Atticus Claw Lends a Paw

by Jennifer Gray

  They cast off. Mr Tucker grabbed the oars and steered them out into the lake. Just then they heard the chug of a motorboat.

  ‘Is that her?’ Michael whispered.

  Callie’s face was white with fear.

  ‘Now what do we do?’ Mrs Cheddar held the kids’ hands tight.

  ‘Leave this to me!’ Mrs Tucker told her. ‘We’ve got the book, Klob!’ she shouted.

  Chug, chug, chug.

  ‘If you come any closer we’ll chuck it in the lake.’

  The chugging stopped.

  ‘And your evil animal pals need some help,’ Mrs Tucker yelled. ‘We’ve locked them in the crypt.’

  There was silence.

  ‘And don’t even think about hairpinning me!’ Mrs Tucker took the book from Atticus’s clenched teeth and held it over the water. ‘Or I’ll drop this in the drink.’

  ‘I’ll get you for this, Velk!’ a voice screeched through the darkness. ‘Just you vait!’

  The chugging started up again and faded away.

  ‘She’s gone!’ Callie whispered. ‘Are you all right, Atticus?’

  Atticus was trembling violently. Both his ears drooped. Callie picked him up and cuddled him. She buried her face in his fur. Michael tickled his chin.

  Atticus began to purr weakly.

  ‘He’s feeling better, thank goodness,’ Mrs Cheddar said. She found a cat treat in her pocket and offered it to him.

  Atticus took it gratefully. He was starving.

  Mrs Tucker wrapped the book in her cardigan and placed it carefully in the basket. ‘Now let’s get you home,’ she said, giving Atticus a sardine. ‘Before you get yourself into any more trouble.’

  ‘I don’t have time for all this!’

  The next morning, in the kitchen at number 2 Blossom Crescent, Mrs Cheddar and the kids were telling Inspector Cheddar about their adventures of the previous night.

  It wasn’t going too well.

  ‘But, Dad!’ Callie shouted. ‘The magpies were there. And Biscuit. They were after Howard Toffly’s book.’

  ‘The first time around they stole Mr Tucker’s beard-jumper experiment notebook by mistake,’ Michael explained. ‘That’s why one of the magpies was orange.’

  ‘Orange,’ Inspector Cheddar repeated sarcastically. ‘I see.’

  ‘Atticus knew they’d come back,’ Callie insisted. ‘And he knew where the real book was hidden.’

  ‘And he looks exactly like the cat pharaoh!’ Michael told him. ‘It was amazing, Dad. You should have seen him! He worked out how to open the secret chamber. He can read hieroglyphs.’

  Inspector Cheddar snorted. ‘I have never heard such a load of old rubbish in my life!’ he said.

  ‘Darling, it’s true!’ Mrs Cheddar protested. ‘We did see the magpies. And Biscuit. And we heard Klob. The kids are right: Atticus rescued the book. Mrs Tucker has it.’

  Inspector Cheddar sighed. Orange magpies! Secret chambers! Cats reading hieroglyphs! What nonsense! He glanced at Atticus, who was snoozing in his basket, curled up next to Mimi. Inspector Cheddar couldn’t help thinking how straightforward his life had been before Atticus Grammaticus Cattypuss Claw turned up on the doorstep.

  ‘You didn’t see anything,’ he said crossly. ‘It was your imagination playing tricks in the dark. And even if Atticus did find a book, it’s not going to tell you the way to the golden city of cats. There’s no such thing.’ He chortled. ‘Next you’ll be telling me that Atticus is descended from the cat pharaoh and it’s his destiny to protect the lost city of Nebu-Mau from being discovered by the Tofflys.’

  The kids clapped their hands.

  ‘That’s brilliant, Dad!’ Michael shouted.

  ‘Great thinking!’ Callie’s eyes shone.

  ‘Darling, you are clever!’ Mrs Cheddar agreed.

  ‘I was joking!’ Inspector Cheddar thundered. He shook his head. ‘I can’t listen to any more of this. I’ve got important knitting crimes to solve.’ He snatched up his cap and strode out.

  ‘I suppose there’s no point in telling him who the graffiti knitters really are?’ Callie sighed.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Mrs Cheddar said heavily. ‘Not until we have proof.’

  Just then the phone rang.

  Mrs Cheddar picked it up.

  ‘Okay … yes … that’s great … I’ll ring the office and tell them I can’t go in today … we’ll meet you at the train station … I’ll get Atticus and Mimi up now.’

