To Be A Cat

Miss Whipmire’s Visitor

BARNEY’S MUM HAD only met Miss Whipmire once before. It had been after Barney had got in trouble for causing disruption in a school assembly.

She had believed her then.

But now, in Miss Whipmire’s office, she wasn’t sure what she believed.

‘Yes, Mrs Willow, what can I do for you?’ This was strange. Miss Whipmire hadn’t turned from the window she was staring out of, a window which offered a view of a grim February sky and green playing fields where Year Ten girls were engaged in a rather shouty game of hockey. There was no reflection in the glass. And yet she had known precisely who had been knocking on the door.

‘Erm, hello … yes, it’s me. Barney’s mum. Elaine. I was just a bit confused about something.’

Miss Whipmire turned sharply. ‘Confused? I don’t understand.’

Mrs Willow sniffed the air and realized she was smelling fish. Sardines, she would have guessed. ‘Well, it’s just – Barney. I’ve been told by a good friend of his that he’s not been in school today,’ she said, noticing a very ugly-looking pen pot on the desk. ‘So I don’t mean to contradict you but I think you might have made a mistake.’

Miss Whipmire said nothing as her face tried on various emotions. First shock, then anger, moving up to full outrage, simmering down to general crossness, then thoughtfulness, then concern, before squeezing uncomfortably into shame.

‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ she said, as innocent as a lamb at a christening. ‘I hope I haven’t made a terrible mistake … I’ll tell you what, I’ll just go and have a word with his form tutor.’

Miss Whipmire left the room and Barney’s mum waited, staring at the head teacher’s calendar. ‘Cats,’ she whispered aloud, noting the strange theme of her day.

But Miss Whipmire wasn’t going to see Mrs Lavender. She was looking out of the school entrance to see if there was any word from her cat disciples.

She could see Pumpkin sitting on the wall opposite looking ashamed of himself. And so he should, the flea-brained cretin.

Barney was still out there, realized Miss Whipmire. Twice those useless swipers have failed me.

He was alive and trying to become human again, and then in all probability would attempt to tell the world – or at least the school governors – the truth about her.

But she had a plan. And it was so good that it shone in her mind like an oil-sleek sardine in a can. And, with that plan in her mind, she headed out of the school gates to have a word with her chief disciple.