Hannah's War, page 12
Betty started crooning. ‘Pussy, pussy, come and get some loverly cake. There’s a good cat, come to Aunty Betty.’
Nothing happened. Ruby appeared above them. ‘Here, Hannah, give us one of them pitchforks,
I’ll see if I can knock one off the beam, they ain’t coming down to eat your cake.’
Jack handed it up. ‘Be careful, I wouldn’t like to be the person catching if one does fall off its perch.’
Hannah was enjoying this; they all needed, a bit of fun after so much unhappiness.
‘I’ve come out to see what’s happening. Any luck yet?’
‘No, Mrs B., I think Ruby’s going to try poking one with a pitchfork.’
‘Oh dear! I think I’d better go and get the first aid box, I’ve a horrible feeling those girls are going to need it if they do that.’
Hannah held her breath, she clutched Jack’s arm in her excitement and his muscles clenched. Then Ruby dislodged three cats at once and they fell on top of the girls. Betty and Ruby were screaming and swearing whilst trying to remove the scratching, spitting animals. One, a tabby, was on Ruby’s head, the more she yelled the harder it gripped. Another, a black-and-white, had somehow become entangled with Betty’s britches, she was dancing from foot to foot trying to shake it off.
Mrs B rocked from side to side moaning with laughter. Hannah, tears of mirth running down her cheeks, leant against Jack. She could feel his sides heaving; they could offer no advice to the beleaguered girls in the loft, they would have to sort out things for themselves. Then the third cat, the huge black tom, hurtled from the loft straight into her arms. Instinctively she closed them as she tumbled backwards.
‘Quick, Jack, get a sack. I’ve got the one we wanted.’ She was waiting for needle sharp claws to sink into her face but to her astonishment the cat snuggled against her, rubbing his head under her chin and purring like a sewing machine. This was a day for surprises. Slowly she sat up, stroking the animal under the chin and talking to him quietly.
The racket above them subsided, two hissing felines shot out into the yard scattering chickens and ducks in all directions. Betty called down from above her head.
‘Bloody Nora, would you look at that, Ruby? Hannah’s sitting there as pleased as punch, not so much as a scratch anywhere, the blooming cat in her lap as happy as Larry.’
‘I think he likes me, he knows I’ve come to take him somewhere nice and warm where he’ll get plenty to eat and not have to share.’
Jack dropped down to his haunches beside her shaking his head in disbelief. ‘How about that? He came to you. Quite unbelievable. Clever boy …’ he reached out to stroke the cat and instantly it changed. A deep rumbling growl echoed round the barn, Hannah could feel it tensing, ready to
pounce.
‘Don’t touch him, he obviously doesn’t like men. I’ll wait until Betty’s down and then she can hold him whilst I find him a nice warm box.’
He answered from a good yard away. ‘Not putting him in a sack?’
‘There, Sooty, the nasty man has gone away. He wants me to put you in a smelly old bag, I wouldn’t do that to you, now would I?’
Betty and Ruby slid down the ladder still muttering. ‘You owe us a double on Saturday, Hannah. Fancy laughing at us when we was being attacked.’
‘I think Joan will buy you a double each when she meets this fine young man. Here, will one of you take him whilst I get up?’
They backed away shaking their heads. ‘Not likely, I’m not going anywhere near any cat ever again. Put us off for life, ain’t it Ruby?’
‘Here, my dear, I’ll take him. Betty there’s a cardboard box in the outhouse, why don’t you get that for us?’ Mrs Boothroyd reached down and the cat was transferred like a large, black, furry parcel.
Hannah sprang to her feet and picked up one of the dropped sacks. ‘This can go in the bottom of the box, it’ll give him something to hang on to when we’re bumping back along the lane.’
Jack scowled at the animal. ‘Do you think a box will stay on the back of your bike? It would be much easier if he was in a sack.’
Laughing at his disgust, she held out her arms and the cat sprang across, purring loudly. ‘I’m going to call him Sooty, what do you think?’
‘I’m going to call him Dangerous, and I hope he stays outside. Can’t imagine anything worse than being attacked by that in the middle of the night.’
