Pet Detectives

by Louis Catt

  “Actually,” I said. “You heard wrong. It was you we were talking about … it’s you that’s the spy!”

  “NO I’M NOT!” Callum shouted. “I’ll tell Mum you said that!”

  I sniffed. “Tell her what you like,” I said. “I’ll tell her you were listening outside Frankie’s bedroom door!”

  Callum shut up then. We walked the rest of the way home without saying anything.

  When we met at school the next day Frankie was much more cheerful.

  “I asked Mum about helping Mrs Brierley, and she said it was a mega-brilliant idea!” Frankie winked at Kenny. “She said it showed we were developing a sense of social responsibility, and she was really glad.”

  “Was she glad enough to let you keep the kitten?” Rosie asked.

  Frankie frowned. “No. She said I had to take him back to the pet shop this afternoon.”

  “You can’t,” Kenny said. “It’s half-day closing.”

  “Is it? Then I can keep him one more day!” Frankie brightened up at once. “He’s getting ever so much tamer. He came down from the curtains almost as soon as I called him this morning!”

  The horrible M&Ms went strolling past just then.

  “Found your hot-water bottle yet?” they chorused, and then banged each other on the back with loud shrieks of laughter.

  “They have to laugh at each other’s jokes,” Frankie said, very loudly. “No one else ever would.”

  “What’s all that about a hot-water bottle?” It was Ryan Scott. I hadn’t seen him coming, but he was suddenly right behind us. I started to smooth my hair down, but I stopped when I saw Frankie nudging Kenny. Frankie thinks I fancy Ryan Scott. Actually, I don’t think there’s anything wrong if I do.

  “Ryan – you don’t want to know,” Kenny said. “Those two are just so sad.”

  “They think it’s funny to make jokes about my cat being lost,” Lyndz told him. “She’s been missing for three days now, and all they can do is make up pathetic jokes about it.”

  Ryan looked really sympathetic. “My cat went missing once,” he said.

  “Did it come back?” I asked him.

  “No,” he said. “He’d been run over.”

  “Thanks a bunch,” Lyndz said. “That makes me feel a whole lot better.” And she went off across the playground. Frankie went with her, and so did Rosie and Kenny, but I didn’t. I did think Ryan was trying to make Lyndz feel better, even if it didn’t come out quite right.

  “Tell you what,” Ryan said, “tell Lyndsey she can come to my party. It’s on Friday.” I felt very strange right in the middle of my stomach. Ryan Scott was inviting Lyndz to his party! And not the rest of us! I think my mouth fell a bit open, because he gave me a funny look.

  “I mean all of you,” he said, as he spotted Danny McCloud. “Hey! Danny! Wait for me!” Then, as he dashed off to join Danny he shouted, “About seven o’clock! Bring any cds you’ve got that are good!”

  The others didn’t think it was at all exciting that Ryan had asked us to his party.

  “That’s the night we’re having a sleepover at my house,” Lyndz said. “Don’t you remember?”

  “Couldn’t we go the party and then have the sleepover afterwards?” I said. Frankie gave Kenny the sort of look that I know means they’re sharing a joke and I’m not part of it.

  “Who wants to go to Ryan Scott’s party?” Kenny said. “It’ll be full of boys with sweaty feet talking about football, football, football!”

  “You like football,” I said.

  Frankie snorted. “We don’t want to hear how Danny fell over in the mud seventeen times and Ryan would have scored if the goalie hadn’t been in the way and how clever they all are.”

  “I wouldn’t mind going,” Rosie said. “We can talk about it afterwards! We don’t need to stay for ages, but it might be fun for a little bit.”

  Lyndz said, “Why don’t we vote?”

  So we did, and Frankie and Kenny voted against going. I was surprised when Lyndz voted yes with me and Rosie.

  “I like the idea of talking about it afterwards,” she explained. “And you never know – there might be someone at the party who’s seen a missing cat!”

  “We could make those notices about Truffle,” I said. “You know – what she looks like, and your telephone number.”

  Lyndz gave me a huge smile. “Fliss,” she said, “you may be wet when it comes to Ryan Scott, but you do have good ideas.”

