Kitten Catastrophe (8 page)

‘Yeah, we thought you’d be up for it,
Jasmeena.’

I winced at their use of Jazz’s full name. She normally hated it when people called her that. But instead of correcting the girls sharply as she would usually have done, she simply gushed, ‘Wow, this is, like, awesome!’

‘Yeah,’ said Kezia. She twirled her shiny dark ponytail with one long painted fingernail and gave Jazz a tight-lipped smile. ‘I’m sure you’ll have loads to teach us
amateurs. Won’t
you, babe?’

‘After all,’ added Charlie in a sugary voice, ‘you are
best mates
with Danni Minnow, aren’t you? She must have given you loads of top tips on how to make it as a performer.’

‘Yeah,’ said Kezia. ‘I mean, no one else will have that kind of an advantage, will they?’

The two girls exchanged knowing looks and burst into giggles. ‘Oh, Jazzie,’ Charlie said casually, and the pair turned to go, ‘did you drop this?’ She dangled a phone carelessly from her fingertips.

‘Hey, my phone!’ Jazz gasped, her jaw falling to the floor. ‘Wow, where did you find it?’

‘Nowhere,’ Charlie said, a bit too quickly. ‘Like I said, you probably dropped it.’

Jazz’s forehead creased and she opened her mouth to say something.

‘Come on, Charlie,’ Kezia said impatiently. ‘Can’t stand around here all day. Catch you later, girls,’ she cooed back at us over her shoulder.

Jazz shook her head in disbelief and then shot me a face-splitting grin. ‘Aren’t they, like,
awesome?’
she swooned.

I was saved from having to comment by the sound of the bell for afternoon lessons.

I
couldn’t wait to get home. Jazz had spent the whole bus journey holding court to anyone who would listen about how she and Danni Minnow were such close mates and how she was going to email her that night about Kezia’s auditions. I looked out in vain for Fergus until I remembered that he had been at another band rehearsal.

I let myself into the house to find Bex waiting for me, as she had promised. It felt good to see her smiling face – so good, in fact, that it occurred to me I must have been crazy ever to think I didn’t want Dad getting to know her. If he was going to have anyone as a girlfriend, I was beginning to realize I was glad it was someone as warm-hearted and kind as Bex.

‘Hi!’ she called out cheerily, coming down into the hall with Jaffa in her arms. ‘How did the rest of your day go?’

‘Much better, thanks,’ I said. ‘How’s little Jaffsie?’

‘Jaffsie is very happy with the lovely Bexy lady,’ my cat purred, yawning and shaking her ears.

Bex laughed. ‘Anyone would think you two understood each other!’ she joked.

I bit my lips to stop myself from laughing too. If only she knew!

‘Hungry? I made some biscuits this afternoon – didn’t really know what to do with myself while I was waiting for you.’

‘You can come here any time!’ I said, following her into the kitchen, where the aroma of baking filled my nostrils.

As I tucked into some delicious chocolate-chip biscuits Bex sat opposite me with Jaffa curled up, fast asleep, on her lap.

‘You might think I’m crazy suggesting this,’ she said, ‘but, you know I said it was almost as if Jaffa was hiding from something?’

I nodded, my mouth full of crumbs.

‘Well, I’ve been thinking, and, I suppose it’s a long shot, but . . . maybe that’s
exactly
what she’s been doing. Maybe something has been getting into the house and terrorizing her – and causing all the chaos,’ she added.

I must have looked alarmed because Bex reached over the table to put a hand on my arm and said gently, ‘Don’t worry, it’s not that I’ve seen anything . . . but the thing is, with a cat flap . . . well, put it this way, if Jaffa can get in and out, other animals could as well, couldn’t they?’

I swallowed the mouthful of biscuit and said, ‘Another cat, you mean?’

‘That would be the obvious answer, yes,’ said Bex. ‘Although I wonder if Jaffa would be so scared by another cat . . .’

A worrying thought was forming in my mind. ‘Oh no! You don’t reckon a dog could get in, do you?’

Bex pulled down the corners of her mouth and reflected for a moment. ‘No. No, I don’t think that’s likely,’ she said finally. ‘I mean, a large dog such as a Labrador or a collie – or a Springer spaniel, come to that – wouldn’t be able to fit. They’d get their head in and that would be that.’ She sniggered at the idea. ‘And if you’re thinking of smaller breeds, such as a Jack Russell, a chihuahua or even a Border like Sparky, well, I just can’t see it happening,’ she went on. ‘For a start, where would it come from? Even if a dog was a stray, it would have to find its way into your back garden somehow, which would be tricky, seeing as the side gate’s always shut.’