She pulled the contented animal’s ears. ‘He’s going to be an indoor cat, Joan’s overrun with mice in the house, that’s where he’s needed. And anyway he’s likely to run off if he’s let out too soon.’
The box was tied securely to the rear of her bicycle and the sack put in the bottom. However, Sooty refused to leave her arms; when she tried to put him in he burrowed further into her jacket clinging on with his claws. ‘I’m going to have to carry him, I think if I open my jacket he can go inside and be perfectly safe.’
This proved to be the case, in spite of the bumping and jolting the animal hung on and didn’t stop purring once. She left Jack to put her bike away and carried Sooty into the larder. There was no sign of Joan; perhaps she’d gone to lunch with one of her friends after church. The cat still refused to budge, she began to think she would be carrying him around like a baby for the rest of the day.
‘I’ve filled up an old wooden tray I found in the shed - it will do as dirt box until you can let him out. Do want me to put it in here?’
‘Please, I’m trying to get him to come out with my jacket but he won’t move. Could you get him a saucer of milk and a bit of bacon rind? With any luck he’s hungry and will get down to eat.’
Eventually Sooty left his refuge, the enticement of a piece of bacon all to himself did the trick. As soon as he was down Hannah shot out of the larder and closed the door behind her. ‘I’m going to leave Joan a note, make sure she doesn’t let him out inadvertently. I’m going to have some of the soup she made yesterday, would you like some?’
‘Not now, I’m still full of rock cake. I’m going to have a lie down, after all the excitement I’m
knackered. If you leave it out, I’ll heat it up later on when I get up.’
The kitchen door closed leaving her alone in the kitchen. She didn’t understand him at all, one minute he was nasty, the next nice. She couldn’t worry about it, tonight she had to take the bike round to the cottage and make sure Kurt got away safely. She couldn’t sort things out at the moment. Time enough to mend fences with Jack after that.
Chapter Thirteen
There seemed little point in writing a note about the cat in the larder, Hannah intended to spend the afternoon in the kitchen anyway. Mrs B. had put a miscellany of vegetables and six fresh eggs in the box that was intended for Sooty. She would make a vegetable stew for supper and jam roly-poly for dessert as soon as she’d finished her lunch.
She was sitting at the kitchen table reading an old copy of The News Chronicle, the pudding gently steaming in a cloth in a saucepan and the stew bubbling beside it, listening to the clock ticking. Joan was having a long lunch, it must be after three thirty. Jack was obviously avoiding her, he couldn’t still be asleep.
The newspaper was spread out on the table in front of her; something tiny, shiny and black dropped on to it. She saw it hop. My God! A flea! She looked at her jumper, the surface was moving. With a shriek of horror she kicked her chair back so violently it fell with a crash to the flagstones. Ignoring it she raced the back door, flung it open and once outside stripped off her jumper.
There were little black dots in her cardigan as well. Frantically she unbuttoned it and tossed it aside, her blouse and vest followed leaving only a brassiere between her and the biting wind. Would her slacks be infested too? She hesitated, she couldn’t bear the thought of having anything next to her skin that was alive with fleas. She unbuttoned the waistband and stepped out of her trousers.
Her skin was goose bumped, her teeth beginning to chatter. She stared hopelessly at the pile of
clothes; she didn’t want to touch them but she could hardly leave them outside. Then the back door flew open and Jack appeared.
*
The sound of Hannah’s scream and the crash of a chair falling jerked Jack from his novel. He was on his feet and halfway down the corridor before it stopped. His socks skidded on the boards. There was no time to go back and put his boots on, she’d sounded desperate. He burst into the
kitchen, a blast of icy air greeted him. The back door was wide open. What the hell was going on?
He slid to the door - his eyes widened and a wave of heat engulfed him. She was standing shivering in her knickers and bra. He’d never seen anything so desirable in his life. ‘For God’s sake, Hannah, what the hell are you doing?’
‘Fleas, the cat’s infested. So was I. Joan will kill me, first I broke her flask and now I’ve brought fleas into the house.’
Forgetting he had no shoes on he closed the gap between them, slid his good arm under her knees, and scooped her up. ‘Inside, don’t wriggle or I’ll drop you.’ Her teeth were clattering like a pair of castanets, her skin turning blue, she’d be lucky she didn’t catch pneumonia after this.