  Even Frankie and Kenny thought it would be a good idea to go to the party after that.

  I was very pleased, but when I started to talk about what we were going to wear they said to wait until Friday.

  “Today is operation spy day!” Frankie said, and then the bell went and we had to go into school. I was lucky. Callum goes out to tea with his weedy little friend Kevin on Wednesdays, so he wasn’t hanging around when we reached Frankie’s house. Of course we had to rush in to say hello to the kitten. He was in Frankie’s room, all curled up in a little fluffy ball inside a shoe box.

  We all oohed and aahed. He looked so cute, but we didn’t wake him up.

  “Work first,” Frankie said sternly, but I bet if he had been awake she would have been the first to cuddle him.

  We left Frankie’s house and walked down the road to Mrs Brierley’s. I had butterflies in my stomach, and I think Rosie did as well. Mrs Brierley’s house was quite big, and it had a high wall all round it. There was a gate, but it did look quite creepy.

  “See?” Frankie whispered. “Once they’re caught the cats can never get out again!”

  “Yes they can,” I said. “Lyndz saw one on the wall the other night.”

  “That’s only after they’ve been totally brainwashed never ever to escape,” Kenny said.

  Lyndz made a face. “You can’t brainwash cats,” she said. “They do just what they want!”

  “Who’s going to knock?” I asked. I didn’t want to hear any more of Frankie and Kenny’s stories.

  Frankie looked at Kenny, and Kenny looked at Frankie.

  “We had an idea!” Kenny said, and she began to giggle. “We thought that we should find out if Mrs Brierley really is a catnapper!”

  “How?” I asked.

  “Well,” Frankie said, “if she is, she’ll want to catch as many cats as she can, won’t she?”

  “I suppose so,” I said. Rosie nodded.

  “What do you mean?” Lyndz asked.

  Frankie leant against the wall of Mrs Brierley’s house. “Well – if she hears two poor lonely cats yowling in the road outside, she’ll think ‘Aha! Two more pussy cats for my collection!’ And she’ll come rushing out to get them!”

  “But we haven’t got two lonely cats,” I said.

  Kenny and Frankie began to giggle again. “Yes we have,” Frankie said, and she began to meow … and then Kenny joined in!

  “WOWWWLLLLL … MERRRRROWLLLLLL … WOWWLLL!!!!” they howled. “WOWWLLL!!!!!”

  Lyndz, Rosie and I began to laugh too. They looked so funny, and they kept rolling their eyes as they howled.

  CRASH!!! The window went up above our heads.

  Frankie and Kenny stopped dead, but it was too late.

  SPLASHHHH!!!!!! A bucket of water sploshed right over them – they were soaked!!!! And a little old voice called out, “Go away! Go away, you horrid cats!” And then the window slammed shut again.

  I don’t think I’ve ever laughed so much. My sides hurt, and so did my tummy. I ached all over. We leant against the wall in a row, and Frankie and Kenny dripped as they laughed.

  “I think it’s time for Plan B,” Frankie said at last. “Well – after Kenny and I have zoomed home and changed.”

  “That’s right,” Kenny said. “Mrs Brierley certainly doesn’t rush out to catch cats!” And she began to crack up all over again.

  “What’s Plan B?” I asked.

  “We knock on the door,” Frankie said. “Mum’s already told her we’re coming.”

  “You mean she’s e
xpecting us?” I asked.

  “Oh yes,” Frankie said. “But we did just want to check it out first.”

  “Oh,” Rosie said, and if she was feeling like me she was thinking Frankie might have told us that before.

  Frankie and Kenny flew home to change. Kenny had to borrow some of Frankie’s clothes, and they’re really different shapes, so Kenny looked really odd! Frankie’s tall and thin, and Kenny’s much smaller. Frankie’s jumper nearly came down to her knees!

  “OK!” Frankie said. “Time for Plan B!”

  It was a scary moment when Mrs Brierley opened the door. I mean, what if our experiment was wrong, and she really and truly was a catnapper? What could we do? And how would we know which cats were napped and which were properly hers? It suddenly seemed very difficult.

  “Do come in,” Mrs Brierley said, and it was the same little old lady voice we’d heard coming out of the window. She was little, too – she wasn’t any taller than Lyndz.

