The City Cats Page 12

  Sammy was perplexed. He didn’t know what Phoebe expected of him and he didn’t know how to react. ‘I – I haven’t reached the end of my journey,’ he said uncertainly. ‘Not yet. I have to find the canal, you see, in order to get my bearings. I have to go north.’

  ‘Shall we go then? Are you fully rested? I’m quite fresh. But you must need to eat.’

  ‘You’re so right,’ Sammy agreed. ‘We’ve travelled quite a distance, haven’t we? And, you know, I’m beginning to feel I understand this place.’

  ‘What place?’

  ‘Well, this . . . I mean, all around here . . . the whole thing . . .’ Sammy struggled to explain as they walked on.

  ‘You mean the city?’ Phoebe prompted.

  ‘That’s it – the city!’ Sammy cried. ‘I think I’m getting used to it. It was daunting at first but, after a while, I wasn’t so scared. I think I’ve worked out how to deal with the roads, the noise, the people, the – the whole hugeness of it. You have to make yourself part of it, to – to – slip into its ways and then it’s not so frightening in the end. Do you understand me?’

  ‘Of course I do. I’ve lived in it all my life,’ Phoebe replied. ‘Now what about the food?’

  The cats moved stealthily along the hedge-side. Their footfalls were totally silent in the snow. But no further snow fell and the sun began to shine with real strength. Sammy and Phoebe were grateful for that little bit of extra warmth.

  ‘I don’t think we’ll catch anything on this side of the park,’ Phoebe commented as they crossed Chester Road.

  Safely on the other side Sammy turned to her. ‘Park?’ he echoed, peering through the hedge border. ‘Yes, of course! It is a park. But the snow has changed it and I can’t be sure. This may be what I’ve been searching for,’ he added excitedly. ‘If there’s a canal nearby, then I’m home.’

  Phoebe began to think they never would get anything to eat. ‘Look, why don’t we go in?’ she suggested. ‘You can have a scout around and see if you recognize anything. And we should be able to find something to eat.’

  They found their way into the park. Sammy was actually on the opposite side to where he and Pinkie had set up home near the lake. Under the hedge the tabby sniffed out some carrion. Two small birds had succumbed to the extreme cold overnight and now made the cats a frugal repast. The animals moved on.

  ‘What will you do if you find your canal?’ Phoebe asked suddenly. She’d been wondering where she might fit in with Sammy’s future plans.

  And Sammy hadn’t given this a thought. Her question brought a problem into his mind. Supposing he were to find Pinkie soon? He had longed for that moment. But now there was Phoebe too. He could foresee difficulties. What did his present companion expect of him? She’d referred to his hunting prowess but, surely, finding food was only part of it? Was she really hoping for his company in the long term? He had to give her an answer.

  ‘If I find the canal,’ Sammy said slowly, ‘I’ll be able to return to my den.’

  ‘Will it still be the same?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ He looked at Phoebe. Their eyes met. ‘You see, I had a mate,’ he explained.

  ‘Oh. You didn’t mention that before?’

  ‘No, I didn’t see the need to, Phoebe. I didn’t expect you to follow me.’

  ‘No. I’m not quite sure myself why I’ve done it. Will your mate be around – I mean, there may be other cats?’

  ‘I can’t tell, Phoebe. Not till I’ve been back.’

  They found some more carrion. The late flurry of winter weather had taken its toll. As they ate silently, Phoebe found herself wishing there would be no canal. When they had finished, Sammy, without a word, continued forward. His eagerness to be moving on was a disappointment to the black and white cat. She imagined Sammy was eager to be rid of her.

  In places the snow was beginning to thaw. The paths were clear and easier to walk on. Sammy hurried over the snow-covered grass to a broad walkway where he was able to put on a spurt. Phoebe, dismayed, fell back a little, but kept him in view. Both cats kept well away from the few people walking through the park. Sammy in particular wanted nothing and no one to delay him now. But his sudden rush was unexpectedly halted.

