The City Cats Read online

  Sammy began to understand where he fitted into this business. And he was tempted. ‘You want me to have a try, I suppose?’ he enquired diffidently, stretching his legs.

  ‘You’ve got it!’

  ‘Where’s your mistress now?’

  ‘In the galley – er – seeing to things.’

  ‘Seeing to things?’

  ‘Well, clearing up actually. I caused a bit of a mess.’

  ‘In the chase?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You dogs are so clumsy,’ Sammy remarked. ‘No finesse. No stealth. Not like a cat.’

  The dog encouraged him. ‘Exactly,’ it said. ‘Cats are smooth operators. Er – you look pretty smooth, Cat. What’s your name?’

  ‘Sammy.’

  ‘Look, Sammy, can you help? Jump on board.’

  Sammy obliged.

  ‘You fix this mouse for good,’ said Smartie, coming up close and giving him the once-over. ‘You look lithe and fit. I know we never saw each other before today but, will you have a go? I’m desperate. I want to be fed.’

  ‘What do I get out of it?’ Sammy asked subtly.

  ‘My undying friendship,’ Smartie replied.

  Sammy’s tail twitched. He was undecided. He had quite taken to this animal who was honest and friendly, if nothing else. But how long would it take? He didn’t want to lose a lot of time hunting on another’s behalf. On the other hand, this mouse was a challenge; there was no doubt about it. His vanity was tickled and he forgot his earlier scruples about human contact. ‘All right then,’ he said. ‘I’ll do it.’

  Smartie barked exultantly.

  ‘Where do I go?’

  ‘Down there,’ the dog indicated. ‘Into the cabin. The mouse could be anywhere. But you’ll smell it out, eh?’

  ‘Undoubtedly,’ Sammy boasted. ‘Only a matter of time.’

  ‘Give the mistress a greeting,’ Smartie suggested. ‘She’s not expecting you and she’ll like that.’

  Sammy descended the few steps. Smartie, at the full extent of his chain, watched him go. A quick kill, thought Sammy, and then on my way again.

  He paused at the bottom of the stairway. A middle-aged woman, well-built with hair turning to grey, was on her hands and knees in the galley sweeping up broken crockery and the spilt contents of several food containers. She was muttering angrily to herself. ‘One mouse and all this chaos! Oh if I could just catch the little . . .’ She broke off as she saw Sammy peering at her. He seemed to be the answer to a prayer.

  ‘Well! Would you believe it? Where have you come from?’

  Sammy miaowed at her politely.

  ‘This is timely, Elsie,’ the woman addressed herself, and with some difficulty hauled herself on to her feet, whilst making friendly clucking noises to the tabby cat who watched her. At the top of the steps Smartie waved his tail slowly from side to side. ‘You look a bit wild,’ the woman commented next, ‘but that’s all to the good.’

  Sammy wasn’t afraid. Her friendly tones reassured him. He continued to watch her and, as he did so, he saw a quick movement behind her. A mouse – the mouse, he guessed – was scurrying across the floor carrying a fragment of biscuit between its tiny jaws. Sammy froze. His eyes left the woman’s face and switched to the mouse, following its progress as it began to climb up the leg of a chair. This was indeed a bold mouse and one that needed to be taught a lesson. It seemed that the mouse intended to climb on to the table where perhaps it believed it would be able to eat its biscuit with more ease. It hadn’t noticed the tabby cat so still and tense in the corner. Sammy decided to forestall it. He ran forward and leapt up on to the table-top. As the mouse came into view he was ready for it. He pounced just as the mouse reached the level of the table and, with great accuracy, trapped it between his paws. The woman shrieked with a mixture of surprise and excitement. Her tormentor was caught!

  Sammy didn’t wait for congratulations. With the mouse lifeless in his mouth he leapt down from the table and headed for the steps up to deck. Smartie barked with delight.

  ‘Amazing, amazing,’ he yapped as Sammy deposited the carcass before him as proof of his skills. ‘I wouldn’t have believed you could be so speedy. I bet you’ve earned your own dinner as well as mine.’

  Sammy was set to spurn this offer when he heard the woman’s heavy footsteps approach from behind.

  ‘What a treasure,’ she crooned to him as she bent and lifted him into her arms. ‘If you can catch one mouse you can catch more and I know just the place where you can find them.’

