Kitten Smitten (17 page)

‘I’m sorry . . .’ Fergus muttered.

I opened my eyes and narrowed them at Fergus in a scowl. ‘
Why didn’t you tell me?
’ I insisted.

He sighed deeply and looked around the room, as if he was searching for inspiration. ‘I honestly don’t know. To start with I genuinely didn’t put two and two together –
when we first met, I mean. I just thought it was a bit of a coincidence. Then when I did realize Muffin – I, I mean Jaffa – was your cat, it was kind of too late to admit it.’

‘What do you mean, too late?’ I snapped.

‘Why Bertie so cross with the Fergus?’ Jaffa whined.

‘Because he’s an idiot,’ I hissed under my breath.

‘Listen, I should go,’ Fergus said, pushing back his chair.

‘No, you haven’t explained properly,’ I said grumpily.

Fergus’s eyes were wide and panicky. He looked a bit like a rabbit caught in the headlights of oncoming traffic. ‘I just meant . . . I just meant that I really like you and I
didn’t want you to hate me.’ It came out in such a rush I wasn’t sure I’d heard him correctly.

‘Me like you too,’ Jaffa said softly. ‘Me like Bertie
and
the Fergus.’

My head was spinning. I’d lurched from upset to fury to embarrassment in under a minute. I put out a hand to hold on to the edge of the table.

Fergus hurried on: ‘Once I’d worked it out, I told Mum you’d be angry. I crept over to yours and brought Jaffa back, but she kept following me home. And when I told Mum I
thought it was getting ridiculous, she just said she couldn’t help it if your cat liked coming over to our place.’

‘Everybody love Jaffsie!’ Jaffa crooned.

‘Yeah, a bit too much,’ I muttered. Then to Fergus: ‘Why doesn’t your mum get her own cat, then?’

Fergus nodded, lowering his eyes. ‘I know. I told her that. She said she and Dad had discussed it but it wouldn’t work cos they both have to move around with their jobs so much.
Bertie, I’ve tried everything to get my parents to let me have a pet – you have no idea.’ Actually, I do, I thought grimly. ‘I gave up on the cat idea long ago, but Mum
won’t even let me have a rabbit or a guinea pig. She says it’s too much of a tie, especially if we’re only staying here for a couple of months . . .’ He tailed off and fixed
me with a crestfallen look from those dark blue eyes.

Only a couple of months?

‘S-so,’ I stammered. I was intrigued that Fergus seemed as animal-mad as me, but I couldn’t let myself get distracted. ‘What was your mum planning to do with Jaffa the
next time you all went away, then?’

Fergus shrugged again. ‘I don’t think she thinks of herself as Muf— Jaffa’s owner as such,’ he said. ‘I suppose she thought Jaffa would come home to you when
she wasn’t at our place.’

‘Fabby-dooby idea!’ Jaffa agreed.

‘Rubbish idea!’ I snapped. ‘Your – I mean, Jaffa’s – home is
here
and that means one hundred per cent of the time, not just every other day or week or
whatever,’ I said. This conversation was getting pretty confusing.

Fergus was looking more and more out of his depth. ‘Listen, I’d really better be getting back. I am seriously sorry about all this. Like I said, I told Mum you’d be angry. Hey,
if there’s anything I can do to make it up to you? Anything at all. I just feel so bad . . .’ He had got up from the table and shoved his hands into his pockets. He looked like a
naughty puppy who’s just been told off for raiding the fridge. In spite of everything I felt myself softening.

‘No,’ I shot back at him, forcing myself to put all my energy into staying angry. ‘You’ve done enough— ’

I stopped.

Would he really do ‘anything’ to help? I wondered. Even if it meant helping me sort things out with Jazz?

I had had one of those rare and blinding brain-flash ideas that Dad calls ‘light-bulb moments’, like the time I’d been doodling on a piece of paper and come up with the idea
for my Pet-Sitting Service. Boy, did that feel like a lifetime ago!

‘Er, you were saying?’ Fergus prompted me nervously.

I pulled myself together, aware that I had one finger in mid-air, and was staring into the middle distance like a mad professor who’s just found the cure for insanity but can’t quite
apply it to himself.

‘Huh?’ I said.

‘You were saying something and then you stopped,’ Fergus said, looking at me strangely.

‘Yes, you – er – you asked if there was anything you could do. Well, I’ve just realized there
is
something, actually . . .’

And I proceeded to lay out my request to Fergus Meerley. A request that would make up for all the hassle with Jaffa, and one that would hopefully mend my friendship with Jazz and put her in my
debt for months – if not years – to come.

F
ergus had been as reluctant as a dog at bath time when I outlined my plan, but he was in a tight corner since saying he’d do
‘anything’ to make things up to me.

‘And you’ve got to promise not to mention any of this to Jazz until we’ve got an agreement with your mum,’ I told him as he made his way to the door.

He turned to me anxiously, his hand on the doorknob. ‘Bertie, Jazz isn’t talking to me at the moment. I told you that. And I’m really not sure that Mum will—’

I wasn’t interested in these details. ‘Fergus, you said you wanted to help,’ I said, my voice dripping (I hoped) with menace.

‘Yeah, yeah, OK,’ Fergus said, flustered. ‘I’ll – er, I’ll see what I can do. I definitely need to talk to Mum first. I’ll come back round later and let
you know what she’s said.’

‘I’ll be waiting,’ I replied.

He hovered, showing no signs of making a move.

I raised one eyebrow. ‘So? What are you waiting for?’

Fergus left.

Dad came down a split second later. I knew he’d been listening.