  ‘Who was that?’ Michael asked.

  ‘It was Mrs Tucker.’ Mrs Cheddar grinned. ‘She’s made an appointment to see Professor Verry-Clever at the British Museum in London. She wants us to bring Atticus.’

  Atticus knew London well from his years as a cat burglar, but he’d never been to the British Museum before. The taxi dropped them at the gates. Atticus and Mimi hurried after the humans into a courtyard. They scurried up the steps into the museum.

  Professor Verry-Clever met them at the door.

  ‘This way,’ he said. He led them through the museum.

  Atticus caught a fleeting glimpse of rooms full of huge stone statues.

  Soon they arrived at the Professor’s office. ‘Don’t mind Cleopatra,’ he said, opening the door.

  ‘Who’s Cleopatra?’ Callie asked.

  ‘She’s my mummy!’ Edmund Verry-Clever’s eyes twinkled. ‘She was a gift from the University of Cairo.’

  A painted sarcophagus stood upright in the corner next to a statue of a sphinx. It was in the shape of a woman. She had a beautiful painted face with huge almond eyes and dark eyebrows. Her clothes were gold and red and aqua blue.

  Atticus squinted at it. The colours reminded him of something from a long time ago.

  ‘Can we see inside it?’ Michael begged.

  ‘All right.’ The Professor clicked a catch. Carefully he pulled the sarcophagus open.

  ‘Eeerrrrggghh!’ Callie cried in disgust.

  Mimi flinched.

  Atticus felt only curiosity. The figure inside the sarcophagus was swathed in dusty brown bandages from head to toe. Again, he felt he’d seen something like it before, but he couldn’t remember where. He tiptoed forward to take a closer look. Then he froze. He could have sworn the mummy moved! He rubbed his eyes with his paw.

  ‘Not so pretty in the flesh, is she?’ The Professor said gleefully. ‘But you’ve got to remember Cleopatra is about four thousand years old.’ He closed the sarcophagus.

  ‘What are those?’ Michael pointed to a display cabinet beside Cleopatra. Inside was a cruel-looking statue of a bird with black glittering eyes. Balanced on its head was a red disc. It stood over the bodies of two other birds that lay beneath it, wings out, beaks gaping.

  ‘That’s Horus, the Egyptian God of the Sky. It’s a sacrifice to Osiris, the God of the Dead, who was believed to be Horus’s father.’

  Atticus turned away. The statue reminded him of Jimmy Magpie.

  ‘Now let’s get down to business,’ Professor Verry-Clever said.

  ‘We found this in Howard Toffly’s crypt.’ Mrs Tucker unravelled the leather-bound book from her cardigan and handed it to him. ‘Well, that is to say, Atticus did.’ She told the Professor what had happened the night before.

  Atticus listened, spellbound. He did all that? He supposed he must have, if Mrs Tucker said he did. The scary thing was, he couldn’t remember any of it, until the bit where Mimi woke him up and they were fighting off Biscuit and the magpies.

  Edmund Verry-Clever listened in silence, occasionally casting curious looks in Atticus’s direction. ‘Remarkable,’ he said when she’d finished. ‘Quite remarkable.’ He took out a magnifying glass from his desk, pulled on a pair of cotton gloves and opened the book.

  ‘Hieroglyphs!’ he breathed. ‘From the Eleventh Dynasty.’ The way he said it, it was as if someone had just told him he’d won the lottery. ‘This is the most exciting discovery I have ever witnessed,’ he said. His brow knotted in a frown of concentration.

  ‘Can you r
ead them?’ Michael asked.

  Professor Verry-Clever nodded slowly. ‘I can understand most of them. They tell the way to the lost city of Nebu-Mau: the golden city of cats.’

  ‘So Howard Toffly did find the city!’ Mrs Cheddar gripped the edge of the desk.

  ‘Yes, he must have stumbled across the city by chance,’ the Professor said solemnly, ‘entered the cat pharaoh’s tomb and made off with the book and the statue that Atticus found in the crypt. That’s why he was cursed.’ He looked dreamy. ‘This book gives us the chance to follow in his footsteps.’

  ‘Does it say how to get there?’ Mr Tucker asked. ‘Only we could go in me boat if youze like!’ he offered generously.

  ‘Don’t be silly, Herman!’ Mrs Tucker snapped. ‘Nebu-Mau’s in the desert.’

