by Anna Wilson
He immediately looked sheepish as Dad raised his eyebrows and piped up in a teasing tone, ‘Would it? Would it really? OK,’ he said, suddenly serious again. ‘I’ll ask Bex to help out. She can put up posters in her shop and around town, and we can do our bit in the neighbourhood. Now . . .’
He jumped up and went to rummage in the drawer where we keep odd scraps of paper and a jumble of pens and pencils. He pulled out pen after pen, scribbling on some paper until he found one that worked. ‘Really must sort this drawer out,’ he muttered. Finally he came back to the table with a pink ballpoint pen resplendent with a flashing fairy on the top. I rolled my eyes.
‘So, what should we say?’ Dad asked, looking from Fergus to me.
Fergus chewed his bottom lip and then said, in a tight voice that was clearly bursting with barely held-back laughter, ‘Erm . . . “Cat found. If you don’t want it, we know a girl who does”? That’s Jazz, I mean,’ he added hastily, catching the horrified look on my face.
Dad frowned. ‘I think we’ll have to do a bit better than that. Bertie?’
‘How about “Aggressive, deranged beast found terrorizing beloved family pet – come and get it now before we take it to the Cats and Dogs Home”?’
I had been expecting a curt telling-off from Dad about my Tone of Voice, but instead his eyes lit up. ‘Cats and Dogs Home!’ he exclaimed. ‘Of course! That’s what Bex suggested last night.’ He glanced at the kitchen clock. ‘I’ll give them a call and tell them we’ve found a cat. They don’t need to know the gory details. Meanwhile, you two can figure out the poster.’
He went to find the phone book while Fergus and I argued over the wording. We were so deep in discussion that we didn’t see Jazz come in from the garden with Cupid in her arms.
‘What are you doing?’ she snapped.
I whirled round guiltily. ‘Nothing!’ I lied.
Fergus looked up at Jazz from under his floppy fringe. ‘Well – we are doing something, obviously,’ he burbled. ‘Just nothing that you need to, er, get involved with.’
Jazz made a good attempt at giving us one of her you-two-are-complete-numpties looks while juggling with the wriggling and obviously pretty heavy cat.
‘Tell the babe to put me down a minute, can’t you?’ Cupid growled at me. ‘I need to pay a quick visit to the flower beds, if you get my meaning.’
‘Now, Fluffykins,’ Jazz gushed, ‘why is my baby being such a wriggle-puss? Oh, what is the matter, Mr Snuggly?’
I coughed. ‘I think ‘Mr Snuggly’ needs a little wee-wee.’
Not that I was keen on him digging up half the garden. He was such a massive meathead of a cat, I was sure he wouldn’t be discreet about where he chose to do his business, and if he trashed the garden Dad would freak. But I couldn’t say any of that to him without Jazz and Fergus thinking I’d gone fruit-loop-bananas crazy. I chose to give Cupid a good hard ‘Paddington stare’ instead, hoping that would convey my feelings.
Cupid seemed to get the message. ‘Don’t lose your rag, girl,’ he snarled. ‘I’ll tidy up after. I’m not an untamed beast.’
‘Riiiiight!’ I muttered sarcastically.
‘OH!’ cried Jazz, finally reacting to what I had said. ‘Of course he needs a wee!’ She picked him up again and looked wildly around the room. ‘And, er, where should I take him?’ she asked helplessly.
‘I would probably try outside, like where you’ve just been,’ I said to the ceiling.
‘And make it snappy or I’ll ‘ave an accident,’ said Cupid.
While he was doing his business outside, Jazz turned to me, all misty-eyed, and said, ‘I’m going to take him home and ask Mum if I can keep him.’
I felt a cold sensation grip my insides.
At that moment Dad came in. ‘Well, I called them and they said they hadn’t had any calls regarding a large male cat.’
‘You called who exactly?’ Jazz said, her voice icy with suspicion.
Dad faltered. ‘The . . . the Cats and Dogs Home. You told Jazz, right?’ he said, looking at me with a worried frown.
‘Haven’t had a chance,’ I muttered.
‘THE CATS AND DOGS HOME?’ Jazz yelled, hands on hips, chin jutting forward in outrage.
Dad put out one hand in a calming gesture, as if holding back a wild beast.
‘Now Jazz, don’t overreact. You must see that we have to try to find the cat’s owners.’
