Winston and the Marmalade Cat Read online

  ‘Buttons!’ Grace called and the poodle puppy raced to her as Little Houdini ran to Harry. Harry picked him up and cuddled the little kitten to him.

  ‘I’m so glad I found you,’ he said, as the kitten purred and crawled into the warm spot where Harry’s shoulder and neck met. Safe at last.

  Chapter 20

  ‘Time for some tea and scones to warm us up, don’t you agree?’ Grace said, as they headed back inside.

  ‘Oh yes please!’ said Harry. He couldn’t believe his luck. Crumpets and scones all in one day.

  ‘Harry likes at least three sugars in his tea and he needs lots of jam on his scones too,’ Old Ned said.

  ‘And what about you, Ned? How do you like your tea and scones?’ Grace asked him.

  ‘Same as Harry, please,’ Old Ned said and Grace laughed.

  ‘Just the way I like them too,’ she said with a grin. ‘Sugary tea and scones with lashings of jam coming right up.’

  Harry was just biting into his second scone when he looked through the window and was astonished to see Mr Jenner and his dad outside. They made their way through the snow over to the glass door that Grace quickly opened for them.

  ‘Mr Colville’s office phoned,’ Mr Jenner said to Harry. ‘They made a mistake. A marmalade cat had already been found at another RSPCA centre for Sir Winston’s birthday present.’

  ‘So he doesn’t want Little Houdini after all?’ Harry said, hardly able to believe it. ‘But what will happen to Little Houdini now?’ He looked down at the kitten who stared back up at him with his big blue eyes. If Little Houdini lived at Chartwell he would at least have been well looked after and Harry might have been able to visit him sometimes. Now he might never see Little Houdini again.

  ‘Well, we think we’ve found him another home,’ Mr Jenner said, smiling.

  ‘Oh’ said Harry, his heart sinking. ‘Who with?’

  ‘With us,’ his dad said with a big grin. ‘If you’d still like him?’

  Harry’s mouth fell open. Little Houdini might really be his to keep for ever. He felt like all his birthdays had come at once.

  ‘You mean it?’ he said.

  ‘Yes, I do,’ Harry’s dad said, and Harry ran to him and hugged him.

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Have a scone,’ Ned told Harry’s dad as he spread one thickly with strawberry jam while Grace poured Mr Jenner a cup of tea.

  ‘I can hardly believe I’m actually in Sir Winston Churchill’s house,’ Harry’s dad said, as he bit into the scone.

  ‘I’ll show you round the gardens once it stops snowing,’ Old Ned said. ‘Even in November they’re full of wonderful smells. The thyme in the vegetable garden’s been particularly abundant this year.’

  ‘I learnt market gardening thanks to a charity for blind veterans called St Dunstan’s,’ Harry’s dad told Ned. ‘As well as poultry farming. But I preferred the gardening.’

  ‘Chartwell’s always prided itself on growing its own fruit and vegetables,’ Ned said. ‘The orchard’s overflowing in the summer and we could always do with another man to help.’

  ‘I’m sure you could,’ Harry’s dad said.

  ‘So,’ Ned said. ‘What do you think?’

  ‘About what?’ Harry’s dad asked him, looking confused.

  ‘About coming to work here.’

  ‘Me?’

  ‘I don’t see any other people with market gardening experience in the room.’

  ‘But I’m blind.’

  ‘And I’m old, doesn’t stop me working,’ Old Ned laughed.

  Harry’s dad laughed too, looking amazed and excited, but then paused:

  ‘What about my guide dog? Mr Jenner has a dog that he wants to train for me. Her name’s Callie.’

  ‘I know she’ll be perfect.’ Mr Jenner said, with his mouth full of scone.

  ‘Dogs are more than welcome,’ Old Ned said.

  ‘Oh yes, we love dogs here,’ Grace told him. ‘And a steady sort of dog, like a guide dog, will make a nice friend for my Buttons.’

  Buttons heard his name and gave Grace’s hand a lick.

  ‘Might even show you how to behave,’ she told the puppy as she gave him a stroke.

  ‘I’d love to work here,’ Harry’s dad said. ‘Thank you for asking me. Thank you very much indeed.’

