Kitten Cupid (12 page)

Jaffa stiffened. ‘No!’ she squeaked.

‘What’s the matter now?’ I was really fed up. Here I was, doing everything I could think of to solve the problem of her being bullied, and not only was she being no help at all, she was positively trying to stop my plans.

‘Me did tell you, me is not allowed for you to know who Big Bo— who the big baddie is,’ she whined.

I had had enough of this. I set her down rather roughly on the desk and snapped, ‘Well, you’re just going to have to trust me on this.’ Then I turned and walked out of the room, shutting the door firmly behind me. She was not going to escape a second time.

Downstairs, Nev had finished setting up his equipment and he was tucking into some food while everyone else sat round the table, drinking coffee and chatting.

‘Oh, there you are, love,’ said Dad, smiling. ‘Come and look at this.’

I grabbed some of the ‘rank’ naan bread (which I personally thought was lush) and followed Dad into the utility room. He beamed and pointed gleefully at a camera fixed to the top of the broom cupboard. ‘Nifty, eh?’ he said. ‘And that’s not the best bit,’ he continued, taking me by the elbow and steering me back into the kitchen.

Nev was over by the kettle, looking at a laptop.

‘Check out what’s onscreen,’ said Dad, pointing at the computer.

I went over to Nev and saw that he was looking at a picture of our utility room.

‘Isn’t that great?’ Dad said. ‘Our own home security system.’

Nev tapped a few keys and suddenly the image zoomed in on the cat flap. It was like watching something out of a spy movie, and I had to admit I was impressed.

‘I’ll go in there and you keep watching,’ Dad said. He skipped out of the room like a small boy with a new toy, grinning excitedly.

I watched the screen and suddenly Dad appeared, waving and saying, ‘Hello! Can you see me? Can you hear me?’

‘I can hear you anyway, Dad. You’re only next door,’ I said scathingly.

But he was right, it was pretty cool. Then something occurred to me. ‘What if the intruder is too fast for us to see what it is?’ I asked Nev.

‘No problem,’ he said, tapping the keys again. The image of Dad slowed right down as though he were walking on the moon. ‘Slow-motion playback,’ Nev said carelessly. ‘It does it all, this little baby.’

If this lot didn’t nail our mystery marauder, I thought, nothing would.

‘You could also leave it something tempting to stop it in its tracks,’ Nev suggested, with a twinkle in his eye. ‘It’s what I do when I want to lure badgers or foxes out of their holes so I can get a decent amount of footage,’ he explained.

‘Of course!’ Dad said, snapping his fingers. ‘Cat food – that’s what the beast has been breaking in for all this time, isn’t it?’

Nev shook his head. ‘I was thinking of something totally irresistible, if you know what I mean.’

‘Prawns,’ said Fiona.

Typical, I thought. The very treat she had used to lure Jaffa away from me!

Bex chipped in: ‘Great idea, Fiona. I know my Sparky would need to be dragged away snarling and biting if anyone tried to get between him and a plate of prawns.’

Dad looked at one of the takeaway dishes. ‘Would prawn biryani work?’ he asked doubtfully.

‘Perfect,’ said Bex.

‘Hold on a minute,’ I cut in, waving my hands to get their attention. ‘Could someone please explain why we want to give a tasty treat to this horrible creature who has been bullying my Jaffsie?’

‘We want to get a good long look at whatever it is, don’t we?’ said Nev. ‘If you leave it something tasty to eat, it’ll stay still long enough for us to get lots of lovely images of it. Then you can find out what it is you’re dealing with. If it’s a fox, say, then you know you’ve probably got to keep Jaffa in for a few days while you lure the fox out of your garden. You could tempt it away from the house by leaving food by the back fence so it doesn’t need to come in and take Jaffa’s,’ he explained.

Nev certainly sounded as though he knew what he was talking about, and for the first time in ages I felt reassured. I went to get some food and enjoy a nice normal evening with my friends while Nev laid the bait . . .

Well, at least the meal went without a hitch. Jazz was on sparkling form, chatting away to Fiona about the programme she was currently producing, and Dad and Bex seemed to have a lot to talk to Nev about. So that left me and Fergus. He offered to clear the plates and I grabbed the opportunity of a quiet word with him, jumping up to gather the empty foil dishes.

We took everything over to the sink.

‘Awesome party!’ Fergus joked, nodding at the noisy group around the table. ‘Good to see Jazz on form too.’

‘Yeah, I’ve been meaning to ask you – about the audition. You sure you didn’t know anything about it?’ I pressed, keeping my voice low so that Jazz wouldn’t hear me.

