Kitty's Question

Chapter 1

The Monster

Once upon a time, in the crowded, smelly, bustling city of London,
there lived a girl.

Her name was Kitty and she was nine years old.

Kitty wanted to know the what and why of everything, she spent a lot of
time thinking, and she was full to bursting with tricky
questions.

She was also rather clever, and she knew lots of long, intelligent
words.

It was when she was sitting at her desk in school, trying to
concentrate on maths, which she had never been good at, when a
particularly difficult question occurred to her.

"When did I begin?" she asked, very suddenly, very loudly. The class
burst out laughing, and Kitty's ears stayed red for the rest of the
lesson with embarrassment.

She asked the question again that evening, when she and her friend
Hodge were walking home from school.

"What do you mean?" asked Hodge.

"Well, did I become me when I was born, or was I me before that?"

Hodge just gave her a funny look.

"Race you!" he said, and ran ahead, his hair streaming in the
wind.

"I wish somebody would tell me the answers," sighed Kitty.

Now when Kitty had a question that she couldn't find an answer to, she
usually went to the bottom of her garden, where there was a very little
clearing, just big enough for two people, with bushes all around, and
where she could be truly alone. Usually, she would sit on the tree
stump that was there, and she would think, and eventually she would
come up with the answer.

So that was what she did today. But she couldn't sit on the tree stump,
because there was a very strange looking somebody, or rather,
something, already sitting there, gazing at her with large, glittering
eyes.

"Hello," said Kitty, "I'm Kitty, who are you?"

"I am the Monster," said the Monster, grinning monstrously.

"Oh," said Kitty. The Monster's grin got wider, and she was
frightened.

"You aren't going to eat me, are you?" she squeaked.

"No," it said, "I don't eat children."

"What do you eat?" asked Kitty, calming down.

"Beetles."

"Oh."

She watched the Monster, the Monster watched her.

"When did I become me?" she asked.

"What do you mean?" asked the Monster.

"That's what everybody says when I ask that," sighed Kitty sadly.

"That's because they don't care what you mean."

"What do you mean?"

The Monster cackled with monstrous laughter.

"Nobody cares what you mean, because you don't mean anything!" it
said.

"Yes I do!"

The Monster's eyes glittered malevolently.

"Not to them you don't. You don't mean anything to them. You're only
nine," it said, grinning.

"Yes I do. I mean something to Mum and Dad and Hodge!"

The Monster gave her a long, calculating look. "Why don't they know
what you mean, then, if you mean something to them?" it
challenged.

"I don't know!"

"See!" it cackled with laughter.

Kitty glared at the Monster.

"You haven't helped at all!"

"Did I tell you I was here to help?" snapped the Monster.

"Well, why were you here then?"

"Sometimes Monsters don't know why they are where they are. They just
end up there," said the Monster. It sounded annoyed.

"I don't like you," said Kitty.

"Nobody does," moaned the Monster.

"That's your own fault."

"Go away, or I'll eat you," sighed the Monster.

"You won't! You only eat beetles."

The Monster snarled. Kitty shrieked and ran away, back to the house,
and into the kitchen, where her dad had just finished cooking dinner.
He handed her a bowl of pasta and a fork.

"When did I become me, Dad?"

Her dad just gave her a funny look.

"What do you mean?"

Chapter 2

The Grown Up

The next day, Kitty still hadn't found the answer to her question. So
she went again to the bottom of the garden, and again, there was
somebody sitting on the tree stump, waiting for her.

"Hello," said Kitty, "I'm Kitty, who are you?"

"I'm the Grown Up," said the Grown Up distractedly. "Do you know the
way to Waterloo Station?"

"No," said Kitty.

She stood watching the Grown Up, waiting for it to talk to her, but it
just kept on glancing at its watch, and muttering that it was going to
be late.

"When did I become me?" she asked eventually. The Grown Up focused on
her for a moment.

"Goodness, what do you think I am, a walking encyclopaedia? I haven't
got time for questions. Oh dear, I'm ever so late!"

"Late for what?" The Grown Up didn't seem to hear her.

"If I don't hurry, I'll miss the train, and then I'll be even
later!"

"Later for what?" asked Kitty loudly. The Grown Up seemed to see her
properly for the first time. It looked startled.

"Late for my life!" it said, as if it was obvious. "If I don't catch
it, it'll pass me by!"

"If you don't stop hurrying, it'll pass you by faster," retorted Kitty
smartly.

"But there's so little time, and so much to do..." muttered the Grown
Up

"But what about my question?" asked Kitty.

"What question?" It blinked.

"When did I become-"

"Oh, that! Well, I'm afraid I can't help you there."

"Why?"

"Because a busy Grown Up like me only has time for the little questions
in life, not the big ones."

"Why?"

"Because if I started asking big questions, I would actually have to
sit down and try to work out the answer."

"What's wrong with that?"

"It's a waste of time that I could efficiently use to worry about
little, relevant questions," said the Grown Up haughtily.

"What sort of questions?"

"Well, like what colour clothes I should wear, for instance," said the
Grown Up.

"How does that matter?"

"Because the image I project dictates how other people will think of
me. I have to look efficient, I have to look like I'm in control of my
life. I have to look tidy, and organised, and respectable."

"I don't care what I look like," said Kitty, scornfully.

"Well of course not, that's obvious!" said the Grown Up, "I can tell
that just by looking at you, with your scabby knees and too-short
dress. You're a child. Children are untidy by nature."

"Only because we don't care what other people think of us. I know who I
am, I don't have to have a- that word you used- a respectable
dress."

"Oh, and why not Miss Clever Clogs?" The Grown Up was starting to look
annoyed.

"Because I'm not who I am because of what other children think of me.
I'm me anyway."