  Little Houdini stalked his way over to Buttons across the carpet. When he got to the puppy’s face he put his paw out and gently tapped him on the nose. Buttons immediately dipped his head and front paws down with his bottom up and tail wagging in a play bow. Little Houdini sniffed at the puppy and Buttons wagged his tail even more. Soon the two young animals were playing again. This time wrestling and chasing each other as the others looked on and laughed.

  Chapter 21

  ‘It’s like she was born to do this,’ Mr Jenner told Harry, six months later, as they watched Callie and Harry’s dad stop at a pavement kerb, listen for sounds and then cross together when it was safe to do so. He was thrilled that one more unwanted animal had found a home.

  ‘She makes me feel like I’ve got my life back, like I can do anything and go anywhere,’ Harry’s dad said happily.

  Old Ned had given them a dog basket as a present and from the first night Callie came home, both Little Houdini and the gentle Labrador shared it when they weren’t sharing Harry’s bed.

  At Chartwell the scent of summer roses filled the air.

  ‘That’s it,’ Old Ned said, and Harry stopped throwing the ball to look over at his dad and Old Ned transplanting basil seedlings together. His dad was smiling as he worked and that made Harry smile too. He still liked to help Mr Jenner at the RSPCA before and after school and he always proudly wore his Animal Defender badge, but he also spent lots of time at Chartwell with his dad on the weekends. They hadn’t been able to do much together before, but now everything had changed.

  Callie whined and Buttons put his paw on Harry’s leg to remind him to throw the ball.

  Harry threw it and the dogs ran down the path after it.

  Callie got the ball first but she dropped it for Buttons to pick up and the poodle puppy brought it back to Harry, very proud of himself.

  Little Houdini wasn’t so little any more, but although he now looked like a cat he definitely still acted like a playful kitten. While Callie and Buttons played he sniffed at a sunflower, and tried to catch a bluebottle that buzzed past him, as well as a butterfly that landed on a pink-and-white hollyhock.

  Little Houdini was such a determined cat and he still escaped every now and again, but he always came back after his little adventures.

  ‘What’s this?’ Harry said excitedly, picking a flower. ‘Look!’

  Little Houdini was immediately interested and came running over to pounce on the long-stemmed dandelion that Harry wriggled along the path.

  Callie and Buttons started to play-wrestle instead of bringing back the ball.

  Little Houdini suddenly stopped stalking the weed stem and lifted his head as if he were listening to something in the distance. The next moment he ran off along the path and out of the vegetable garden.

  ‘Where are you off to now?’ Harry called after him. He hoped Little Houdini wasn’t heading for the fish pond with the stepping stones across it where he’d found him swimming the day before. He didn’t think Sir Winston Churchill would be pleased if the kitten caught one of his giant golden fishes. Not that Little Houdini could swim fast enough for that.

  Harry sighed as he stood up. Little Houdini was living up to his name once again. He didn’t know where the kitten was heading or why he seemed so intent as he ran. Mr Jenner said a cat’s hearing was much more sensitive than people’s, but Harry hadn’t heard anything unusual.

  Little Houdini ran across the orchard and miaowed outside a door, but no one came to open it. He hopped up on to the windowsill and miaowed again, louder this time.

  ‘Little Houdini, come back!’ Harry shouted, seeing the kitten outside the painting studio in the distance.

&nb
sp; Little Houdini pushed at the window and slipped inside.

  Peeping out from under the chair of a man sitting at an artist’s easel was a marmalade kitten that looked almost exactly like Little Houdini. The two marmalade kittens stared at each other, their tails twitching.

  ‘Well, who’s this, Jock?’ Sir Winston Churchill asked. ‘Another kitty just like you. Will you be friends or foe I wonder?’

  Harry didn’t realize anyone was in the studio and so he burst in through the door without knocking only to find himself staring at the surprised face of Sir Winston Churchill.

  ‘May I help you?’ Sir Winston asked him.

  Harry gulped. He certainly hadn’t expected to meet Sir Winston Churchill for the first time like this. He felt his face going red.

  ‘Yes. My name is Harry, and I’m … I’m following a marmalade kitten called Little Houdini,’ he stammered.

  He looked down at the floor and saw two marmalade kittens that could have been twins. Little Houdini and the other kitten purred and rubbed their faces together.

  ‘Ah yes, these two seem to have become firm friends,’ Sir Winston said, and Harry nodded.

