The Catlady (4 page)

The Colonel cleared his throat.

“I hope you approve of the young servant, Your Majesty?” he said respectfully.

Vicky looked up at the big white cat with her usual haughty expression.“We have only one criticism,” she replied.

“What is that, pray, ma'am?”

“We do not have enough attention paid to us. We are, after all, the most important cat in the house—in the land, indeed. The girl should feed us first.”

“Certainly she should, ma'am,” said Percival, and once Vicky had left the room, he had a word with all the other cats.

From then on, to Mary's puzzlement and Muriel's delight, when the food bowls were put upon the long refectory table, no cat touched a mouthful of its food until the tubby ginger cat Vicky had finished her meal and jumped down.

Just as it should be, thought the Catlady. Her Majesty must eat first. Perhaps one of these days I'll tell Mary about reincarnation. The poor girl has lost both father and mother, or at least she thinks she has. It would surely be a comfort if I could persuade her that each of them is no doubt enjoying another life in another form.

Chapter Four

As time passed, the relationship between the Catlady and her young orphaned helper strengthened.

Miss Muriel (as Mary now addressed her employer) became a kind of replacement for the girl's late mother, despite the huge gap in age.

Equally, for the childless Catlady, this hardworking, affectionate, cat-loving girl was a great blessing. Especially because once again the cat population of Ponsonby Place was increasing. Margaret Maitland and Edith Wilson had, between them, another half dozen kittens, so that now the total was thirty-six.

Miss Muriel was pleased with the new arrivals, Mary could see, though she did not understand why the Catlady had picked up each new kitten, peered into its eyes, and then said in a disappointed voice,“Oh dear, you're just a cat.”

Just another cat, Mary thought, and more work for me. She knew, because she'd been told, that when the Colonel and Lady Ponsonby had been alive, they had employed a cook, a parlormaid, and three housemaids, and of course there had not been an army of cats in the place. If only I could persuade Miss Muriel, Mary thought, to get rid of some of them. Every bit of furniture is covered in cat hair, in wet weather every floor is dotted with muddy little pawprints, there are litter trays everywhere to be emptied, and often the kittens don't use them. What can I do to get Miss Muriel to part with some of them?

As though in answer to this question, a cat walked into the room Mary was dusting. It was a tomcat, she could see from its big, round face, and ebony in color. A black male, thought Mary Nutt.“Blackmail!” she said out loud.

Suppose I told Miss Muriel, she thought, that if a lot of the cats don't go, then I will? I wouldn't actually go, of course—I couldn't let her down like that when she's been so good to me—but it might just work. And we could shut up some of the rooms so there'd be less cleaning to do. Let's just hope I can persuade her.

As things turned out, luck was to be on Mary's side. While she was plucking up the courage to tackle her employer, the Catlady was herself beginning to feel that perhaps there were rather too many cats in Ponsonby Place. It's not the expense of feeding them, she said to herself—I don't mind that—and it's not the work involved, for now dear Mary
prepares their food and washes their dishes and cleans out their litter trays. It's because of Vicky, I suppose. She's become so important to me (well, she would be, wouldn't she, she is …was … the Queen) that I don't pay as much attention to the others as I used to. Except for Papa and Mama, of course, and the relations and friends. But as for the rest of them, I suppose I could do without them. That cat blanket's getting too much of a thing. I'd sooner just have Her Majesty on the bed.

But then something happened that was to settle things for both Mary and Muriel. For some time the Catlady had been a trifle worried about her late mother (that is to say, about the tortoiseshell cat Florence, within whose body Lady Ponsonby had been reincarnated) because she seemed to be getting a bit fat.

“Oh, Mama,” said the Catlady as she entered the master bedroom, carrying Vicky, “I shall have to feed you less. Just look at the tummy on you!”

Following her own advice, she looked
more carefully and then gave a gasp of horror as the truth dawned upon her.

“Oh, Mama!” she cried. “You are pregnant!”

Florence stretched languidly on the fourposter bed, and Percival purred proudly.

“And at your time of life!” said the Catlady.

Then she realized that though her mother if still alive would have been in her nineties, the cat she had become was young. What's more, when the coming kittens were born to Percival and Florence (to Papa and Mama,
that is to say), they would be, strictly speaking, her own little brothers and sisters!

She hurried downstairs to the kitchen. “Mary! Mary!” she cried. “She is going to have kittens!”

“Who, Miss Muriel?”

In the nick of time, the Catlady stopped herself from replying,“My mama.”

“My Florence!” she said. “I had thought she was just putting on too much weight, but now I see what it is!”

More kittens, thought Mary, as if there weren't enough cats about the place already. Maybe this is the moment to suggest cutting down the numbers.

“Wouldn't it be a good idea to get rid of a few of your cats, Miss Muriel?” she asked.

“Get rid of them?” “Yes. Find good homes for them.” “But how?”

“I could put an advertisement in the local paper.”

A few days later readers of the
Dummerset Chronicle
saw the following notice:

“You don't have to do anything, Miss Muriel,” Mary said.“I give you my word I'll make sure they go to good homes.”

In the next few weeks a lot of people came walking, cycling, or riding up the drive to Ponsonby Place. Some owned a cat but fancied having another, some had lost their cats and wanted to replace them, some had never owned a cat before but were attracted by that one word FREE. Many were just
curious and keen to take this chance to see the Catlady in her own home.

Such was the demand that soon Mary was having to turn people away. She pinned a notice on the front door that said: