Still, it was hard work keeping his footing on the uneven roofs. As they headed further away from the theatre the houses became less well cared for, with loose tiles that slipped underpaw and holes that Maximilian had to leap over to avoid falling into someone’s attic. At one point he thought he had lost Jeanette and, distracted, he missed his footing on a piece of wet slate. He skidded down towards the edge of the roof, his nails screaming against the tiles till he managed to catch his tail round a waterspout. Trembling a little, he scanned the road below till he saw her again, coming out of a shop and slipping a bottle into the pocket of her coat. Maximilian growled. He knew now what was in that bottle. Taking a little more care with his footing, he set off across the rooftops after her.
As Maximilian sped across the roofs he saw the streets below change. The carefully kept trees and neatly swept pavements of the grand district of the theatre disappeared, replaced by rough cobbled streets with flickering street lamps, and houses with broken windows and doors hanging off their hinges. Children near the theatre walked sedately beside nannies clad in black starched frocks, but here children in ragged frocks played noisily in the gutters, crowding round Jeanette as she walked past them and holding out their hands for pennies. Jeanette brushed them aside and strode on down the street.
Eventually Jeanette arrived at a dirty-looking house in a dirty-smelling street and knocked on the door. It was an elaborate knock, a sort of rat-a-tatter-tatter-tatter-tat-tatitty-tat sort of noise. The door opened the tiniest crack. Jeanette whispered something to the person behind it and was admitted.
Maximilian sat on the roof of a house across the street. The first task would be to get down to the ground. He looked around for a fire escape but there was no sign of one. He padded over to the side of the roof on each side, hoping that there would be an easy way down. There was a pond on one side and a tree on the other. Maximilian did not fancy seeing whether he could swim. He looked at the tree. It was tall, about a storey below him, with strong, thick branches, but still it was a larger leap than Maximilian had ever made in his life before. He looked over to the house that Jeanette had entered and squared his shoulders. He was not going to let his friends at the theatre down now.
Maximilian hunkered down and began to step from one paw to another, building up his strength and preparing to leap. He took a deep breath and pushed his paws down into the hard rooftop to put enough spring in his legs to give him the best possible jump.
Then he jumped.
And he was falling. Maximilian held his breath, his eyes widening. He was just about to cry out with a “what have I done!” miaow when his front paws slapped against one of the boughs of the tree. He mewed at the sting but his back paws sprang into life, scrabbling and catching out to steady him. He slipped through branch after branch, desperately trying to stop himself falling, and then he caught hold of the edge of a bough. He hung there by one paw, breathing a sigh of relief. Hauling himself up on to the bough, Maximilian edged his way down through the tree to the ground and dashed across the street, making a beeline for an outhouse by the side of the building.
The brickwork looked rough, with plenty of paw-holds. Maximilian’s feet were sore from the fall through the tree, but still he scaled it with ease. Oscar’s words of “are you a cat or a human?” from his first night out on the rooftops rang in his head. How Oscar would laugh if he could see him now! From the top of the outhouse Maximilian could see inside the building. It was sparsely furnished, with dusty cobwebs covering the windows. It didn’t look as though anyone could be living here. What was Jeanette up to?
As Maximilian was judging the distance between the edge of the roof where he was perched and the nearest window sill he heard a woman’s voice cry out, followed by a great crash. Maximilian sprang across the outhouse roof and pulled himself up on to his back haunches to see into the building.
Inside a small room on the first floor two men were tying a young woman to a chair. She was struggling as they pulled her hands roughly together and she looked extremely angry. Through the cracked window, Maximilian heard her shout, “You will never get away with this! Someone will unmask your fake Madame tonight!”
The door to the room swung open with a creak and Maximilian gasped as Jeanette stepped through it. She had the bottle in her hand, pouring its contents over a large square of muslin. She pressed it against the mouth of the young woman in the chair till the woman’s shoulders slumped and she collapsed forwards.
