Cat Mummy Read online

  I looked. Dad had done a wonderful poster with a big blown-up picture of Mabel curled up asleep, under the heading HAVE YOU SEEN OUR CAT MABEL?

  My heart started banging so hard I thought it was going to bounce right through my chest and make a mess of my school dress. Dad and I trudged down street after street after street. We pinned Mabel’s poster to trees and fences and lamp-posts everywhere we went.

  ‘Don’t worry, Verity, we’ll find Mabel now,’ said Dad, taking hold of my hand. ‘Someone’s bound to see the poster and recognize Mabel and ring our number. She can’t have vanished into thin air.’

  My heart went bang bang bang. I knew I should tell Dad that Mabel wasn’t missing. He had done a hundred posters asking if anyone had seen her. There was only one person in the whole world who knew exactly where she was, entombed in my wardrobe.

  I wondered if Dad would understand? I didn’t dare risk telling him. You couldn’t talk about things like death to Dad. It made him think about Mum. I remembered Gran this morning. It would be even worse if Dad started crying.

  So I didn’t say anything. I was very, very quiet all the way round the neighbourhood and I was very, very quiet when we got home. We were all very, very quiet.

  I was glad when Gran sent me up to bed. I lay there wide awake. I waited until I heard Gran and Grandad go up to bed. I waited even longer, until I heard Dad go up to bed too. It was a good job I waited, because Dad crept into my room. I closed my eyes tight and lay very still. Dad stood beside my bed a long time. Then he sighed, gently tucked the covers up under my chin, and went out the room.

  I still had to wait ages and ages, just to be safe. But when there hadn’t been any sound in the house for a long, long time I crept out of bed and very slowly and cautiously opened my wardrobe door. There was a strange smell, half sweet, half sour – bath salts mixed up with the new worrying smell of Mabel.

  I decided I mustn’t let this put me off. Mabel couldn’t help it after all.

  I reached into the back of the wardrobe and reverently pulled out the duffle bag. I tried hard but I couldn’t pull the Mabel mummy out. I couldn’t really see what I was doing in the dark. I had to content myself with inserting one hand into the bag and stroking Mabel’s bandages. It was very soothing, very, very soothing . . .

  I woke up in the middle of the night to find myself huddled against the wardrobe, the duffle bag clasped to my chest. I wanted to take it back to bed with me, but I didn’t dare risk it. I put Mabel back in the wardrobe, shut the door, and then crawled back into bed. I was freezing cold so I wrapped the duvet tightly round me.

  I think it was the duvet that gave me the nightmare. I was dead and someone was trying to hook my brains out and I screamed and then they were wrapping me up in bandages, tighter and tighter, and I screamed again. I screamed for someone to come and help me because I was being turned into a mummy . . .

  ‘Verity! Verity, darling, it’s Dad. I’m here. Wake up! You’re having a nightmare.’

  I started sobbing, still thrashing my arms and legs around to free them from the mummy bandages. The duvet fell away and the only thing holding me tightly was Dad.

  ‘Oh, Dad,’ I sobbed. He held me close.

  ‘What’s up?’ Gran said sleepily, out on the landing. ‘Is Verity crying?’

  ‘She had a bad dream,’ said Dad. ‘She was shouting.’

  ‘What was I shouting?’ I said, suddenly scared. ‘Did I shout about Mabel?’

  Dad didn’t answer until Gran had shuffled back to bed.

  ‘I couldn’t quite make out what you were saying, pet, but you seemed to be calling for . . .for Mummy.’

  I didn’t know what to say. My heart was banging again. Dad cleared his throat as if he was about to say more, but no words came out.

  There was a deep silence in the dark room.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Mabel, the Spirit of the Dead

  WE ALL OVERSLEPT in the morning. It was just as well. Gran noticed all the bath salts were missing.

  ‘How can they have disappeared?’ Gran said, bewildered.

  She asked Grandad if he’d used them. He said he didn’t want to smell like a lavender bush, thanks very much, so he never used so much as a sprinkle.

  ‘Verity? You didn’t use them all up, did you?’ said Gran. ‘I know it can’t have been your dad. He only ever has a quick shower.’

  ‘I – I might have used some of them,’ I mumbled, running away from Gran into my bedroom. ‘Sorry, Gran, I’ve got to pack my school bag.’

