Rumba and Dora looked at each other in horror. The first thing Marta would see was the big empty space where the Catmobile used to be.
‘But just listen to Rumba’s new song, Marta!’ Figaro broke in. ‘It’s fabulous! It will be your solo – Rumba wrote it just for you. For tonight.’
Marta clicked her tongue. ‘That is ridiculous! I cannot to learn a new song now. Is impossible.’
‘Not for you, Marta. You are so musical,’ said Figaro. ‘Isn’t that right, Rumba?’
Rumba unfroze.
‘Yes, yes! Oh, Marta, it will crash over you like lightning and lift you up like the wave. Dora will sing it for you now.
Ready, Dora?’ And before Marta could say another word Rumba turned back to the piano. Dora’s hum grew into words and she stood straight and proud, her chest opening out to the song, her paws flung wide. Figaro sneezed with emotion. Marta stared.
‘But this is beautiful!’ cried Marta at the end. Her eyes were wet. ‘Such feeling! Such sweet aching! Such sad joy! Rumba, you are muy bueno!’
And she sprang to hug Rumba. Figaro had never seen her hug anyone before.
‘You sing this so very well,’ she turned to Dora. ‘Next time, Rumba must write a solo for you, too.’
Dora beamed. ‘Thank you, Marta, I am very happy in the chorus. Singing harmony with others is my favourite – ’
But Marta had turned back to Rumba. ‘I adore the song – yet I am feeling that at the end, something else is needed – some instrument, something dramatic, but I am not sure what …’
‘Leave that to me,’ said Rumba. ‘You’ll like what I’m planning. It will be a surprise.’ And he gave a sudden laugh of excitement.
Rumba’s laugh was catchy, and Figaro couldn’t help barking with him.
‘But no, surprises are not allowed! This is not how a performance works!’ Marta shook her head at Figaro. ‘And this dog, he must not sing.’
‘Everything will be all right, Marta,’ said Rumba. ‘Now we’d better start rehearsing.’
The shadows had grown long by the time the Cool Cats stopped to rest. Rumba had to light the chandelier.
Marta flung herself onto a bean bag. A little puff of dust flew up. On the floor beside her a patch of spilled coffee caught her eye. ‘Well, look at that! This place is not clean! Where is Rolando? I have not seen him today. Ha! He is always here when we don’t want, and never here when we do.’
Just then Nancy quick-stepped into the room. ‘Hey, you Cool Cats, wait till you see my dance number! Do you want to have a sneak preview now?’
As the cats talked about the timing for Nancy’s dance, Figaro crept outside. He wandered down to the edge of the grass and looked all the way to the left, and all the way to the right. But there was no sign of Rolando or Nate or the Catmobile.
Figaro shivered in the twilight air. He tried not to look at the empty spot where the Catmobile used to sit. Nate had promised the car would be back before the Grand Fiesta. Rolando had the tools and the know-how to fix the engine. Ernie the bus driver knew a panel beater to fix the body. But the day was nearly over. Figaro scratched with worry. How long before Marta would notice her precious car was missing?
By eight o’clock, a crowd had gathered outside the café. When Rumba flung open the doors, the audience flowed in, chatting and laughing. But when the cats began to sing, the big room fell silent.
Figaro forgot to worry. How could he think about anything else when the cats sang in harmony like this?
Now Marta was coming in with her solo…you could hear the audience holding its breath. He was swept along with her voice, but he was waiting for exactly the right place to come in.
His tail wagged.
Marta was nearing the end.
Rumba nodded at him.
Now.
Quietly, Figaro’s tail began to brush the small conga drum. His soft sweeping melted into Marta’s last notes. He took up her rhythm, brushing some more, growing quicker, leaning out to add the second drum. His paws tapped so fast they began to blur, and then there was nothing for him but the pattering, storming thunder of his drums.
And into his hurricane of sound, Nancy whirled onto the stage.
‘The Wild Figaro Dance!’ she announced, and with one lightning smile at him, she shook her body to his music like a leaf in the wind.
The audience couldn’t help clapping in time, and soon the café was booming. Some stood up to dance on their chairs, and others raced down the front to jump and whirl and swing each other near the stage. When Figaro and Nancy finally came to an end, everyone cried ‘Encore! Encore!’, so they had to begin all over again.
It was past midnight when the café doors finally closed. The room still throbbed with memories of music. The Cool Cats lay around on the bean bags. They were weary, but too excited to go straight to bed.
‘I am so very much happy,’ said Marta, hugging each Cool Cat. ‘Tonight was – I will say it! – our best performance ever. Surely it was my best performance, yez? And Rumba, how did you invent that song? Is so different from all the others. Almost, it is not like you.’
‘Well…er…’ said Rumba. ‘I don’t know, it just came to me.’
‘But something must have inspired you! From where are you getting the idea?’