“That should keep her quiet for a few more hours!” she snapped, and with that she swept out of the room. The two men slouched out after her, closing the door behind them. The young woman in the chair appeared to be in a deep, deep sleep. Maximilian remembered how woozy the liquid had made him feel, and he was a cat. Humans were well known to be far more stupid than cats, so the effect on them would be greater.
He peered over the edge of the outhouse roof. It was a long way down, but now was not the time to be a scaredy-cat. The young lady in the chair was clearly in need of the help of a brave and resourceful cat, and a brave and resourceful cat was precisely what she now had at her disposal. Maximilian hunkered down again to build up his springiness, tensed and then leapt.
He landed a little badly, paws scrabbling at the brickwork, but he did not fall. He looked carefully at the window. It was old and broken and the wood of the frame was rotting in several places. A little weight in the right place and Maximilian thought it would easily give way. He leaned against the glass where the frame looked its worst and felt the glass move a little. He pressed himself against it still harder and with a groan the pane fell into the room, followed by Maximilian. He bounced away as the glass crashed to the floor and dashed to the corner of the room, behind the door, sure that the glass would attract the attention of the two men.
He was right! Soon footsteps were thundering up the stairs and the door flew open, almost crushing him. He flicked his tail out of the way just in time to prevent it from being caught under the wood and squeezed himself up against the wall to keep out of sight. Just for once Maximilian was glad that he was a little dusty. His white fur would stand out a mile in this grubby room.
“No one in here,” said a rough male voice.
“It’s just the window blown in,” said his companion, kicking some of the glass so that it scudded across the floor and smashed against the wall. “Stupid house, it’s falling to bits round our ears. If she’d paid a bit more we could be doing this job in comfort.”
There was muttering from the first man and then they stomped out of the room, slamming the door behind them. Another pane of glass in the window shuddered and fell out into the street.
Maximilian raced over to the woman in the chair and nuzzled his face against her. He could smell that strange sickly odour that he had smelled in Madame’s dressing room. He hoped it would not make him feel woozy again. He had to think. What was it that had brought him round when he was sleepy? Oh yes, it was Jeanette throwing a vase of water in his face. Well, that would be a little difficult to manage with paws, but maybe he could improvise. He let out a “don’t worry I’m here to save you” miaow and clambered up on to the young woman’s lap.
Maximilian could see a young, round, very pretty face. She looked a lot like Madame, in fact, but softer. She had a very comfortable, cuddly sort of lap, unlike Madame’s lumpy one, and her hair fell in dark curls around her face.
Maximilian placed his paws on the young lady’s shoulders and lifted himself up to her cheek. With a quiet “I do apologise but this is the only way” miaow he stuck out his tongue and gave the young lady’s face as big a lick as a cat could manage.
She stirred a little and murmured.
Maximilian tried again.
The young lady shook her head and blinked her eyes open. Maximilian miaowed “wake up, please, we need to get out of here”, and she blinked again.
The young lady looked at Maximilian in surprise.
“Where on earth did you come from?” she said. Her voice
was the softest, most beautiful thing that Maximilian had ever heard. It sounded as though she was singing to him.
Maximilian miaowed “the Theatre Royal” but of course the young lady did not understand Cat. She blinked again and took a deep breath of the cold fresh air that was blowing in through the broken window. It seemed to rouse her and she looked around the room.
“Well then, puss,” she said, “unless you are any good at untying knots, I think you are stuck here with me.”
“Well, of course I can untie a knot!” miaowed Maximilian. He hopped off the lady’s lap and slipped round to the back of the chair.
Hmm, he thought. A simple affair; very shoddy work. Bill would not be at all impressed. He had it undone in seconds and sprang back in front of the young lady. She did not look the type to have sardines in her pockets, but you never knew. Maximilian cocked his head to one side hopefully.
“How on earth…” she began. Then she laughed softly. “Well, you’re a wonder, that you are,” she said, and leaning forwards she offered him her hand.
“I shall call you puss,” she said, “and you can call me Madame Emerald.”
