To Be a Cat

  The Terrorcat hesitated, took a slow lap of the milk and seemed to be mulling something over. ‘Plus, I was good at selling when I was human, at putting on an act,’ he said at long last. ‘That was my only talent. That’s the only real talent I’ve ever had. So when I was mistaken by a ginger moggy for the legendary Terrorcat, I said, “That’s me.” It was easy.’

  Wasn’t always a cat …

  On my first day …

  Good at selling …

  ‘So … if you’re not psychic, how do you know so much about my dad?’

  Barney gaped into the eye. Up close, he knew that was what brought him here, like a moth to a lightbulb. Not the eye itself but the soul shining inside. He knew that soul better than he knew anything in the world.

  The Terrorcat said nothing for a moment as a drop of milk slipped off his chin into the bowl. There wasn’t an actual smile, but Barney sensed one. ‘You already know.’

  It was true. Barney knew. How could he not, this close to the human he loved as much as any other, even if that human was now a cat?

  ‘Yes, Dad. I do.’

  A Heavy Truth

  IT TOOK A moment for it to sink in.

  Several moments, actually. And long ones.

  He wanted to hug his dad, and his dad wanted to hug him back, but hugging’s not so easy when you’re a cat, so they purred mutual love and head-nuzzled, which was as close as they could get.

  But Barney began to feel angry. And the anger brought questions.

  Why did it happen?

  ANSWER: His dad had been feeling sad, and had seen a happy cat basking in the sun.

  But why had he wanted to be a cat in the first place, when he had a son who loved him?

  ANSWER (a rubbish one, in Barney’s opinion): Because since the divorce he didn’t see that much of him. And because he was just feeling sorry for himself.

  Did he think of Barney?

  ANSWER: Every moment of every day, which is why he waited at the window each morning to see him on the way to the park with Guster (who always stopped him getting any closer). He said he thought of everything. Of the apple and blackberry crumble he used to enjoy. Of the long walks in Bluebell Wood that he didn’t dare visit now, owing to all the dogs that went there. He thought of his dream of opening a garden centre. And of swimming backstroke in a pool.

  So what happened to the cat that turned into him?

  ANSWER: He’s working at a cattery in Edgarton. He was a kind creature and had wanted to help other cats who had to stay in the most rotten cattery in the world. So now Edgarton Cattery is a nice place, and one where cats who have been there wish their owners would go on holiday for ever.

  Did he know how they could turn back into humans?

  ANSWER: Yes. Find the cats who’d turned into them, and wish they were human again.

  Barney mulled this over.

  ‘So, why didn’t you go to Edgarton and change back?’

  Barney’s dad looked cautious, the way cats do when they stand looking at snow, not knowing where to step. ‘He came and found me. A month ago. He was feeling guilty. And he said he wanted to be a cat again and all I had to do was wish I was a human …’

  ‘So what happened?’ asked Barney.

  His dad sighed. ‘Nothing. I stayed like this.’

  ‘But, why? Does it take longer? Might it still happen?’

  ‘No. It’s supposed to be quicker, instantaneous, when you wish back, because it’s a shorter distance to your own self than it is to someone else’s. That’s the theory.’

  ‘So why are you still a cat?’

  Barney’s dad dipped his head. ‘I … I … didn’t want to be me enough.’

  This made Barney so furious he felt his claws protrude. ‘Dad! Don’t you realize how worried everyone’s been about you?! I’ve had nightmares and everything …’

  Barney’s dad looked sad. His eye couldn’t cry but Barney felt the invisible tears.

  ‘Yes, I’m sorry. But that wasn’t enough.’

  ‘What?’ hissed Barney.

  The old lady came into the kitchen to put the kettle on. ‘Now, now, sweethearts … behave yourselves. We are all friends here, aren’t we, Pickles?’

  ‘Look,’ continued the cat who had once been known as Neil Willow. ‘I wanted more than anything for you and your mum to know I was safe, and if I could have pressed a button for you to stop worrying I’d have pressed it. But the more I hated myself for upsetting you and your mum, the less happy I was with myself. The human me. Turns out you have to actually like yourself to become yourself …’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘I wasn’t the best father,’ his dad went on. ‘And I certainly wasn’t a good employee at Blandford Garden Centre any more. And so, as a human, I was too weak. I’d become a miserable grump, to be honest, son. And so I couldn’t be happy with who I was and switch back once I’d changed.’

