The Catlady Read Online Free

or form?”
    “Oh, I don't think I could believe in that,” Mary said.
    “I do,” said the Catlady.

    Mary Nutt looked at her employer, the elderly, green-eyed Catlady, gray hair tied back as usual. She's aged quite a bit in the time I've lived here, she thought— rather bent, a bit unsteady on her feet—but her mind is still clear, I think.
    Or rather, I thought. But this reincarnation thing!
    “Do you mean,” Mary asked, “that you believe you were someone else in a previous life?”
    “Someone. Or perhaps somebody. I wasn't necessarily human.”
    “You could have been an animal?”
    “Yes, indeed. I may be one in the future, when my heart stops beating. I don't expect you to believe in the idea, Mary, but I thought it might be a comfort to you to know that I am sure your mother and father are still enjoying lives of some sort. As indeed my dear mama and papa are.”
    “Your mother and father?”
    “At this moment they are in their old bedroom, resting upon their four-poster bed, while my brother and sister play on the floor.” “I don't understand,” said Mary.
    “Percival and Florence. My father and mother.”

    “Those were their names?” “Those are their names. New forms they may haveacquired, but I know without a shadow of a doubt who they were before they became cats. Just as I am absolutely certain about Vicky here. She was born at twenty past four on the afternoon of January 22, 1901, the very instant that the last breath left her previous body.”
    “Whose body was that?” Mary asked.
    “Vicky, as I most disrespectfully call her, is in fact Victoria, Queen of the United Kingdom and Empress of India,” said the Catlady.

    She picked up the stout ginger cat and began, with great deference, to stroke her. “So now you know, Mary,” she said. “Vicky here is the late great Queen Victoria.”
    Did I tell myself her mind was clear? Mary thought. She's barmy.

Chapter Five
    The shopkeepers in Dumpton Muddicorum had always thought Miss Ponsonby a bit mad. “You'd have to be,” they said, “to keep as many cats (and spend as much money on their food) as the Catlady does.”
    Nonetheless, they were still rather fond of her. She was always smiling, always polite. “She may be a bit strange,” they said among themselves,“but she's a proper lady.”
    Of course, they knew nothing of her belief in reincarnation, but commented, first, on her kindness in giving away some of her cats (“Free,” they said. “She never asked for a penny”) and, secondly, on the fact thatthe years seemed to be telling on her. Riding her bicycle was patently becoming a big effort.
    “Good job she's got that nice young girl living with her, what's her name … Mary … Mary Nutt, that's it,” they said. They had not been surprised when Mary appeared in the village one day, riding the Catlady's tall black bicycle, to do the shopping. They each made regular inquiries of Mary as to how Miss Ponsonby was getting on.
    One day Mary came back from the village to find the Catlady standing at the

    front door, leaning on the walking stick that she now always used, and looking, Mary could see, very worried.
    “What is it, Miss Muriel?” Mary asked before beginning to unload the shopping from the big wicker basket on the handlebars.“What's the matter?”

    “Oh, Mary!” cried the Catlady.“It's my brother!”
    “Your brother?”
    “Yes, Coco. I can't find him anywhere. I've asked Mama and Papa and my sister Hazel where Coco has gone, but of course they couldn't tell me. Could he have been stolen, d'you think, or run away? I've searched the house but I can't find him.”
    “He must be somewhere about,” Mary said. “I'll just unload this shopping and then I'll make you a nice cup of tea. I'll find him, don't you worry.”
    In fact, the white kitten Coco, adventurous as most boys are, had decided to do some exploring.

    In the master bedroom of Ponsonby Place, there was a large fireplace, once used to keep Sir