  But Gran followed me into my bedroom. She sniffed suspiciously.

  ‘My goodness! I can smell the bath salts! What on earth did you do? Tip the whole jar in your bath?’

  ‘Please don’t be cross, Gran,’ I said, frantically shoving my books and PE kit into my school bag.

  I shoved a little too frantically and the zip jammed. I tugged. I tugged too hard.

  ‘Oh no!’

  ‘Verity! Silly girl! You should have eased the zip. Now look at it! Where’s your duffle bag? You’d better take your stuff in that.’

  ‘No! No, I . . . I can’t. I don’t like my duffle bag. No-one takes duffle bags to school any more. This bag’s still fine, Gran. I’ll pin it. Oh please, let’s hurry, we’re late.’

  I dodged round Gran, clutching my broken bag in my arms. I hoped she’d have forgotten all about the bath salts by the time school was over.

  We couldn’t forget about poor Mabel. There were all the posters on every tree and fence, her sweet face peering at us plaintively.

  ‘I’d give anything in the whole world for Mabel to be safe and sound somewhere,’ Gran muttered. ‘I’ll stay in all day just in case anyone phones with news of her.’

  ‘Oh Gran,’ I said.

  I trailed into school, feeling terrible. The bell had already gone but Miss Smith didn’t tell me off when I sidled into the classroom.

  ‘How are you today, Verity? Any more bad dreams?’ she asked.

  I nodded. ‘Horrible nightmares.’

  ‘Oh dear,’ she said, and she patted my shoulder as I went past.

  Sophie and Laura and Aaron were all extra-nice to me. Even Moyra was nice. She offered to share her sweets with me at break-time. She had two big wiggly green jelly snakes.

  ‘You can have one if you want, Verity,’ she said.

  I said I wasn’t very hungry, thank you. She did tease a bit then, shaking a snake right in my face and asking if I was frightened of sweets – but Aaron elbowed her out the way and asked if I was going to the swings after school. Laura told me her next-door neighbour had heard a cat mewing in the night and it might have been Mabel. Sophie said if Mabel didn’t ever come back maybe I’d like Sporty or Scary or Baby or Posh because her mum said they couldn’t keep all the kittens.

  I thanked Aaron but said I didn’t really feel like a trip to the swings. I thanked Laura and said I didn’t think it could have been Mabel. I thanked Sophie and said I loved Sporty and Scary and Baby and Posh . . . but they could never ever replace my Mabel.

  I thought about Mabel most of the morning. I got a lot of my sums wrong. But after dinner Miss Smith gave another lesson on the Ancient Egyptians, and I started to listen properly. She held up this rather scary-looking jackal mask and asked who wanted to try it on and be Anubis, the god of the dead. Moyra nearly wet herself she was so desperate to be chosen. Miss Smith let everyone take turns while she told us all about the Ancient Egyptians’ beliefs about death.

  They were sure the spirit left the body but might come back to it later on. That’s why they thought it very important to preserve the bodies. They needed to be kept in spic and span condition in case the spirit paid a visit.

  I felt relieved that I had done my very best for Mabel. I decided to leave the wardrobe door ajar so that Mabel’s spirit could waft out and go for a walk round all her old haunts whenever she felt like it.

  ‘Can you see the spirit, Miss Smith?’ I asked.

  ‘Well, the Ancient Egyptians painted pict
ures of the spirits of the dead, and they always drew them like big birds.’

  I blinked at the idea, trying to imagine Mabel with wings. She’d look a little odd but I knew she’d enjoy being able to fly. She could swoop straight out the house and up over the rooftops and save her poor old paws. She could have such fun chasing all the sparrows and perch in the tallest tree and never ever get stuck.

  Miss Smith showed us all a picture of Anubis weighing a heart on the scale to see if it balanced with the feather of truth so that the mummy could be made immortal.

  ‘So the mummies live for ever and ever and you can be together in the afterlife?’ I said, imagining Mabel and me flying hand in paw for ever.

  Miss Smith was looking at me worriedly.

  ‘It’s just what the Ancient Egyptians believed, Verity,’ she said gently.

  ‘But we can believe it too,’ I said.

  ‘Well . . .’ said Miss Smith uncertainly.

