To Be A Cat

The Voices in the Dark

IN THE DARK of the filing cabinet Barney had heard every word.

His dad!

Alive!

The thoughts definitely came with exclamation marks, but they soon became questions.

His dad?

Alive?

And the biggest of all was: if his dad was still alive, why had he never visited or called or emailed to say he was OK?

But whatever the answer, it wasn’t going to be found on the inside of a filing cabinet. Nor would it be found if Barney was dead.

So he miaowed the loudest miaow he could manage, one which hurt his new, dry cat throat and took all the breath from his reduced lungs. But one which did the job.

He heard them now.

First Rissa. Nervous. ‘What was that?’

Then Miss Whipmire. Maybe just a little nervous too at first: ‘What was what?’

‘That noise. It sounded like a—’

‘Faulty heating system?’

‘No. Actually, it sounded like a … like a cat.’

Barney miaowed again. Help! Rissa, it’s me! I’m here!

‘That was definitely a cat!’ Rissa said.

‘You misheard. Now go back to class.’

‘It’s lunch hour. I don’t have a class.’

‘Well, if you don’t leave this office I will have to write to your parents.’

Ha! thought Barney. Miss Whipmire obviously didn’t know Rissa – or her parents, for that matter – if she thought the threat of a letter home was going to stop her.

‘With all due respect,’ said Rissa, ‘my mum and dad would be more upset with me if I left a cat in a filing cabinet than if you sent a letter home …’ Barney then heard her mutter something under her breath. ‘Marmalade, marmalade, marmalade.’

Go, Rissa! Barney miaowed, proud of his best friend.

‘Would you keep your voice down!’ hushed Miss Whipmire, shutting the door again. Or trying to. But she obviously caught the eye of Mr Waffler, who must have been walking past.

‘Is everything all right, Miss Whipmire?’ Barney heard him ask in his deep voice.

‘Yes,’ she said, as fast and sharp as a pair of scissors. ‘And it has absolutely nothing to do with you, Mr Waffler! Nothing! Whatsoever! Go back to your Shakespeare.’

Mr Waffler shuffled off. The door closed fully. But Rissa had the upper hand now.

‘There’s a cat in the filing cabinet,’ she said, and Barney could feel his friend’s determination pushing her on. ‘And I have a feeling it is the cat Mrs Lavender gave to you. The one that followed me to school. And I don’t know why it would be … where it is … and I know you are my head teacher and I should do as you say, but I believe in animal rights and I believe cats and human beings have an equal right not to be locked away in the dark.’

Miss Whipmire snapped. ‘They are not equal! Cats are far superior to idiotic humans like you!’

‘Well,’ said Rissa, ‘if you actually believed that you would not be keeping one in a cupboard!’

And then Barney heard Miss Whipmire nearly come out with truth. ‘That is not a—’

Go on, say it!

Tell her!

Tell her! Tell her! Tell her I’m not a cat!

‘Not a what?’ asked Rissa.

Miss Whipmire quickly covered her mistake. ‘Not a cupboard. It’s a cabinet. It’s a human distinction, but I am a human so—’

Rissa pulled a puzzled face. ‘Well, whatever it’s called, would you open it for me so I can have a look?’

There was silence, but Barney could feel the tension in his whiskers. Then the voices came back, but muffled, even for Barney’s cat ears.

It went quiet again.

Barney waited. Didn’t even miaow. Whatever was going to happen was going to happen. He would stay in the dark and wait for whatever Miss Whipmire planned to do to him. Or he would come out into safety, to Rissa.

After what felt like a hundred beats of his fast and tiny heart he heard Miss Whipmire’s voice. ‘You will regret this, girl, I promise you.’

And then Barney heard the lock turn, and, as the drawer opened with a metallic whisper, he was back out in the light and in the arms of his best friend, who whispered warmly, ‘marmalade’ into his ear.

‘Breathe so much as a word about this little misunderstanding and I will make your life hell,’ said Miss Whipmire. ‘Trust me, no one will believe the words of a scruffy twelve-year-old girl over her head teacher.’

As he was carried out of the door, Barney stared back over Rissa’s arm. He could just about see Miss Whipmire staring at him, pointing to the skull pen pot and mouthing the words, ‘You’re next!’