Not That I Brag, page 9
‘Ah!’ the Stickman said. ‘I can see I’ve got to go to London after all. My cat is showing me the way.’ And the people clapped and laughed and made a devil of a row and Jenny bent down and stroked me and said I was the cleverest cat alive, which I knew of course but it’s nice to have it said.
The Stickman panted up to join us. He was so excited his eyes were popping out of their sockets and the sweat was fairly pouring down his face, which I might say was much too red to be healthy. He looked as though he was melting. There was such a racket going on behind him with people carrying furniture about and a screen creaking down from the ceiling and music playing and somebody singing somewhere, I could barely hear what he was saying. It was all just red-faced babbling. But after a while my ears got used to it and I heard him.
‘Did you hear that reception?’ he was saying. ‘Wasn’t it fantastic. What a way to start! Your cat’s a natural. Did you see the way he walked offstage? Now that’s timing!’
‘He’s a star,’ Jenny said. ‘Aren’t you Cat?’
Stickman was chortling. ‘He’s a bloody marvel,’ he said. Well of course I am. Everybody knows that and he should have realised it long before now. ‘We ought to have him on in the next scene too. D’you think he’d wear it?’
Sandyman made a face. ‘Don’t push it,’ he said. ‘He might not like it.’
‘I could feed him treats,’ Stickman urged. ‘Quick. We’re on. Say yes. Quick! Quick! Come on!’
‘What do you think?’ Sandyman said to Jenny.
‘Well…’ she said, sort of dithering. But before she could say any more the Stickman picked me up and carried me back into the light-box. It was all done so quickly we were there before I could think what he was doing. But he did give me a treat as he carried me in, so he hadn’t forgotten his obligations.
The light-box was full of people all walking about and getting in and out of chairs and wearing the most peculiar clothes. There was a man there in stockings and I know that’s not right and a girl with a skirt that stuck out on either side of her as if she’d left the clothes hanger in it. Most confusing and to make matters worse they were all talking in that odd stilted way.
The man in the stockings spoke straight to Stickman and called him Dick.
‘Ah there you are Dick Whittington,’ he said. ‘Come in. Now we are gathered here we can begin. Pray to be seated one and all. No ceremony here ‘tis freedom hall.’ He wasn’t making any sort of sense at all but he went on droning away until it made my head spin. Stickman put me down on one of the chairs and gave me another treat and the girl in the peculiar skirt walked over and stroked me, so it wasn’t all bad. Except for the silly talking. Eventually, what with the heat from all those lights and being stroked and those dreadful voices droning on and on and on, I dropped off to sleep. I was woken by somebody putting his hand on my back - much too heavily. I opened my eyes at once. It’s the cardinal rule of self-preservation to be instantly alert when the need arises. And the need had certainly arisen at that moment because they were talking about me.
‘This cat is all the treasure that I have,’ Stickman was saying. ‘He is a prince of cats and I’d be lost without him.’
Quite right.
But then the Stockingman said something that made my fur stand on end. ‘Then he’s the very thing that you must send. My rule is firm. I will not break or bend. Each member of my household in indenture must send their treasure to support this venture.’
Send where? What’s he talking about?
‘He is the prince of mousers,’ Stickman said. Quite right. ‘King of cats.’
‘No more of that,’ Stockingman said, putting on a stern face. ‘You’ve got to face the facts. Your cat must join the ship and sail tonight.’
Well I wasn’t having that. I don’t know what a ship is, truth be told, but I certainly wasn’t joining one. The very idea. I jumped down from the chair at once and walked off with my tail in the air. The people in the darkness were clapping their hands and cheering but I hadn’t got time to pay attention to them because Jenny and Sandyman were standing by the black curtain and I needed to get to them as quickly as I could. They were rubbing their mouths together – I can’t think why they keep doing that. It’s so silly – but as soon as they saw me they stopped at once and Jenny picked me up and cuddled me under her chin.
‘Oh dear,’ she said. ‘They’ve upset him. Look at his poor little face. Oh Malc! I knew this was a bad idea. Look at his poor little face.’
‘Home,’ Sandyman said. ‘We all need feeding. I’ll drive this time.’
So we went back to Peacock Pie and she cuddled me all the way and told me I was the best cat ever. And when we got there, Kitty was waiting for me on the stairs the way she always does and Leamington Spa was in the eating room with a plate full of roast beef all steaming hot and ready, so life returned to normal quite quickly.
We’ve been back in the theatre every night for weeks. Sandyman says I’m a regular old pro. I don’t know what a ‘pro’ is, to tell you the truth, but it’s obviously something he approves of because he says it in such a satisfied way and she looks really pleased about it and smiles at him and then he puts an arm round her shoulders and hugs her. The Mwah-Mwahs are as ridiculous as ever, naturally. I never saw such an excitable lot, forever rushing about and shrieking, and as to the way they talk when they’re in the light-box, that has to be heard to be believed. Between you and me, I’m beginning to think they’re not talking at all, they’re just playing games, the way we cats do when we catch a mouse, only not so skilfully of course. They say the same things over and over again and they don’t mean a word of them. I’m quite used to being told I’ve got to ‘join the ship and sail tonight’ but it never happens.
