Kitten Smitten (18 page)

Jaffa landed in a heap and looked up at me pitifully. ‘Lady dropped Jaffsie!’ she mewled.

But I’d hardly noticed. Because I’d just had my second light-bulb moment of the day, and I had a strong suspicion it was the same one as Fergus’s.

Fiona was brushing furiously at her skirt and muttering, ‘Whatever is the matter with you two?’

‘Pet show, Mum!’ Fergus repeated, his face shining with excitement. ‘Just think – you could tie it in with
Who’s Got Tal
—’

‘Darlings!’ Fiona cut in, her eyes lighting up. ‘I’ve just had the most marvellous idea: we could put on a pet show to run alongside
Who’s Got
Talent?
!’

I raised my eyebrows at Fergus.

DRIIING!

Great! What now?

I went to the door.

‘Hi! Thought I’d come round and see if you were still alive . . .’

Jazz?
Oh no, why did she have to choose this precise moment in time to break our war of silence?

She bounced into the sitting room. But her bounciness came to an abrupt halt when she saw Fergus and Fiona. She curled her lip at Fergus. ‘What are
you
doing here?’ she
demanded.

‘Hi, Jazz,’ I said quietly.

Why can’t she just ask me how I am for a change? I thought. I had a sudden picture of the two of us hugging and saying sorry to each other and walking back to her place arm in arm, just
like we would have done before the Miserable Meerleys appeared on the scene. No Meerleys, no talent auditions, no disappearing cat act . . .

Fergus was staring at the carpet, looking as though the end of the world could not come soon enough.

‘Hello, Jasmeena!’ Fiona trilled. ‘You’ve arrived just in time to hear my brilliant idea!’ she announced.

She really was unbelievable. How that woman had managed to give birth to someone as nice as Fergus . . . I stopped that thought double-quick before a full-on infra-red blush melted my face into
smithereens.

‘Right,’ Jazz said, sneering. ‘And what’s your brilliant idea got to do with me?’

Incredibly, Fiona didn’t seem to have picked up on Jazz’s icy tone of voice. She smiled a wide, pleased-with-herself smile and almost purred, ‘We’ve been talking about
Who’s Got Talent?
, Jasmeena dear.’ Jazz’s face immediately lit up like the Eiffel Tower at night. ‘And how it’s such a shame you’re not old enough for the
auditions,’ Fiona continued. All the lights went out again in Jazz’s face and it plummeted into a ferocious grimace of disgust. (I couldn’t help being impressed by the way Fiona
motored over Jazz, not giving her a chance to say a word. I never thought I’d see Jasmeena Brown meet her match.) ‘I’m sorry to be brutal about it, Jasmeena dear, but the rules
are the rules and I did not write them.
But
,’ she paused dramatically and the atmosphere in the room crackled with expectation, ‘I think I might just have come up with something
else that could take your fancy.’

‘Oh . . . yeah?’ Jazz croaked.

She was completely at sea. She didn’t know whether to smile or scowl. As for me, until I’d heard the whole deal, I was definitely not going to get excited. What if Fiona was going to
suggest we dress up as chickens? Or did she have a box of fluffy bunny costumes upstairs that we would have to wear around town? I always felt so sorry for those people, especially in this
summer’s heat.

Mind you, I had a sneaking suspicion that Jazz would do anything to get her fifteen minutes of fame.

‘And it’s all down to this lovely little cat here,’ Fiona went on, stroking Jaffa’s ears.

‘Me is pretty clever that way,’ Jaffa purred, washing her paws diligently. She looked up at me and flashed her blue eyes as if she was winking. ‘And me knows how to make
everybody
happy . . .’ she added.

‘So?’ Jazz asked. ‘What
is
the big idea?’