I nodded. That made sense. Plus I didn’t actually know a whole lot of people in our area with dogs. There was only Mr Bruce with his two King Charles spaniels, but they were either kept indoors or on a leash because they were so bouncy. I couldn’t see Mr Bruce letting his ‘two boys’, as he called them, out of his sight for an instant.

I wished Jaffa would simply be honest with me and tell me what was going on, I thought miserably.

‘Wait a minute!’ said Bex, cutting into my gloomy thoughts. ‘All this talk about dogs has given me an idea. Now, I don’t know how your dad would feel about this . . . but what if I could persuade him to let Sparky come over with me on Friday night?’

‘Er . . . yeah. I guess,’ I said, frowning. I wasn’t sure how Sparky was going to help. And Jaffa was already scared enough as it was.

‘I was thinking,’ Bex said, ‘Sparky’s a pretty brave little pooch. Borders are feisty hunters, you know. They’re bred to go down holes and ferret out – er, well, ferrets! And rabbits and rats. That kind of thing.’

I stared at her, rather alarmed at the turn this conversation was taking.

Bex laughed. ‘Don’t look at me like that! I’m thinking of using Sparky to
protect Jaffa
, not frighten her any more than she is already!’ she said. ‘Listen, you reckon Jaffa’s not to blame for everything that’s been happening, right? But you haven’t got any proof either way, and it looks like it’s going to be pretty tricky to
get
proof, as the intruder seems to be crafty enough to know it can only come in while no humans are around.’

‘Right,’ I said.

‘Soooo,’ said Bex slowly, as if incredulous that I had not yet got the point, ‘Sparky could be shut in the utility room, near the cat flap, while we keep Jaffa safely out of the way. If the animal decides to chance its luck again, it will have Sparky to reckon with!’

Bex sounded a lot more positive than I felt about this idea, but I had to admit I hadn’t come up with anything better.

‘OK,’ I said. ‘Sounds like a plan.’

Dad agreed right away that Sparky could come over that Friday night. I was a bit gobsmacked by what was happening to Dad lately, to be honest.

‘First he goes and falls head over heels for you and lets me keep you,’ I said to Jaffa, ‘then he gets himself a girlfriend (who is actually quite nice, I have to admit), and
then
he lets his girlfriend’s
dog
come over and spend the evening with us.’

And this was the man who was once famous for his hatred of all things four-legged and furry, and who had not spoken to anyone who was not to do with work, my school or my friends since, like, forever.

‘Dog?’ said Jaffa, shivering slightly. ‘Jaffsie not sure she like a big woofy doggy to come here.’

I smiled and hugged her. ‘Don’t worry, you’ll love Sparky. He’s cute and he wouldn’t hurt a fly.’

Best not to mention the fact that he likes chasing small furry animals, I thought.

‘Mmm. Me is hoping Bertie is right about this,’ Jaffa said in a small voice, fitting herself into my arms in a tight ball.

‘The whole reason Sparky is coming is to protect you,’ I tried to reassure her. ‘Think of him as your own personal guard dog.’

Jaffa looked at me in horror. ‘What does Bertie mean, “
guard
dog”?’ she asked, stiff with fright.

‘Hey, hey, what’s the matter?’ I cooed. ‘I’m just trying to help, you know.’

‘Bertie must not let no dog do no guarding of Jaffsie! Nobody nor nothing is allowed to see the . . . the . . . thing!’ she stammered. ‘Jaffsie be in big bad trouble!’

I lost my patience. ‘Listen, Jaffa,’ I said. ‘I’m getting a bit fed up with this. What is this “thing” you’re going on about?’ I waited for a response, but Jaffa had shrunk in on herself and was avoiding eye contact. I sighed loudly. ‘So. You see? If you won’t talk to me, you’ll have to let me work this out my way. And I reckon Bex has come up with a brilliant plan actually. If Sparky sees anything, he can show it his teeth and bark at it loudly. Then it’ll get a fright, won’t it? And serve it right.’

I was getting so worked up thinking about this mystery creature getting its just deserts that I hadn’t noticed the effect of my words on Jaffa. Her hackles had risen, her eyes were wider than I’d ever seen them and her back was arched. ‘TEETH?’ she hissed. ‘Me is not having nobody else with big teeth comin’ in my house!’

‘Nobody else?’ I said quickly. ‘What do you mean, ‘nobody
else’?’

‘I mean, not nobody,’ said Jaffa stubbornly.