The chair part of the room in the other hand is full of really sensible people. They’ve all come to see me, you see, which is gratifying but only to be expected, when you consider how superior I am, and when I walk into the light-box they clap their hands and whistle and cheer and there’s always someone who calls out ‘Look! There he is! Isn’t he wonderful!’ But up in the light-box we just do the same silly things over and over again and that gets boring. There are always plenty of treats. I will say that for them. And they’ve put a chair with a cushion on it next to where Jenny and Sandyman stand so that I can have a nap if I feel like it, which I sometimes do, if it’s quiet enough. Trouble is that Jenny and Sandyman will keep talking to one another and it keeps me awake.
He keeps saying ‘You ought to leave him, Jenny. You really did.’
And she says ‘I can’t, Malc. You know that. It would be letting him down.’ Which doesn’t makes any sort of sense. I mean letting him down what?
After that, they just go on and on. He says she’s being taken for a ride, and that’s stupid too because they’re standing by the black curtain and not riding anywhere. And he says it was the same for him with Wendy.
‘We’re givers,’ he says. ‘That’s our problem. It puts us at a disadvantage. We’re givers and they’re takers.’
I wish they’d give me some peace so that I can sleep. Or take me back to the Peacock Pie so that I can have dinner with Leamington Spa.
Tomorrow is the Last Night. Jenny told me when we were driving home. ‘Last Night tomorrow’, she said, stroking me and giving me her loving look. ‘One more performance and then you can retire from the stage and be my lovely cat again. How will that be?’
I gave her my loving look because after all I’m always her loving cat even though I don’t always know what she’s talking about. I think she means it’s the last night we shall go to the theatre.
Last Nights are most extraordinary. I could tell things were going to be different the minute we arrived at the theatre and were walking in the back door, because a van drew up and a woman got out with her arms full of flowers, dozens and dozens of them. The smell of them made me sneeze. And that made Sandyman laugh. ‘Flowers for the stars,’ he said. ‘You’ll have to get used to that now you’re famous.’
There were flowers in every single one of the rooms we passed on our way to the light-box – imagine that - and the Mwah-Mwahs were beside themselves with excitement running about in their peculiar clothes and kissing one another. You’d think they’d never seen flowers before. They should come to the Peacock Pie when He’s putting on one of his displays. I was really quite glad to get to the wings where everything was the same as usual. Spoke too soon! Just as I was settling down in my chair one of the Mwah-Mwahs rushed up and kissed me on top of my head and tied a horrible ribbon round my neck. The indignity of it! What does she think I am? A parcel? I scratched it off at once, I can tell you, and gave everybody my cross face. And then Jenny said something that really worried me.
‘We’re off now Cat. You’ll be all right won’t you.’
Off? What does she mean off? She’s surely not going to leave me here with the Mwah-Mwahs all on my own.
‘We’re going out front to watch the play,’ she said. ‘We’ll give you a special cheer when we see you.’
I don’t want a special cheer, I want her here where I can see her. The Mwah-Mwahs are all very well but you can’t trust them.
‘See you at the party,’ she said and walked away hand in hand with Sandyman, as if I didn’t exist. I was flabbergasted. That’s the only word for it. Absolutely flabbergasted. I mean she’d always been the one I could trust and now she was walking away from me. Well, I thought, I’m not going to call her back. See if I care. A cat has his pride. She can walk away if she likes. Let her. I shall sit here and wait for my treats.
I got a lot of treats that evening. I think the Mwah-Mwahs were sorry for me. They gave me two treats instead of one, every time, and when I walked into the light-box, the cheers were deafening, so I perked up quite a bit and walked off ahead of the Stickman, the way I always do, and got another rousing cheer. After that everything went as it usually did. I got told I’d ‘got to join the ship and sail tonight’ and took no notice and the girl with the coat hanger skirt gave me treats and stroked my head and everybody cheered me again. But when I walked out of the light-box there was no one there to pick me up and stroke me and that was miserable. There was nothing for it but to settle down in my chair and have a nap.
I dropped off to sleep pretty quickly, all things considered, but I didn’t sleep for very long. I was woken by the sound of something scratching about near my chair and, when I lifted my head, I caught a glimpse of small paws down by the black curtain. There was a mouse sitting within inches of my tail cleaning its whiskers. The effrontery of it. I was off that chair in a spilt second ready to pounce but it was too quick for me, and ran off into the light-box almost before my feet touched the ground. Didn’t do it any good though. I’m much too sharp for a mouse to outwit. I ran after it at top speed and had it cornered in no time, even though there were Mwah-Mwahs all over the place getting their silly legs in the way. I gave it a good shaking to stun it and finished it off with a sharp nip to the neck. All very neat and quick. It was very satisfactory. But then all hell broke loose. The people in the dark part of the room were cheering and clapping so loudly you couldn’t hear anything else for quite a long time. I kept my paw on the mouse – just in case, you understand. I would have eaten it if it hadn’t been for all those people standing around. They were an odd looking bunch and all sorts of colours from sweaty pink through various shades of coffee to quite a nice rich brown. Not as good as Leroy but close. I quite liked the look of him. He was wearing a piece of gold cloth wound round his neck and a long yellow gown and shoes with pom-poms on them and he had his mouth so wide open I could see his tongue.
