Copycat (7 page)

‘Oh, that,’ Snowy muttered. ‘I’d forgotten. Yes, all right then. You’d better follow me. We go this way.’ He led off down the path in the direction of the church. Eventually they passed the church wall, after several diversions caused by Pinkie’s need to hide from human strollers. The field with its gravestones yielded nothing in the way of quarry at that point. ‘We’ll have to wait and see if the fox turns up,’ Snowy advised. ‘He’ll know where to go.’

‘But I thought you knew where to go?’ Pinkie complained.

‘Places change a lot,’ Snowy excused himself. ‘The last time I saw the fox was in this field. At one time it was all open country from here to – to – well, as far as a cat could go.’

‘Let’s go further, then.’

‘I wouldn’t like to risk it without the fox. I’m not sure what we might find. People and buildings, possibly. You wouldn’t like that. But the fox would know.’

‘So where does he come from, then?’ Pinkie demanded crossly. ‘There must be somewhere suitable farther on. A fox doesn’t make his home amongst humans.’

‘Hm. I don’t know about that. These days it’s different. They’re bolder than they were, foxes,’ Snowy waffled.

‘Oh, this is no good at all,’ Pinkie cried. ‘I think you’ve led me on. I don’t believe in this fox!’

‘You’ll believe when you see him,’ Snowy assured her.

‘And what if I don’t see him?’

‘Then you must come again another day. He’ll show some time.’

While the Pub Cat amused himself by alternately dozing on a warm gravestone and chasing early butterflies, Pinkie watched and waited for an animal who she now only half believed existed. After a while she lost interest and began to search for prey. Suddenly she sensed that she was being observed, and looked about her. The Pub Cat was asleep. Then she saw the fox, or what could be described as the shadow of one. A skinny, moth-eaten-looking creature was limping across the field, staring directly at her. The fox’s tail had lost most of its fur and he had an ear missing. Pinkie remained still. Was this the fox the Pub Cat thought could undermine the lop-ears’ hutch? Surely not. This one would hardly have the strength to walk the distance required.

‘Snowy!’ Pinkie hissed. ‘Is this your fox?’

Snowy’s eyes blinked open and he got up. ‘Oh,
there
he is. Yes, that’s him. He doesn’t seem to be wearing well, does he?’

‘I think he’s on his last legs,’ Pinkie remarked scornfully. ‘What use can he be?’

There wasn’t time for an answer. The fox came up, panting. ‘Anything to eat?’ he gasped, without acknowledging the Pub Cat in any way. ‘I’m famished.’

Pinkie was too stunned to respond.

‘Have you found anything? Can you spare me a bit of it?’ the pathetic creature continued.

‘Like a rabbit, you mean?’ Pinkie asked sarcastically.

‘Oh, yes. Yes. Have you caught one? Oh, wonderful. Where is it?’

‘She’s pulling your leg,’ Snowy told the fox.

‘Oh. Oh, don’t do that – it might come off,’ the creature joked feebly. ‘I’m sure bits of me are falling off all the time. Oh, how I’d love some rabbit. I can’t catch them any more.’

Pinkie’s ears pricked up. At least this sounded as though there were still some around. ‘You don’t look as if you could catch
anything
much,’ she observed critically.

‘No. Only diseases,’ the fox quipped hollowly. ‘So you’ve nothing for me, then? Oh dear.’

‘You’ve fallen on hard times, Fox,’ Snowy said. ‘You don’t look well at all.’

‘How could I? I haven’t eaten a thing for days except berries. And they were rotten.’

‘If you show us where the rabbits are, perhaps
we
could catch one,’ Pinkie said. ‘And you could share.’

‘Oh no. Don’t make me go all the way back, ‘the fox pleaded. ‘I’m exhausted already. You sure you haven’t got
something
here?’

‘Nothing,’ Pinkie insisted. ‘And how did you know you’d find anyone here?’

The fox glanced at her with dull eyes. ‘I didn’t. I was searching for scraps. When I saw a white cat my spirits lifted. I was hopeful.’

‘He remembers me, you see,’ the Pub Cat explained.

The fox turned his gaze on Snowy. ‘You can’t help me any more than she can, I suppose?’ he muttered.

‘We can help each other,’ Snowy replied eagerly. ‘There are two fat rabbits in a box and we –’

‘Don’t waste your breath,’ Pinkie cut in. ‘Look at him. What possible help could he be?’

The fox turned slowly and, with the remants of his tail between his legs, hobbled abjectly away. He had gained nothing from the cats except insults. Pinkie felt some regret. She ran after the animal.