  It was useless for Sammy to struggle. The woman was powerful and she held him tight against her bosom. Smartie frisked about joyfully. The woman carried Sammy down to the cabin again. ‘You’re just what we need in that rickety old building with all its nooks and holes,’ Sammy was told. ‘An instinctive mouser!’

  8

  Miles apart

  PINKIE WAS READY to join Toby the grey torn to fetch food. She had satisfied herself that her kittens were well fed and warm. Then she covered them over, telling them she would be back very soon.

  Toby waited for her on the wall coping. ‘Hungry?’ he asked. ‘I am.’

  Pinkie was hungry. She hadn’t been to see if Lizzie’s scraps were in their usual place in the park. She followed Toby along the crest of the wall without further ado. They came to a butcher’s yard. Pinkie’s nostrils had long since caught the rich fatty scent of raw meat.

  ‘We have to be on our guard from now on,’ Toby told her. ‘We may not be the only ones looking to fill our stomachs.’

  Pinkie glanced at him sharply. ‘I thought you said there weren’t any other cats?’ she snapped.

  ‘No cats, no. But there are other animals. There’s a big black dog who comes here sometimes. He has a huge head and jaws and great long legs. He can jump like anything. He comes from the park and leaps over this wall. And he doesn’t tolerate competition. Many’s the time I’ve had to run for my life.’

  Pinkie glared. ‘Why didn’t you warn me before?’

  ‘I thought you wouldn’t come,’ Toby answered honestly. ‘And the dog doesn’t often make an appearance. Believe me, it’s worth taking the chance. You’ll understand when you see what’s on offer.’

  ‘Who else comes, apart from the black dog?’ Pinkie demanded.

  ‘Er – well, I sometimes see a couple of smaller dogs. But they’re no problem. They’re not fierce. They’re pets who are sometimes let out on their own.’

  ‘The black dog isn’t a pet, of course,’ Pinkie remarked with irony.

  ‘I should say not. Humans generally don’t keep fierce animals, do they, except to guard themselves? No, he walks on his own, that one.’

  ‘Well, that is reassuring,’ Pinkie continued sarcastically. ‘So we’re likely to be heading towards a throng of dogs and, if we’re not, then this black monster could turn up anywhere, anytime, even while we’re innocently asleep.’

  ‘Don’t be silly,’ said Toby. ‘He’s only interested in the food. If you don’t meddle with him you’ve nothing to fear. Now, follow me.’ He jumped down from the wall and, raising his head, tested the air for dog odours. ‘All clear,’ he announced.

  The yard was paved. It was empty of animal life. There were clusters of black plastic sacks tied at the neck, all of which smelt strongly – and some rankly – of meat and offal. Toby strolled across to the nearest bunch, keeping his eyes and ears on full alert. He paused and sniffed at the sacks, one after another. ‘They tear easily,’ he commented. He unsheathed his claws and dug them into the plastic. A hole instantly appeared in the sack which Toby quickly enlarged. ‘There’s some liver here,’ he told Pinkie. ‘Quite fresh too.’

  Pinkie’s mouth watered. She sat a metre or so away. Every so often she turned her head back to the wall, expecting to see a giant black dog bounding over it.

  ‘There are some meaty bones too,’ Toby went on. He put his grey head right inside the hole and pulled out some lumps of liver. ‘Here – take some,’ he offered Pinkie
.

  Pinkie came up and, with yet another glance behind her, began to eat. The liver tasted good. Toby pulled out some more. There were some sausages and lamb bones.

  ‘Best not to eat much of it here,’ he advised. ‘Find a safe place and–’ He broke off abruptly and swivelled his head round. ‘I think I heard something – a bark!’ he hissed. ‘Grab what you can and come with me.’

  Pinkie took a large piece of liver between her teeth and Toby grabbed a string of six sausages. He ran to the back of the yard, sausages trailing behind him. Pinkie was hard on his tail. They leapt up to the top of the wall. Toby led Pinkie along to the greengrocer’s yard next door. An enormous ivy plant grew in the corner, draping the wall like a cloak. Toby let his sausages hang down amongst the tendrils. ‘Get in under there,’ he ordered Pinkie.

  Pinkie pushed herself under the long clinging stems of the vine. The grey tom remained in the open, watching. ‘Only just in time,’ he whispered. ‘Look!’