  Over on his left side he caught sight of an enclosure – a sort of pen with a high metal fence – which contained a large number of what he thought were dogs. He came to a stop, uncertain if they were securely caged. He didn’t know he was looking at the enclosure of timber-wolves in London Zoo. The beasts trotted back and forth on springy legs. Some of them peered at Sammy with calculating looks in their eyes as if daring him to go on past. They were restless and looked very much in their element in the snow. One of them raised its head and howled. The sound was eerie but familiar. Sammy recognized it immediately. He had heard just such a howl that first night in the park with Pinkie. Was this then, the source of all those terrifying animal noises? He darted past the cage, sensing the wolves’ green eyes boring into his back as he fled, certain that at any moment they would give chase. But, growing in Sammy’s mind was the thought that he must have found his way back. The park, the animal cries. And then, suddenly, there it was – the gleam of water. Straight ahead of him lay the canal!

  He turned to see if he was pursued. There were no wolves on his tail – only Phoebe, trotting along hesitantly, unsure whether or not to rejoin him. Sammy tarried. He had to show her the canal.

  ‘I’m home, Phoebe,’ he announced. ‘I only have to follow the water till I get my bearings.’

  ‘I wish you well,’ the female cat whispered.

  ‘If I find nothing,’ Sammy said meaningfully, ‘I’ll come looking for you. Will you stay around?’

  ‘Yes, I’ll stay,’ she answered. ‘But come anyway, Sammy, whatever you find. I’d like to know about it.’ She watched him depart for the canal bank and then, slowly but determinedly, she followed him, always keeping her distance but never losing sight of him, just as she had followed him across the breadth of London.

  Pinkie nestled in the den with her three kittens. She had fetched food for them, collecting the generous offerings from those bystanders who had witnessed the female kittens playing. The cats had so much food that Pinkie had secreted some amongst the bushes in the shrubbery, conveniently close to the den. She recognized the rise in temperature and her hopes rose along with it of an end to the hard cold days.

  Little Sammy, Moss and Fern, curled up comfortably around their mother, listened, enthralled, as she told them about their father. Pinkie was glad she had waited until they were all together to do this, and she knew that the kittens were old enough now to understand most of what she had to tell them. She told them about Quartermile Field and about Sammy’s first appearance there. She told them how he had superseded his own father as leader of the vagabond cats and had become the King Cat. Then she explained how she and Sammy had paired off from the rest to make their own home; and how the other cats had left the area so that eventually she and Sammy had the whole of Quartermile Field to themselves. She told her family about Sammy’s exploits and how the two of them had been carried away from their home by the strange machine, and then had escaped from it to make a new home in the park. In a softer voice she described how she thought she and Sammy had come to be separated. ‘But he’s coming back, he’s coming back, I know it,’ she finished in a whisper. ‘And soon you’re going to see him. What a surprise he will have, too, when he sees you!’

  ‘Is he like Toby?’ asked Little Sammy.

  ‘No, he’s nothing like him,’ Pinkie said crossly. ‘You must forget about Toby now. He’s not part of our family at all.’ She sighed and gazed out at the open park. ‘In fact,’ Pinkie added, ‘I hope we never set eyes on him again.’

  16

  The fate of four cats

  ALL MORNING TOBY had been frantically searching around the removal yard. He thought Little Sammy had wandered off by himself and, as he had made himself responsible for the male kitten, he dreaded to think what Pinkie
’s reaction would be if she discovered that he hadn’t taken proper care of him.

  ‘I shan’t tell her, I can’t tell her,’ Toby muttered to himself as he ran round, looking under lorries and into every corner of the yard. ‘Oh, I blame myself! I shouldn’t have left him alone. Kittens are very inquisitive; he was bound to go exploring some time . . . I didn’t warn him sufficiently about the dangers. Poor Little Sammy!’

  Of course the kitten was not found. Toby left the yard to continue his search outside in the lane. If he had gone along it straight away to the main street he might have been in time to see Pinkie carrying Little Sammy across. But he didn’t – he went the other way, which he deemed was less threatening to a kitten. He went as far as he thought Little Sammy could have run on his own in the time since his disappearance. Then he turned back to look in the other direction.

  ‘Surely he can’t have wandered into the main street?’ Toby murmured fearfully. ‘The noise and din would be enough to drive him back. But, in that case, where is he?’

  Toby spent a long time pacing up and down the street. All along, his mind had been occupied by the nightmare of finding the kitten’s body in the gutter but, when he failed to see anything, he perked up a little. He managed to cross to the other side and renewed his search there.