Cupid came crashing back in to see Jazz in full throttle, gesticulating and arguing with Dad and pleading with me and Fergus not to make the posters.
‘What ’ave you said to ’er?’ Cupid demanded, baring his teeth at me, his fur bristling.
I took advantage of the mayhem and bent down to talk to this brute of an animal. ‘Now you listen to me,’ I hissed at him. ‘I haven’t said anything. This is all your fault. First you come uninvited into my home, trash the place and bully my kitten, and now you’ve got your claws well and truly into my best mate. If I were you, I’d make a break for it while no one’s looking and find your way back home. Now.’
Cupid hissed back at me. ‘You don’t get it, do you, Frizz-ball?’ he said menacingly. ‘I told you already – I ain’t got no home to go to. The guy with the glasses and the mad ‘air was right. It was the Morrises what used to feed me and that. And now they’ve gone. Vamoosh. Fade to grey – got it? They disappeared without so much as a ‘see you around’ and left me to fend for myself. Typical flippin’ humans, if you ask me. You’re all the same, just out for your own interests. Except my beautiful babe there.’ He ran over to Jazz, turning on the motorized purring, and wound his way in and out of her legs. ‘This one’s different. She knows what a cat needs.’
I was boiling with fury. Jazz knew nothing about cats! And this cat knew nothing about Jazz.
‘Well,’ I said, through gritted teeth, ‘you’re not going to be hanging around long enough to find out just how much she does or doesn’t know, mate, cos if we find out it’s true and the Morrises really have left you, that makes you a stray, so we’re taking you to the Cats and Dogs Home. Now, do you get it”?’
Cupid arched his back and bared his fangs at me like an angry snake. But I was not going to let this bully intimidate me in the same way he had Jaffa.
‘Bertie! What have you done to poor Mr Squidgy Pusskins?’ Jazz swung the horrible cat up into her arms, where he immediately turned into a purring fluffy cuddly ball once more.
‘I thought you said his name was Cupid,’ I mumbled, folding my arms in annoyance. ‘If you can’t even make up your mind what you’re going to call him, I hardly think you’re the right person to give him a new home.’
Fergus was shaking his head. ‘And anyway, how do you think your mum will feel if you come back from a sleepover with a huge fat cat in your arms and announce he’s going to live with you?’
Jazz abruptly stopped her cooing and billing over Cupid-Mr-Squidgy-Fluffykins and looked at us, her features suddenly frozen with anxiety. ‘I hadn’t thought about that!’ she croaked. ‘Oh, my gorgeous kitty-cat – what am I going to do if I can’t keep you?’
‘Don’t listen to them, darlin’. You’ll think of something,’ Cupid assured her.
Jazz hesitated and was about to set Cupid down on the floor, but instead a smile slowly crept across her face and she looked at me, a dangerous twinkle lighting up her chocolate-brown eyes. ‘You know, Mum is more of a softie than you think. Remember how Tyson got her to let him have Huckleberry? If I just take Cupid home with me now and tell Mum the whole sad story, I reckon there’s no way she could bear to chuck him out,’ she said craftily. ‘And once Mum’s made up her mind about something, there’s no stopping her.’
‘Like mother, like daughter,’ I muttered. I couldn’t help thinking Jazz was being more than a little bit optimistic.
‘Sounds like a luverley family,’ Cupid purred, stretching up to rub his head against Jazz’s cheek.
Dad stepped in. ‘You know, if you think she wouldn’t mind you looking after him
for a while, I have to say I think that’s the best option. And he does seem very fond of you,’ he added.
I glared at him.
‘What?’ he said, looking genuinely puzzled. ‘Someone’s got to look after him while we try to find out who his real owners are, and it seems a bit mean to take him straight to the Cats and Dogs Home if Jazz is set on caring for him.’
I curled my lip and was about to launch into a tirade about how mean Cupid had been to Jaffa and how if Dad thought I was going to tolerate him living on the same street as us then—
But Fergus cut in with, ‘Great idea. Come on, Bertie, you have to admit it’s the best plan. You can’t look after the cat yourself because of how he’s upset Jaffa. And the Cats and Dogs Home is a bit, well, grim.’
I laughed. ‘I don’t WANT to look after him, thanks very much. And as for grim—’
‘Right, that’s settled then,’ said Dad decisively. ‘I’ll come back with you, Jazz, and help explain to your mum if you like.’
‘Yes, please,’ said Jazz, shooting me a triumphant glance.