  “I do hope you don’t mind,” she said, “but I’ve got some tea ready for you. Just to say thank you.” She sighed. “It’s so nice to see some company. All I see from day to day is my sister, or my dear cats!”

  We trundled into the kitchen.

  ACE!!!!!

  The table was positively groaning under the scrummiest, most mega-delicious, FANTASTIC tea you have EVER seen!

  We stood and stared, out eyes popping out.

  Mrs Brierley smiled and looked really happy. She had such a nice face we all smiled back, and I felt as if I’d been mean even thinking nasty things about her. I was glad I hadn’t told stories about her having smelly fish heads in her bag and catching cats at night – even if it had been a joke. And I was really glad I hadn’t been howling outside her house … although I had laughed a lot.

  The tea was the best ever. There was one cake with chocolate icing and one with lemon icing. There were buns, and biscuits, and scones, and jam, and a huge bowl of clotted cream. We sat down, and I don’t think I’ve EVER eaten so much. It was going to be really difficult to bend to do any weeding!

  Mrs Brierley liked seeing us eat. She kept offering us more and more, and she liked talking too. She told us the names of all her cats, and I felt worse and worse because she turned out to be the sort of person who would never, not in a million zillion years, collect a cat that didn’t belong to her.

  We talked a lot too. We told her about the Sleepover Club, and she thought it was a BRILLIANT idea.

  “I wish I’d had such lovely friends when I was young,” she said. “There are so many more things that children can do nowadays. Parties, and sleepovers, and pretty clothes.”

  “We’re going to a party on Friday,” I told her. “Before we have a sleepover at Lyndz’s house.”

  “Are you?” Mrs Brierley twinkled all over her face. “And what are you going to wear?”

  I was just beginning to tell her about my new skirt with little silver stars on and the matching top with silver ribbons when Rosie kicked me under the table. Kenny frowned at me over the chocolate cake.

  “We’re all going,” Kenny said, “but we’re only going because we want to see if anyone has seen Lyndz’s cat. Ryan Scott isn’t our favourite person. He needs to get a life beyond football!”

  “I don’t suppose you’ve seen Truffle?” Lyndz asked hopefully. “She’s a dark brown tabby and she’s got three white paws.”

  Mrs Brierley jumped up from the table, and her eyes were full of tears.

  “Oh!” She said. “You poor dear thing! There’s nothing worse than losing a cat, and not knowing where it could be, or if someone’s being unkind to it! Of course I’ll look out for it!” And she hurried round the table and stroked Lyndz’s shoulder – just as if she was a cat! Lyndz looked surprised, but I think she liked it.

  “And do any of you others have cats?” Mrs Brierley asked when she’d sat down again.

  Frankie took a deep breath – and she told Mrs Brierley all about the little black kitten, and how it was exactly like Muffin. Mrs Brierley listened, and her eyes were so bright she looked like a little bird.

  “Well,” she said, “I think there’s a very easy answer if you’d like it. Why don’t you bring your kitten here? He’ll still belong to you, and you can come and see him as often as you want. I can promise you he’ll be happy – he’ll have lots of other cats for company, and there’s a big garden for him to play in!”

  “Oh! That would be lovely!” Frankie jumped up, and she hugged Mrs Brierley. It was Mrs Brierley’s turn to look surprised, but she beamed at Frankie. Her spectacles were crooked from the hug, but she didn’t notice.

  “Just don’t forget to ask your mother,” she said. “I don’t want you doing anything your parents don’t know about.”

  “Can I get him now?” Frankie asked. “I mean – I’ll ask Mum first – but if she says yes?”

  Mrs Brierley nodded, and Frankie flew out of the door.

  You’d have thought that the kitten had lived in Mrs Brierley’s house all his life. Frankie carried him in squealing and squirming like a furry eel, but the moment she put him on the carpet he sat down, looked round and began to clean himself. He even began to purr like a tiny engine.

  “Well!” Mrs Brierley said. “I can quite see why you fell in love with that one! Have you given him a name yet?”

  Frankie sat down beside the kitten. “I thought I’d call him Muffin,” she said. “Like my last cat.”

