Catcall Read Online Free PDF Page B

his new Chelsea ones. ‘Can I have cocoa?’ he asked in a perfectly normal voice.
    From Mum and Mike’s room, we heard the thin wail of the baby starting to cry, then a grunt from Mike and a creaking of the mattress.
    Mum sighed. ‘Now we’re
all
awake. I’ll fetch Jennie in here, and perhaps Mike’ll make us all a hot drink.’ She stood up and tugged Jamie’s duvet straight.
    ‘And jackflap,’ Jamie called after her as she left. ‘Is there some left?’
    He was wide awake now. I really thought he’d made up the nightmare just to get cocoa and flapjack at one o’clock in the morning.
    ‘What’s this, a midnight feast?’ Mike grumbled, looking in on his way downstairs. I heard him open the kitchen door, then give a muffled yelp, followed by a
burr-
ing sound and quick cat feet on the stairs. Splodge. Splodge was good at tripping people up in the dark. He arrived in our room, tail high, pleased with himself. After he’d walked slowly round my bed, he jumped up on Jamie’s. He rolled over and looked up at Jamie, wanting his tummy stroked.
    ‘Get off,’ Jamie said, and shoved him quite roughly. Splodge gave a
yaow
of complaint, and caught at the duvet with his claws.
    ‘Don’t be mean!’ I reached out to Splodge and lifted him on to my bed. Once he’d unhuffed himself from being pushed, he snuggled up to me, purring. If he got right down under the duvet, he might get away with spending the rest of the night there, instead of in his basket in the kitchen. I liked having him with me, like a furry hot-water bottle. I liked the smell of his fur and his warm cat breath when he yawned, and the pads of his paws that were cool then warm when you pressed them, and his claws that curved so neat and smooth. He was silly old Splodge, but also perfectly Cat.

    ‘I don’t want him,’ Jamie whined. ‘Take him away!’
    Usually Jamie and I argue about who’s going to have him, and whoever’s bed Splodge chooses thinks he’s the lucky one, the favourite. But Mum’s rule is No Cats in Bedrooms, specially not in beds. And now that we’ve got the baby, Splodge isn’t even supposed to come upstairs. If she sees a suspicious bulge under the duvet, Mum hoicks him out.
    ‘I want Lowther,’ Jamie insisted. ‘Not Splodge.’
    ‘No problem, then. You’ve
got
Lowther.’
    Splodge burrowed under the duvet, next to me, and his throaty purring seemed to spread through my own body.
    Jamie’s voice went babyish again. ‘No! I don’t want him in here! Take him down!’
    Now Mum was back, carrying the incredibly noisy bundle that was our baby sister. Jennie wasn’t going to let us forget she was here. Loud wails pumped out of her with barely a pause for breath.
    ‘Is that cat in there?’ Mum peered suspiciously at the bulge by my legs. ‘You know the rule! OUT, Splodge!’
    Balancing the baby, she flipped my duvet over, and out streaked Splodge. Jamie settled back, clutching Lowther, looking triumphant at getting his own way. Couldn’t have been that scary a nightmare, I thought, if he’d forgotten it already.
    Only of course he hadn’t.

7
    C AT G OT Y OUR T ONGUE ?

    I like school, really, and it would be good seeing Brody and Noori. All the same, it was an effort to drag myself out of holiday mood and get back into the routine–packing my school bag, reminding myself which lessons we’d have and whether I’d done my homework. First day back it was Maths, English, double Science, French and PE.
    St Luke’s Juniors is on the same site as my school, Langtree High, with a fence and a gate in between. Mum likes me to walk Jamie to school and collect him on the way back, unless she’s coming herself. Arran–he’s Jamie’s best friend–waits for us at the corner of Harcourt Drive, and usually we meet Noori and Brody by the paper shop, so all I do is keep Jamie in sight and make sure we cross the main road together. On the way home, though, there’s ten minutes to wait outside St Luke’s, because the juniors