  ‘I believe it,’ said Moyra. ‘I love the Ancient Egyptians. Show us those snaky demons in that Dead Book, Miss Smith. They’re brilliant!’

  Miss Smith started to tell everyone about the serpent demons and the crocodile monsters. Everyone got very excited. I didn’t join in. I thought about Mabel instead.

  I decided I needed to fill her wardrobe tomb with some special toys and a tin or two of Whiskas. She once had her own catnip mouse but it had got lost somewhere. I didn’t have any other sort of mice, apart from Minnie, and she was much too big.

  At the end of lessons Miss Smith called me back.

  ‘Verity? Can I have a little word?’

  I thought she was going to tell me off for not paying attention. I got flustered and forgot about the broken zip on my school bag. Everything fell out with a thump and a clatter as I made my way up to Miss Smith’s desk.

  ‘Oh dear,’ said Miss Smith. She helped me collect up my stuff. ‘It’s not your day today, is it, Verity?’

  ‘No, Miss Smith.’

  ‘Verity . . . you seem rather unhappy at the moment,’ Miss Smith said gently.

  I hung my head.

  ‘And you’re obviously not sleeping very well.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Miss Smith.’

  ‘It’s not your fault, poppet. I’m not telling you off. I just want to try to help.’ She paused. ‘I know things must be very sad at home at the moment.’

  I looked up. Someone must have told her about Mabel.

  ‘Perhaps . . . perhaps you could try talking about your mum with your dad? Or maybe your gran?’

  I blinked at Miss Smith, wondering why she’d suddenly switched to talking about my mum?

  ‘I can’t talk about my mum,’ I said. My throat went tight because the only person I could ever talk to about Mum was Mabel.

  ‘Can I go now, Miss Smith?’ I whispered. I didn’t want to burst into tears in front of her.

  I ran off quickly before she said yes. I thought I heard her calling me, but I didn’t stop.

  Gran was waiting at the gate, looking anxious.

  ‘Where have you been, Verity? Aaron and the others came out ten minutes ago. Did Miss Smith keep you in?’

  ‘Oh, she just wanted to talk to me for a bit,’ I said, hurrying along beside Gran. ‘Can I have an ice-cream?’

  ‘No, dear. And don’t try to change the subject! What did she want to talk to you about?’

  ‘Oh . . . nothing.’

  Gran sighed.

  ‘Are you in any trouble?’

  ‘No, Gran.’

  ‘Verity? Are you telling me the truth?’

  I managed to look Gran straight in the eye. ‘Yes, Gran.’

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Mabel the Mummy

  I TRY VERY hard to tell the truth. That’s what my name Verity means. You look it up. It’s Latin for truth.

  I can be as naughty as the next person but I try not to tell lies. However . . . it was getting harder and harder with this Mabel-mummy situation. I hadn’t been completely truthful about the missing bath salts, or my duffle bag, or my conversation with Miss Smith. But I hadn’t told any actual downright lies. Yet.

  As soon as I got home I went charging up to my bedroom to have a private word with Mabel. I shut my bedroom door and put a chair against it just in case. Then I opened my wardrobe.

  I wished I hadn’t.

  The smell was a lot worse. The bath salts weren’t doing their work. Mabel smelt as if she was in dreadful distress and needed cleaning up. I felt I should ease her out of the duffle bag and attend to her, but when I undid the drawstring at the top the smell was suddenly so overpowering that I reeled backwards. I shoved Mabel in her bag to the very back of the wardrobe and closed the door quick.

  I sat on my heels wondering what on earth to do. I wondered and wondered and wondered.

  ‘What are you up to, Verity?’ Gran called. ‘Are you having another nap?’

  ‘No, Gran. Coming!’ I said hastily and shot downstairs.

  I didn’t want to risk her coming up to my bedroom when the smell had seeped so strongly out of the wardrobe. The smell seemed to have stuck to me too because Gran wrinkled her nose when I went into the kitchen.

  ‘Whatever’s that awful smell, darling?’

  ‘What smell, Gran?’ I said, trying to look as wide-eyed and innocent as possible.

  ‘Verity . . .?’ Gran paused, looking embarrassed. ‘You haven’t had a little accident, have you?’

  ‘No, Gran!’ I said indignantly.