  ‘So you were trapped?’

  His dad hesitated.

  The old woman made her cup of tea then hobbled away. ‘Be good, kitties,’ she croaked.

  ‘Well, I suppose so,’ Barney’s dad said uncertainly in answer to his son’s question.

  ‘But …?’ said Barney, sensing there was more.

  ‘But I don’t want you to pity me. The thing is, in a way there is a good side to being a cat. You know, I am respected. I have a warm home. I am fed. I have milk to drink …’

  Barney was disappointed. ‘But don’t you want to live with us? As a human?’

  Mr Willow gently rested his head against his son’s and kept it there. ‘Barney, I don’t think your mum would want that. And she’s right. We made each other unhappy, and that made you unhappy.’

  The truth of these words weighed Barney down. He was right. His mum and dad were separated, whatever species they were. ‘OK, Dad. Well, at least you’re alive.’

  Barney had a million more things to say, but right now he said none of them, choosing to listen to the simple love he felt from his father’s purr.

  Hiding in the Bush

  THEY HAD A bit more milk and went into the living room.

  There were adverts on TV. Fluffy Labrador puppies advertising toilet paper. It was like watching a horror movie. Then the sound of barking, outside.

  Out of the window, a boy went past walking his dog. The dog was straining desperately on his lead.

  ‘Did you see that?’ Barney asked his father. ‘It’s him. I mean, me. Walking Guster …’ He looked back to the door. ‘How do you get out of here?’

  His dad’s eye shone with concern. ‘Barney, it’s dangerous out there. Guster isn’t our friend any more. He hates us. He wants to kill us. And what about your other self? The you-who-isn’t-you. He could be any cat. The one who turned into me had honourable reasons, but there’s no knowing what your cat’s reasons were.’

  ‘He wants to live with his mum,’ said Barney. ‘But his mum’s evil. In fact …’

  Barney stared at the white stitching on his dad’s eye socket and was about to tell him that Miss Whipmire was probably responsible for that too, but realized there wasn’t time right now.

  ‘Doesn’t sound good.’

  ‘No. It’s not. Which is why I’ve got to speak to Guster.’

  Barney’s dad was on the verge of responding when his son walked out of the room towards the front door. He followed, caught up with him in the hallway. ‘No. The cat flap’s this way.’

  And they headed out together, down an alley, across the road and up the little tarmac slope into the park.

  They hid in a bush.

  Watching.

  ‘Stay as quiet as you can,’ Barney’s dad purr-whispered (or rather, to use the proper expression, whispurred). ‘Guster’s heading over.’

  It was true. Within seconds, there was Guster’s wet nose poking through the leaves.

  ‘Good gracious,’ Guster was saying to himself. ‘One does believe one can smell something of the feline persuasion lurking in the area. Come on, you vile
thwarted tinch-tigers, where are you?’

  ‘We’re here,’ announced Barney.

  Barney’s dad couldn’t believe it. ‘What are you doing?’

  But Barney carried on. ‘Guster, it’s me. Barney.’

  ‘You,’ growled Guster, spotting Barney behind the leaves. ‘The trespasser!’

  ‘No. I’ve never trespassed. Just listen. Please. That boy who’s brought you to the park isn’t me.’

  Guster was furious. ‘Right, that’s my quota! One cannot take any more of such insolence. I am going to have to kill you and your acquaintance.’

  His head reached right into the bush, baring teeth.

  ‘Run!’ said Barney’s dad.

  But Barney was stuck. Tangled amid twigs.

  Mr Willow ran back, jumping in front of his son to save him.

  Guster was right there now, straight ahead of Barney’s dad, with every single deadly tooth on display. ‘To defy me is to defy my long-dead king. Oh, well, you first then.’

  ‘You can’t,’ said the cat formerly known as Neil Willow. ‘I am the Terrorcat.’

  ‘The Terror-what?’

  ‘I have powers you could not dream of.’