Fiona gave a twinkling laugh. ‘A talent show for pets! We could run it in the early slot before
Who’s Got Talent?
and we could ask members of the public to enter their pets
and then the viewers at home would be able to ring in and vote. We can call it
Pets With Talent!
and the proceeds from the voting could go to the Cats and Dogs Home. That would be sure to
get us publicity.’ She was on a roll now. ‘There could be categories for cutest pet – which darling Muff— Jaffa would be sure to win . . .’ she simpered.

‘What did me tell you?’ Jaffa purred.

‘ . . . and then there would be fastest pet, cleverest pet – the possibilities are endless!’ Fiona breathed, clapping her hands together.

‘Great,’ said Jazz sourly. ‘So where exactly do I fit into this?’

Fiona had blown it. Pets were not the way to Jazz’s heart.

Fergus coughed and said, ‘Yeah, Mum – this isn’t really Jazz’s thing.’

My eyes darted to the floor. Could that boy read my mind?

Fiona laughed that sparkly laugh again. ‘Ah, but this is where the best bit comes – we get
celebrities
to be the judges! In fact, I think Simon and Danni would LOVE this. It
would bring a whole new angle to the existing TV programme, and they both have pets they’re
crazy
about, so they’re bound to say yes. Fergie, darling, I’m going to get on
the phone to them right away,’ she said, already halfway out of the room.

‘Hold it,’ Jazz said sternly. I had to admire the nerve of the girl, talking to Fiona like that. ‘I still don’t get this,’ she said. ‘It’s OK for Bertie
– she can enter Jaffa. But what about me? I don’t have any pets.’

‘You have Huckleberry,’ Fergus pointed out, meekly.

‘That rat’s not
mine
!’ Jazz cried, flinging her hands in the air in horror.

Fiona turned back to Jazz and laid a perfectly manicured hand on her shoulder. ‘But darling, you would be the most important person in all of this,’ she said soothingly. ‘Danni
and Simon would need a personal assistant to show them around and introduce them to all the contestants. And I think you would be utterly perfect for the job. And who knows, they might be persuaded
to have a little chat with you about, how shall I put it . . . your future career opportunities?’

Jazz’s face went through every possible emotion in the space of a minute: from disgust to shock to disbelief to out-and-out sheer and totally hysterical joy.

‘Woooooo!’ she shouted, throwing her arms around Fiona. ‘Thank you!’ she cried.

Fiona disentangled herself and patted Jazz firmly on the arm. ‘Actually, it’s not me you should thank.’ She looked at me and Fergus pointedly.

Jazz turned to look at us too and frowned. ‘Eh?’

Fiona sighed. ‘Fergus told me that Barnie wanted to try and get you an audition – against all the odds, I might add. If he hadn’t come to talk to me about that, and if
I’d never met that gorgeous little kitten, I never would have thought of the pet show.’

‘Is this true?’ Jazz whispered hoarsely.

Fergus nodded silently.

Jazz gawped at us.

‘So, can we be friends again?’ My mouth blurted it out before my brain had a chance to put the brakes on.

‘Oh, Bertie. I’m sorry.’ Jazz ran and threw her arms around me. I felt a tidal wave of relief engulf me. ‘I’ve been a total numpty,’ she mumbled into my
shoulder. ‘I was so cross, I didn’t know what I was saying the other day. Forgive me? I have missed you, you know.’

‘Me too,’ I admitted.

We drew back from each other’s embrace and grinned sheepishly.

Fergus was smiling at us shyly. Without thinking I rushed at him and crushed him in a bear hug. ‘THANK YOU!’ I yelled.

‘Hey!’ Jazz sounded mildly indignant. I peeled myself away from Fergus, struggling hard to keep my personal temperature gauge at ‘normal’. I grimaced as if to say,
‘Don’t know what came over me there!’ but I needn’t have worried, as Jazz then hurled herself at Fergus and squeezed the life out of him too.

Dad came home in the middle of it all, and soon Jazz and Fiona were both filling him in on the plans in high-pitched excitable voices.

‘Is Bertie pleased with Jaffsie?’ my kitten mewed, coming between me and the others.

I bent down to stroke her, and taking advantage of all the noise and mayhem surrounding me said, ‘You bet, little Jaffa Cake. You bet’

The Dream Team was back together and we were unstoppable.

J
azz was the most hyper I had ever seen her. And that is saying something about the girl who whoops and screams at most things in life like a
monkey who’s got the best banana. Still, she might have been bouncing like a kangaroo on hot tarmac but, boy, it was good to have my best mate around again!

‘I can’t belieeeeeeve it!’ she said for the millionth time that day. ‘I’m going to meet Simon – and Danni! I think I’m going to dieeee! This is real,
isn’t it? Pinch me, Bertie, so I know it’s real!’

I chuckled. Jazz was already referring to the celebrity
WGT?
judges by their first names, even though we were a long way off being introduced.

‘What are they like?’ she quizzed Fergus. The three of us were round at my place just as we’d been every day for the past week, planning the pet show, brainstorming ideas, and
making endless lists of the kind of animals we’d like to enter.

Fergus shrugged and drew a doodle on a piece of paper. ‘I dunno. Simon’s like he is on the telly – grumpy and rude. Danni’s – er . . . well, she’s pretty, I
guess. Not as pretty as some people, though,’ he said, shooting me a shy smile.

I made a big deal out of scribbling hard on my notepad so that Jazz wouldn’t see me blush.

But Jazz wouldn’t have noticed if Fergus had jumped up and snogged me there and then: she had her sights set on far starrier things. ‘I bet Simon’s a real pussycat once you get
to know him,’ she simpered, staring at the ceiling, her hands clasped together like some lame Disney princess. ‘I’m going to make sure I get a chance to sing to him.’ And
she broke into a screechy version of her favourite song of the moment.

‘Oh no! Make the Jazzer stop!’ Jaffa mewled in horror from the beanbag where she’d been snoozing. ‘Her singing badder even than Uncle Kaboodle’s.’

I sniggered behind my hand.

‘What’re you laughing at?’ Jazz spat, whirling on me.

‘Hey, so how’re we doing with the list of people we’re going to ask?’ Fergus jumped in.

He’d been like this ever since Jazz and I had made up, acting the go-between at the slightest sign of trouble.

‘Oh, right. Let’s see . . . Bertie, you were going to talk to Mr Smythe?’ Jazz immediately seemed to forget what she’d been cross about and shook her papers
authoritatively.

Fergus had an amazingly soothing effect on Jazz now that her dream was on the verge of coming true. I grinned at him gratefully, making a mental note to be more careful how I reacted to my
kitten’s interjections. I did not want to run the risk of falling out with Jazz like that again. Ever.

While Fiona went into action with Simon Cow and Danni Minnow and all the telly people, Jazz, Fergus and I got busy recruiting pets for the show. Fiona had said she had many
contacts who would help her find willing contestants, ‘Although it would be rather sweet to involve a few friends and neighbours,’ she added.

I went to see Mr Smythe first of all. He had been my only other customer when I was running my Pet-Sitting Service, so I felt I owed it to him to ask if he wanted to enter his hamsters.

He was thrilled, twitching his little nose, fiddling with his moustache, his eyes crinkling in delight.

‘My, my! I say, what a terrific idea. Just wait till I tell the little chaps about this!’ he twittered. ‘Perhaps they could be persuaded to do some tricks for the cameras? Mr
Nibbles has developed the most remarkable gift of being able to cram quite an astounding number of sunflower seeds into his pouches at any one time. And as for Houdini – well, his gift of
escapology needs to be seen to be believed.’

I swallowed hard and tried not to react to this last bit – I remembered Houdini’s escape act far too well. The last time I’d found him out of his cage he had been lucky not to
end up as a hamster sandwich for dear old Kaboodle.

‘I – er – I’m not sure we could cope with escaping hamsters in front of the TV cameras,’ I said hesitantly. ‘Especially with other larger animals
around.’