  ‘He must have survived,’ he breathed thankfully, but his relief was tempered by the belief that, if Little Sammy wasn’t killed, he was certainly lost.

  ‘He couldn’t have found his way back to his mother, could he?’ Toby asked himself. ‘If so I may be searching for nothing. Anyway I ought to investigate. But then . . . what if he isn’t with Pinkie, whatever should I say to her? Oh, I don’t know what to do!’

  Toby bitterly regretted now that he had carried Little Sammy off in the first place. This ruse hadn’t brought Pinkie back to him and, despite the fact that he was no relation to the kittens, Toby had become very fond of them. If any harm had come to Little Sammy because of his carelessness he would never forgive himself. He paced up and down indecisively. He dreaded confronting Pinkie but, at the same time, he had to put his mind at rest.

  ‘Perhaps I’ll see Little Sammy in the park,’ he told himself, ‘without being noticed myself.’ He mused over this. ‘Yes, it’s worth a try,’ he decided. ‘I’ll go cautiously, a bit at a time.’

  He went a little way into the park and looked about. He saw no kitten, but instead an adult black and white cat walking towards the lake. Toby had never seen this animal before. He kept her in sight as he continued with his search. Phoebe observed the grey tom but otherwise ignored him. She had followed Sammy too far to be deterred now. As the tabby disappeared into the shrubbery, she sat down in the snow and waited.

  In the midst of the stand of bamboo, Pinkie saw Sammy approach. Despite her premonition she was overcome by the sight of him after all these weeks. She purred deep in her throat and the kittens, sensing her pleasure, began to purr too.

  ‘He’s here, your father’s here,’ Pinkie whispered joyfully.

  ‘Father’s here, Father’s here,’ crowed the kittens.

  Sammy burst into the den and stopped in amazement. The tabby and white kittens came to greet him but Sammy was so stunned he was unable to move or to offer them a greeting.

  ‘Pinkie!’ he said hoarsely, believing the worst. ‘Are you . . .?’

  ‘They’re yours; yours and mine,’ she purred. ‘Dear Sammy, I all but gave you up.’

  ‘I’ve so much to tell you,’ he murmured, bending his head to nuzzle his offspring. ‘But this is the most wonderful surprise. How old are they?’

  Pinkie told him.

  ‘Oh look,’ said Sammy, ‘they have both our colourings! Oh, what I’ve been missing! But Pinkie, from the first day I was taken, I have never stopped planning my return. I’ve travelled as far as – as – well, let me just say, I’ve traversed the city in search of you.’

  Pinkie purred even louder and brushed against him, butting him gently with her head and rubbing her muzzle against his wet fur. ‘You were taken?’ she murmured.

  ‘I was injured,’ Sammy told her. ‘A human rescued me. She was kind and fed me and made me well but – I was imprisoned. It was an age before I could escape.’

  ‘You’ve grown thin,’ Pinkie remarked.

  ‘I was thinking the same about you,’ Sammy told her. ‘Have things been hard here?’

  ‘Mostly. But we haven’t been here all the time,’ Pinkie answered. ‘I too have a story to tell. There was – um – another cat.’

  ‘Oh!’ Sammy was reminded immediately of Phoebe. ‘I met another one, too. But that’s not important now.’ Phoebe seemed very distant now that Sammy had his family all purring contentedly around him. ‘What do you call them?’ he murmured.

  ‘Moss, Fern, and Little Sammy.’

  ‘Oh-oh, I think I can guess which one’s named after me,’ Sammy joked, watching the stoutest of the kittens. ‘And at least he hasn’t got my ugly face.’

  ‘Oh Sammy,’ said Pinkie, ‘what nonsense! You’ve always been a fine-looking cat. And I have missed you so.’

  Sammy whispered, ‘I dreamed of you.’

  ‘Sammy, Sammy,’ chanted the sisters. ‘Tell us your adventures.’

  ‘There’s plenty of time for that,’ said Pinkie. ‘Let your father rest now. He’s very tired and I must bring him some food from our store.’

