Arabella Carter-Johnson - Iris Grace

Arabella Carter-Johnson

---

IRIS GRACE

with illustrations by Alice Tait

UK | USA | Canada | Ireland | Australia
India | New Zealand | South Africa

Michael Joseph is part of the Penguin Random House group of companies whose addresses can be found at global.penguinrandomhouse.com.

First published 2016

Text and photographs copyright Arabella Carter-Johnson, 2016
Illustrations copyright Alice Tait, 2016

Cover image copyright Arabella Carter-Johnson

The moral right of the author has been asserted

ISBN: 978-1-405-92365-1

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For P-J, Iris & Thula xxx

Iriss hand guided me back to the page of her book for the twentieth time. I repeated the words and she was content for a while. Her long dark eyelashes moved slowly down to rest upon her rosy cheeks She was so close to falling asleep but then she opened her eyes again, looking more awake than she had done for hours. My heart sank. It had been another long night of reading in bed. She didnt want me to leave her side or to stop reading and we were stuck in a cycle. Obsessions were friends and foes working with us and against us. Her desire to hear words, to read and to understand was a gift in her previously silent world. She still communicated mostly through body language but now she was becoming linked to these words. Powerful connections were forming that I didnt want to break. It was a driving force that needed to be balanced; her unique mind was busy, always busy and, while wonderful, that could be so destructive. As I stopped reading she was restless, fighting against her own tiredness and mine as I turned out the light once again. I hoped with everything I had that she would fall asleep. Days had merged into weeks then months and now years of sleep deprivation. How could we go on like this? Her beautiful face saddened me at times with those dark circles, and her behaviour was becoming more exaggerated and the intensity of her interests threatened to take over if she didnt get enough sleep. We would spiral down until we managed to have a good night, a break, until it started over again. My tiredness had become a part of me that I didnt like, slowing my mind as hers raced on and turning my thoughts to the darkness. I resented those who easily slipped into their dreams every night while we were still awake.

As Iriss frustrations mounted she started to cry, and her sobs filled the quiet room. I felt so hopeless as I held her close. Nothing seemed to comfort her apart from the book and I longed for some help, but she pushed away all who tried apart from me. The pressure of that was becoming too hard to bear. The highs and lows over the previous four years had been exhilarating but exhausting. Our minds were constantly trying to keep up and understand her world as she was learning to be in ours.

Downstairs, the credits at the end of the film were rolling and the fire in the wood-burning stove was almost out.

What is it, Thula?

My husband P-J looked at our new kitten who had suddenly got up off his lap. Her eyes focused towards the door and she had one foot raised, perfectly poised in the air. She was alert: something had grabbed her attention cries that were undetectable to his ears were like sirens to hers. Then her legs were moving fast. Scooting round the corner, she flew up the stairs into Iriss bedroom and jumped on to the bed. She curled up next to Iris, ignored the crying and started grooming herself, licking her paws and rubbing them over her ears. Almost immediately, Iriss mood changed. She giggled at Thulas huge ears as they were folded down forward and then pinged back. The long tufts of black fur at the tips were backlit by the hallway, and her outline was adorable, with large ears set upon her tiny head. Fine longer hairs along her silhouette glowed in the darkness. The whiskers were next, and it was a performance like nothing I have seen before, combining comedy with beauty. Iris relaxed and put down her book. Seizing the opportunity, I slipped out of the room and waited at the bottom of the stairs, listening for the inevitable crying that would take me back to her side. There was silence: no bounces, no pages being turned, and no hums or cries.

I waited till suspense got the better of me, then tiptoed to the door of her room and peeked in. Iris had fallen asleep with her kitten by her side and they were turned towards each other. Iriss hand rested on Thulas shoulders and I could hear a gentle purr. Their bodies mirrored one another with Thulas paws up against Iriss arm. Although still a tiny kitten and a new member of our family, Thula was already watching out for Iris, her faithful companion. She was a friend to me too, stepping in and helping when I needed it the most. I didnt even need to ask, she knew instinctively what to do and how to help. This magical kitten was changing our lives and this was just the beginning. She filled me with hope and made me smile as I thought about tomorrow.

A-Where-Wa, watercolour, October 2013