Alfie Cat In Trouble

Chapter Two

When I returned to the Clover’s house the next day, I made my way under the fence and into the back garden. The kitchen door was open so I just walked in. Mr Clover was sitting at the table, painting the outside of the apples in rainbow colours. I wanted to know why he needed to paint fruit but I couldn’t ask, being a cat. Mrs Clover was talking on the phone and cooking lunch at the same time. I wondered, fleetingly, if I would get any but it didn’t smell like fish, so it wouldn’t matter too much if I didn’t.

‘I can make two new designs for plates by next week,’ Mrs Clover was saying. There was a pause. ‘Yes of course, matching bowls.’ She was stirring something on the stove and talking. ‘Oh no!’ she shouted, dropping the phone.

‘What is it dear?’ Mr Clover asked without looking up.

‘I’ve made custard instead of mushroom soup,’ she said, scratching at her messy hair. ‘I must have mixed up the packets.’ She looked puzzled.

‘Oh dear, dear,’ Mr Clover replied.

I thought this might be the maddest house I had ever visited.

‘Never mind, custard soup will be delicious for lunch, I am sure,’ Mrs Clover decided.

I was suddenly glad I wasn’t joining them.

Half an hour later, I was distracted by the most beautiful music I had ever heard. Viola, the ‘podigy’ was playing her piano and I was impressed. I went over to her and hopped onto her lap. She stopped and scooped me up, giving me a lovely cuddle.

‘What a cute cat,’ she said.

I snuggled into her; she was pretty lovely herself. She was taller than Stanley, with the same colour hair and freckles, and she wore glasses like her mum, although her hair was much neater. As she stroked me, Stanley ran into the room like a whirlwind.

‘Alfie!’ he said, grabbing me from his sister. Viola looked a bit surprised; so did I. ‘I have to show Alfie something,’ Stanley said, carrying me off.

‘You are my friend not hers, Alfie,’ he said as he took me upstairs.

I miaowed. Of course I could be friends with everyone but I wasn’t sure Stanley understood that. I glanced back at Viola who looked unhappy as she watched us go.

‘Anyway I am going to show you where Mum works. We call it the Clay Room and we are absolutely not allowed to go in there.’ He opened the door.

‘YOWL!’ I said in my loudest voice. If we were absolutely not allowed to go in there, maybe we shouldn’t?

‘Oh it’s all right, Alfie, no one will ever know.’ Stanley crept in and I followed him, although I was sure that it was a bad idea; I could feel it in my fur.

I had never seen a room like it before. There were boxes everywhere, and I could see that the ones that were open were full of pots. A massive wheel was set up in the centre of the room.

‘My mum is a very famous pottery maker,’ said Stanley. ‘She designs things and then a big factory makes loads of them to sell.’ I purred in understanding. ‘My Dad, he’s an artist. You’ve probably seen him with funny coloured fruit – that’s what he paints. He sells it to a gallery and they seem to like it.’ He sighed. ‘They are both so busy, and for me, moving here, not having any friends – well it’s not so much fun at the moment.’ He sounded troubled.

‘Miaow,’ I replied.

‘Dad’s not as successful as mum, but some people say he’s a genius. We all think he’s a bit bonkers. He’s branching out into eggs next.’

I was lost for words.

I looked into the big container of clay and then at the potter’s wheel. It was quite interesting.

‘It’s so cool isn’t it?’ Stanley said. I purred my agreement as Stanley picked me up. ‘Come and see the clay,’ he said as he walked towards a large bucket. ‘Ahhh!’ Stanley shouted, narrowly avoiding bumping into a large pot which was next to the clay. He wobbled and I felt myself slipping.

‘YELP!’ he dropped me and I landed in the bucket of clay. It was wet and sticky, not at all how I thought it would be. I panicked. I couldn’t move – I miaowed, yelped and yowled.

‘Oh Alfie, sorry, sorry, don’t worry, I’ll help you,’ Stanley shouted, trying to free me from the clay. Finally, I was out but we were both covered in the sticky stuff; it was all over my fur and paws. So much for no one knowing we were here.