  The ex-prime minister used his walking stick to point at one of the kittens. ‘That’s Jock, a present for my eighty-eighth birthday last year. He’s a rescue kitten. I presume the other is your Little Houdini?’

  Harry opened his mouth but he was feeling so over-awed that no words came out. He crouched down, held out his hands and Jock came over to sniff his fingers. Meanwhile Little Houdini hopped up on to Sir Winston’s lap and sniffed at the oil paint he’d been using to paint a picture.

  Harry finally found his voice as he stroked Jock’s soft marmalade fur.

  ‘Little Houdini’s a rescue kitten too. We think he’s a feral kitten and he was very nearly your birthday present as well,’ he said. Stroking the kitten was very soothing. He was glad that he hadn’t had to let Little Houdini go.

  ‘Really? Well it looks as if he found the right home after all,’ Winston said with a twinkle in his eye.

  Little Houdini wriggled out of Sir Winston’s lap.

  ‘He’s very good at escaping though.’

  Sir Winston chuckled. ‘What a performer Houdini was and quite the escape artist!’

  The two kittens chased after a feather that had blown in when Harry had opened the door.

  ‘They’d make a beautiful painting,’ Sir Winston said, as he watched them playing together.

  ‘I saw a painting of your marmalade cat, Tango,’ Harry said, ‘when Little Houdini got lost and me and Miss Hamblin were trying to catch him.’

  ‘Tango was always eating at the table and sleeping on my bed,’ Sir Winston told Harry. ‘Sometimes there was barely room for me too! But that’s cats for you. During the war I had a grey cat called Nelson, who I first met when I was at the Admiralty, and I even named after the famous Admiral Nelson. Let me tell you how I first met him.’

  Chapter 22

  The thin grey cat stalked the rat down the central London street, intent on his prey. He was just about to pounce on it when the rat scurried up some steps and disappeared in through the open door of a building. The hungry cat yeowled in despair and leapt up the steps after it. At the very same moment, a huge grizzled stray dog spotted the cat and went racing into the building after him. The cat was gaining on the rat when it squeezed through the metal bars of the grate of an unlit fireplace.

  The cat was too big to get through the grate, but it crouched down and pushed its paw through the gap, intent on its prey.

  Behind the cat, in the passageway of the building, the dog growled and showed its sharp teeth. The cat’s hackles rose and it spun round, arched its back and ran at the dog. This wasn’t the first time the cat had had to defend himself.

  When the dog saw that the cat wasn’t afraid of him he gave a yelp of terror and raced back out of the front door with his tail between his legs.

  ‘What a brave cat,’ said a round man wearing a trilby hat, who was standing on the steps. ‘Well done, cat, for protecting the Admiralty!’

  To the grey cat’s great surprise, he was picked up by the man. He considered jumping out of the round man’s arms, but he was tired and it was a comfortable spot.

  ‘Anyone know where he comes from?’ the man asked.

  No one had ever seen the cat before and judging by how thin he was and the poor condition of his coat, they all agreed that he was probably a stray.

  ‘He seems quite taken with you, Prime Minister,’ his secretary said, smiling.

  ‘You’re coming home with me and I shall call you Nelson,’ Mr Churchill said, and he gave the grey cat to his secretary to hold on the short journey from the Admiralty to 10 Downing Street, glancing at Admiral Nelson’s tall column in Trafalgar Square as he got into the car.

  ‘Salmon for my new cat friend Nelson,’ Mr Churchill commanded as he arrived at Number 10. ‘The bravest cat in all of England.’

  ‘Yes, Prime Minister,’ said the butler and he hurried off to open a tin.

  Nelson was very hungry and gulped down the salmon and another tin on top of that! When he’d finished, he licked his lips and looked up at Mr Churchill.

  ‘Nothing like a good meal to set you up for the day,’ the prime minister told the cat, patting his own tummy.

  Nelson followed him to his room and hopped up on to Mr Churchill’s bed beside him and purred.

  ‘You have a nice sleep while I get on with my war work,’ the prime minister said, giving Nelson a stroke. With his belly full and a soft bed to lie on Nelson soon did just that.

  When he woke up there was a small brown poodle on the floor by the bed. Nelson hissed at it but the dog only wagged its tail and looked at the man who had papers in his hands.