  The Professor scrutinised the symbols. ‘According to the hieroglyphs,’ he said, ‘the path to Nebu-Mau lies through sand and water.’

  ‘How is that possible?’ Mrs Cheddar whispered.

  ‘I don’t know.’ Edmund Verry-Clever turned a page. ‘But I see the desert and the parting of water. I see palm trees and sand dunes. I see a city of temples and pyramids. I see treasure beyond the dreams of men.’

  Atticus jumped on the desk. He wanted to see too. Fragments of the previous night were coming back to him. Nebu-Mau sounded like the place he’d read about on the wall of the secret chamber in Howard Toffly’s crypt.

  ‘I see a prosperous place full of rich and beautiful cats,’ the Professor said. ‘I see people gathering there from far and wide bringing wonderful gifts.’

  Atticus’s eyes followed the hieroglyphs. It was easy-peasy-cat-paw-squeezy to read them. He waited politely for the Professor to finish deciphering them then turned the page with his paw.

  ‘I see a temple and a palace,’ the Professor continued. He had one eye on Atticus. ‘They belong to a great ruler: a wise and mighty tabby cat with white paws. It is he the people have come to worship.’

  Atticus started to purr. That was exactly what Atticus saw too! He was glad Professor Verry-Clever was so brainy. For some reason, the rest of the humans didn’t seem to have a clue what the hieroglyphs meant. Nor did Mimi. They were looking at him and the Professor in complete puzzlement. Atticus couldn’t understand what the problem was: normally they were pretty good at reading.

  ‘Who is the great ruler?’ Michael demanded.

  Edmund Verry-Clever looked up. ‘He is the cat pharaoh: Cattypuss the Great.’

  ‘Cattypuss!’ Mrs Tucker shrieked. ‘That’s Atticus’s middle name. Well, one of them.’

  ‘Bloomin’ hake!’ Mr Tucker exclaimed.

  ‘Any idea how he got it?’ the Professor demanded sharply.

  ‘No,’ Mrs Cheddar shook her head. ‘He just arrived on the doorstep with it.’

  Atticus touched his neckerchief. His name was sewn on it in spidery writing.

  He’d never thought about his name before. Or where it had come from. It had just been there, around his neck, since he was a kitten.

  The Professor eyed Atticus with growing respect. He offered Atticus the book. Atticus turned to the final page. He had a feeling this would be the best bit of the story.

  ‘Only the true descendant of Cattypuss the Great can open the tomb of the cat pharaoh,’ the Professor read. ‘It is only he who has the necessary wisdom, passed down from previous lives. It is only he who may enter the tomb without being cursed.’

  I knew that! Atticus thought proudly. ‘Instinct’ Mimi called it. And he had it in bucket-loads. He looked round. Everyone was staring at him, including Mimi. He wondered why.

  The humans all started talking at once.

  In the din Atticus caught the words

  – ‘Egypt’ and

  – ‘expedition’ and

  – ‘top secret’ and

  – ‘dangerous’ and

  – ‘Dad was right’ and

  – ‘Klob’ and

  – ‘Biscuit’ and

  – ‘magpies’ and

  – ‘Lord and Lady Toffly’ and

  – ‘over my dead body’ (several times from Mrs Tucker)

  – and his own name repeated over and over and over again:

  Atticus, Cattypuss,

  Atticus, Cattypuss,

  Atticus, Cattypuss.

  Until Atticus felt quite dizzy. He had to squeeze Mimi’s paw to keep himself from falling off the desk.

  Eventually Edmund Verry-Clever raised his hand for silence. ‘So we are agreed. We will mount an expedition to Egypt to rediscover the lost city of Nebu-Mau: the golden city of cats. Atticus will lead us. In the meantime I will keep the book safe here in the museum’s vault while the necessary arrangements are made. You will keep Atticus safe at home. We will leave in two days’ time.’

  Everyone else nodded.

  Atticus felt puzzled. Of course he’d be happy to go to Egypt. It was hot there and he liked sunbathing. But lead an expedition to rediscover the lost city of Nebu-Mau? That sounded like hard work. And there was the curse to think about. And why did they need to keep him safe? He could look after himself. ‘Why me?’ he whispered to Mimi. ‘Can’t someone else do it?

  ‘It has to be you, Atticus,’ Mimi purred quietly. ‘Don’t you see? That’s how you can read the hieroglyphs. That’s how you knew where to find the book.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Atticus said, puzzled.