Rumba rubbed his forehead. Dora pulled her whiskers.
In the silence, Figaro heard the purr of an engine. His tail started to thump. The sound was far away, but growing louder. Closer. But Marta didn’t seem to notice.
‘Figaro,’ she said, ‘now tell me, how did you discover the congas? Your playing was magnifico! As if you are doing it all the life. But this cannot be true. You are never before playing them in the café. Where did you learn?’ She suddenly frowned at him. ‘And where did you and Rumba and Dora go last night?’
A car roared up the road, and with a squeal of tyres, came to a stop on the drive. There was the slam of a car door – then another – and a happy shout.
‘You know,’ Marta went on, ‘it is like the world is changing somehow between yesterday and today. Is like the fairy tale, when magic enters. ’
The doors opened with a crash and Rolando strode in, followed by Nate. Rolando jingled the keys. Nate winked at Figaro.
Marta looked up. ‘Ha, Rolando! You are a little too late to clean.’
Rolando smiled his new smile. Marta stared.
Just then, Rumba spoke up. ‘You asked how I invented the song, Marta. Well, yesterday I took a small trip – we all did.’ He nodded at Dora and Figaro.
‘Yez,’ said Dora. In a rush she went on, ‘Marta, we cannot be working and singing every minute. We need to breathe the open air, discover the world… Why, on our travels we are finding the shining lake and the waterfall on the other side of the mountain – you must see it!’
Marta stroked a whisker. ‘This shining lake, is this where Rumba and Figaro found their music?’
‘Maybe – ’ began Dora.
‘Yes!’ said Rumba. ‘Let’s go there tomorrow. Come with us, Marta!’
‘And we will have ice-cream,’ added Dora. ‘And I will be driving you in the Catmobile while you are relaxing and not getting the headache and looking all around and becoming inspired, just like Rumba.’
‘And I’ll come, too,’ said Figaro. ‘We can go fishing in the shining lake!’
‘Of course,’ said Marta.
Figaro blinked.
‘And so we will be having many adventures, all over this wonderful countryside, for as long as we live,’ said Dora.
And that is exactly what happened.
About the Author
Anna Fienberg is the author of many popular and award-winning books for children of all ages, including the Tashi series, The Tashi Activity Book, Once there was a Boy Called Tashi, The Magnificent Nose and Other Marvels, The Hottest Boy Who Ever Lived, Madeline the Mermaid, the Minton series, Joseph and Once Tashi Met a Dragon.
Anna says, ‘My son was five when we brought young Figaro home. Even t
hough he was an English setter, we named him Figaro after the Italian opera. He loved to sing and dance. He hugged our legs like velcro whenever we did the tango. His other hobbies were bushwalking, eating (especially lamb cutlets), being a blanket on our laps, running after rabbits (which he never caught) and tug of war. You can see him here in the photos!
‘Oh, and he liked reading. Figaro was my most loyal fan – he loved my books so much that he ate them. I hope you have as much fun reading this book as I did writing it. Adiós, amigos!’
About the Illustrator
Stephen Michael King loves to draw and dream. His creative meanderings have led him to illustrate over fifty books, including award-winning titles such as The Pocket Dogs by Margaret Wild, Where does Thursday Go? by Janeen Brian, and Perry Angel’s Suitcase by Glenda Millard.
Stephen writes, illustrates and often designs as well. Books where he’s worn both hats as author and illustrator, and occasionally a third hat as designer, include The Man Who Loved Boxes, Henry and Amy, Mutt Dog! You, Never Ever Before, A Bear and a Tree and Bella’s Bad Hair Day.
He says, ‘Creating books is a similar process to building a sculpture. I can start with a small idea and construct and subtract until I’m satisfied. Each book has hundreds of possibilities. I love seeing where a small idea can take me, but also smile when I land at a surprise destination.’
Stephen is published throughout the world, and his titles Milli, Jack and the Dancing Cat and Leaf were chosen as White Ravens, outstanding children’s books selected by the International Youth Library.
When Stephen was introduced to Figaro and Rumba, he said, ‘A dog and a cat from Cuba sounded like a cool book to illustrate. I love dogs, cats, music and the messy artiness of Cuba. It was easy to say “Yes.”’
When he’s not drawing and dreaming you can find him spending his days in a mud brick house, on a coastal island, hanging out with his family, their two crazy dogs, Milli and Rosie, and his son’s much-loved and noisy rainbow lorikeet Garra.
Visit Stephen Michael King at smkbooks.com.au
Everything about Figaro and Rumba is appealing: the characters of Figaro the dog and his close friend Rumba, the warmth of their friendship, the verve of the writing and the utterly convincing dialogue, the hilarious illustrations that enhance the fun of the story, and the stylish design… This is the sort of book that young readers will return to again and again…
READING TIME
Figaro and Rumba and the Cool Cats Page 3