The Last Free Cat Read Online Free PDF

I saw her dropping, the men holding her up, some violent swearing, someone jabbering into a wristphone. Then I was pinned by a vice of massive arms, face to the wall, unable to see. They held me there for what seemed ages, while boots thundered around the house, up the stairs, through the upstairs rooms, accompanied by deafening crashes and yells. Throughout it all I wouldn’t stop struggling and I couldn’t stop screaming. Eventually sheer exhaustion got the better of me, and I finally sank into passivity, like prey about to die. By now the immobilizer was on me and they could turn me to face them. The room was a wreck and Mum was sat dead still on the sofa, her face ashen. One of the compers had his helmet off. He had the pencil beard and moustache so beloved of the security forces. On his jacket were the words TOWARDS A SAFER CITY.
    â€œWhere’s the cat, love?” he barked.
    â€œHaven’t got a cat,” I replied, voice warbling with emotion.
    â€œWant to see your mum in jail?” asked another.
    I exchanged glances with Mum, who was in a state somewhere between shock and mortal terror.
    â€œNo,” I replied.
    â€œTell us where the cat is, love,” said the first officer, obviously the chief.
    The truth was, I didn’t know the answer to this question. Either she’d found a brilliant place to hide or somehow she’d got outside—but compers were combing the garden at this very moment and somehow, miraculously, they still hadn’t found her.
    That left me with a terrible dilemma. If I admitted Feela existed, they’d be back again until they found her, and that would be the end of her. Mum would still be prosecuted and I’d get a tag for sure. On the other hand, if I lied, and then they found her, the sentence would be many times worse, maybe something Mum could not survive.
    I took the gamble. “You can see there’s no cat,” I said.
    â€œWhy’s your voice shaking?” asked the chief.
    â€œWhy do you think?” I asked.
    â€œGuilt,” said the chief.
    â€œ Your voice would shake if someone did this to you!” I cried, near hysterical. “Look what you’ve done to my mum! Look what you’ve done to our house! Now please get out !”
    The compers came in from the garden. “Nothing,” they said.
    â€œTaken samples?” asked the chief.
    A comper held up two plastic bags.
    The first officer took stock for a moment, then jabbed a finger towards me. “We know you’re guilty,” he said. “And one way or another, we’ll get you.”
    It was a horrible warning, and there was no doubt he meant it. What made it worse was it seemed so personal, like I’d got one over him and, just like a playground bully, he would pick on me till he got his satisfaction. What a vile man, I thought. I watched with pure seething hatred as he turned his back and made his way out, followed by the others, the last removing the immobilizer.
    I went to the window to see half the street gathered below. As usual, they watched sullenly. A lot of them hated Comprot, others went to them all the time, like going to teacher to tell on your classmates. But all of them needed entertainment, anything to break up the boredom of their lives. There were a few jeers as the van moved off, then all eyes turned to me at the window. As you may have noticed, I am a private kind of person, and last thing I wanted was to be the center of attention. I knew they thought I was stuck up, and I knew some of them would be relishing this moment—seeing the posh people from the marina on the wrong side of the law, brought down to earth, getting what they got all the time. Well, they could think what they liked.
    I closed the blinds and went to Mum. She looked dreadful.
    â€œI’m sorry, Mum,” was all I could say.
    Mum could barely speak, but patted me on the shoulder as if to say “It’s OK.” I hugged her, gently at