Maximilian gazed at her. He had known that the woman at the theatre was a fake, and now here was the real Madame Emerald, sitting in front of him, with her beautiful face and her comfortable lap and her lovely, lovely voice.
The real Madame Emerald rubbed her wrists where the rope had chafed them. She stood up, walked over to the window and looked out.
“It is a long way down, puss, but I believe we can make it,” she said. She put a hand to her head and breathed in again. “I just wish I didn’t feel so woozy, but I’m sure I’ll manage. I have five brothers, you know. I learned how to climb a tree when I was three.”
Maximilian marvelled at her. Most society ladies he had seen were too scared of breaking a fingernail to even open a window, let alone climb out of one. Madame perched on the window sill and swung herself outwards. Maximilian gasped as she disappeared from sight, and tensed, waiting for the crash as she fell helpless to the ground, but all he heard was the swish of her skirt. After a couple of moments, her face appeared at the window.
“Come on, puss, you don’t want to be left with those two!” she said, and disappeared again.
Maximilian sprang to the window and looked out. Below him, the lady was artfully scaling the drainpipe that led down the building. Maximilian knew he would not be able to climb the same way as she did, but he followed the only way he knew how – with a flying leap he was back on the roof of the outhouse and from there it was an easy route to the ground where he met her.
She leaned over and tickled his head.
“And now,” she said, “we put a stop to her little games, don’t we? Do you have a home? I suppose I should take you with me, but I’m going to the Theatre Royal, if I can find it, and I don’t suppose it is any place for a cat.”
Maximilian miaowed, “But that’s where I live!”
Madame stood up and tiptoed towards the road, keeping a sharp eye on the windows of the house. When she reached the road she turned and beckoned to Maximilian, then she dashed out into the street and began to run.
Maximilian led Madame Emerald through the streets of the city, tugging at her dress from time to time to show her the way. When the crowds grew too great, she scooped Maximilian up to her ample bosom and carried him close to her, all the while muttering darkly about what she was going to do to “that dastardly imposter” once she caught up with her. He was beginning to put two and two together. The fake Madame Emerald must have kidnapped the real one so that she could imitate her at the theatre. That was how she got her hands on the beautiful Golden Stones and all Madame’s belongings. The only thing she couldn’t imitate was Madame’s wonderful voice so she had to use a record to pretend to sing. She had carried out the daring theft of Lady Bromley’s necklace and now she had her eye on the jewels of the Queen of England herself!
Maximilian thought again of the knock-out drops that Jeanette had held in her hands and what the two women meant to do to the King and Queen that very night and his heart went cold. He had been so busy dashing around the city that he had not noticed that it had been getting darker and darker. The street lights of the city were beginning to glow and at the Theatre Royal the orchestra would be tuning up for the show.
Maximilian let out a loud “oh hurry, the show will be starting and there is not a moment to lose” miaow and leapt from the lady’s arms. She cried out in alarm as he was nearly crushed by a passing car, then dashed after him and raced down the street. They had to get to the Royal Box before the show began and the fake Madame and Jeanette had the chance to put their dastardly plan into action.
It seemed like an age before they reached the theatre. Maximilian raced through the grand lobby and leapt on to the staircase. Behind him ran the real Madame Emerald. Halfway to the top of the stairs Maximilian glanced back. Madame Emerald was not following. Instead, she was heading towards the door by the side of the cloakrooms, the one that led to Monsieur Lavroche’s office.
Maximilian miaowed “Not that way” but she ignored him and strode instead towards the glass-fronted door with the cream “PRIVATE” notice hanging from a chain and put her hand on the gilt fingerplate.
Maximilian leapt in front of her and miaowed again.
“Look, puss, I don’t know quite why you want me to follow you, but I need to find the manager and put a stop to that woman’s little games!” she said, trying to nudge him out of the way with her toes.
Maximilian miaowed again, this time with a little less patience. It was wrong of him, but this was really no time for manners.
