Chartreux, from the ancient French cat family.’
‘Exactly.’ Millie smiled. She couldn’t deny that Max was a beautiful cat. He had thick blue-grey fur, and extraordinary, almost glowing orange eyes. ‘You’re
supposed to look like some skanky stray who needs feeding. So if I were you, I’d groom a bit less, and maybe try and flatten your fur down, so you look smaller and more pathetic.’
‘Pathetic? I have never heard such a thing. I will catch birds myself and eat those.’
‘There might be times when I can’t let you outside, when my dad’s here. Then what are you going to do? It’s either look a bit feeble on the off chance my dad or the lady
next door sees you, or a diet of cheese. You decide.’
Max thought for a moment. ‘You are right,’ he said, defeated. ‘I shall try hard to look . . . ordinary. It won’t be easy.’
Chapter Seven
The next day, Millie told her dad that she would stay at home – there was a book she wanted to finish before she had to take it back to the library. No problem, he had
said cheerily, he’d drop a note round next door, and Mrs Ellis, their neighbour, could pop by and see she was OK. Millie rolled her eyes heavenwards, and asked again what an old lady would be
able to do if the much-heralded crisis ever actually occurred, perhaps swim in to rescue her if a water main burst, for example. Her dad told her not to be so ungrateful and ruffled her hair, in a
way which was designed to be only slightly annoying, as he left.
Millie opened the door to the back garden, and let Max out of her room. He flew off, delighted by the prospect of some real, undiluted freedom for the first time in many weeks. He was keen to
start planning the rescue of the other cats as soon as they possibly could, but they both agreed that he should have a look around Millie’s neighbourhood first, and stretch his legs. How else
would he get in shape for a mission?
Millie found her book and read it, lying on a towel on the grass, waving up at Mrs Ellis when she saw her, to try and put her off coming round and interfering. Max reappeared an hour later,
looking sleek and happy, with the merest trace of feathers around his mouth. Millie got up casually and wandered into the kitchen, as though she were going to get something to drink. She really,
really didn’t want Mrs Ellis to think she had seen her talking to a mysterious cat. Max snuck in through the French windows.
‘I can see what you’ve been eating,’ Millie said, wrinkling her nose in disgust.
‘If they only came with napkins . . .’ Max shrugged. He licked his lips. ‘Now let’s go and do some proper hunting,’ he said.
They went back upstairs, and were online a few moments later, looking for the protesters’ website. They soon found a page which explained that the Haverham laboratory
belonged to Vakkson, a pharmaceutical company with offices in London, France, Germany and Spain. The laboratory was their only one in the UK, but they had several more on the Continent. The
protesters claimed that the reason the company went largely unnoticed was because they ‘only tested on rodents, which aren’t cute enough to stir up public feelings. People would react
differently if it was puppies they were torturing.’
‘
Some
people would react differently,’ muttered Max.
‘Don’t be so unkind,’ Millie said hotly. ‘Just because you don’t like dogs.’
‘I don’t like rodents either,’ he pointed out. ‘Except as a starter.’
‘These people are on our side, you know. They’re the ones trying to stop Vakkson from testing on animals. I think they stand outside all day with placards and shout at all the cars
that come onto the property.’
‘Have you seen them?’ Max asked, interested.
‘No. They get there after we do. My dad saw them, though, over the trees.’
‘So, how have they helped, exactly?’
‘Maybe they haven’t. But at least they’re trying.’
‘I suppose so. But they obviously