  ‘There, there, Nelson. Don’t be a brute,’ Winston Churchill told the cat. ‘There’s room enough for both of you.’

  The little dog kept on wagging its tail and after Nelson had had a good sniff of him he let the dog jump up on to the bed with him.

  ‘Good cat, Nelson,’ Mr Churchill said, putting down his papers to stroke both animals. ‘And good dog too, Rufus!’

  ‘Toby, Toby, my name is Toby,’ chirped a voice and Nelson looked up to see a blue budgerigar in a round cage.

  Nelson licked his lips, stalked across the bed over to the cage and stared up at the bird.

  ‘Toby, Toby, my name is Toby,’ the budgerigar chirped again.

  Nelson gave a miaow and looked back at Winston Churchill.

  ‘Oh no, he’s not for eating, my dear,’ Winston said. ‘And I’ll be very displeased if you try to do so.’

  Nelson came back to Winston and Rufus, rolled over on his back purring happily and waiting for his tummy to be stroked by the prime minister’s pudgy fingers.

  ‘That’s a good cat.’

  It didn’t take long for Nelson to stop being so skinny. When Mrs Churchill wasn’t looking the prime minister sneaked pieces of chicken from his plate to the cat at dinner time and there was always plenty of tinned salmon. He was so full up that Nelson wasn’t the least bit tempted to try to catch Toby when the budgerigar was let out of the cage and flew around the room.

  The once hungry and homeless cat had found the perfect home.

  Chapter 23

  Sir Winston smiled down at Little Houdini and Jock playing together.

  ‘Nelson was lucky that he met you,’ Harry said shyly. ‘And found a good home. We get lots of animals needing new homes at the RSPCA.’

  Sir Winston nodded. ‘There have been so many cats, and other animals, over the years and all of them unique and much loved in their own way,’ he said.

  Jock hopped up on to Sir Winston’s lap and Little Houdini followed his friend, but decided to sit in the spot where Sir Winston’s neck met his shoulder.

  Harry put his hand over his mouth to hide a smile. Little Houdini was always doing that to people he liked.

  ‘Time for some fresh air, Harry,’ Sir Winston said, tapping at the whe
elchair beside him with his walking stick. ‘I’ve always said that a day spent away from Chartwell is a day wasted, and my chariot awaits. If you wouldn’t mind giving me a push?’

  Harry was more than happy to do so and ran over to help Sir Winston into his wheelchair.

  ‘Good lad,’ Sir Winston said as he sat down, and they headed out of the painting studio with Little Houdini and Jock scampering along behind them.

  ‘My dad won’t believe I’ve met you,’ Harry blurted.

  ‘Where is your dad?’ Sir Winston asked him.

  ‘He’s working in the vegetable garden with Ned.’ Harry said proudly.

  ‘Well, let’s go there then,’ Sir Winston said, showing the way by pointing his walking stick as if it were a lance and his wheelchair a horse.

  Harry grinned as he pushed Sir Winston down the path. He knew his dad would be over the moon to meet Sir Winston.

  As they approached the red-brick wall with an arch in it that led to the vegetable garden Sir Winston said: ‘I built that wall. Used to be a dab hand at bricklaying once upon a time.’

  The two kittens ran along beside the chair stalking a mouse before being distracted by a cabbage white butterfly.

  ‘I hope Jock’s not frightened of guide dogs,’ Harry said. ‘My dad’s guide dog Callie would never hurt him and Little Houdini loves him, but sometimes cats don’t know that.’

  ‘Jock won’t be scared,’ Sir Winston said. ‘He’s a brave cat, although not as brave as Nelson was. Wars and bombs are terrifying for animals and people too. I hope we never have another like the last.’

  The cabbage white butterfly flew away but a red admiral one took its place and the two kittens chased after that instead.

  Harry saw that his dad and Old Ned were just ahead. They had their heads close together as they worked. Callie was snoozing close by in the warm afternoon sun.

  ‘Well, hello there!’ Sir Winston called out, waving his walking stick in the air.

  ‘Sir,’ Harry’s dad said, recognizing Sir Winston’s distinctive voice even if he couldn’t see him. He immediately stood to attention and almost dropped the plant pot he was holding. Fortunately Old Ned was there to catch it.