I shook my head in bewilderment. ‘I really don’t know what you’re on about,’ I persisted, forcing myself to sound firm, ‘but I’m afraid you
are
going to have to put up with Sparky coming, because otherwise we’re in danger of being separated, you and me – for good.’

‘What?’ Jaffsie cried, jabbing me painfully with her tiny claws.

‘Yes,’ I said. I pushed her off me and rubbed my arm. ‘Dad has had enough. If you don’t tell us what’s going on, we’re going to have to solve it our way, and if you don’t let us do that, Dad wants you to leave.’

I was overdoing it, of course. Dad hadn’t actually said that, and if he did, I would put up a massive fight – I’d never let him send Jaffa away. And I knew deep down that he was too much of a softie to do that anyway. But I had to shock Jaffsie somehow – get her to see how serious we were about catching the offender she was mysteriously protecting. I couldn’t have her hitching any more lifts to school as a rucksack-stowaway.

‘Me can’t leave! Me can’t go outside!’ she whined. ‘Not now, not never! Me is not never going outside again in my whole life! There’s nasties out there!’

Blimey, things were obviously worse than I’d realized. I held her up so I could get a good look at her, face to face.

‘Listen, Jaffsie. I am not going to
let
Dad chuck you out, OK? But you have to see that life is pretty difficult at the moment. And until we find out what’s going on, or at least frighten this other creature away, life is not going to get any better, is it? You do see that, don’t you?’ I pleaded.

Jaffa went completely limp in my hands and started slipping. I clung on. ‘Oh no, you don’t!’ I cried, grappling with my slithery cat, who seemed to have transformed herself into a piece of silk. ‘You are not going to go and hide until I have your word that you’ll at least let Sparky have a go at this thing!’ I insisted.

Jaffa stopped struggling and gave me a look of such misery that I felt as though I had turned into an ogre. ‘All right,’ she said in a low voice. ‘But I is telling you, Bertie, no one is going to make that monster frighted. It is not going to be frighted of no one, not never. Not even that big-teethed doggy.’

F
riday took its time arriving. The rest of the week had dragged its feet like the slowest sloth in the jungle. I had tried to throw myself into other stuff, finding out about clubs and extra activities I could join in with to distract myself from thinking about the mystery beast. Not to mention to stop me being paranoid about Jazz and Fergus’s new obsession with the Cool Gang, aka Kezia and Charlie. Whenever I spotted one of my friends in the crowded corridors I couldn’t get near them; those two witches or one of their weird groupies were always in the way. And when I did get a moment with Jazz, all she could talk about was the auditions on Friday night.

‘I’ve decided I’m going to design my own outfit this time!’ she told me breathlessly. She was shiny-eyed with excitement. ‘I need to stand out from the crowd. I mean, who knows what the competition will look like?’

I stopped listening to her after a while. I couldn’t concentrate on what she was saying about how many hours she’d spent in her room practising new routines and downloading music. I was far too worried about my kitten. Jazz was on her own in this audition: I had my own agenda on Friday.

Bex came round at teatime with a very overexcited Sparky in tow. When I opened the door he was straining on the lead so hard that his thick orange collar was cutting into his fur and his tongue was lolling out of his mouth as he panted loudly. It seemed he had a desperate urge to get into the house as fast as possible.

‘Sparky! Heel!’ Bex said forcefully.

But Sparky had gone momentarily deaf.

‘I’m sorry, Bertie,’ she said, her face creased with concern. ‘I think he can smell Jaffa, you see. He does get a bit worked up at new smells.’

I felt my face go tight with worry and Bex noticed. ‘It’s OK,’ she said hurriedly. ‘He wouldn’t hurt—’

‘A fly, I know,’ I said, unconvinced. ‘Come in,’ I added, raising my voice above Sparky’s rasping and panting.

I turned to go into the house and caught a glimpse of Jaffa on the stairs. She looked about as horrified as it is possible for a small cat to look: her back was arched so high she was on tiptoes (or should that be tip-claws?) and her fur was sticking out all over the place as if someone had just rubbed her with a balloon and made her go all static. Her eyes were wide with terror and her mouth was pulled back to reveal her teeth as she hissed and spat for all she was worth.

‘Nasty doggy!’ she was shouting. ‘Horrid, filthy beastie!’

‘Jaffsie!’ I reprimanded her.

‘My word!’ Bex exclaimed. ‘I’d say someone’s a bit put out!’

‘Let’s, er, go through, shall we?’ I said, almost pushing Bex and Sparky down the hall to the kitchen. ‘I’ll settle Jaffa in my room and then we can set Sparky up with his bed and stuff.
Dad!’
I called.