Fergus shook his head. ‘I already told you, there were no auditions for anything yesterday. The hall was closed. We weren’t even allowed to have band practice. The teachers wanted to chuck us out on time cos it was Friday. Anyway, I’ve been with Kezia loads this week and she never said anything about putting on a show or holding auditions, and she would have said something to Rashid, wouldn’t she? He’s been involved in all the discos and shows and stuff for the past two years.’

I flicked my eyes in Jazz’s direction and saw she was staring at me, mouthing, ‘What?’

‘OK,’ I said quickly to Fergus. ‘We can’t talk about this now. I’ll call you tomorrow—’

CRASH!

A commotion in the utility room made us all jump out of our skins. Jazz screamed, and a plate slipped from my soapy fingers and smashed on the floor.

‘What the . . . ?’ Dad flung his chair back and whizzed over to the door.

Nev nipped in front of Dad and barred the way. ‘We could have a situation in there,’ he said dramatically. He nodded in the direction of the laptop which lay forgotten on the kitchen work surface.

On the screen there was a very clear close-up of the back end of the intruder enjoying its prawn curry with relish. It was guzzling the food without stopping, one hundred and ten per cent focused on what it was doing.

‘It’s huge!’ breathed Jazz, her eyes wide in amazement.

‘What is it?’ Dad said, horrified.

‘Impossible to tell from this angle,’ said Nev.

All we could see was a large furry bottom filling the screen. It looked as though the animal was black and white, or possibly grey and white, but as the camera had been set on night vision, so there was no colour, we couldn’t be sure.

‘Could it . . . It couldn’t be a badger, could it?’ I whispered. Poor Jaffsie! No wonder she had been terrified.

‘Only one thing for it,’ said Nev. He pulled back his shoulders and, locking his hands, stretched them away from his body, making the knuckles crack. ‘I’m going in.’

‘G
o for it, Nev,’ said Dad, a steely glint in his eye.

‘What?’ I stammered.

Nev was rubbing his hands together and asking for a large towel.

‘Wouldn’t some gardening gloves, or even oven gloves, be better?’ Bex asked nervously. ‘What if it scratches you?’ She was biting her nails, her brow furrowed. ‘I mean, we know that this is a pretty vicious creature, don’t we, Bertie?’

I nodded dumbly.

‘Bertie and I have seen the kind of chaos this animal can cause, you see, Nev . . .’ Bex was babbling a bit now.

‘Yes, well, so have I,’ said Dad grimly. ‘And now it’s payback time. Go on, Nev!’ he urged. ‘What are you waiting for?’

Jazz was backing away from the screen, looking as if she might make a break for it. I put a hand on her arm. ‘It’s OK,’ I whispered. ‘There’s only one of it and seven of us.’

She twisted her mouth and frowned, but stood still, keeping her eyes fixed firmly on the screen.

Meanwhile, Nev had grabbed the big towel we keep on the back of the kitchen door to dry our hands. He tiptoed soundlessly to the utility-room door, opened it very slowly and completely silently, and then—

‘He’s got it!’ Fiona gasped hoarsely, pointing at the wriggling, writhing towel on the screen.

Nev had pounced and was now holding the creature down, grimacing as he fought to stop it escaping.

After a couple of seconds he appeared to get the bundle under control and swiftly tucked it under his arm.

He came back into the kitchen, laughing nervously and sweating slightly.

‘Jazz was right, it
is
huge!’ he exclaimed. ‘And it sure knows how to put up a struggle.’

It certainly did. The towel was bobbing up and down like an overexcited Halloween ghost.

‘Eeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaoooooow!’

Blimey, it even
sounded
like a ghost . . .

‘Quick!’ Fergus ordered, watching as the bundle struggled even more. ‘Secure all exits and entrances!’

I darted to the door into the hall and slammed it, relieved that Jaffa was upstairs out of harm’s way. Bex leaped to close the utility-room door. Everyone else stood around Nev in a circle, waiting for the great unveiling.

‘Ready to release the suspect?’ asked Nev.

‘I s’pose so,’ said Bex quietly.

‘Oh, I can’t look!’ Jazz squeaked.

‘Come on!’ Dad said impatiently. ‘One, two, three!’

Nev whisked the blanket away.

We all gasped in unison.

There on the floor in front of us, crouched in a quivering, huddled bundle, looking up at us with big green eyes and a particularly sorry-for-itself expression on its smudgy grey and white features, was a cat. A large cat, it’s true. But a cat all the same. An ordinary old moggie. Somebody’s pet.

