by Lou Kuenzler
“Nobody’s even mentioned it since that first day when Musa told us it was all closed up,” said Gran, shrugging. Her camel hump wobbled in the darkness ahead of me.
“No,” I cried, breaking into a run. “You’re wrong. Professor Gus mentioned it just now. Remember? When he was warning us about the curse. He said don’t go to the temple – especially not the underground cattery… It was like he was making a point to keep us away.”
I ran on past Gran. “Hurry,” I called over my shoulder.
I sprinted away so fast I jiggled my lantern and it went out. I stood panting at the top of a steep slope as Gran caught up and shone her light on me.
“Ozzy is in that cattery,” I said. “I am sure of it. And I think Professor Gus put him there.”
“I know you don’t trust him,” said Gran. “But…”
“That’s what that crazy curse story was all about,” I said. “He was making sure we’d keep away. Especially kind people like the Calendar sisters. They were desperate to go out and look for Ozzy but they’re easily scared.”
“Why would he go to all that trouble just for one little cat?” said Gran.
“I don’t know. But that’s what we’re going to find out,” I said. My tummy was with excitement.
Gran held her lantern higher.
We were standing close to the edge of a deep pit. “If we could just get down there, perhaps we would find a way to get underground,” I said.
“I think we should go back and get help,” said Gran. “At least fetch a ladder.”
“Fine,” I said. I knew Gran was right. But my fingers and toes were fizzing like sherbet … I wanted to find a way into the tunnels of the cattery right now.
Then two things happened very fast and at almost exactly the same time.
I shrank to the size of a tiny shabti.
And Gran stumbled forward.
“Help!” she cried as her foot on the sharp stones. Her giant-sized shoe shot towards me like a speed boat out of control.
“Yikes!”
“Look out!” gasped Gran as she accidentally kicked me up in the air…
I felt as if I was falling from the top of a steep cliff as we both came tumbling down into the deep pit below.
“Ouch,” cried Gran as she hit the bottom.
“Ouch,” I cried as I landed beside her. Luckily something soft broke my fall. I think it must have been Gran’s camel hump.
The moon had gone behind a cloud. I couldn’t see anything at all but I could hear Gran breathing beside me.
“Are you all right?” I asked, crawling close to where I thought Gran’s ear must be. “Did you drop your lantern when you fell?”
“That’s just it, Violet,” whispered Gran in the darkness. “I didn’t fall … I was pushed.”
As the moon came out from behind a cloud, the deep pit was flooded with light. I could see that Gran was biting her lip as she lay slumped on the floor beside me.
“It’s my ankle,” she winced. “I think it may be broken.”
“Oh no,” I panicked. What could I do? I was no bigger than a sticking plaster. “If only I was still full size. Then at least we could use the bandages from my mummy costume to wrap around your foot.”
I looked helplessly at my outfit. Each bandage was only as thick as a shoelace now I’d shrunk.
I stood on tiptoes, feeling like a tiny frog trapped in the bottom of a well. My heart beating loudly, I listened in case anyone was still moving about at the top of the pit.
The only noise was the distant music from the party. It sounded so faint it could have been a zillion miles away.
“I don’t think there’s any sign of the person who pushed you,” I whispered.
“Whoever it was will be long gone by now,” said Gran. “They wanted us out of the way down here … or me, at least. I don’t suppose they even saw you.”
“I bet it was Professor Gus,” I said. “He’s always been our main suspect for taking Ozzy.”
Unless… A terrible thought struck me. Anthony wouldn’t have done this to Gran, would he?
No.
I was sure he hadn’t.
“You explore the pit and see if there’s a way out of here,” said Gran. “I’ll shout for help. If anyone comes, jump in my pocket and they won’t see you.”
“OK.” I scuttled away across the sandy floor like a scarab beetle.
“HELP!” hollered Gran at the top of her lungs. “PLEASE, HELP US!”