‘You’ve got that boy where you want him, haven’t you?’ Dad teased.

‘Yeah, Bertie likes the Fergus!’ Jaffa purred.

I flushed. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Looks to me like he’d do anything for you!’ Dad winked.

‘Bertie in luuuurve!’ Jaffa crooned.

‘Doh!’ I huffed at them both and flounced off with Jaffa, turning my back pointedly on Dad.

‘Listen, Jaffsie,’ I whispered in her ear as I took her into the sitting room for a private chat. ‘Please just sit tight with me and wait for Fergus to come back with the news.
I really need him to help me if Jazz and I are ever going to be mates again.’

‘OK,’ Jaffa said, and rolled on her back on my lap, offering herself up for a tummy tickle.

I sighed. How could I feel so irritated with her one minute and so gooey inside the next? If Kaboodle and this little kitten were anything to go by, I’d say cats were pretty tricky
customers, I thought to myself. Almost as tricky as best friends.

Fergus came round about an hour later with his mother in tow. Dad had gone out, thank goodness; I couldn’t have handled any more of his nudge-nudge-wink-winking.

I asked Fergus and Fiona into the sitting room while I fantasized about wrapping my hands around the woman’s throat and yelling ‘CATNAPPER!’ into her face. But then I thought
that probably wouldn’t help me win Jazz back with my cunning plan, so I sat down with Jaffa on my lap and kept quiet while Fiona spoke.

‘So, Beanie,’ she said.

‘Mum, for the millionth time, it’s Bertie,’ Fergus said in exasperation. He waited for his mum to say something else (like, maybe apologize?) but she just stared at him with
her arms crossed. He rolled his eyes and said, ‘Mum’s just been saying how sorry we were about encouraging Jaffa,’ Fiona opened and shut her mouth like an appalled goldfish but
Fergus ploughed on bravely, ‘and I suggested we do something to make it up to you.’

‘The Fergus telling porky pies!’ Jaffa squeaked. ‘
Bertie
said that, not the Fergus!’

‘Shh, Jaffa,’ I whispered. ‘It doesn’t matter.’

‘Muffin – sorry,
Jaffa
– seems a little upset. Is she all right?’ Fiona cooed.

‘
Mum!
’ Fergus protested. His voice had an edge to it now that even Fiona seemed to notice. She fell silent and gestured to him to continue. He looked at me and took a deep
breath. ‘You and I both know how much Jazz wants an audition for
Who’s Got Talent?
—’

‘Lovely girl, that Jasmeena,’ Fiona interrupted. ‘And of course in any other circumstances I’d be
delighted
to help her in any way I could. But the thing is, my
hands are tied on this one.’

I stared at her blankly.

‘It’s like I’ve already said. The rules,’ Fergus said bluntly, looking awkward.

‘Jasmeena knows she has to be sixteen to enter,’ Fiona added.

‘Mum,’ Fergus said. He looked pleadingly at her, but I could tell they had already been over this one a few thousand times back at their place.

‘Darling,’ Fiona said firmly, ‘I told you. And I’m telling Bunty here: I simply
can’t
change the rules. I’m only the producer. These rules are written
and decided on way in advance of filming and there are all sorts of regulations to do with allowing minors to compete in things like this. Now, I was going to take you into town this morning,
wasn’t I, Fergie? And I’m sure Bunny here is incredibly busy too, so now we’ve explained everything, let’s say goodbye, shall we?’

I was glaring at Fergus, willing him to stand up to his mum, but he was completely deflated and just nodded weakly at Fiona.

Jaffa chose this moment to kick up a right racket. ‘What the lady talking ’bout? Tell me, Bertie! Tell meeeeee!’

‘Shh! I’ll tell you later,’ I whispered into her small pink ear, hoping no one would hear me above the noise she was making.

‘Noooo! Me wants to know nooooow!’ she miaowed, wriggling to get free of my grasp.

‘It’s just a competition thing – for people,’ I hissed. I was aware that Fiona and Fergus were gawping at me as though I was a one-woman freak show, but I had to try and
calm Jaffa down. She was struggling harder now and I was fighting to keep hold of her as she scratched and clawed her way out of my grasp.

‘Me want be in competition!’ she miaowed. ‘Me want win prizes!’

‘No, Jaffa, it’s not a pet show,’ I said, struggling to keep my voice low. ‘Be quiet now.’

‘A pet show?’ Fergus said, puzzled. ‘What are you talking about?’

Jaffa nipped me and, with a gasp, I dropped her. She shot me a look of glee and said, ‘Can’t catch Jaffsie!’ and went trotting over to Fiona and jumped on her lap.

I stared open-mouthed.

‘
This
lady knows me can win prizes,’ Jaffa purred, rubbing her head on Fiona’s hand.

Fiona’s face softened. ‘Aaaah! Hello, little baby,’ she said in a sing-song voice. ‘You really are the most
beautiful
little kitten, aren’t you, sweetie? You
would win a talent show any day, wouldn’t you? Yes, you would. You would win all the prizes.’ She cooed and petted and went on and on like this for several seconds. I glared at Fergus,
venom oozing from my eyes.

But instead of Fergus looking away in shame, or pulling his mum up and telling her she had to go, or any other suitably contrite reaction I was hoping for, his velvety blue eyes grew larger and
larger, his jaw dropped lower and lower and then, drowning out his mother’s pathetic baby-talk, he leaped to his feet and yelled:

‘PET SHOW!’

‘Yeeeeooow!’ yelped Jaffa, sinking her claws into Fiona’s pristine purple skirt.

‘DARLING!’ Fiona yelled, leaping to her feet and knocking flying.