Kitten Wars (15 page)

‘Er, you were saying?’ Fergus prompted me nervously.

I pulled myself together, aware that I had one finger in mid-air, and was staring into the middle distance like a mad professor who’s just found the cure for insanity but can’t quite
apply it to himself.

‘Huh?’ I said.

‘You were saying something and then you stopped,’ Fergus said, looking at me strangely.

‘Yes, you – er – you asked if there was anything you could do. Well, I’ve just realized there
is
something, actually . . .’

And I proceeded to lay out my request to Fergus Meerley. A request that would make up for all the hassle with Jaffa, and one that would hopefully mend my friendship with Jazz and put her in my
debt for months – if not years – to come.

F
ergus had been as reluctant as a dog at bath time when I outlined my plan, but he was in a tight corner since saying he’d do
‘anything’ to make things up to me.

‘And you’ve got to promise not to mention any of this to Jazz until we’ve got an agreement with your mum,’ I told him as he made his way to the door.

He turned to me anxiously, his hand on the doorknob. ‘Bertie, Jazz isn’t talking to me at the moment. I told you that. And I’m really not sure that Mum will—’

I wasn’t interested in these details. ‘Fergus, you said you wanted to help,’ I said, my voice dripping (I hoped) with menace.

‘Yeah, yeah, OK,’ Fergus said, flustered. ‘I’ll – er, I’ll see what I can do. I definitely need to talk to Mum first. I’ll come back round later and let
you know what she’s said.’

‘I’ll be waiting,’ I replied.

He hovered, showing no signs of making a move.

I raised one eyebrow. ‘So? What are you waiting for?’

Fergus left.

Dad came down a split second later. I knew he’d been listening.

‘You’ve got that boy where you want him, haven’t you?’ Dad teased.

‘Yeah, Bertie likes the Fergus!’ Jaffa purred.

I flushed. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Looks to me like he’d do anything for you!’ Dad winked.

‘Bertie in luuuurve!’ Jaffa crooned.

‘Doh!’ I huffed at them both and flounced off with Jaffa, turning my back pointedly on Dad.

‘Listen, Jaffsie,’ I whispered in her ear as I took her into the sitting room for a private chat. ‘Please just sit tight with me and wait for Fergus to come back with the news.
I really need him to help me if Jazz and I are ever going to be mates again.’

‘OK,’ Jaffa said, and rolled on her back on my lap, offering herself up for a tummy tickle.

I sighed. How could I feel so irritated with her one minute and so gooey inside the next? If Kaboodle and this little kitten were anything to go by, I’d say cats were pretty tricky
customers, I thought to myself. Almost as tricky as best friends.

Fergus came round about an hour later with his mother in tow. Dad had gone out, thank goodness; I couldn’t have handled any more of his nudge-nudge-wink-winking.

I asked Fergus and Fiona into the sitting room while I fantasized about wrapping my hands around the woman’s throat and yelling ‘CATNAPPER!’ into her face. But then I thought
that probably wouldn’t help me win Jazz back with my cunning plan, so I sat down with Jaffa on my lap and kept quiet while Fiona spoke.

‘So, Beanie,’ she said.

‘Mum, for the millionth time, it’s Bertie,’ Fergus said in exasperation. He waited for his mum to say something else (like, maybe apologize?) but she just stared at him with
her arms crossed. He rolled his eyes and said, ‘Mum’s just been saying how sorry we were about encouraging Jaffa,’ Fiona opened and shut her mouth like an appalled goldfish but
Fergus ploughed on bravely, ‘and I suggested we do something to make it up to you.’

‘The Fergus telling porky pies!’ Jaffa squeaked. ‘
Bertie
said that, not the Fergus!’

‘Shh, Jaffa,’ I whispered. ‘It doesn’t matter.’

‘Muffin – sorry,
Jaffa
– seems a little upset. Is she all right?’ Fiona cooed.

‘
Mum!
’ Fergus protested. His voice had an edge to it now that even Fiona seemed to notice. She fell silent and gestured to him to continue. He looked at me and took a deep
breath. ‘You and I both know how much Jazz wants an audition for
Who’s Got Talent?
—’

‘Lovely girl, that Jasmeena,’ Fiona interrupted. ‘And of course in any other circumstances I’d be
delighted
to help her in any way I could. But the thing is, my
hands are tied on this one.’

I stared at her blankly.

‘It’s like I’ve already said. The rules,’ Fergus said bluntly, looking awkward.

‘Jasmeena knows she has to be sixteen to enter,’ Fiona added.