  But, unlike the cat population of Blandford, Guster had never heard of the Terrorcat and so didn’t really care. ‘Well, you didn’t use them last time I saw you. When you tried to speak to me through the kitchen window.’

  Barney desperately tried to free himself. ‘Dad, I’m sorry – you were right. Just run or he’ll kill both of us.’

  ‘No way …’ And then Mr Willow had an idea. ‘Guster, listen, you can kill us in a second … Just hear me out.’ He tried to think. ‘You … like the snow.’

  The spaniel’s jaws froze in midair.

  ‘In winter you run in it with your head low and your tongue out,’ Barney’s dad blurted. ‘And … and we washed you once, in the bath, but only once, because you went crazy when the water went in your eyes … and … and … You always liked sticking your head out of the window … and …’

  Barney could see this might be working, so helped his dad out. ‘And you hate chocolate! Even nice human chocolate. When I gave you some you spat it on the carpet. But you love it when I scratch your tummy.’

  Guster’s jaws closed. ‘One can’t abide chocolate, that is true … How do you know all this? Who supplied your information?’

  ‘Guster. It’s me, Barney. And this is Dad. You have to believe us.’

  Guster was looking very confused. But then he was suddenly yanked out of the bush, his lead clipped on. Barney-Who-Wasn’t-Barney, or rather, Maurice, was pulling the spaniel hastily out of the park.

  ‘We’ve got to follow them,’ Barney said, finally freeing himself from the last twig. This time his dad reluctantly agreed.

  They jogged behind in silence for a while, considering what to do next. Eventually Barney decided to speak to his body snatcher.

  ‘Maurice,’ he said. ‘Maurice!’

  And Barney watched his former body stop and turn round. He looked shocked, as if he thought he was seeing a ghost.

  ‘Go away,’ Maurice said.

  ‘No. I won’t. I can’t. I don’t want to be a cat any more.’ And Barney wished as hard as he could wish, closing his eyes and urging himself to enter his old body again, but … nothing.

  ‘Trust me, if you know what is good for you, you will run far, far from here.’ It sounded more like a warning than a threat, as though Maurice actually wanted to help them.

  Barney felt his dad nudge up against him when Maurice and Guster walked on. ‘I think we should do as he says.’

  Barney waited, watching as Maurice yanked an even more perplexed Guster forward round the next corner. Before he vanished out of view completely, Maurice went stiff with fear.

  ‘Come on, Dad,’ Barney said, looking at his father’s nervous face. ‘Let’s see what’s happening.’

  When Barney reached the corner he quickly saw the reason for Maurice’s fear. It was Gavin, walking to the bus stop with his mates Alfie Croker and Rodney Wirebrush.

  ‘Oi, Barney,’ Gavin shouted to Maurice. ‘Oi, you weirdo! What happened to you yesterday?’

  Maurice said nothing.

  Gavin was up close now, so enjoying himself he hadn’t noticed the cats. ‘I’m speaking to you. Speak, you freak! Speak!’

  Barney was terrified as Gavin pushed Maurice against the wall.

  He thinks it’s me, he thought. That should be me against the wall.

  Guster just grumbled nervously. ‘Crikey! Oh good grief! Oh my word!’

  ‘We should leave,’ Barney’s dad was saying. ‘This isn’t our business.’

  ‘No, Dad,’ Barney said quickly. ‘This is exactly our business.’

  Then he noticed something. When he looked at the situation from cat level, he could see that he was roughly the same height as Gavin. Not as a cat, obviously, but as a human. OK, so Gavin was a little taller than Barney’s true self but the difference wasn’t really that much. Two inches. No more. He suddenly realized Gavin was only as scary as you let him be. Barney had no more reason to fear him than the feline population of Blandford had reason to fear the Terrorcat.

  ‘The donkey,’ Barney said to Maurice.

  ‘What?’ gargled Maurice, petrified, as Gavin’s hand kept pressing up against his neck.

  ‘Mention the donkey. You know, the cuddly one he sleeps with on his bed. It’s called Eeyore.’

  And Maurice remembered. The cuddly donkey from the room he’d had a thousand nightmares about.

  ‘Donkey,’ he said, his voice weak and blank at first.

  Gavin snarled. ‘What?’

