The Case of the Phantom Cat

by Holly Webb

  For Lucy, Sinead, Madeleine and Tabitha, who told me how much they loved Maisie! ~ HW

  For Sylvie and Graham, with all my love ~ ML

  Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

  31 Albion Street, London

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Activities

  Copyright

  Maisie dusted the Chinese vase on the hall table again. It wasn’t in the slightest bit grubby any more, but she wanted an excuse to hang around above stairs, and she’d polished everything else she could find. She was waiting for her friend Alice to come for her French conversation lesson with Madame Lorimer, who lodged on the second floor.

  The hall clock struck the quarter hour and she sighed. Alice clearly wasn’t coming. Again. She had missed her lesson for the third week running now.

  Maisie picked up her dusters and the beeswax polish and walked slowly down the back stairs to the kitchen, where Sally, the maid, was peeling potatoes at the big table. Maisie’s grandmother was poking at a saucepan on the range, boiling a treacle sponge pudding for the lodgers’ dinner.

  The house at 31 Albion Street was divided up into apartments on the different floors and let out to lodgers. The best rooms on the first floor were let to Professor Tobin, who had filled them with glass cases full of strange stuffed animals and other odd relics he had collected on his travels. An actress, Miss Lottie Lane, lived on the third floor and of course, Madame Lorimer, the French teacher, was on the second.

  “Goodness, have you only just finished?” Gran frowned at Maisie.

  Maisie crouched down to fuss over Eddie, her dog. He had been asleep in his basket close to the stove, but now he was leaping up at her happily, his ears flapping. “Oh… Were you waiting for Miss Alice again?” Gran said.

  “She must be very ill,” Maisie murmured worriedly as she stroked Eddie’s silky ears. “It’s more than a fortnight now since we’ve seen her.”

  “They sent a message to Madame Lorimer though, didn’t they?” Gran asked, putting the lid back on the pan and patting at her steam-reddened face with her apron. “Did they not say what was wrong?”

  “A putrid sore throat – that was all her governess said.” Maisie glanced anxiously at Gran. “But it might have got worse. What if Alice has scarlet fever? George, the butcher’s boy, told me that a little girl who lives on his street has it and she’s very bad. The fever’s spread all through the school.”

  George had been gorily dramatic about the scarlet fever when he’d delivered the meat that morning. He’d told Maisie that Elizabeth, the little girl who lived a few houses down from his family, was bright red and bumpy all over. He said she looked like a strawberry. Although come to think of it, how did George know? He’d hardly have gone visiting. But at the time she’d been so fascinated by his description of Elizabeth the Strawberry that she hadn’t thought to ask.

  “And then her skin all started peeling off!” George had hissed.

  It was like some dreadful ghost story, Maisie thought. “Is it catching?” she’d asked him.

  “Catching! Of course it’s catching!” George had rolled his eyes at her. “Half the school’s got it. And there’s nothing you can do, you know.” He’d shrugged. “Some people get better. But most don’t,” he’d added, biting his lip. “I just hope my little sister’s going to be all right. She was playing hopscotch in the street with Elizabeth just a few days ago. I don’t want her going down with the scarlatina.”

  Maisie had frowned. “Scarlatina?” It sounded like some particularly nasty sort of fairy. Perhaps one that went round making people ill. Turning them into strawberries with one flick of her wand.

  “Same thing,” George had explained gloomily. “Just another name for it. Oh well. Better get on.”

  Maisie looked wide-eyed at Gran, imagining Alice with an awful scarlet rash.

  Gran sniffed. “But Miss Alice doesn’t go to school, does she? She has her own governess. So she would hardly have been mixing with those sort of children. And she’s too old for scarlet fever, surely. Don’t fuss, Maisie. The poor child probably just has a sore throat, like that governess of hers said.”

  Maisie smiled. “If Alice has any sense, she’ll stay ill for as long as she can. I’d be ill, if I had to have lessons from a governess as horrible as Miss Sidebotham every day.” But she was still playing with Eddie’s ears, running them through her fingers and frowning. “Do you think I could go and visit her?”