So the cat who’d been bullying my kitten was getting preferential treatment, and I got no say in things at all.
Thanks a lot, guys.
18
Undercover Agent
The next day was Monday, and Jazz had texted me and Fergus before we got to the bus.
V impt + xtra urgnt stff 2 tell U!!!!!
When I saw her at the bus stop and asked her what was up, she kept putting her finger to her lips and shushing me, looking around nervously. Fergus saw us huddled together and waved over the top of the other kids’ heads. He came to join us. ‘So what’s the big deal?’ he said.
‘Nothing!’ said Jazz irritably.
‘OK,’ he said, rolling his eyes at me. ‘No need to get . . .’
‘Stressy!’ we said together, laughing and jabbing Jazz in the ribs.
Jazz scowled. ‘I’ll tell you in a minute,’ she said. ‘Just shut up till we’re on the bus, can’t you?’
We filed on and found some seats in a row. Fergus leaned towards us, his fringe falling across his face, and said, ‘Come on then, Jazz. Spill the beans.’
‘Shhhh!’ she said noisily. ‘Someone might hear you!’ She looked around wildly as though we were being spied on.
‘Er, I don’t think so,’ I said pointedly, nodding my head in the direction of the fight that had already broken out at the back between a crowd of Year 8 boys. Anyone else was either getting involved or firmly plugging earphones in so that they didn’t have to hear the racket.
Jazz slumped back into her seat and slid down to make herself as small as possible. ‘OK,’ she said quietly,’but you’ll have to lean in so I can whisper – I don’t want Charlie and Kezia to hear this.’
Wasn’t I the lucky one, being told something that the Gruesome Twosome weren’t supposed to know!
‘Go on,’ I said, hunkering down. Fergus craned his neck further so he could hear too.
‘It’s this totally wicked thing – it’s just awesome, you won’t believe it!’ she whispered, her voice ending in a squeak. ‘I was Googling stuff about cats – you know, what they like to eat, where they like to sleep, what treats they like, what to do to settle a cat in a new—’
‘Yeah, yeah,’ I cut in impatiently, ‘I know the stuff you mean. And?’
‘Well, it’s, like, so amazingly cool, you have no idea – there is this programme, right, called Cat’s Eye, in the States, yeah? And what they do is they get these cats and they put them in a special kind of hotel for cats. They give them mega-comfy beds and bowls of treats and they put them in lovely collars and let them have funky cat toys and that, and then they film them! It’s like Big Brother, but for cats! Immense or what?’
She looked at me, her mouth and eyes wide open as if she’d just told me the most earth-shattering piece of information I was ever likely to hear in my entire life. Fergus caught my eye and curled his lip in a she’s-really-lost-it-this-time kind of way.
‘Well?’ Jazz said, her voice rising. So much for keeping it all hush-hush. ‘Aren’t you going to say anything?’
‘I, er, like, wow?’ I said, my forehead creasing in puzzlement.
‘What are you going on about, Jazz?’ asked Fergus.
‘So, I reckon this is the most fabulous idea for a TV show ever, and I think we should make our own version. Don’t you see? It would be the best sequel to Pets with Talent. We could film it at my house! I reckon Danni Minnow would love it. You remember how much she adored Jaffa? Well, she’s going to fall head over heels when she sees my gorgeous little fluffy-wuffy Mr Cupid. And you have absolutely got to see the clips I found on the Net. Once you’ve seen them, I know you’ll agree with my plan.’
‘Which is?’ I asked nervously, a plummeting sick feeling swilling around in my stomach.
‘Which is that I’m going to show the clips to Fiona and ask her if she thinks it’s got legs,’ said Jazz, putting on her know-it-all voice.
‘What?’ I exclaimed. ‘What’s legs got to do with it? Are you saying some of the cats on this programme don’t have legs? That’s just gross! That’s like a freak show or something!’
Fergus spluttered with laughter. ‘You numpty, Bertie!’
‘Yeah, duuuuuuh!’ said Jazz, wobbling her head at me as if to say, ‘You really are the thickest brick in the wall.’
‘It’s an expression,’ she said. ‘Like, “Let’s see if this plan has legs” means “Let’s see if it’ll work”.’
I flushed. ‘Right,’ I mumbled. ‘I knew that.’
‘Course you did,’ said Fergus, winking at me and setting me off into a full-scale blush of the hottest deepest red ever.