‘Mum,’ Fergus said. He looked pleadingly at her, but I could tell they had already been over this one a few thousand times back at their place.

‘Darling,’ Fiona said firmly, ‘I told you. And I’m telling Bunty here: I simply
can’t
change the rules. I’m only the producer. These rules are written
and decided on way in advance of filming and there are all sorts of regulations to do with allowing minors to compete in things like this. Now, I was going to take you into town this morning,
wasn’t I, Fergie? And I’m sure Bunny here is incredibly busy too, so now we’ve explained everything, let’s say goodbye, shall we?’

I was glaring at Fergus, willing him to stand up to his mum, but he was completely deflated and just nodded weakly at Fiona.

Jaffa chose this moment to kick up a right racket. ‘What the lady talking ’bout? Tell me, Bertie! Tell meeeeee!’

‘Shh! I’ll tell you later,’ I whispered into her small pink ear, hoping no one would hear me above the noise she was making.

‘Noooo! Me wants to know nooooow!’ she miaowed, wriggling to get free of my grasp.

‘It’s just a competition thing – for people,’ I hissed. I was aware that Fiona and Fergus were gawping at me as though I was a one-woman freak show, but I had to try and
calm Jaffa down. She was struggling harder now and I was fighting to keep hold of her as she scratched and clawed her way out of my grasp.

‘Me want be in competition!’ she miaowed. ‘Me want win prizes!’

‘No, Jaffa, it’s not a pet show,’ I said, struggling to keep my voice low. ‘Be quiet now.’

‘A pet show?’ Fergus said, puzzled. ‘What are you talking about?’

Jaffa nipped me and, with a gasp, I dropped her. She shot me a look of glee and said, ‘Can’t catch Jaffsie!’ and went trotting over to Fiona and jumped on her lap.

I stared open-mouthed.

‘
This
lady knows me can win prizes,’ Jaffa purred, rubbing her head on Fiona’s hand.

Fiona’s face softened. ‘Aaaah! Hello, little baby,’ she said in a sing-song voice. ‘You really are the most
beautiful
little kitten, aren’t you, sweetie? You
would win a talent show any day, wouldn’t you? Yes, you would. You would win all the prizes.’ She cooed and petted and went on and on like this for several seconds. I glared at Fergus,
venom oozing from my eyes.

But instead of Fergus looking away in shame, or pulling his mum up and telling her she had to go, or any other suitably contrite reaction I was hoping for, his velvety blue eyes grew larger and
larger, his jaw dropped lower and lower and then, drowning out his mother’s pathetic baby-talk, he leaped to his feet and yelled:

‘PET SHOW!’

‘Yeeeeooow!’ yelped Jaffa, sinking her claws into Fiona’s pristine purple skirt.

‘DARLING!’ Fiona yelled, leaping to her feet and knocking Jaffa flying.

Jaffa landed in a heap and looked up at me pitifully. ‘Lady dropped Jaffsie!’ she mewled.

But I’d hardly noticed. Because I’d just had my second light-bulb moment of the day, and I had a strong suspicion it was the same one as Fergus’s.

Fiona was brushing furiously at her skirt and muttering, ‘Whatever is the matter with you two?’

‘Pet show, Mum!’ Fergus repeated, his face shining with excitement. ‘Just think – you could tie it in with
Who’s Got Tal
—’

‘Darlings!’ Fiona cut in, her eyes lighting up. ‘I’ve just had the most marvellous idea: we could put on a pet show to run alongside
Who’s Got
Talent?
!’

I raised my eyebrows at Fergus.

DRIIING!

Great! What now?

I went to the door.

‘Hi! Thought I’d come round and see if you were still alive . . .’

Jazz?
Oh no, why did she have to choose this precise moment in time to break our war of silence?

She bounced into the sitting room. But her bounciness came to an abrupt halt when she saw Fergus and Fiona. She curled her lip at Fergus. ‘What are
you
doing here?’ she
demanded.

‘Hi, Jazz,’ I said quietly.

Why can’t she just ask me how I am for a change? I thought. I had a sudden picture of the two of us hugging and saying sorry to each other and walking back to her place arm in arm, just
like we would have done before the Miserable Meerleys appeared on the scene. No Meerleys, no talent auditions, no disappearing cat act . . .

Fergus was staring at the carpet, looking as though the end of the world could not come soon enough.

‘Hello, Jasmeena!’ Fiona trilled. ‘You’ve arrived just in time to hear my brilliant idea!’ she announced.