The Grown Up glared at her.

"You'll understand when you're older!" it snapped. "Push off! I don't
have time for your big questions."

Kitty glared back.

"What do you mean, push off? This is my clearing. You're the one that
came here uninvited! And anyway, what are you doing sitting on my tree
stump when you should be at Waterloo Station catching the train?"

"And I'm going to miss it because of you." It sniffed.

"Why're you sitting here then? You might still catch it. Get a move
on!"

The Grown Up stood up, and then sat down again.

"But I don't know where to go!" It groaned.

"You should have thought of that before you set off," snapped Kitty.
She had decided that she didn't like this particular Grown Up.

"It's not my fault I ended up here."

"Well, whose was it, then?"

The Grown Up sighed.

"Sometimes Grown Ups don't know where they're going. They just end up
there!"

"But you did know where you were going. To Waterloo Station."

"I thought I was. But I ended up here. It isn't where I wanted to be at
all!" it wailed.

Kitty stamped her foot in frustration and walked back to the house,
leaving the Grown Up grumbling to itself.

Chapter 3

The Angel

The next day Kitty still couldn't find the answer to her question. So
she went again to the bottom of the garden, and this time she wasn't
surprised when she saw something sitting on the tree stump. It had
large feathery wings, and there was a bright glow all around it, so
that it was hard to make out anything other than that.

"Hello," she said. "I'm Kitty, who are you?"

"I'm the Angel," said the Angel. Its large eyes fixed steadily on
her.

She gazed at the Angel, the Angel gazed at her, but she didn't feel
afraid.

"What are you doing on this tree stump?" she asked.

"Waiting for you."

"Now I'm here."

"Yes."

"So why are you still on the tree stump?" asked Kitty.

The Angel paused, it looked at her steadily.

"I believe you had a question?" it prompted.

"Will you be able to answer it?"

"I don't know until you've told me."

Kitty thought and thought. But to her surprise, she couldn't remember
what she had wanted to know.

"Maybe you'll remember in a minute," suggested the Angel, when Kitty
started to look upset. "Why don't you ask me some different
questions?"

"Alright," said Kitty. It didn't take her long to think of a question:
"Why was the Grown Up in such a hurry? My dad is a Grown Up too, but he
isn't in such a hurry all the time."

"It was under stress."

"Why?"

"Because its head was filled with worries and questions that were of
the least importance: what it should wear, what other grown-ups thought
of it, and so on? these things were draining its sense of
purpose."

"Children don't care about those things so much," said Kitty
thoughtfully

"No," said the Angel approvingly.

"Why don't children worry like Grown Ups do?"

"Work it out for yourself."

Kitty sighed. The Angel seemed to be waiting for another question. She
thought for a long time.

"The Monster, and the Grown Up. They were both sad, weren't they?" she
said suddenly.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"They didn't know what they were doing here, and they didn't know where
they were going," said the Angel.

"The Grown Up thought it knew where it was going, but then it got lost.
The Monster just turned up, it didn't know anything at all."

"True."

Kitty gazed at the angel. It ruffled its feathers impatiently.

"Yes?"

"You aren't sad," said Kitty.

"That's right. So what?"

"Do you know why you're here and where you're going, is that why you
aren't sad?"

"Yes."

"Where are you going next?"

"None of your business."

Kitty laughed and went silent again.

"I do know why I'm here," said Kitty eventually, "I'm trying to answer
questions. But I don't know where I'm going... Why aren't I sad?"

"Because you don't care where you're going," said the Angel
smoothly.

"Oh."

She stared at the Angel, the Angel stared at her.

"I remember my question now," said Kitty, "it was: 'When did I become
me?'"

The Angel just looked at her.

"Well? What's the answer?"

It seemed to tilt its head on one side consideringly.

"Some things are best left unknown," it said.

"Oh, come on! I've been trying to find the answer for three whole
days!"

"No," it said, "it's none of your business."

Kitty sighed, and grumbled, and pleaded, but the Angel stayed as steady
as a rock.

"Oh, all right!" exclaimed Kitty, "You can keep your stupid answer! I
don't care."

"Yes you do," said the Angel. It seemed to gaze at her in sympathy,
"I'm sorry."

"You should be!" said Kitty, "I don't like you any more!"

The Angel looked wounded.

"Don't lie, it hurts my feelings."

"I'm sorry," said Kitty, ashamed. "I suppose some things are better
left as mysteries. You're right."

"Thankyou."

It sat and gazed at her, occasionally it ruffled its feathers
restlessly.

"Well, I have got some important business to attend to..." it prompted
eventually.

"Oh. Well, you can go if you like. It's really up to you," said Kitty,
shrugging.

"Oh, I didn't want to be impolite. So, I should just go,
then...?"

"Well, usually we say goodbye before we leave."

"Oh, alright," it cleared its throat, "goodbye Kitty."

"Goodbye, Angel."

The Angel flew up, into the sky, and as she watched, Kitty saw
something very strange:

It seemed that the Angel was joined by three others, the Monster, the
Grown Up, and, Kitty squinted, and realised that the third was herself,
flying right between the Angel and the Grown Up! They were all holding
hands, and singing the most beautiful song she'd ever heard. She
carried on staring, and as she gazed in wonder, they seemed not four,
but one. One being, going on for ever and ever, and singing all the
way, as if it had not a worry in the world.

She realised with a start that she knew the being very well, that she'd
known it all the time that she'd ever been her, and would carry on
knowing it as long as she was going to be her.

She couldn't think who it was.

She blinked, hard, and everything else dissolved like an illusion,
leaving only the Angel, a distant speck in the sky that could just have
easily been a bird.

Maybe she'd imagined everything, after all?

But she was sure that she could still hear the singing. It came from
her heart.