‘Good God!’ he said, when the clapping stopped. ‘I’ve never seen anything to equal that.’
The Mwah-Mwah he was talking to gave a huge grin and said. ‘I told you he was a good mouser.’
‘I know,’ Yellow-Gown said. ‘But I never thought… I mean …Wow!’
Then the chair people clapped and laughed so loudly that everybody in the light-box turned to look out at them. And I looked too and there, sitting right in the front, who did I see but Jenny and Sandyman and they were waving at me and calling out. ‘Bravo Cat! See you later!’ Really the evening was one surprise after another. But then the Mwah-Mwah’s started talking in their peculiar way about ‘debentures and adventures’ and ‘the best bargain that you ever made puts all others in the shade’ and it went back to being boring again, so I picked up the mouse and walked out of the light-box to find somewhere quiet where I could eat it. And everybody cheered again. They were still cheering when I jumped back into my chair. I’ve never known them so noisy.
I’d finished my mouse and was cleaning my paws and whiskers when Jenny walked up and stood beside me. I gave her my loving look and waited for her to stroke me but then the red curtains closed and the Mwah-Mwahs came running out of the light-box all talking at once.
‘Your cat’s a trooper!’ Yellow-Gown said. ‘To catch a mouse right in front of us and just at the very moment we were talking about him. I’ve never seen anything to equal it. Never! It was fantastic. What timing! You’ll have to bring him on for the final curtain. I mean to say, he’s the star of the show. You will won’t you.’
But he didn’t wait for an answer because they were all rushing off and another lot were walking about in the light-box and the red curtains were opening again. Jenny was laughing at them. ‘Clever old thing,’ she said to me and she sat down in the chair and patted her knees to show me she wanted me to sit on her lap. Which I did. Naturally.
It was warm and comfortable there so we stayed where we were for a nice long time even though the Mwah-Mwahs were rushing past us all the time and nodding their heads and grinning. I think I had a bit of a nap but I was woken up by such a roar it made me feel dizzy and Stickman and Yellow-Gown were standing in front of us, beckoning, and Jenny was picking me up and carrying me and we all went back into the light-box together. The Mwah-Mwahs were standing in a long line smiling and looking pleased with themselves but they shuffled up and made a space for us right in the middle of the line. And Yellow-Gown took a step forward and held up his hand in the air and the people stopped cheering and clapping and sort of waited.
‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ he said. ‘I give you the star of the show. Dick Whittington’s one-and-only, amazing, incomparable, talented, extraordinary Cat.’
Then they went absolutely wild, standing up, stamping their feet, clapping their hands, whistling and cheering, on and on and on. It was only what I deserved, of course, but I have to say it was really rather gratifying. All in all, I think I rather like being in the theatre.
Once everybody had left the light-box and they’d switched off the lights, it was all so empty it looked if nobody had ever been there, so I was quite glad when Jenny said we were going back to Peacock Pie. Sandyman drove the car and I sat on her lap, which was only right and proper. After all, I was the star of the show. It didn’t take any time at all, which was just as well because I was very hungry by then and needed some sustenance. I wasn’t at all sure I’d get any though because it felt like the middle of the night and the eating room would probably be shut but I thought she’d find something for me.
I was wrong. The eating room was full of people all talking to one another, and lots of waiters – more than I’d ever seen. He was poncing about looking smug, although what he’d got to look smug about I couldn’t think. But best of all, the tables were absolutely piled with food. I could smell salmon and roast chicken and all sorts of other things. And while I was sniffing the air and trying to work out what they all were so that I could decide which to eat first, who should come walking towards me with a bowl than the cattery-man. And the bowl was full of his special rabbit. He put it down right in front of me.
‘Eat up, Cat,’ he said. ‘You’ve earned it tonight.’
I didn’t need to be told. I ate every mouthful and licked the plate clean. It was delicious and just what I needed. When I’d finished and I was cleaning my paws - I’m always fastidious about hygiene - I took a look round. There were Mwah-Mwahs all over the place, holding plates full of food and glasses full of wine and eating and talking and squealing. It exhausted me just to look at them. And then a man with a complicated black box in his hands appeared in front of me and pointed the box right at me and, while I was trying to remember where I’d seen it before, it flashed all of sudden and so brightly it hurt my eyes. I blinked and gave him my cross look but he didn’t take any notice. He just fiddled with the front of the box and made it flash again. And then it was just flash, flash, flash, for absolutely ages. In the end Jenny picked me up very gently and cuddled me under her chin and told him to stop.
‘I think that’s enough,’ she said. ‘He’s had a long day.’
‘One more,’ the man said. ‘Last one. You make a great shot together.’
‘All right then,’ she said. ‘But just one, mind. That’s all.’ And the box flashed again.
