The Catlady Read Online Free Page B

when I opened it, there was my poor sister sittingon the steps. How glad I was to see her, and so were Papa and Mama and Coco. And how grateful I am to Her Majesty!”

    The Catlady bent down and, very respectfully, stroked Vicky's fat ginger back.
    “Thank you, ma'am, thank you so much,” she said, and Vicky purred loudly.
    Percival and Florence, of course, discussed this latest event in their own language.
    “How in the world did the girl come to be shut in the cellar?” the Colonel asked his wife.
    At that moment, Vicky came into the master bedroom. She was the only cat in the house to be allowed in that room, though normally she spent her days and nights on the Catlady's bed.
    Percival and Florence, who had bothbeen lying on the carpet, sprang up, and Percival stood rigidly to attention like the soldier he had once been.
    He waited for Vicky to speak (it was customary among all the cats not to address the Queen first but to wait to be spoken to).
    “Well, Colonel,” Vicky said, “I trust that your daughter is none the worse for this latest incident?”

    “She came to no harm, Your Majesty,” Percival replied, “but she might have been imprisoned for a long time had it not been for your skill in finding her, ma'am. My wife and I are truly grateful.”
    “It was nothing,” Vicky said. “We happened to be passing the cellar door and we heard the child mewing. ‘Kittens shouldbe seen and not heard,' as the saying goes, but on this occasion it was fortunate that the child cried out.”
    “And that Your Majesty's hearing is so sharp,” said Florence.
    “All our five senses are in perfect working order,” said Vicky imperiously, and she waddled regally out of the room.

Chapter Six
    Probably on account of the Catlady's strangely respectful treatment of Vicky, Mary Nutt began, despite herself, to think quite a lot about this strange idea of reincarnation.
    In the Catlady's library she first consulted an encyclopedia. “This belief,” she read, “is fundamental to the Hindu and Buddhist concepts of the world.”
    So millions of people believe in it, she thought. They can't all be barmy. Perhaps Miss Muriel isn't either.
    Reincarnation, she read, accounted for the differences in the character of individualsbecause of what each had once been. So was the fact that Vicky was short and tubby and bossy and that the other cats always let her eat first and seemed to be very respectful toward her—was that all because this ginger cat had once been Queen of England? Rubbish, one part of her said.
    Millions believe in it, said another. Of course it would be a comfort to me to be able to believe that my mother and father are alive again, in some shape or form. If only I could, she thought.
    I wonder what form Miss Muriel believes she will assume when she dies? Which may not be all that long, she thought. She's aged a great deal in the years that I've been here.
    For some time now the Catlady had not come down for breakfast. She ate very little anyway, and Mary, seeing how frail she was becoming, persuaded her to have a tray with a cup of tea and some toast and marmalade brought up to her bedroom.
    One morning Mary knocked as usual and took in the tray.
    “Shall I pour for you both, Miss Muriel?” she asked.
    “Please, Mary dear.”
    So she saw to the Catlady's tea and then, as usual, filled a saucer with milk and put it on the floor for Vicky.

    “How are we today, Miss Muriel?” she asked.
    “A little tired. I'm not getting any younger, I fear.”
    “You stay in bed,” Mary said. “I can bring you some lunch up later.”
    You're really looking very old now, she thought. But not unhappy. Maybe because of this belief of yours that when you die, you'll start again as someone or something else.
    “I've been thinking quite a lot,” she said, “about what you said to me some time ago. About being reborn, in another body.”
    “I shall be,” said the Catlady firmly.
    It still seems odd that she's so sure, Mary