She really was unbelievable. How that woman had managed to give birth to someone as nice as Fergus . . . I stopped that thought double-quick before a full-on infra-red blush melted my face into
smithereens.

‘Right,’ Jazz said, sneering. ‘And what’s your brilliant idea got to do with me?’

Incredibly, Fiona didn’t seem to have picked up on Jazz’s icy tone of voice. She smiled a wide, pleased-with-herself smile and almost purred, ‘We’ve been talking about
Who’s Got Talent?
, Jasmeena dear.’ Jazz’s face immediately lit up like the Eiffel Tower at night. ‘And how it’s such a shame you’re not old enough for the
auditions,’ Fiona continued. All the lights went out again in Jazz’s face and it plummeted into a ferocious grimace of disgust. (I couldn’t help being impressed by the way Fiona
motored over Jazz, not giving her a chance to say a word. I never thought I’d see Jasmeena Brown meet her match.) ‘I’m sorry to be brutal about it, Jasmeena dear, but the rules
are the rules and I did not write them.
But
,’ she paused dramatically and the atmosphere in the room crackled with expectation, ‘I think I might just have come up with something
else that could take your fancy.’

‘Oh . . . yeah?’ Jazz croaked.

She was completely at sea. She didn’t know whether to smile or scowl. As for me, until I’d heard the whole deal, I was definitely not going to get excited. What if Fiona was going to
suggest we dress up as chickens? Or did she have a box of fluffy bunny costumes upstairs that we would have to wear around town? I always felt so sorry for those people, especially in this
summer’s heat.

Mind you, I had a sneaking suspicion that Jazz would do anything to get her fifteen minutes of fame.

‘And it’s all down to this lovely little cat here,’ Fiona went on, stroking Jaffa’s ears.

‘Me is pretty clever that way,’ Jaffa purred, washing her paws diligently. She looked up at me and flashed her blue eyes as if she was winking. ‘And me knows how to make
everybody
happy . . .’ she added.

‘So?’ Jazz asked. ‘What
is
the big idea?’

Fiona gave a twinkling laugh. ‘A talent show for pets! We could run it in the early slot before
Who’s Got Talent?
and we could ask members of the public to enter their pets
and then the viewers at home would be able to ring in and vote. We can call it
Pets With Talent!
and the proceeds from the voting could go to the Cats and Dogs Home. That would be sure to
get us publicity.’ She was on a roll now. ‘There could be categories for cutest pet – which darling Muff— Jaffa would be sure to win . . .’ she simpered.

‘What did me tell you?’ Jaffa purred.

‘ . . . and then there would be fastest pet, cleverest pet – the possibilities are endless!’ Fiona breathed, clapping her hands together.

‘Great,’ said Jazz sourly. ‘So where exactly do I fit into this?’

Fiona had blown it. Pets were not the way to Jazz’s heart.

Fergus coughed and said, ‘Yeah, Mum – this isn’t really Jazz’s thing.’

My eyes darted to the floor. Could that boy read my mind?

Fiona laughed that sparkly laugh again. ‘Ah, but this is where the best bit comes – we get
celebrities
to be the judges! In fact, I think Simon and Danni would LOVE this. It
would bring a whole new angle to the existing TV programme, and they both have pets they’re
crazy
about, so they’re bound to say yes. Fergie, darling, I’m going to get on
the phone to them right away,’ she said, already halfway out of the room.

‘Hold it,’ Jazz said sternly. I had to admire the nerve of the girl, talking to Fiona like that. ‘I still don’t get this,’ she said. ‘It’s OK for Bertie
– she can enter Jaffa. But what about me? I don’t have any pets.’

‘You have Huckleberry,’ Fergus pointed out, meekly.

‘That rat’s not
mine
!’ Jazz cried, flinging her hands in the air in horror.

Fiona turned back to Jazz and laid a perfectly manicured hand on her shoulder. ‘But darling, you would be the most important person in all of this,’ she said soothingly. ‘Danni
and Simon would need a personal assistant to show them around and introduce them to all the contestants. And I think you would be utterly perfect for the job. And who knows, they might be persuaded
to have a little chat with you about, how shall I put it . . . your future career opportunities?’

Jazz’s face went through every possible emotion in the space of a minute: from disgust to shock to disbelief to out-and-out sheer and totally hysterical joy.

‘Woooooo!’ she shouted, throwing her arms around Fiona. ‘Thank you!’ she cried.

Fiona disentangled herself and patted Jazz firmly on the arm. ‘Actually, it’s not me you should thank.’ She looked at me and Fergus pointedly.

Jazz turned to look at us too and frowned. ‘Eh?’