Madame stepped over him and pushed her way through the door. Really, she was very determined. With a miaow of “well, I shall just have to deal with this on my own”, Maximilian turned on his tail and headed up the great sweep of stairs that led to the boxes. As he reached the upper floor he could hear the music of the ballet floating up from the stage.
Outside the Royal Box a guard lay face down on the floor. Maximilian sprinted up to him and smelled the familiar sour smell of the knock-out drops. The fake Madame must be here already. She had attacked the King and Queen’s guard! Bristling with anger, Maximilian pressed a furry shoulder to the door of the Royal Box.
It did not move.
Maximilian glanced around. There were more boxes on either side, full of viscountesses and countesses and even a duchess or two. He dashed to the nearest one and pushed against the door. It swung open and he rushed through, making a countess shriek as he brushed against her legs.
Maximilian miaowed his “I am so sorry for interrupting your evening” miaow and sprang on to the balcony ledge of the box. The great auditorium stretched out below him, the light catching the jewels of the ladies and the silken top hats of the gentlemen. Down on the stage Sylvia and Agnes were twirling with garlands of flowers held high above their heads in the fairy ballet. Sylvia’s wings twinkled under the stage lights, the crystals she had sewn into the gauze sending the light bouncing around the theatre. Sylvia’s smile was almost as bright as her shining wings. She pointed a dainty foot and the crowd broke into a patter of applause as she whirled across the stage en pointe.
Maximilian focused his attention on the Royal Box, where the King and Queen were enjoying the performance immensely. The King, a broad-shouldered man with a bushy beard and curling moustaches was leaning forwards in his chair, clapping his hands enthusiastically and looking decidedly unregal in spite of the silver stars and medals that adorned the chest of his coat. Beside him sat the Queen, sitting upright in her chair and sedately clapping three fingers against the palm of her hand. She dripped with jewels. Her eau-de-nil silk frock was set off with a ruby sash from which three diamond stars hung on velvet ribbons. At her throat were necklace upon necklace, a large diamond pendant hanging from the lowest. Her wrists shimmered with sapphires and on top of her chocolate curls rested a diamond and pearl tiara.
Maximilian peered past
the King and Queen to the shadowy back of the box. Someone else was there. He growled under his breath and hunkered down, ready to leap. The fake Madame Emerald stepped from the shadows into the light. In each hand she shook out a pad of linen and, moving with the care of a cat, leaned round the King and Queen, ready to clamp them over their faces.
“MIAOW!!!!!!” Maximilian roared, and leapt towards the Royal Box. It was a substantial leap and there was no rough guttering or tree bark to catch him this time, only smooth lacquered walnut. As he landed on the balcony his paws slipped as he tried to gain a paw-hold. He felt for the grooves of the gilded carvings, but in vain, and he found himself falling for the second time that day. Maximilian let out a “Mwrow!” of alarm, and threw his legs out, desperate for something to catch his fall. He saw the King turning towards him, his brow furrowing in shock as a small white cat appeared in front of him and then fell from sight. He saw the Queen lifting a hand to her mouth. And he saw the woman behind them, her face hard as stone as she watched him fall.
Maximilian threw out his paws and his claws snagged against something soft, breaking his fall. The lights and colour of the theatre spun around him in a dizzying whirl as he dangled in mid-air, caught on one of the scarlet velvet swags that had been hung around the Royal Box. Below him there were murmurs of surprise as people in the back rows of the stalls glanced up to see a cat hanging over their heads.
Maximilian caught his breath and flexed his claws to dig them more deeply into the velvet swag. Summoning all his strength, he writhed around, slid his front claws through the soft fabric and began to haul himself up. It was hard work, with the swag slipping beneath him and swinging alarmingly with every movement he made, but Maximilian clung on and steadily climbed up to the balcony of the box. Dragging himself over the wooden railing he sprang on to the floor and advanced towards the fake Madame Emerald. His beautiful fluffy tail was ramrod straight behind him, his fur on end and prickling with anger. The Queen gave a little cry of alarm and pulled her skirts aside as Maximilian passed her, and the fake Madame made her move.
The Disappearing Diva Page 7