  Pinkie peered between the stalks. She looked along the top of the wall. There was a bark, a scrabbling noise and then she saw a huge animal heave itself over the coping only metres away from where they had just been. It leapt down into the butcher’s yard, growling, and, seeing the lamb bones, snatched them up and galloped back to the wall – all in a matter of seconds. Then it was up and over and into the park without spying Toby and almost before Pinkie had taken another breath.

  ‘He’s very fast,’ said Toby. ‘He has to be – the men would come after him with sticks. I’ve seen it happen.’

  The sight of the great beast had made Pinkie forget the liver. ‘I’m not venturing here again,’ she muttered. ‘A few moments’ delay and we’d have been lost.’

  Toby was retrieving his sausages. The episode was over as far as he was concerned. ‘That’s why you need me,’ he said quietly. ‘I know all about this “food run”. I know the signs to look out for. But if you won’t come yourself, I can fetch for you.’ He looked at her intently. ‘As long as you promise,’ he said, ‘to stay by me. I mean always.’

  Pinkie held his gaze. She knew what he referred to. He wanted her to become his mate and stay with him even if Sammy did return. What was she to do? It would certainly help to have regular supplies of meat brought for her and – eventually – the kittens. She didn’t relish the prospect of exposing herself to the risk of colliding one day with the huge black dog. And it did seem as if Toby was offering himself as a sort of protector to her and her family. In Sammy’s absence that was no bad thing. Perhaps he never would return. She wasn’t even sure if he was still alive. She wavered. Toby waited for a reply.

  ‘You put me in a quandary,’ she murmured. ‘You must know that Sammy has a prior claim on my loyalty. Something must have happened to him. And yet, he has always been keen for adventure – perhaps he has found something more exciting to do.’

  Toby lost no time in playing on Pinkie’s doubts. ‘He’s forgotten you, Pinkie,’ he said categorically. ‘You might as well forget him. Why waste a moment dwelling on the past? That cat has just left you in the lurch. How would he know if you’ve even survived until now? But you can depend on me.’

  His words found their mark. Pinkie’s disappointment with Sammy began to turn to resentment. ‘You’re right, I suppose,’ she said finally. ‘I don’t know why I’ve kept him in my thoughts for so long.’

  ‘Does that mean–?’ Toby began hopefully.

  ‘It means that I agree to your terms. As long as you see me and my young ones are fed and sheltered from danger, I’ll stick with you. You have my word.’

  ‘I ask no more,’ said Toby, delighted. ‘And you won’t regret it.’ He started to eat his sausages.

  Pinkie finished the piece of liver. ‘I used to drink from the park lake,’ she told him. ‘Is there anywhere nearer?’

  Toby swallowed a mouthful. ‘Oh, water’s never a problem,’ he said. ‘The simple rule is to go where the birds go. A puddle, a dripping tap, a flat roof, a gutter – there’s always something. We’ll find water, never fear.’ He pulled the remaining sausages under the thick strands of ivy, to return to in the future. ‘Come on, Pinkie,’ he said. ‘I’ll show you more of our territory.’

  Pinkie didn’t fail to catch the word ‘our’. It told her clearly just how binding was her new commitment to Toby. She suffered some pangs of guilt for her inconstancy to the mate she had chosen in Quartermile Field. But now it was too late. ‘Oh Sammy,’ she whispered to herself, ‘what have I done?’

  Lizzie Reed soon discovered that the scraps of food she so patiently collected and deposited in the park for Pinkie were no longer sought by the little white cat. She found them untouched and, after a few days, she ceased to bring anything. She feared the worst for Pinkie whom she hadn’t seen around for quite a while. And, thinking about Pinkie, Lizzie was naturally led to think of Sammy – the ‘Puss’ she had so conscientiously nursed back to health. Where was he now? She had no illusions about ever seeing him again. But she would have dearly loved to know just where he was and how he was surviving alone in an unknown part of the metropolis.

  Sammy, of course, was not alone. Thanks to the houseboat owner, Elsie, he was being launched on a whole new career. The day after he had so rashly jumped on to the deck of the craft to exhibit his prowess as a hunter, he was taken by Elsie in a basket to her place of work. The woman had made quite sure he had no opportunity to escape and he had spent the previous night in the company of Smartie who had been told to ‘guard him’.