  Maurice steeled himself. ‘I’ll tell your friends about who you’ve had to share a bed with ever since your mum noticed you’d wet the—’

  Gavin’s eyes were filled with dread. ‘How do you know?’ he said. ‘You’ve never been to my house.’

  ‘If only.’

  Meanwhile Rodney and Alfie had stopped laughing.

  ‘What’s he talking about?’ asked Rodney.

  ‘Yeah. What’s Willow mean?’ added Alfie.

  ‘I’ll tell them,’ said Maurice. ‘I promise you. Oh, and the damp sheets.’

  ‘Yes,’ growled Guster, not having a clue about what was going on. ‘He most certainly will.’

  Gavin went purple with rage, and experienced the kind of fear that only came to him in his nightmares. A few moments later Alfie was pointing to the pavement. A puddle was emerging around Gavin’s feet.

  ‘He’s wetting himself! Look! Look!’

  Alfie and Rodney were bent double, laughing even more.

  ‘Shut up!’ shouted Gavin. ‘Shut up, skinny rake!’ he said to Rodney Wirebrush. ‘Shut up, dog breath!’ he said to Alfie Croker. But even Gavin realized, as his friends kept laughing, that he’d suddenly just lost his bully powers. He walked away, fast, beckoning for his friends to follow, but they didn’t – they walked off in the other direction, laughing a laughter that burned into Gavin as he began jogging towards home.

  Barney saw his own freckled, but actually not-bad-looking, face stare back down at him. Maurice seemed thankful, but didn’t say so. Instead he ran back to a house that wasn’t rightly his, pulling the half-reluctant King Charles spaniel behind him.

  A Small Circle of Believability (or, the Wish He Wished He’d Never Wished)

  THE SKY WAS full of thick, grey, puffy clouds, as if the whole of Blandford was tucked under the same duvet.

  But Barney wasn’t feeling very snug as he waited with his dad outside the front door, which had been deliberately closed far too quickly for them to get inside.

  He could hear his mum’s voice behind it, talking to the boy she thought was her son. Barney couldn’t hear the words, though, just the tone. Worried, maybe a little cross.

  Two cats prowled by, made eye contact with Barney’s dad, then ran down the street.

  ‘See who that was?’ said one in a panic.

  ‘The Terrorcat!’
confirmed the other with dread.

  Barney turned to his dad. They both laughed, cat-style. But then Barney thought of something.

  ‘I don’t get it,’ he said. ‘I was there just then, with Maurice, and I was wishing to be in my own body again, but it didn’t happen. I’m still a cat.’

  His dad nodded. ‘You have to really want it.’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘No, really,’ his dad explained. ‘I mean, I want my old life back too, but it’s not enough. You see, if there’s a part of you that is still unhappy with who you were, then it won’t happen. You have to want to be you more than Maurice does. More than you’ve ever wanted anything. You have to accept everything in your life, all the things you can’t change. You have to truly want to be Barney Willow.’

  Barney considered.

  His old life:

  School. Gavin. Miss Whipmire. Rugby. Nicknames. A mum in fast-forward. Long weeks and weekends of infinite nothingness.

  It was hard to find the happiness. The reasons to be grateful.

  Mr Willow decided it was time to tell his son something he knew he should have said a long time ago and hadn’t been able to, not even in Barney’s dreams. ‘None of it was your fault, you know. The divorce, I mean. It was about me and your mum, that’s all.’

  As his dad said this he sniffed one of the pot plants by the door, and the scent soothed him. ‘At least there will always be plants.’

  Barney sighed, feeling more fed up than ever that he was trapped in this body. In cat fancy-dress for possibly the rest of his life. ‘I just wish I’d never wished.’

  ‘Well, you did. And now you’ve just got to wish even harder,’ said his dad.

  His mum’s voice, behind the door. Clearer this time: ‘Barney, shouldn’t you be going to school? You don’t want to be late. You were in trouble enough yesterday.’

  There was a response. But not one they could hear properly.

  And then footsteps coming from the street.

  Barney head-nudged his dad. ‘That’s Rissa.’

  And it was.

  Rissa, still ten-storeys high, but with new worry etched on her face. She looked down. Saw Barney by the doorstep. And this time – he was sure – she actually saw Barney.