‘If you take me where the wild rabbits are, I
will
help you,’ she offered. ‘I’m sorry for what I said. It was cruel of me.’

The skinny fox was so tired and worn out that he had to lie down. ‘Haven’t got enough energy to breathe hardly,’ he croaked. ‘Bring me a morsel of something – anything – to give me a wisp of strength and I’ll try. But not now. I’ve got to rest first.’

‘I’ll see what I can find,’ Pinkie said. She returned to the Pub Cat. ‘He’s done for if he doesn’t eat soon. I’ll try to rake something up for him. What about you?’

‘Me? I’m not a hunter, you know. Not any more. Used to be before I became the pub. But now – no, I wouldn’t be any good. Lost the knack, I expect.’

‘I shouldn’t wait then,’ Pinkie said sharply. ‘I’ll do what I can. Leave the fox to me.’

‘By all means,’ replied the Pub Cat. ‘I oughtn’t to stay away too long anyhow. The White Cat sign says I’m there. But I’m not at the moment.’

Snowy’s gobbledygook was lost on Pinkie. She remembered the dead mouse she had left. That would be a start. She quickly fetched it and the fox was delighted with the poor scrap. He swallowed it almost without chewing.

‘Of course when you have such a great hunger, something like that can irritate rather than help,’ Pinkie mentioned. ‘I’m sorry there is nothing more substantial.’ The fox gulped twice, easing the passage of the carrion. ‘Don’t knock it,’ he wheezed. ‘It’s as good as a day’s supply of food for a creature like me.’

Pinkie looked sympathetically at this poor bag of bones. ‘You can’t survive on that,’ she said. ‘When did you last eat properly?’

The fox grinned, showing almost toothless jaws. ‘When I last had all my teeth,’ he joked. ‘It’s not easy to eat properly without them.’

‘Very comical,’ Pinkie observed drily. ‘I wonder you can carry on like that.’

The fox seemed about to go to sleep. He yawned and panted, ‘It’s the only way to fight misfortune.’

‘There’s another way,’ Pinkie said quickly. She was still thinking of a rabbit hunt. ‘Look for help.’

‘I always do,’ the fox murmured. ‘And I’m always disappointed.’ He closed his eyes and tried to settle himself more comfortably.

‘You won’t sleep out here in the open, surely?’ Pinkie said. ‘What about humans? Dogs? There’s a big Alsatian living not far away.’

The fox opened one eye to look at Pinkie. ‘Don’t worry about this battered beast,’ he advised. ‘They all pass me by. I look as though I’m dead.’

Pinkie was moved to pity by the fox’s resignation. She decided to stay with him for a while, despite his almost overpowering smell. She hoped that later he might recover sufficiently to show her the hunting area. Meanwhile she felt she wanted to stay on guard. The fox lay perfectly still and certainly didn’t appear even to be breathing. But now and then one of his limbs would twitch, showing unmistakably that he was still alive.

Pinkie watched over him for a spell. She was content to clean her whiskers and wait. No one came into the field. The fox showed no sign of stirring and, eventually, Pinkie had to think again about prey. If not rabbit today, at least something must be caught. She couldn’t fast any longer. She roamed the field, glancing across now and then at the sleeping animal. She mistimed a pounce and allowed a blackbird to escape her claws. The bird flew off, shrieking alarm and waking the fox who slowly and laboriously hoisted himself to his feet. Pinkie’s eyes followed the flight of the blackbird in disgust. She didn’t see the old fox slink away.

When Sammy found her she had given up all hope of finding the fox again. She sought him everywhere, as far as a fringe of trees on the farther side of the field. He had disappeared, much to her regret. The wizened beast had strangely affected Pinkie with his matter-of-fact acceptance of his thread of a life. Moreover his absence removed the key to the possible rabbit chase. Pinkie longed for his return and somehow the arrival of Sammy irritated her. The tabby’s demeanour seemed so smug and complacent by comparison. How typical that he had eaten all the available meat without a second thought!
He
had never been reduced to eating the remnants of a mouse carcass in order to survive one more day. Of course Pinkie’s memory was at fault. Sammy had suffered great hardship in his younger vagabond days in Quartermile Field. But that was all a long time ago.

After Sammy left, the little white cat napped the remainder of the night, waking every so often with the memory of her mate’s critical remarks about her appearance and smell. Some of the fox’s odour, she knew, must cling to her fur. She couldn’t do anything about that. But in the morning she did make a half-hearted effort to lick herself clean before setting off for Monty’s garden, wary but determined this time to fill her stomach. She reached the top of the high wall and waited. It was still early. Pinkie had no way of knowing if the meat was in the house or not. She wondered if Sammy would notice she had cleaned herself up. She was annoyed with herself for feeling any concern about it, but somehow his words had made her a little self-conscious.

