The fluffy heart

Calamity and care

From my files

January 12 2006

All this happened in a year or so. In 1975, my father died. I caught fire. I fell out of a tree head-first. My brother may have broken his leg. The roof fell in in my brother's bedroom. The car fell down an inspection pit in the garage. My mother discovered the house we could not afford to heat had dry rot. It's a miracle, I think, that she survived that year. Things I remember about accidents: I climbed a tree in the neighbours' garden, over the back wall from our house and along a bit, on West Park Street. I wasn't very confident about climbing trees and I remember looking up at the branch, about three times my height up in the air, and feeling nervous. But I was a tomboy so I climbed it. I reached it safely and sat in the fork of branches thinking, I've reached it safely and then I fell. I don't remember falling, just the panic and heading downwards. I don't really remember the pain, either, just the lying on the ground. There was a rope hanging off the tree, and the end was formed into a noose. As I headed downwards, my head aiming for the ground and probable death, my foot caught in the noose. My left – right? Suddenly I can't remember – wrist hit the ground and fractured. Suddenly I can't remember which wrist, and suddenly I think, perhaps my father helped. Christmas 2005: my brother is sitting at the kitchen table talking about the many women he is as usual going out with. He says one of them has some gift for communicating with angels – he says angels - and that her last boyfriend left her because the room got too cold at night when the angels came to talk to her. I scoff. He says, she told me that Dad is my guardian angel, and I think, that's not a difficult leap to make, if she saw his picture in my brother's flat (though when I go later, it's not on display any more). But perhaps she's right. I should have died, falling out of that tree. I should have died and nearly did catching fire from the gas fire. I say when I tell the tale that my brother saved my life by batting out the flames, though he was only 7. But really timing saved my life, and the fact that my mother recognised that the screams were of pain and fear, and not the usual squabbling. Two minutes, the doctor said, and her hair would have caught fire and that would have been it. I don't remember pain from the burns, but I remember the dull ache of a wrist covered with plaster, and it ached even more when I began to use it as a weapon at school, and used up my sympathy reserve with the teachers. Classroom number 1. Mrs Stead's class. Being kept in at playtime after my father died, as if it was an illness. I have always thought that was strange, but now I see it was kindness.

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Reading

• In my book I mention a survey that showed that some young people thought fish fingers are fingers. Also, they don’t know what a courgette is.

• Well, you know I like rats. So I’ll read anything about them, even if it’s all about how to kill them.

• I often collect names, usually from graveyards. I’ve got Maboth Whitworth and Mahalah Bee, for a start. And now I think I will add Old Dry Keith. What a lovely story.

• A man fell out of a plane. His brother traced his journey. Such a powerful and warm story by Esther Addley.

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Animal hero of the week : Marley

An easy winner this week. Marley won the Cats Protection National Cat of the Year award, because Marley is ace. He is a black and white cat, 7 years old, who lives in Caritas Bakhita house in London, a refuge for anyone who has been enslaved, trafficked or exploited. It currently shelters eleven women from eleven countries. And a cat.

The safe house adopted Marley four years ago and since then he has become Empathy Cat. I remember when my stepfather was getting pretty bad with dementia. He had never got on with our cat Sophie, and she disdained him. But as soon as he got very ill, she would jump onto the sofa and gently place a paw on him. And he would give her a beaming smile.

This is also Marley’s method, according to Caritas Bakhita director Kate Anstiss:

"I'm so proud Marley has won National Cat of the Year - he's a wonderful example of the power of love. Often Marley placing a paw on our guests' legs is the first kindness they've experienced in years. He has this incredible gift of empathy and has assisted many, many women along the road to recovery."

Sometimes Marley is the only creature who can get through to a traumatised woman.

Before he went into rescue, I think he had a hard time. So, he recognises our guests' trauma because he has suffered too. Initially he sits really close, to see how the women respond. Then he gently puts a paw on their leg letting them know they're not alone. We had one guest who was so traumatised she didn't speak to us - only to Marley - and because she trusted him, over time we were able to reach her.

Marley hangs out at therapy sessions, then after they’re over, he will patrol the house to see if any woman is sitting on her own. Not after Marley has clocked her; he will join her.

It's like he thinks they need a friend, so he'll be that friend. When Marley is sitting with the women to comfort them, it's like they believe he understands them, he understands their trauma. They know that they can cry and he won't run away. They go through so many emotions that Marley goes through with them. It's just like the person and a cat becoming one unit.

Marley won a trophy, and a £200 pet store voucher. I really hope he gets £200 worth of Dreamies.

“He’s a wonderful example of the power of love,” said Anstiss. “He’s the fluffy heart of our home.”

Every home needs a fluffy heart amirite?

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