A Brave Day for Harold Brown (The Harold Brown Series Book 1) by Mishana Khot

Author:Mishana Khot [Khot, Mishana]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Mishana Khot
Published: 2014-08-31T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

Mr Brown dipped a chocolate biscuit into his tea just long enough to make the chocolate inside melt, but not long enough that it got soggy and fell into the cup. His mind drifted back to the morning. Yes, the tiger had been most spectacular. What pure majesty! He decided that he would go back to the circus to see the tiger this evening. He was enjoying the new spontaneous Harold.

As soon as the clock struck five, he stood up and began to pack his bag. He stopped briefly to wish Mrs Springer a good evening, allowed himself one look into her lovely face, and then left in a hurry. As he opened the doors of the building, the wind tore into him, forcing him back inside to rearrange his coat and carefully button it up. This time, he welcomed the challenge and squared his shoulders before throwing himself through the doors again. Half an hour later, he came to a halt at the bars of the tiger’s cage, energy coursing through his body. The tiger was sprawled on the floor of the cage, ignoring the two children who stood nearby gaping at it.

Slightly breathless from his walk, Harold searched for the barrel he’d dusted off just that morning, and sat down gratefully. The tiger’s ears swivelled around and it lifted its big head, but didn’t sit up. Its paws lay flat, claws sheathed. The tail swung lazily, thick and snake-like on the floor. Harold glanced around the cage and saw a bowl in the corner, with what looked like a chunk of bloody meat in it. He averted his eyes in a hurry. He wondered what they were feeding it, but wasn’t terribly keen on finding out.

The children who stood at the cage ran off shortly, distracted by the tinkling bell of the candyfloss man. As if on cue, the tiger straightened its back and sat up. It looked directly at Mr Brown, who straightened too. Their eyes met: Mr Brown passive and observant, and the tiger, curious and wary. Harold told himself that these were the eyes of an animal and couldn’t be looking deep into his soul. But there was a searing intelligence behind the eyes, and Harold couldn’t shake the feeling that the tiger was measuring him up.

For a moment, Harold sensed a strange sort of communion between himself and the Bengal tiger. It felt as though all the somnolent power that resided in those striped limbs seeped into his own human form. He set his shoulders firmer and planted his feet on the ground. The tiger continued to stare, unblinking. Harold couldn’t take his eyes away from those great amber orbs. It felt almost otherworldly. Time stood still, and Harold became aware of the tiny space he took up in a world filled with pure beauty such as this. It was a moment he would remember for the rest of his life.

“ ‘e’s a fine fella, ain’t ee?”

Harold swerved around, annoyed to see the fortune teller standing behind him.

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