Not stopping in the kitchen he shouldered his way into the passage and somehow negotiated the staircase without mishap. Thank God her door was ajar, he strode in and dumped her unceremoniously on her bed. Snatching up the eiderdown he dragged it around her shoulders.
‘Sit there, you blithering idiot, whilst I light the fire.’ It was difficult to strike a match with his hand shaking so much. Knowing she was sitting all but naked on the bed was playing havoc with his pulse. Whatever she was, whatever she’d done, he wanted to make love to her. He daren’t turn round, his erection was painfully obvious.
He had to get out of there before he did something he would be ashamed of for the rest of his life. Keeping his back to her, he stood up. ‘Get dressed, then come down and have a hot drink. We’ve got to do something about that damned cat before Joan gets back.’
*
The door closed with a decided snap. He was being beastly again. Treating her like a naughty schoolgirl and it served her right. What had she been thinking of? It had been sheer madness to strip outside. She shuddered. She had an absolute horror of crawly things on her skin, this was irrational but she couldn’t help it. Betty wasn’t too keen on spiders, Ruby hated snakes and lizards, with her it was lice and fleas - in fact anything that invaded her space. Cockroaches, bedbugs, she hated them all.
She wasn’t too keen on him either. What a nerve, to call her a blithering idiot. She must get dressed. He might be an overbearing, arrogant man but she was forced to admit on this occasion he was absolutely right. They had to do something about Sooty before the whole place was overrun. The larder was so cold there was a good chance the fleas would remain on their host.
By the time she was dressed her teeth had stopped chattering and she was more than ready for
a cup of tea. She dithered in her bedroom, the thought of facing him after she’d displayed herself
so brazenly made her nervous. She couldn’t go down, he’d have to … no, Sooty hated him, she had no option but to face her embarrassment. With the metal nit comb clutched in one hand and a piece of wet soap in the other she reluctantly left the safety of her room. She was almost at the head of the stairs when he roared up them.
‘Hannah, if you don’t come down this minute, I’m coming to get you.’
‘There’s no need to shout, I’m here now. I hope the tea’s not stewed.’ She sounded churlish but didn’t care. Keeping her head lowered she stomped into the kitchen and picked up the nearest mug
of tea. The sound of the range burning and her slurping filled the kitchen. She couldn’t put it off.
Raising her head, her cheeks burning, she glared at him. To her astonishment he was lounging back on a chair, his long legs folded at the ankle, his arms crossed on his chest and his mouth twitching with amusement.
‘Don’t you dare laugh, it’s not at all funny. I have a thing about fleas, I couldn’t help myself.’
‘Don’t apologise on my account, it’s not often a chap gets to look at a beautiful young woman in her underwear.’
Her mug thumped down on the table and she sprang at him. He was too quick for her, somehow managed to be on his feet and able to fend her off. ‘I hate you, you’re despicable. A gentleman wouldn’t have mentioned what happened.’
Laughing down at her, he gently pushed her back into her seat. ‘I never professed to be a gentleman, I’m just an ordinary bloke. I’m sorry if I upset you. Calm down and finish your tea, we’ve got to do something about that dratted animal in a minute.’
Bristling with indignation she finished her tea in one swallow. ‘Right, we need to spread the newspaper on the table. When the fleas hop off you’ve got to catch them in the soap. When I’ve combed him, I’ll cover him with Deris Powder, that should do the trick. I suppose there’s no point in asking you to go and get Sooty?’
‘None at all. In case you’re wondering where your clothes are, I’ve put them in the copper and tipped a bucket of water over them. With any luck the little buggers will drown.’
‘Thank you.’ She moved towards the larder door but couldn’t bring herself to open it. The thought of picking up the cat, of having more fleas on her clothes rooted her to the spot. Somehow she forced her hand to the latch.
‘No, sorry, I’m a brute. I didn’t realise, it’s not disgust it’s terror, isn’t it?’ She nodded, too sick to speak. ‘What we need is something to put over our clothes, I bet Joan has some aprons somewhere.’