  Whilst Phoebe waited, Toby crept nearer to the shrubbery, a metre or two at a time. He was hoping to catch a glimpse of Little Sammy before Pinkie noticed him. But, Pinkie, her kittens, and now her mate, were all together in the den, more comfortable and content than they had been for a very long time. Toby slunk closer, straining his ears, his belly hugging the icy ground. He entered the shrubbery without a sound. The family of cats were so absorbed with each other they suspected nothing. Sammy ate with relish. And then, for the first time, Toby heard the tabby’s voice.

  ‘I can’t rest just yet,’ Sammy said, thinking of Phoebe. ‘There’s one more thing I have to do.’

  Toby backed away clumsily, alarmed despite himself, and causing the evergreen shrub to rustle loudly.

  ‘There’s something out there,’ Sammy said sharply and sallied forth from the den.

  ‘I’m not losing sight of you again,’ Pinkie said with resolve, and followed close behind him. In her wake, the kittens tumbled excitedly.

  Toby saw everything – Little Sammy shepherding his smaller sisters, a determined Pinkie, and Sammy, the father of the family, with a challenge in his eyes. The grey tom fell back, aware he had invaded another’s territory.

  ‘Who are you?’ demanded Sammy.

  All previous thoughts of fighting for Pinkie’s companionship vanished from Toby’s head at the sight of this imperious male. He only acknowledged to himself that Little Sammy was where he should be and – to his deep personal regret – so was Pinkie.

  ‘My name is Toby.’

  ‘We were friends,’ Pinkie explained with a triumphant gleam in her eyes as she noticed how Sammy had already cowed the grey tom.

  Sammy turned to her. ‘The other cat?’ he enquired.

  ‘Yes.’ Pinkie tingled. Was there going to be a fight?

  Sammy glared at Toby who had ceased to back away and was sitting on his haunches. The two males weighed each other up. Toby was ready to defend himself.

  Suddenly, Moss and Fern began to chirp, ‘Toby, Toby!’ He was a more familiar figure to them than their father.

  Pinkie was irritated and rounded on them. ‘I thought I told you to forget Toby?’ she hissed. The atmosphere was tense. Sammy and Toby stared at each other. The fur rose along their backs. Little Sammy, heeding his mother’s words, sang out loyally, ‘Sammy, Sammy!’ Then, into this meeting of rivals, as if aware that the fate of four cats was to be decided, strolled Phoebe.

  Toby barely gave her a glance but Sammy was taken aback by her sudden appearance and seemed to lose face. Now it was Pinkie’s turn to bridle and her coat fluffed out. A growl began in her thro
at.

  Sammy tried to collect herself. ‘This is indeed a fateful day,’ he muttered. He looked from Phoebe to Pinkie and back again, not quite sure how to master the situation. But Phoebe, like Toby, had seen all she had needed to see.

  She said, ‘So you found what you were looking for?’

  Sammy replied quickly, ‘Yes – and more. I’ve discovered I have extra responsibilities.’

  Phoebe was content to withdraw. Sammy was in his rightful place and she accepted this. ‘I’m glad for you,’ she said simply. ‘The kittens are lucky to have such a father.’ She turned away. There was no more to be said. The tension eased.

  Toby had no choice but to emulate Phoebe. His fate was mirrored in her departure. The bonds of family were stronger than ties of friendship. He walked away and, on an impulse, followed in Phoebe’s tracks. Sammy and Pinkie exchanged fond looks. They caught Toby’s first words to the black and white cat.

  ‘I don’t think I’ve seen you in this area before? Do you plan to stay?’

  The reply was inaudible.

  Sammy said, ‘The snow’s melting. Winter’s almost over. In the spring we’ll move to new quarters.’

  Pinkie thought of the removal van, the great machine that had brought them to the city, and of how they could make use of it to take them back again. But she didn’t need to think about that now.

  ‘Whatever you say, Sammy,’ she murmured. ‘For I’ve learnt one thing – wherever we go it’s you that will make it Home.’

  Sammy gave her an affectionate glance. ‘We’ll decide it together,’ he promised, ‘for the good of our kittens.’

  About the Author

  Colin Dann won the Arts Council National Award for Children’s Literature for his first novel, The Animals of Farthing Wood, which was subsequently made into an animated series.

  Also by the Colin Dann

  The Ram of Sweetriver

  The King of the Vagabonds

  The Beach Dogs