  Elsie’s office was a ramshackle building south of the River Thames. Sammy was miles from his destination in the park and, even if he had been allowed the freedom to wander, he wouldn’t have had an inkling of which direction to take. There was no canal to guide him now. But all that was immaterial. He was shut in the three-storey building where Elsie helped to run a small Direct Mail company. He had been set to patrol the rabbit-warren of corridors, corners and cubby-holes for marauding mice. To encourage him in his endeavours he was given nothing to eat in the belief that the hungrier he became, the keener he would be to seek out his prey. This new imprisonment was far worse than the monotony and boredom of life behind the walls of Lizzie Reed’s flat. Sammy had never been so miserable.

  The mice in Penstemon Buildings were old hands at avoiding predators. They had multiplied at the expense of a succession of cats and, indeed, human efforts at pest control. There was nothing they didn’t know about the geography of the place, whether behind or in front of the ancient skirting-boards and wood panelling. They had the most elaborate system of tunnels and runs which wound up and down and around all three storeys. The offices were a paradise for these little creatures. They enjoyed free run of the poky rooms and their furniture, and their sharp teeth got to work on anything that could remotely come under the heading of edible. Into this mouse Utopia Sammy was introduced.

  To his sensitive hunter’s nose the smell of mice was overpowering. His sharp ears picked out the scratchings and the patterings of their tiny feet behind the panelling. Of course, during office hours, the mice mostly kept themselves out of sight. Sammy was set down without food in a disused corridor and told by Elsie in no uncertain terms to get on with his job. Sammy roamed up and down. There was no exit except a door which was kept shut. He was so bored he kept his nose pressed to the skirting board, first at one spot and then at another, listening to the squeaky voices of the mouse population and trying to catch a glimpse of them through cracks in the wall. This was his sole occupation on the first day. From time to time Elsie or another member of staff opened the door a fraction to see what he was up to. They thought his interest in the mice looked promising.

  ‘You wait till tonight,’ Elsie told her colleagues. ‘He’ll be so hungry he’ll make mincemeat of them. Just let them dare to set foot outside their tunnels and he’ll be on them. He’s hot stuff, that cat.’

  Some of the other employees were not too happy when it came to closing time and it appeared there was to be no food provided
all night. Elsie plonked a bowl of water against a wall. ‘That’s all he’ll need,’ she declared. ‘We’ll see in the morning how he’s done and if he’s produced results we’ll give him a reward. Believe me, it’s the best way. What would be the sense in feeding him now? His incentive to hunt for himself would be gone. Remember the other cats.’

  That night Sammy was to be allowed free run of all the offices and rooms. The mice inhabited the entire building and, once it grew dark and quiet, they could emerge just about anywhere. All doors were left ajar and propped open. Sammy was given words of encouragement and a stroke or two by the more kindly members of staff. Then he was left to his own devices as the lights were switched off.

  As soon as he knew himself to be alone Sammy began to search for the food which he was sure would have been left for him. He had eaten very little during the last two days and he was very hungry. He explored room by room, passage by passage. He soon realized there was nothing. He didn’t understand why he had been neglected in this way. His experience with Lizzie Reed made these humans’ behaviour towards him all the more puzzling. He sought in vain for the smallest scrap of food.

  During the night the mice, bold as ever, began to scurry about. Sammy heard them. He ran from room to room but, as soon as he entered a particular room, the mice that had been there dived back into their secret tunnels and then emerged somewhere else. Sammy chased their shrill squeaks in and out of the offices. They were too quick for him. They were past masters at evading predators. It was a game for the mice. They had a distinct advantage over Sammy in that they had so many tiny entrance and exit holes to the various parts of the building that even if he’d been there a year he could never have discovered them all.

  Sammy changed his tactics. He stopped dashing from one place to another and chose one particular room, where there was a soft carpet to lie on. He was losing interest in hunting mice. He felt they had made him appear foolish and he needed to concentrate on getting himself out of this place. He recalled how he had escaped from Lizzie’s flat and he wondered if he could employ the same trick here. The trouble was, there were so many doors here that he had no way of distinguishing which one was the way to the outside. So he couldn’t decide where to station himself to wait for the office workers to return to the building. There was no doubt they would come back, he told himself, endeavouring to keep up his courage.