I don’t know how long Gran shouted for but it felt like hours.
No one came.
The walls of the ancient pit were made from big flat stones. There was no entrance to the cattery down here after all. I tried again and again to get my footing so I could climb out. But it was hopeless. It was like trying to escape from the deep end of an empty swimming pool – the walls were just too steep and slippery.
“There’s a tiny gap between two stones in the corner,” I said, swinging myself on to Gran’s sleeve and scrambling up to her shoulder so she could hear me. “I think it might be a mouse hole. I’m going to see where it leads. Perhaps I can get out on the other side and run for help.”
“All right,” said Gran. She was still lying on her side. “Find Anthony. It won’t matter if he sees you while you’re tiny. He can tell someone I’m down here.”
“I will,” I said. It made me feel better to know that Gran trusted Anthony.
“Be careful,” she said. “And turn back if there’s any sign of danger.”
“Don’t worry,” I said, sliding down her sleeve and doing a mini super hero pose to try and make her smile.
“Violet Potts to the rescue,” I cried, skidding away and squeezing into the narrow hole.
“Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!”
I had expected to find a tunnel on the other side of the gap … or some sort of little mousey burrow … but there was nothing. No floor at all.
I down like one of those little plastic airman you get in joke shops and party bags.
Except I didn’t have a parachute, of course.
I landed on a pile of sand and sank to my waist like a teaspoon in a sugar bowl.
I looked up and saw the tiny gap I had fallen through like a keyhole high above me.
There was no way I was going to get back through there again. I would have to find another way out if I was going to get help for Gran.
I looked around and saw that I had fallen into some sort of long corridor or passageway. The roof and walls were made of stone. Every few metres or so there were little piles of sand like the one I had fallen into. They had probably been made by the archaeologists when they were digging here.
This must be the ancient cattery, I thought. This corridor probably leads to the rooms where the temple cats were kept.
I slid down the pile of sand and looked up at the brightly lit walls all around me.
Brightly lit… It took me a moment to realize what was wrong. It was the middle of the night. I was in an underground chamber. It should have been down here. Instead, a string of light bulbs on thick electrical cord were blazing above my head as high as street lamps.
Someone else must be down here with me. Someone else must have turned these lights on.
I crept forward and looked in both directions.
The passageway was empty.
Which way should I go? I stood frozen like a mouse on a train track.
A noise pierced the darkness.
It sounded like a baby crying.
No. Not a baby. I felt my heart jump like a tree frog inside my chest.
“Ozzy,” I whispered.
I’d recognize that yowling anywhere.
I darted forward in the direction the sound was coming from.
The corridor started to really wind now, like the clues in a wordsearch puzzle. I was so tiny it took ages to run a distance that would only have been two or three footsteps if I was full size.
Panting like a marathon runner, I turned a sharp corner and skidded to a stop.<
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“What are you doing here?” I gasped as a little figure the size of a chess piece blocked my path.
Anthony was standing in front of me. He was as small as I was. He looked like an action figure, wearing his shrunken pharaoh outfit, with his hands held out to stop me.
“Get back,” he hissed.
Ozzy’s cry echoed off the stone walls.
“I am not going anywhere, Anthony,” I said. “Not until I find out what you’ve done to that poor cat.”
Anthony dodged sideways and blocked my path again.
“I haven’t done anything to Ozzy,” he said, his tiny eyes almost popping out of his head. “I was frightened of him in case I shrank but I would never hurt an animal. I love cats. I’ve got two of my own at home.”
“Then what are you doing down here?” I said. “Why are you trying to stop me?”
“I slipped away from the party,” said Anthony, pulling me into the shadows close to the wall. “I heard Professor Gus warning you and Gran not to come to the cattery. I knew he must have hidden Ozzy down here. I had to come and look.”
I could tell at once that Anthony was telling the truth.
“I can’t go on being frightened to do things just in case I shrink,” he said. “And I didn’t want Gran coming down here in the dark. It’s not safe.”