  “Did you dust everywhere upstairs?” Gran asked.

  “Yes,” Maisie sighed. She didn’t enjoy housework, but she was good at it, because she’d had a great deal of practice. Even though they owned their own house and it was a tall one in a smart-ish London street, they certainly weren’t rich and Gran needed Maisie’s help.

  Thirty-one Albion Street had a great many stairs and there was a lot of it to keep clean. Between Maisie and Gran and Sally, they managed it all and made a respectable living from the lodgers. But it had meant that Maisie had had to leave school well before she was twelve to help. Gran had told her that if anyone asked, she was to say that she had lessons from Madame Lorimer. There had been seventy children in Maisie’s class at school, though, and Maisie reckoned her teacher had hardly noticed she was gone.

  “Oh, go on then, Maisie. Go and see Miss Alice and find out how she is!”

  “Can I really?” Maisie hugged her. “Oh, but Gran, they won’t let me in to visit her looking like this, will they?” Maisie looked down at her faded wool dress and her apron. She was clean and neat, but certainly not smart. The servants at Alice’s lovely house would know at once that she wasn’t a suitable friend for a young lady.

  “Go to the kitchen door, Maisie, for goodness’ sake. All this detecting and you still haven’t an ounce of common sense. Ask after Miss Alice and say Madame Lorimer sent you. Tell them you’ve a message for her, sending her good wishes, or something like that. And put your hat on!” Gran called, as Maisie dashed out of the kitchen. “Oh, and don’t forget the dog! He’s getting under my feet!”

  Maisie tiptoed down the steps into the basement and knocked quietly at the kitchen door of Alice’s house. She had never been inside before – they usually met at Maisie’s or occasionally in the street when Alice was out walking. But she was almost always with a maid or her governess, which meant they couldn’t do much more than smile and wave. Maisie had seen Miss Sidebotham tell Alice off for even that.

  “Now, be good,” she whispered to Eddie sternly. He had seen a cat on their way over and Maisie hadn’t managed to grab his collar in time. He had barked madly and chased it halfway down the street, nearly tripping up several ladies out shopping. It had taken her ages to catch him and it was very embarrassing.

  Eddie looked up at her innocently and wagged his tail. Maisie sighed. He clearly didn’t feel guilty in the slightest.

  Maisie was about to knock again when the kitchen maid answered the door. “Whatever do you want?” She stared at Maisie in surprise then eyed Eddie suspiciously.

  Maisie smiled at her, trying not to look nervous. “I’ve come to bring a message for Miss Alice Lacey,” she explained. “From Madame Lorimer, her French teacher. Madame wants to know how Miss Alice is.”

  “Oh…” The girl, who wasn’t all that much older than Maisie, nodded. “I suppose you’d better come in then… Not him!” she added, in a genteel shriek, pointing at Eddie. “Cook would have my guts for garters. You’d better tie him up outside.”

  “I’ll be back soon, I promise,” Mais
ie whispered to Eddie, as she twisted the rope through the railings. “I should have put your diamond collar on – that would show her.” Maisie and Eddie had tracked down an emerald and pearl necklace for a young actress and the actress’s fiancé, who was a lord, had sent them both jewels as a reward. Maisie was very proud of her bracelet and Eddie’s collar, but they were a bit of a worry to wear. She kept them hanging on the wall of her room, instead, in a little glass case that Professor Tobin had given her.

  “Who is it, Lizzie?” someone called and the maid bustled Maisie in.

  “She’s come calling for Miss Alice. From her French teacher,” the maid said, pushing Maisie ahead of her, so that she ended up standing in front of a large newspaper. The owner of the newspaper was sitting at a scrubbed wooden table much like Gran’s, except that it was in the middle of a kitchen about four times the size, with the very newest, smartest, shiniest kitchen range and shelves of huge tins and trays and china.

  The person reached round her paper for the cup of tea that was next to her on the table and then folded the paper up so she could stare at Maisie. It was the cook. “Would you be the young lady that Miss Alice mentioned?” she asked. “Been working at a theatre? Hunting for lost jewellery?”

