Cat Kin Read Online Free Page A

here?’ the lady asked.
    In the hush Ben could hear buses rumbling down the main road. Tiffany raised a hand.
    ‘Mrs Powell…’
    ‘Yes?’
    ‘It’s to do with cats, isn’t it?’
    ‘It is to do with cats.’
    Tiffany beamed and went on staring at the grey cat, her eyes wide and shining as if the animal were made of solid gold and not hair. The oriental girl in the blue gym suit raised her rolled-up
newspaper to get attention.
    ‘That’s not what I heard,’ she said. ‘I thought it was a kind of tai chi.’
    That opened the floodgates. Soon everyone was talking, firing off questions as fast as Mrs Powell could ask their names. A girl called Cecile thought Cat Kin was a London nature trail. A tall
boy, Yusuf, who spoke like an American, said he was after the Big Cats Conservation League. Nobody could agree. Daniel, a small black kid in glasses whom Ben vaguely recognised from school, had
been sure he was joining a dance group. And Olly, the boy who’d tried to leave, had for some unfathomable reason believed he was going to an art class to draw animals. Why he had thought it
would take place at Clissold Leisure Centre, Ben never discovered.
    ‘You appear confused.’ Mrs Powell’s voice brought instant hush. ‘And yet all of you are right. What you will learn at Cat Kin is somewhat akin to dance. It isn’t
unlike tai chi. And it will bring you closer to nature. Even Oliver here isn’t totally off the mark: we will be copying an animal. What we shall do together is
pashki
.’
    Mrs Powell stood up in a single fluid movement.
    ‘Pashki. One of the most ancient disciplines of body and soul. For more than–’
    ‘I’ve never heard of it,’ put in Susie, the oriental girl.
    ‘You are about to,’ said Mrs Powell softly. Ben got the feeling that only a very foolish person would interrupt her again. ‘You all know what yoga is? Perhaps you have heard
that many movements in yoga are inspired by the animal kingdom. In particular, cats. You’ve seen how cats stretch and flex themselves—ah, speak of the devil.’
    Her cat was reaching out his long, wicked claws, shivering in ecstasy.
    ‘Cats do this to maintain their physique. Unlike humans, cats don’t need to go to the gym. You might say that Jim is his own gym.’ She didn’t smile. A few in the group
laughed nervously.
    ‘Long ago in Egypt,’ said Mrs Powell, ‘people worshipped the cat. They called it Mau—for obvious reasons. The goddess was named, variously, Bast, Pakhet, or
Pasht.’
    ‘Excuse me.’ It seemed Tiffany couldn’t help herself. ‘That’s where we get the word “puss” from, isn’t it?’
    Ben tensed, but this time the interruption was welcome.
    ‘Yes! Look, Jim, we have a cat scholar among us.’
    The grey cat actually turned his head towards Tiffany and his tail flicked. Ben squirmed involuntarily. That animal gave him the creeps. And all this kneeling was making the arches of his feet
hurt like crazy.
    Mrs Powell began explaining how the high priests of Pasht developed pashki as a form of worship and exercise. Ben found it hard to pay attention. He’d never had a pet of his own, but he
liked taking his aunt’s Labrador for walks down in the West Country. Cats, on the other hand, left him cold. Worse than cold.
    And now Mrs Powell was bringing Jim round to each of them in turn.
    ‘You see his forehead,’ she said. ‘Ordinary tabbies have these markings too. The patterns make a clear M shape. M for Mau. After more than four thousand years, the original cat
is still among us.’
    Hands reached up to caress the fur. Mrs Powell stopped by Ben.
    ‘You can stroke him,’ she said. ‘He won’t scratch.’
    Ben shook his head.
    ‘What’s the matter?’
    ‘I don’t stroke cats,’ Ben said, hoping no-one else would hear. ‘They always give me electric shocks.’
    It was true. His friend Rajesh’s moggy only had to brush his bare arm for him to feel the crack of a tiny whip of fire.
    Mrs Powell peered at him