“But she did come,” I groaned. “And now she’s badly hurt.”
I explained what had happened and how we needed to find someone who could rescue Gran from the deep pit.
“We’re about as useful as two toy soldiers against a real army,” sighed Anthony. “I tried my best not to shrink but one look at this place and … whoosh.” Anthony waved his little arms and pointed to the tunnel around us. “It was amazing. I came in through this decorated room – with hieroglyphs and hundreds of tiny pictures of cats.”
“So there is another way out of here. Show me,” I said. “We need to get help. Once people come, they can look for Ozzy too.”
I grabbed Anthony’s sleeve and tried to drag him forward but he dug his heels into the sand.
“It’s like a maze down here,” he said.
“Well, you ought to be good at that. Just like your computer game,” I said, dashing forward again.
“It’s a dead end that way. I’ve already looked,” said Anthony, pointing left along the corridor. “But I’m not sure we can get back the way I came.”
“Mouldy mummies, of course we can,” I said.
Before Anthony could stop me, I turned right along the passageway and began to run.
“Please, Violet. Wait.” Anthony caught up with me. “I saw someone down here. It looked like…”
Suddenly a giant shadow fell across our path.
“Professor Gus!” I whispered, grabbing Anthony and leaping back into the gloom.
The professor came hurrying through an archway in the wall and dashed ahead of us along the passage.
“Hurry up, girls. We ain’t got all night,” he boomed.
“That’s funny…” I cocked my head. “He doesn’t sound like Professor Gus. He sounds…”
“American, I know. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you,” hissed Anthony. “I’m not sure that is the professor. It looks like him but…”
“…it doesn’t sound like him,” I said as a voice like a cowboy echoed through the tunnels again.
“We need to finish before dawn if we want to meet that idiot antiques dealer at the railroad station,” he boomed.
“This doesn’t make any sense,” I whispered, scuttling forward and pulling Anthony with me. “I recognize that voice. It belongs to … Carl Moon. He’s the American man I told you about. The one Gran and I met at the British Museum.”
I peeped around the corner to see the big man crouching on the floor and winding up a trail of tangled bandages. He was still wearing the explorer costume the professor had on at the party.
“That’s definitely Carl Moon,” I whispered. “Except then he had a long moustache and a cowboy hat. He must have shaved off the moustache and put on a posh English voice and a pair of glasses.”
“Then who is he really?” asked Anthony.
“No idea,” I said. “But one thing is certain. Carl Moon and Professor Gus are the same person.”
“Sorry, girls. I had to take care of a little business,” shouted the professor (it was easier to think of him like that). He finished winding up the bandages and hurried away in the direction he’d been calling. Who could he be shouting to?
“And keep that darn cat quiet,” he bellowed.
“Come on, let’s follow him,” said Anthony.
“And find Ozzy,” I nodded.
We scampered forward, keeping to the shadows at the edge of the corridor like two tiny mice.
“Anthony,” I hissed, wrinkling my nose. “Is it just me or does it smell funny down here? Like … Christmas.”
Before Anthony could answer, we both skidded to a stop.
We had arrived at the entrance of a huge underground cavern. Standing in the middle of the stone room, each wearing a big black leather apron over the top of their cat costumes, were Miss June and Miss July.
“What are they doing here?” hissed Anthony.
Miss June was stirring a giant saucepan, which looked almost like a witch’s cauldron. It was bubbling away on top of a big, flat camping stove.
“Cinnamon! That must be where the smell is coming from,” I said, creeping forward.
Anthony and I slipped behind a broken wooden crate.
Just in front of us, Miss July was laying bandages out on a long table.
“You dropped these in the passageway,” said the professor. He handed her the baggy rolls we’d seen him winding up outside.
“Why, thank you, August dear,” said Miss July in her thick American accent.
“Just keep it speedy, will ya?” shrugged the professor.
“August?” Anthony whispered.
“Of course. June, July and August! I can’t believe I’ve been so stupid,” I said, burying my tiny head in my hands. “He must be their brother.”
As I looked up at two plump ladies and the man we had thought was the professor, I saw that all three had the same chunky build and broad shoulders.
“Gus is short for August,” I groaned. “The Calendar sisters told me they had a brother with that name.”
I thought of how Gran and I had been stuck on the wordsearch because we’d been looking for the long name, Tutankhamun, while the pharaoh’s nickname, Tut, was in front of us all along.
“The three of them do look pretty alike,” said Anthony. “And they sound alike now too. But with that fake English accent, I would never have guessed Professor Gus was the Calendar sisters’ brother.”
“But what are they doing here?” I asked. “That’s what I want to know.”
I glanced around the huge room, trying to take it all in.
The ceiling was hung with electric lights and I could see that hundreds of big square holes had been carved into the stone walls. They were almost like boxes in a pet shop.
This must be where the Ancient Egyptians kept the cats, I thought.
Anthony and I shot up on tiptoes at exactly the same time.
Someone had put a metal cage inside one of the ancient cat holes and Ozzy was staring out at us. “We’ve found him,” I grinned, squeezing Anthony’s hand.
Miss June “I tell you something,” she said. “I ain’t touchin’ that lot. They bring out my allergies.”
I looked up, following the direction that she was pointing in.
Ten more of the cat holes, opposite Ozzy’s, were filled with cages too.
“Look, it’s the spotty strays,” whispered Anthony.
“But why are they shut up in here?” I said, my tummy tightening like a fist. “I thought the Calendar sisters loved cats. What are the bandages for and why are they boiling spices in the middle of the night?”
Miss June again. “Now my eyes are running too,” she said, wiping
her cheeks.
I remembered how she’d thrown Ozzy off her lap, pretending he was hurting her sore knee. But now I could see the truth. She couldn’t bear him to be near her because she was allergic to cats… The Calendar sisters definitely weren’t the sweet little old ladies I’d thought they were.
“Anthony,” I whispered, edging forward around the side of the wooden crate. “Something really bad is going on here.”
“I ain’t touching those cats when we take ’em out to the boat,” said Miss June, blowing her nose loudly on the end of her tabby fancy dress tail.
“Quit your fussing,” said Miss July. “By the time we head out of here, those cats will be wrapped up in bandages and smelling of cinnamon.”
“Ready to sell as ancient artefacts to that ignorant young dealer,” grinned Professor Gus.
I looked around the cavern. First at the bandages. Then at the bubbling pot of spice. Last of all at Ozzy and the speckled strays, trapped in their cages.
“Anthony,” I said gripping his arm. “I know what’s going on here … Professor Gus and his sisters are going to mummify these cats.”
My tiny head was spinning as I tried to make sense of everything I had seen and heard. The Calendar sisters weren’t kind little old ladies who loved cats … they were criminals, just like their brother August.
I realized Gus – or Carl Moon, as he was pretending to be then – must have visited the British Museum to find out as much as he could about Ancient Egypt. Now he was passing himself off as a professor – but he didn’t know much more than he’d read in his Bumper Book of Ancient Egypt. His silly story about the ancient curse was a trick, so everyone would stay away from the cattery.
I felt sick. “It’s all my fault he came up with his horrible plan in the first place,” I croaked. “I showed him the cat mummies at the British Museum. That’s how he realized he could make a fortune selling fake mummies and pretending they’re the real thing.”
“The mummies may be fake,” gulped Anthony, “but unless we do something quick, there’ll be real cats inside them.”
“That’s why they stole Ozzy,” I gasped. “He’d make a beautiful mummy…” I stopped myself. “I don’t mean that the way it sounds.” The thought of Ozzy being wrapped up in spice-scented bandages made my throat feel so tight I could barely breathe.