‘You look like a clay cat!’ Stanley laughed. I wasn’t amused. Oh boy, we were going to be in so much trouble! We had no choice but to go downstairs. I shuddered as we left a trail of clay behind us; it reminded me of home and the cat food incident.

We both stood in the doorway. Mr and Mrs Clover just looked at us.

‘Heavens above!’ Mr Clover said, dropping an orange. I could see where Stanley got his clumsiness from.

‘Stanley what have you done now?’ Mrs Clover asked.

‘Sorry,’ Stanley said. ‘Alfie wanted to see where you worked and well, he sort of fell into a box of clay and it left a huge mess on the carpets.’

I stood as close to Stanley as I could, trembling with fear.

‘I don’t believe this; we’ve only been here five minutes and already you’ve ruined the carpets!’ Mrs Clover bawled.

‘But Mum,’ Viola started saying. ‘You said you hated the carpets, remember? You said they would be the first things to go.’

I looked at Stanley, who was still staring at the floor.

‘Well, OK, yes that is true but still … That is no excuse for you breaking the rules and you two definitely need a bath.’ She turned to us. I wasn’t happy with that, I hated water of any kind – baths, ponds, even puddles. What had we done?

‘I know,’ Viola said, in her timid voice. ‘It’s so hot, shall we get the hosepipe?’

‘Great idea,’ Mr Clover boomed. For the first time, he seemed to be looking at something other than his fruit.

‘OK, I suppose so. Children, put your bathing suits on,’ Mrs Clover ordered. ‘Alfie, stay where you are. Don’t move.’

I wasn’t sure I could; I was stuck to the floor.

Viola and Stanley shrieked with laughter as Mr Clover swung the hosepipe around and they ran through the water. Tentatively, Mrs Clover removed the clay from my fur and paws, as I tried hard to avoid getting too wet.

‘Well, you are back to normal. I assume grey is your normal colour?’ Mrs Clover said as she finished. I miaowed. I was grey but in some lights I had a blue tint to my coat.

‘Well, this is a fun activity,’ Mr Clover chuckled and the children cheered.

I wasn’t having very much fun, not being a fan of water, but seeing my new friends happy was almost worth getting wet for. The phone rang and Mrs Clover rushed indoors. She emerged a few minutes later. ‘Viola, quickly get dried. You’re seeing your new piano teacher this afternoon, I can’t believe we nearly forgot. Dear, can you sort out Stanley? She said, turning to Mr Clover. ‘Viola get dressed and practise.’

‘But Mum—’ Viola groaned.

‘Chop chop, hurry hurry.’ Mrs Clover wrapped Viola in a towel and took her inside. Mr Clover put the hosepipe away and Stanley and I stood, dripping, alone on the lawn.

‘It’s always the way – we start having fun and she has to ruin it,’ Stanley huffed.

‘Miaow?’ Did he mean his mum?

‘Viola. It’s always about Viola and her piano. No one even notices me half the time. More than half really.’

I wanted to tell him that Viola had been enjoying herself, too. She hadn’t wanted to go in.

‘Come on Stanley, get yourself dried and dressed,’ Mr Clover said, going inside.

I knew that I had a job to do. Stanley was sad; Viola seemed a bit miserable, too. Mr and Mrs Clover were distracted but in the garden they had all enjoyed themselves. I knew my mission here was to remind them that they could have fun together.

A little while later, I found Tiger chasing butterflies at the end of Edgar Road.

‘Hey,’ I said.

‘What’s wrong, Alfie?’ she asked. She could always read my moods.

‘I’ve just left the Clover’s. It’s not a happy place. Stanley gets into trouble because he’s bored and the grown-ups are obsessed with work.’

‘Oh, Alfie, not another family to worry about?’

‘I went there to get away from my problems at home, not find more, but I want to help them.’

‘You always do,’ Tiger stated as she jumped at a butterfly, missed and fell head-first into a bush. I couldn’t help but laugh as she brushed leaves off.

‘It’ll all be all right. I’ll think of something.’

‘Well, in the meantime, do you fancy going to the park?’ Tiger asked.

‘If we can roll around in the flower beds and chase flies, it might cheer me up.’ I was worried, but a bit of fun never hurt a cat.

‘Come on then, Alfie, I’ll race you there.’