‘No . . . !’ breathed Bex. Her eyes were out on stalks.

I had a feeling she was thinking what I was thinking: boy, had we been fooled! I didn’t know whether to laugh or to run from the room to find my kitten and give her a good talking-to. She had
so
dropped me in it! I was mortified! All this hassle over a cat! Why hadn’t she
said
so? I could
talk
to cats, for heaven’s sake; I could have sorted out this bullying business days ago.

‘Oh, man,’ Fergus said in hushed tones. ‘All that fuss and bother just for a big old fluffy bundle like that!’

The cat seemed to frown and let out a low menacing growl. ‘Less of the “big” and “old”, mate,’ it sneered.

I jumped.

‘Err, Fergus,’ I stammered, ‘I – er . . . I don’t think he likes you saying that about him.’

‘Too right I don’t, missy,’ the cat snarled.

Fergus was looking at me with a distinctly worried expression, but luckily for me, we were both distracted by an even stranger sound than the growling.

‘Awwwwww!’

I whipped round to where the sound was coming from.

‘Look at the poor lickle puddy tat!’

‘Jazz . . . ?’

My best mate’s face had crumpled. Her eyes were wide in sorrow and her eyebrows knitted together in a worried frown. Her hands were clasped to her chest and she was making very peculiar whimpering noises. I wondered for a moment if she was in pain.

‘Are you feeling all right, Jazz?’ Fergus asked, laying a hand on her shoulder.

‘You do look a bit wobbly,’ Bex added. ‘Do you want a glass of water?’

But Jazz seemed not to hear what was being said. In fact she didn’t seem to hear or, come to that,
see
anyone other than the scruffy, scowling grey and white cat who was huffing and puffing on the floor in front of her.

Dad was peering at the cat too. He rubbed at his chin and then said, ‘Do you know, I think I recognize him.’ He scratched his head. ‘I’d swear it’s the Morrises’ moggie, but they moved away weeks ago. Did you meet them, Fiona?’

‘I’m certainly glad we’ve blocked up the cat flap at our place,’ said Fiona sniffily, rudely ignoring Dad. ‘Nasty brute.’

That was nice, I thought, coming from the woman who had once told me how much she ‘simply
adored
cats’.

‘Oh dear,’ said Bex. ‘So you think he’s a stray, Nigel?’

‘I don’t know,’ Dad said, shooting an annoyed glance in Fiona’s direction, ‘but if it is their cat, he must be homeless. The Morrises have gone – I saw the removal vans. The house has been empty ever since.’

‘Don’t I know it,’ said the cat gruffly. ‘I’ve tried all the other ‘ouses in the neighbour’ ood, but yours is the only one what’ll let a poor cat in. Until recently, that is. I even tried getting into Mrs Nose-in-the-air’s ‘ouse,’ he added, narrowing his eyes at Fiona. ‘But I couldn’t get in, seeing how as yer’d
blocked your flippin’ cat flap as well!
I chewed my lip. If only she could hear what he was saying! He went on: ‘So I ’ad to do something, didn’t I? I’ve been starvin’, not to mention cold and lonely. Those Morris numbskulls were all over me one minute, feeding me, giving me cuddles, letting me sleep on their beds; the next minute they were gone.’

I felt a pang at his words. He might have bullied my Jaffa, but no cat should be left to fend for itself like that.

‘So
that’s
why you—’ I stopped myself – in time, I hoped. I had started speaking before I had realized what I was doing: ‘I mean that’s why
he’s
been sneaking into our house to steal food. Well, it makes sense, doesn’t it?’ I babbled, catching a concerned glance from Fergus, who was evidently wondering if I had lost every last marble in the pack. ‘If the family who owns him has moved and left him behind, he’ll have been hungry and lonely and that’s why he’s been breaking in and taking Jaffa’s food,’ I added, ‘translating’ what the cat had said to me.

‘Poor thing,’ said Bex, shaking her head.

‘Oh, the darling little kitty-cat!’ Jazz whispered, staring at the cat, her face creased in pity.

It was one thing to hear Bex voice concern for the abandoned cat – she was a pet-shop owner and an animal-lover like me, after all. But
Jazz?
I gawped in disbelief at my friend, expecting her to break into a raucous cackle of laughter and flap her hands at me as if it was all one huge, hilarious joke.

But instead she just shook her head sadly and said hoarsely, ‘How could anyone abandon him like that? He must be so lonely.’ She was now gazing at the cat as though he was the most beautiful sight she had ever had the good fortune to behold.