  Gran was still looking at me very strangely.

  ‘I think you’d better pop off and have a bath anyway, dear – and change your dress too.’ Gran paused. ‘I’ve bought some new bath salts but please be very careful with them this time. Only tip a little into your bath.’

  So I had a bath and felt a lot fresher. But the clean clothes were a BIG problem. They were hanging in my wardrobe. When I opened the door a crack and smelt them I knew I couldn’t possibly put any of them on.

  I started to panic. I’d have to try to creep downstairs with all my clothes in the middle of the night and put them in the washing machine. But what was I going to do now?

  I ended up putting on my old fairy costume which I found screwed up at the bottom of my toy box. I hadn’t worn it for a couple of years. It was much too short and much too tight. I felt a perfect fool, but at least it only smelt of old teddy bears.

  Gran looked astonished when I lumbered downstairs, wings flapping, net skirts barely covering my knickers.

  ‘What on earth have you got that fairy frock on for, Verity?’

  ‘I wanted to play fairies, Gran. Please let me,’ I said, and I swooped about, pretending to be a soppy little fairy.

  ‘What a lovely fairy! Can I have a wish?’ said Grandad, coming in from the garden.

  I had to keep on and on playing fairies. I was still flitting about granting magic wishes when Dad came home – early again, in time for tea.

  ‘Is that the latest fashion?’ Dad said warily, peering at me.

  ‘Oh Dad, don’t be silly,’ I said. ‘I’m being a fairy, right?’

  I did a daft pointy-toe dance to demonstrate.

  Dad and Gran and Grandad had a muttered conference while I twirled.

  ‘She seems to have perked up astonishingly.’

  ‘She didn’t even ask if there were any phone calls about Mabel.’

  ‘I came home early in case she wanted to do another search of the neighbourhood, but it seems a shame to suggest it now.’

  It was easier if they all thought me a heartless baby who’d forgotten all about Mabel, but I hated having to act the part, especially when Gran pandered to me and gave me an extra fairy cake at tea.

  We were all still sitting at the table when the doorbell rang. Gran went to answer it and came back into the living room . . . with Miss Smith!

  ‘I’m so sorry! I’ve interrupted you when you’re having your meal,’ said Miss Smith.

  ‘Not at all! We’ve finished anyway. Let me get you a cup of tea or coffee,
Miss Smith,’ said Dad, leaping up.

  ‘I’ll do it, dear,’ said Gran. She doesn’t like anyone helping her in the kitchen.

  Grandad was looking at me, eyebrows raised.

  ‘Is our Verity in a spot of bother at school, Miss Smith?’ he asked.

  Gran frowned.

  ‘Verity? What have you been up to? Go and put a clean school frock on, dear. Whatever will Miss Smith think seeing you in your funny fairy outfit?’

  ‘Oh no, please. You look sweet, Verity,’ said Miss Smith. ‘Don’t worry, Verity’s not in any trouble at all. I just came round because Verity dropped her purse. It fell out of her school bag and rolled under a desk. I brought it round in case you were worried about it.’

  ‘How kind of you,’ said Dad. ‘Say thank you, Verity.’

  ‘I knew it was silly taking that broken bag to school. You’ll take your duffle bag tomorrow,’ said Gran.

  ‘I can’t!’

  They all looked at me.

  ‘I mean . . . I lost my duffle bag.’

  ‘Don’t be silly, Verity, of course you haven’t lost it,’ said Gran. ‘And do go and put some decent clothes on, dear.’

  ‘I don’t think I’ve got any clean clothes, Gran.’

  Gran frowned at me.

  ‘Verity! What’s the matter with you? There’s at least ten different clean outfits hanging in your wardrobe. Now go and put something on at once!’

  Gran doesn’t often get cross, but when she uses that tone you can’t argue with her.

  I looked desperately at Grandad.

  ‘Can’t I stay in my fairy frock, Grandad?’ I pleaded.

  Grandad tutted at me. ‘Do as Gran says, darling,’ he said.

  I looked at Dad.

  ‘Upstairs, Verity. Quick sharp,’ said Dad.

  So I went upstairs, very very slowly. I stopped to listen halfway up.

  ‘That’s not like our Verity. She’s usually such a good little girl, does as she’s told and never any arguing.’