  ‘Oh, Atticus,’ Mimi cried. ‘Wake up! The book’s talking about you! You are the descendant of Cattypuss the Great.’

  ‘Remarkable, quite remarkable!’

  When his visitors had gone, Professor Edmund Verry-Clever sat poring over the book. He would lock it in the museum’s vault later. Right now, he just wanted to admire it. It was the most wonderful object he had ever encountered in all the years he had spent studying Ancient Egypt. Imagine! To discover the lost city of Nebu-Mau; to find the golden city of cats; to enter the tomb of cat pharaoh, Cattypuss the Great: it was every scholar’s dream.

  The Professor couldn’t believe his good fortune. What a stroke of luck to come across a tabby who was descended from Cattypuss the Great himself! Atticus would lead them to the city, just as he had led his family to the stolen book in the crypt. It was fate. It was a miracle. It was the will of the Ancient Egyptian gods. And you couldn’t argue with them, unless you wanted to die a horrible death, like Howard Toffly.

  TAP. TAP. TAP.

  The Professor looked up.

  TAP. TAP. TAP.

  He frowned. The noise seemed to be coming from the glass display case of Horus. He got up to investigate.

  TAP. TAP. TAP.

  The Professor froze.

  Horus had moved. He was staring up at him with glittering eyes, tapping at the glass. And the two sacrificial birds weren’t dead any more. They were hopping about chattering at one another.

  The professor staggered backwards.

  KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

  He turned his head in disbelief.

  KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

  The knocking was coming from inside the sarcophagus.

  He watched in horror as the door swung open.

  The mummy stepped out, arms outstretched. It reached under the wrappings covering its head. Something sharp gleamed in its bandaged hand.

  The Professor screamed.

  ZIP!

  A hairpin flew through the air. It hit the Professor in the chest. He folded to the floor.

  ‘MMYYAAAAWWWWWW!’

  The last thing he remembered before he passed out was a furry flash of ginger as the sphinx came to life.

  ‘Good vork!’ Zenia Klob prodded the Professor with her bandaged boot. ‘Now get him in the trolley. Qvick! Before somebody comes.’

  Ginger Biscuit got the squeaky wheelie trolley out of the cupboard and heaved Edmund Verry-Clever into it. He flicked out his claws one by one – POP. POP. POP. POP. – and released the three birds from the glass case.

  ‘Ve’ll take this!’ Zenia grabbed Howard Toffly’s stolen book o
ff the desk and pressed it to her bandaged lips. ‘And the Professor. That vay ve von’t be followed. No vun else knows vere the lost city is. All ve need now is Atticus.’

  ‘Chaka-chaka-chaka-chaka!’ the magpies chattered angrily.

  ‘Grrrrrr,’ Biscuit growled.

  ‘Silence!’ She clicked her boots. ‘I don’t care vether you like it or not,’ she hissed. ‘Ve need Atticus to get the treasure. He is the only vun who can open the tomb.’ She glanced out of the window. The Tofflys were perched on the domed roof with several bin bags full of wool, some knitting needles and a vat of Thumpers’ Knitquick. Pig, Gizzard and Wally hovered nearby. Zenia raised a fist. ‘Let’s go and get him,’ she said, ‘vile the Tofflys do the vest.’

  At about four o’clock that afternoon the call came through to the Chief Inspector of Bigsworth that the graffiti knitters had struck London. The British Museum had been cocooned in a mohair vest. The Chief Inspector set off for Scotland Yard.

  ‘Get Cheddar!’ he yelled at his secretary on the way out. ‘Tell him he’s an idiot. I was right all along. It’s not Smellie. Tell him the Police Commissioner wants to see us. NOW!’

  Inspector Cheddar was sitting in his wife’s car opposite the Home for Abandoned Cats eating a Twix when the secretary got hold of him on his walkie-talkie.

  He could hardly believe his ears. Not Smellie! Then who? Inspector Cheddar set off for Scotland Yard, his jaw set. Something told him this was going to be BIG. VERY BIG!

  NEE NAW NEE NAW NEE NAW!

  This was a job for the professionals. He zoomed up the motorway, whizzed through the streets of London, skidded to a halt outside Scotland Yard and raced into the building.

  The Police Commissioner was waiting for him in his office.

  ‘Ah, Cheddar, there you are,’ the Police Commissioner said. ‘Good to see you again.’ (They had worked together on the Crown Jewels case with Atticus.) He shook his head. ‘Bad business this.’