  “That’s a fine name,” Mrs Brierley said. “And it looks as if he feels at home! Now, would you like to see the garden?”

  I think we’d all forgotten that that was why we were there! Mrs Brierley was so kind and nice that she wouldn’t let us do much weeding, but if there are five of you it’s far more fun than when you have to do it on your own. She had to tell us which were the weeds – Rosie had a big battle with something that looked like a huge thistle, and then Mrs B said it was a special kind and she was quite happy for it to go on growing.

  (I did wonder if Mrs B was quite relieved when we stopped gardening. She said we’d done a great job, but she looked a little bit anxious about the thistle thing.)

  We went back to Frankie’s house for five minutes before we all had to go home. Frankie didn’t want to leave Muffin, but Mrs B said she could come over as often as she wanted, and any of the rest of us could come too.

  “It’ll do the cats good to see some new faces,” she said. She also said she’d be sure to look out for Truffle.

  “I do see stray cats round here sometimes,” she said. “In fact, there were a couple of horrible old tom cats fighting outside in the road earlier. I don’t think they’ll be howling outside my house again, though. I was very hardhearted and taught them a little lesson.”

  We couldn’t say anything when Mrs B said that about the tom cats. Rosie made a gulping noise, and Kenny gave a sort of cough. Then we thanked her for the superb feast, and off we went.

  On the way back we make a vow. We held hands and promised that we’d always look after Mrs Brierley.

  “Do you think we should tell her that we are the tom cats?” Kenny asked.

  Lyndz began to laugh. “I think she knew!”

  “WHAT?” Rosie, Frankie, Kenny and I stared at her.

  “Didn’t you notice?” Lyndz said. “She never asked you two why your hair was wet. That was weird! I mean, how often do girls come to visit wearing odd clothes with drippy hair?”

  “Oh.” Kenny looked thoughtful. “And she did say she’d taught them a lesson—”

  “She certainly did!” Rosie said. “You should have seen your faces when the water came down!” And we began to laugh all over again.

  I had another good idea the next morning. Yes, I know that’s boasting, but my mum always says that if you don’t tell people when you’re clever how can they ever know?

  I was on my way to school and Callum was going ON and ON and ON about rats when I had my idea. Why didn’t we ask Mrs Weaver if we could write and print out the notice abo
ut Truffle at school? The school computers are ace – you can do different borders and typefaces and rainbow colours.

  I met Rosie and Kenny first, and they thought it was a dead smart idea, so we tried it out on Mrs Weaver when we saw her walking across the playground.

  “Sounds like a good idea to me,” she said. “Maybe we could get the whole class involved – a piece of descriptive writing that will wring the heart of anyone who reads it!” And she went into the staffroom.

  Frankie and Lyndz arrived next, and they were keen too, although they weren’t sure about the whole class having a go.

  “We only need to use the ones we like,” Kenny pointed out. “And we can run off lots of copies of those so we have plenty to take to Ryan’s party.”

  “We don’t want to be giving leaflets out all the time,” I said.

  Kenny tweaked my hair. “It’s OK, Miss Flutter Heart. I’m sure there’ll be loads of time for you to make eyes at Ryan and dazzle him with your starry skirt.”

  “How did you know I had a starry skirt?” I said.

  “Don’t you remember?” Frankie did a twirl under my nose. “You were giving Mrs B a stitch by stitch description for hours and hours yesterday.”

  “No I wasn’t!” I said. “Kenny kicked me and I stopped!”

  “I didn’t!” Kenny said. “It was an accident!”

  “OOOOOH!” It was the M&Ms. “Arguing, are we? And we thought you lot all cuddled up together with your hot water bottles!”

  They staggered off, holding each other up as they cackled evilly.

  Rosie made a face. “Isn’t it time you thought of a new joke?” she shouted after them.

  “They’re the saddest thing on earth,” Frankie said in disgust.

  “We’re really going to have to do something about the M&Ms,” Kenny agreed. “Anybody got any good ideas?”

  But we hadn’t.

  When Mrs Weaver told everyone that we were all going to write a description of a cat and then think of a short piece of writing to go with it the only people who groaned were – guess!