After a while she saw Monty’s head peep through the cat-flap. Sammy had instructed the black cat to look out for her. Monty saw her immediately and trotted towards her. Pinkie recognized his gleaming black coat, shining with health and, she imagined, combed and perfumed by a careful human owner. She looked down at herself. Specks of mud, burrs, and strands of dead grass decorated her chest fur. She pawed hastily at it as Monty ran up.

‘Hurry up and come,’ the black cat invited her. ‘Sammy won’t wait for ever. He stood over me while I ate. I hardly dared to swallow more than a few mouthfuls. I’m sure he would have driven me away from my bowl if I’d eaten more than he thought I should. He said he wanted to save as much as he could for you. As much as
he
could! As though the meat’s more his than mine now. He has no right to –’

‘I’ll come at once,’ Pinkie interrupted, jumping down from the wall. ‘I do need that meat. Has the human who shouted at me disappeared?’

‘Oh yes. But I don’t know how long Sammy can stay in my home without being discovered. He sees it as his own place now. He hardly bothers to hide himself when the girl comes. One of these days he’s going to take one risk too many and that can’t come soon enough for me.’

Pinkie had some sympathy with Monty whose den and food had been all but usurped by the bullying Sammy. However, she didn’t comment, because without Sammy there would be no meat for her now.

She miaowed a friendly greeting as she reached Monty’s personal door. Sammy miaowed back with genuine pleasure.

‘You came. I’m so glad,’ he said. ‘Tuck in, Pinkie. I’ve denied myself even a single mouthful.’ He wasn’t quite so glad when Pinkie stepped through the cat-flap into what had become his sleeping quarters.

‘Humph!’ Sammy sniffed at her. ‘You won’t be able to remain here long, you know, tainting the air. Wherever did you get that dreadful smell from?’

Pinkie turned to glance at him but continued to chew. The meat was rich and moist and succulent. She savoured its taste on her tongue.

‘Pinkie?’ Sammy cried. He wanted an answer.

‘I spent some time with a fox,’ she mumbled. ‘I suppose I picked up some of his –’

‘A fox!’ Sammy bellowed. ‘What on earth are you up to, Pinkie? Pets don’t mingle with wild animals. They prefer to keep themselves clean,’ he added pointedly. ‘Look at the state of you! How do you think you’re helping yourself by consorting with foxes?’

‘There was a chance he might have led me to some real food,’ Pinkie explained.

‘You’ve got food,’ Sammy retorted angrily. ‘Proper food that pet cats eat, which will make you look more like one yourself. Can’t you see how much good it’s doing
me
?’ He exhibited himself, stepping haughtily around her as he had seen the Church Cat do. Pinkie watched him wonderingly.

‘You’re certainly beginning to look sleeker,’ she admitted, before turning again to the meat. ‘But why are you parading around like that?’

‘It’s all part of pet behaviour,’ Sammy replied excitedly. ‘I’ve seen the perfect pet. She sets the most marvellous example. We couldn’t hope for a better teacher.’

‘Teacher?’ snapped Pinkie jealously. ‘What other tricks is she putting you up to?’

‘None. She’s quite disdainful of me,’ Sammy told her honestly. ‘I know I haven’t learnt enough yet. She told me to go away. “You’ll
have
to go away.”’ Sammy copied Hermione’s accent faithfully. ‘That’s how she sounds,’ he continued. ‘Wonderful, isn’t it? And when you and I can look and talk like her she’ll accept us. That’s our goal, Pinkie. Because when the Church Cat accepts us, we’ll have achieved our aim.’

Pinkie had paused again during this strange outpouring. She thought Sammy had taken leave of his senses. ‘Aim?’ she echoed. ‘What aim?’

‘To be perfect pets, of course, like her,’ Sammy answered irritably. ‘Haven’t you listened to me at all?’

‘I see,’ Pinkie whispered. Her tail twitched ominously. She was angry. ‘Well, you may want to go mincing around like this – this Church Cat,’ she spat, ‘but you can tell her she can forget about
my
education. I’ve no wish to be taught by anyone! I’ll make my own way and that’s the best way for
me
!’

Now Sammy was angry. ‘Oh, you know everything, of course, don’t you? Including, I suppose, how to evade capture? Good. Well,
don’t
listen to me. My ideas are obviously of no use to you. So you can leave the rest of
that
to me!’ He pushed Pinkie roughly from the food-bowl and gobbled down what was left of the meat.