  “Yes.” Maisie nodded, hoping that this wasn’t going to get her thrown out. If the cook knew about the mysterious missing emerald, it could only be because Alice had told her. Perhaps she and Alice were friends. “Is Miss Alice any better?” she asked anxiously. “We only heard that she had a bad sore throat, but I haven’t seen her for weeks.”

  The cook took a sip from her tea cup. “She’s been confined to her room. They did think it might be diphtheria, but that was just the ninny of a governess making a fuss. Any news from upstairs this afternoon, Lizzie?” she said to the kitchen maid.

  “Miss Alice said could she not have milk pudding for her supper again, but Miss Sidebotham said it was that or calves’ foot jelly. So the upstairs maids told me, anyway. And after Miss Sidebotham had gone, Miss Alice told Mary-Ann that if she brought her calves’ foot jelly, she’d throw it in the fire.”

  Maisie giggled. “She sounds as though she’s getting better then.”

  The cook nodded at her approvingly. “Did I hear Lizzie telling you to tie up a dog?”

  “I did tie him up very carefully,” Maisie promised. But she checked behind her just in case Eddie had slipped his collar and followed her.

  “I’m sure you did, dear. But Miss Alice likes dogs. I always used to let her cut them out of gingerbread. Dogs and elephants. And I haven’t an elephant on hand to cheer her up, so I reckon you and a dog might do. Lizzie, fetch me some of that gingerbread you made yesterday.”

  “But Miss Alice is only having milk pudding!” Lizzie protested.

  “Stuff and nonsense. She’ll waste away, poor child. Go and fetch your dog, Miss Whatever-your-name-is. Then you can leave your cape and hat here. And Lizzie, find Mary-Ann. You can’t go sneaking upstairs.”

  When Maisie came back in with Eddie, who was wagging his tail madly at the delicious smells coming out of the range, there was another maid in the kitchen, wearing a smart black dress, a frilled apron and a pretty cap. But despite her smart outfit, she beamed at Maisie in a friendly sort of way and cooed over Eddie.

  “Little sweetheart! He’s bound to make Miss Alice feel better. Come on – I’ve found a laundry basket. Will he jump in it, if Miss Sidebotham comes spying around?”

  Maisie nodded. “He’ll stay if I tell him.” Which was almost always true.

  Mary-Ann hurried Maisie up the back stairs. “These go all the way to the first floor,” she explained, puffing as she lugged the big wicker basket along. “There’s a flight of marble stairs down to the main hall, but we don’t use that. Ssshhh!” They were in a beautifully carpeted passage now and Maisie could hear someone coming – someone with slow, heavy footsteps.

  “The butler!” Mary-Ann whispered. “He’s a real stickler, likes everything perfect. Put the little dog in the basket!”

  Mary-Ann whipped the plate of gingerbread out of the basket where she’d been carrying it balanced on top of the washing, and Maisie dropped Eddie in and covered him in a sheet. Eddie poked his nose out and peered at her, his ears twitching doubtfully, but when she put her finger to her lips and shushed him, he wriggled back underneath.

  Just in time, Mary-Ann pushed Maisie behind a long velvet curtain. Maisie held her breath as the footsteps rounded the corner of the passage and came to a stop.

  “What are you doing, girl?” a treacly voice inquired.

  “Miss Sidebotham said she thought Miss Alice’s pillowcases should be changed, sir. What with her having a temperature…”

  “Hmm. Don’t let the master of the house see you carrying baskets of washing about,” he said.

  “No, sir.” Maisie could tell that Mary-Ann was trying not to giggle. She hoped it wasn’t because the washing was wriggling too much.

  “He’s gone!” Mary-Ann whispered finally from around the curtain. “Come on! Hurry!”

  Maisie grabbed Eddie out of the basket and followed the older girl down the hallway. They were going too quickly for her to take in much of the house, except that it seemed to sparkle. All the curtains were made of the same rich velvet as the one she’d been hiding behind and pictures glittered at her from gilded frames.

  “This is Miss Alice’s room.” Mary-Ann knocked lightly and opened the door, holding it for Maisie and Eddie to walk in.

