.
He wont be coming back, Miss Harper told Miss Clarke. His father had arranged for him to be placed in a childrens home, filing paperwork with the head mistress.
What? In a childrens home? With his father and grandmother alive? Miss Harper was stunned.
It turned out Mark isnt his biological father. They did a DNA test after his grandmother insisted. Hed been raised in the home for five years, thinking he was Marks son.
Miss Harper walked home in a daze, the thought of the orange kittens eyelashes still lingering. Suddenly, a bright orange ball tumbled out from beneath the nursery fence. She scooped it up, realizing it was the very kitten Tommy had spoken of. Not a tiny baby, but a teenaged orange cat, dirty but cleanable. As she examined it, she saw there were indeed no eyelashes.
That night, when Tommys stepfather, Alex, came home from work, the clean, wellfed cat raced to meet him.
Looks like weve got a new family member! Ir, do you think itll wreck the furniture? he joked, seeing his wifes worried face.
Its fine, she replied, I just heard the kids say cats are little troublemakers.
Whats happened with your mother? Work?
They talked for hours. Finally Alex asked, Are you sure this cat isnt a stray you just picked up?
Miss Harper wasnt entirely sure. She had taken the job because she had no children of her own; caring for other peoples kids felt like a way to belong. Alex told her his own health was fragile, and doctors had warned him of future problems. She wasnt sure about anything, but she did know Tommy shouldnt end up in a childrens homejust like the stray cat now safe in her arms.
Soon came endless paperwork, assessments, fosterparent approvals, psychologists, and the like. Thankfully Alexs salary was decent, the house was spacious, and Miss Harpers employment provided stability. The nursery head mistress helped through her contacts, and even Tommys distant relatives from the north called, urging the grandparents to take him in.
When the adoption finally went through, Tommy, now allowed to visit, smiled cautiously, still trying to believe that patience would bring him a new home with Miss Harper. At home, the orange cat waited, ready to greet him each day.
Everyone, look! Tommys back! the children cheered as he entered the nursery.
Good morning, Miss Clarke! Did you know kittens dont have eyelashes? And their tongues really are rough! Tommy announced proudly.
Two years later, Tommy was ready to start Year 1 at primary school. He would be sent off by his mothers memory, his father, two grandmothers, his grandfather, and a little sister who had just been born. He walked handinhand with Miss Harper and the orange cat, feeling the warmth of a family forged by love, not blood.
Through all the twists and turns, Tommy learned that true belonging comes from the caring hearts we gather around us, not from the names on a birth certificate.