Anything rather than having to hold the cat. Her skin was still crawling from the fleas she’d picked up before even though she’d checked thoroughly and there were none on her. ‘I’m sure she has a couple of spares we can use.’
Seeing him wrapped in a floral apron, his broad shoulders jutting out, the material barely
stretching over his chest, made her smile.
‘That’s better. I’ve had a brainwave, if you stand at the far end of the table, I can open the door and hide behind it. With any luck the wretched animal will jump on the table in order to reach you.’
The cat was plaintively mewing and scratching the door, the upset had obviously distressed him. ‘Right, everything’s ready here. I’ve sprinkled Deris Powder on the newspaper, hopefully that and the soap will be enough to keep the horrible things on the table.’
Jack lifted the latch and pulled the door against him. Sooty shot out but instead of jumping on the table he hurtled under it launching himself on to Hannah’s legs. His ears were flat on his head, she could feel his body trembling as he scrabbled his way up, his pitiful crying overcame her fear of infestation.
‘Come here, poor old thing. See, there’s nothing to worry about. I’m going to give you a lovely comb and get rid of all your little visitors.’ The cat purred and nudged her under the chin. She carefully placed him in the centre of the newspapers, stroking him and talking to him the whole time.
With her plaster cast resting on his back she began to drag the metal prongs through his fur starting with his head. ‘Look, he seems to like it. Do you think he knows we’re trying to help him?’
‘Probably, I actually like cats, prefer them to dogs. I don’t know why this one has taken against me.’
As Hannah dislodged the fleas in their hundreds he was hard put to catch them on his soap. ‘Dip it in the saucer of water, it’ll keep it sticky.’ He did as she suggested. Sooty was purring again, his ears pricked and apart from giving Jack a stony stare occasionally, the cat ignored him.
Half an hour later the job was done. She picked Sooty up and went to sit in the wooden rocking chair by the range.
‘There, pussycat, nice and clean. Aunty Joan wouldn’t want you in here with fleas.’ The animal kneaded her stomach with sheathed claws. ‘It’s so cold in the larder, I don’t want to put him back in there.’
He grinned. ‘You’re too soft-hearted. He’s been living outside all his life, the larder will seem like a palace after that.’
‘I think I’ll find him an old bit of blanket then he’ll have something to snuggle into tonight.’ She pointed to the two saucepans. ‘Could you take them off the heat, please? Leave the stew with the lid on but the roly-poly needs to be lifted out and put on a plate.’ His mock salute made her laugh.
‘This whatever it is in the muslin smells delicious; is it for tonight?’
‘It is. You must be famished, you didn’t have any lunch.’
Light footsteps outside announced the arrival of their landlady. The cat tensed and swivelled his head to watch the door. Hannah shared his nervousness. Too late to wonder if Joan actually liked cats, something she should have asked before she’d brought one home.
The door opened and Joan stepped in shaking the rain from her umbrella. ‘It’s turned nasty, freezing cold rain …’ Sooty launched himself from Hannah’s lap and with one spring arrived at Joan’s feet. ‘My word, what have we here?’ Dropping her umbrella in a heap she bent down and scooped the cat up. ‘What a lovely animal. Is he for me?’
‘He is, we thought he could catch the mice for you. I’ve called him Sooty.’
‘That’s why you both went to Pond Farm. Thank you, I never thought to get a cat; my old man doesn’t take to them much. But he’s away, possibly for years, so I can please myself.’ She tickled the happy animal under his chin. ‘Here, ducks, you hold him for me whilst I get my coat off.’ She sniffed his fur and nodded. ‘Given him a good going over with the Deris Powder, I expect he was riddled with fleas.’
‘He was. Hannah has a horror of them and she was smothered in the little blighters, she stripped off her clothes and I’ve put them in the copper to soak.’
‘Put a cup of vinegar in the water and give it a stir, ducks, that’ll shift them. It’s washday tomorrow, you can give me a hand and we’ll get them nice and clean for you.’
Hannah put the cat down on the flagstones and immediately it stalked across the floor, tail as stiff as a bottle brush as if he owned the place already. He jumped nimbly into the rocking chair, curled up and promptly went to sleep.