  Maisie couldn’t help gasping at the prettiness of Alice’s room. The bed was draped with flowered curtains and there were two pink velvet chairs on either side of the fire. At one side of the room was the most enormous dolls’ house, so big it needed a table all to itself.

  “Maisie!” Alice had been lying down, just a small lump under the lace-covered bedspread, but she sat up, staring. She looked dreadful, Maisie thought, examining her anxiously. Her face was a palish yellow with dark shadows round her eyes and her pretty blonde hair had gone all stringy. But at least she wasn’t in the slightest bit strawberry-looking.

  “Now don’t excite yourself, Miss!” Mary-Ann whispered. “Cook sent her up here, but we don’t want you taking a turn for the worse. I’ll stay outside and pretend to be dusting, then I can let you know if anyone comes. And Cook’s sent you up some gingerbread, Miss.” Mary-Ann took it out of the basket again and laid it on a little table, then she whisked out to guard the door.

  “What happens if someone does come?” Alice asked, wide-eyed. Her voice was croaky, as though her throat still wasn’t quite better.

  “I’ll hide under the bed,” Maisie said. She checked beneath the frilly valance. “I could practically live under here!” Then she perched by Alice’s feet and looked at her worriedly. “You don’t look well. I did wonder whether you might have scarlet fever.”

  Alice shook her head. “No. Miss Sidebotham says it was all because I went for a walk when it was raining and didn’t bother to change my stockings afterwards, but I think that’s nonsense.” She sighed. “I’m ever so sick of being ill. It’s boring. It’s so nice that you and Eddie have come.”

  “Haven’t you had other visitors?” Maisie asked, as she put Eddie down on the bed.

  “No – people probably thought it was scarlet fever and didn’t want to risk it. But Papa visits me every day when he gets back from his office. He said he was going to have a surprise for me today – something I should really like. I tried to guess, but he wouldn’t tell.” Alice smiled at Maisie. “There you are, a chance to practise your detecting. You can tell me what the surprise is. Solve the mystery for me!”

  Maisie pulled her magnifying glass out of her coat pocket and laid it on the silken bedcover. Then she found her notebook and pencil stub and stared at Alice, trying to put on a serious detective face. “Any clues?”

  “No-ooo…” Alice shook her head. “He said I was sure to like it, that’s all.” She reached over to stroke Eddie. “Perhaps he’s bought me a dog! Or a kitten
…” She gave a little sigh. “Sorry, Eddie. But I would love a kitten. Oh, I hope Papa won’t be held up at the office.” She peered at the little gilt clock on the mantelpiece. “He should be here any minute, I think.”

  Maisie squeaked and jumped off the bed. “I’d better go then!”

  Alice laughed. “Oh, don’t! He’d like you.”

  The door suddenly flew open and Mary-Ann peered round the edge of it, flapping her hands at Maisie. “It’s Mr Lacey! Hide!”

  Maisie looked at the frilly valance round the bed, but Alice caught her hand. “Honestly. I’ve told him all about your adventures, Maisie. He won’t be cross.”

  Footsteps sounded and a tall fair-haired man strode in and stopped in surprise when he saw Maisie and Eddie.

  “Papa!” Alice called out croakily. “This is Maisie – the girl I told you about! She came to visit because I’d not been to my French lesson for so long and she was worried.”

  “That’s very good of you.” Mr Lacey gave Maisie a little half-bow. She bobbed her knees in a curtsey and started to sidle towards the door.

  “Don’t go, Maisie!” Alice pleaded.

  Maisie looked across at Mr Lacey, who nodded, waving her towards one of the pink velvet chairs.

  “Alice is right – please do stay. I haven’t seen her looking this bright for a fortnight. She’s even got colour in her cheeks.” He smiled at her. “And I’ve some very good news for you, dearest Alice.” Alice’s father tugged thoughtfully at the end of his blond moustache.

  Maisie watched him, wondering what it was he did at his office to make so much money. This was the largest, grandest house she had ever been in. It was even grander than the theatre she’d worked at, which had been quite shabby when you saw it without the gaslights and the excitement of the show.