‘Mmm,’ said Jazz, narrowing her eyes at me.
I had to admit I had loved the whole Pets with Talent thing, and it would be kind of cool to do another show with animals . . . but something in the extreme nature of Jazz’s enthusiasm was making me feel uneasy. Plus I wasn’t exactly bowled over by the idea of working with Fiona again. I mean, she’d been great about catching Jaffa’s tormentor and everything, but that was just one evening in my own home. The idea of getting involved in a whole new TV show from scratch was something completely different. I thought maybe we should change the subject slightly, so I said carelessly, ‘Anyway, what does your mum think of Bob?’
‘CUPID!’ Jazz shouted. ‘His name is Cupid. I will not have anyone call my lickle baby that awful big-bruiser name.’
‘Yeah, Cupid. Sorry, I forgot,’ I fibbed.
Fergus was really enjoying himself now, having a good old laugh at the pair of us.
Jazz didn’t notice though. She was off on one about that revolting nightmare of a beast. ‘Mum lurrrrrves him, of course! He is such a gorgeous lickle fluffball – so cuddly-wuddly and he purrs all the time. It makes me so cross to think of anyone abandoning him. No wonder my poor baby got all frightened and started doing naughty things like breaking into your place. He must have been so worried, being left all on his lonesome, and his tummy-wummy must have been so rumbly—’
‘Er, Jazz,’ I cut in, ‘no offence and all that, but you sound a bit mental when you use that “babykins” voice.’
Jazz leaned forward to glare at me briefly and then slumped back again, cooing, ‘Ahh, well, I just can’t help it. Anyway, now he’s got me as his mummy, everything will be OK.’
I gave her a you’re-doing-it-again look and she rolled her eyes. ‘OK! OK! But listen, about my idea for the TV show. What do you think, Fergus? Do you reckon your mum will go for it?’
Fergus looked very uncomfortable. ‘I don’t know, Jazz. I mean, last time was a bit of a one-off. I don’t think—’
Jazz’s face set into a sullen pout. She crossed her arms tightly and sat back heavily again, staring at the seat in front of her.
‘Oh, Jazz, don’t be like that,’ Fergus pleaded. ‘Look, I’m sorry. What do I know? All I’m saying is, don’t get your hopes up too high.’
‘Hey, it
does sound like a cool idea,’ I said to Jazz, trying to make her feel better.
But all I got in response was a ‘Humpf!’ as she plugged herself into her iPod.
I caught Fergus’s eye, but he just shrugged.
Jazz didn’t say another word to us the whole way to school.
Later that day at school I got the first sign of the real reasons for Jazz’s madder-than-a-mongoose behaviour. It was while I was in the loos. There had been no one in there to start with, but pretty soon after I went into a cubicle I heard the sound of the door opening followed by two voices I recognized only too well by now.
‘She’s soooo lame,’ cackled Kezia.
‘Yeah, all that rubbish about her new liddle puddytat,’ sneered Charlie. ‘I bet he doesn’t exist either. What a loser.’
‘Too right he doesn’t exist!’ screeched Kezia. ‘It’s all in her freaky imagination, just like all that stuff about “Oh, I’m such good friends with Danni Minnow, she sends me emails all the time. In fact, I’m going to call her up about this idea I’ve had for a show we could do together, and it’s going to have my gorgeous liddle puddytat in it. He’s going to be a staaaar”,’ she said in a sing-song voice that I realized with a shiver was supposed to be an imitation of my best mate.
‘Yeah, it’s totally sad,’ spat Charlie. ‘I mean, did you see that rubbish show Pets with Talent? Sooo borrrrring. And little Jazzie-meena wasn’t even supposed to be in it – she was just jumping around in the background, desperate to get her face on camera. It was her mate Bernie, or whatever her name is, who won the contest with that cute— I mean, er, that kitten thing.’
‘Jazz hasn’t even got within twenty metres of Danni Minnow, has she?’ said Kezia, her voice so laced with spite I wondered she didn’t choke on her own poison.
‘It was soooo hilarious faking those auditions on Friday!’ Charlie chuckled.
‘Yeah!’ Kezia hooted. ‘What was that outfit? Looked like she’d got it from a jumble sale.’
‘From a recycling bin, more like. That silver belt thing she was wearing – was it s’posed to be a skirt, d’you reckon? And those bits of string and stuff in her hair. Man! She looked like a scarecrow!’