by Lou Kuenzler
Yuck.
Musa paced up and down looking worried. “Ozzy has been the ship’s cat ever since he was a kitten,” he said. “We have visited this temple many times. I have never known him to leave the boat before. Ever.”
“Not even to … you know? To do his business?” I asked.
“Trust you to think of that, Violet,” groaned Tiff. “You really are disgusting.”
“Ozzy has a litter tray down by the store cupboard,” said Musa. “I filled it with fresh sand just after breakfast. It has not been used since.”
“You see,” I cried, scowling at Tiff. What did she know about being a detective? “Ozzy has definitely disappeared. If he hadn’t he would have needed to go to the loo by now.”
“We should send out a search party,” said Gran. “Just in case he has gone to the ruins.”
“But Musa said he never leaves the boat,” frowned Anthony.
“I wouldn’t go out in the dark if I was you,” said Professor Gus, almost spilling his glass of after-dinner brandy. “I’ve been doing some research into this place and I’ve uncovered some very strange and creepy stories.”
“I love stories – the the better,” I said. “Especially if they’re about a curse or the revenge of a hideous, headless mummy.”
“This is a dark and grisly tale,” said Professor Gus, his voice booming across the deck. He really didn’t know how to tell a scary story properly. He should have whispered if he really wanted to make a run down our spines.
“It is believed that this place is haunted by a terrible blood-chilling curse…” he thundered, “the curse of a cat.”
“A pussycat?” said Gran.
Anthony and I looked at each other. Surely the professor could do better than that? Tiffany giggled but Professor Gus ignored her.
“The first archaeologists who worked here would never go to the temple at night, all because of the terrible Curse of the Mummified Cat.”
There was a gasp from both the Calendar sisters, who clutched each other’s hands in horror.
Even Signora Sipperetto had stopped jiggling for a moment.
Perhaps this was going to be a good story after all – something only a true Egyptologist would know. I looked up at the full moon and tried the help the professor out a bit…
I made my best attempt a gruesome kitty’s howl.
“Shh!” The professor put his finger to his lips. “The archaeologists found that anyone who went to the temple after dark woke the next day with…”
“With what…?” urged Lola L’Amour.
“With whiskers on their face,” said the professor. “It was as if they had been turned into cats in their sleep.”
“That’s horrible,” gasped Tiffany. She wasn’t laughing now. She was terrified about getting a spot on her face so the thought of cat whiskers made her clutch her cheeks in horror.
Lola and Louis L’Amour looked worried too.
“One man woke up with furry ears,” said the professor. “And a young Egyptian guide even grew a tail.”
“Goodness me, Gus,” sniggered Signor Sipperetto. “You’ll give the children nightmares.”
The professor might have managed to frighten the frizz out of Tiffany but I could tell from the grin on Anthony’s face that he didn’t believe a word. Neither did I. There weren’t nearly enough popping eyeballs and green-tinged skin to scare us. Turning into a cat … For goodness’ sake! Hannibal my hamster could tell a better spooky story than this!
“I do not wish to frighten anyone,” said Professor Gus, looking a little annoyed that Ant and I weren’t shivering like wobbly jellies. “I just want to warn you all not to leave this boat after dark.”
“Very wise,” shuddered the Calendar sisters.
But Musa shrugged and unhooked a lantern from above the gangplank. “I have never heard these stories before,” he said. “If you will excuse me, professor, I am going out to look for my lost cat.”
Gran and I were up before any of the other passengers next morning. We found Musa busy preparing the breakfast table. There was still no sign of Ozzy.
“He would never have left the boat by his own choice,” said Musa. “I am certain of that.”
“Then what can have happened to him?” asked Gran.
Musa looked as if he hadn’t slept a wink. I couldn’t bear to imagine how I’d feel if Chip went missing.
“Either there has been a terrible accident,” said Musa, laying teacups and saucers on the buffet for breakfast. “Or somebody on this boat did something very bad to him.”
“Bad?” said Gran. “You don’t mean…?”
“I don’t know,” said Musa quickly. None of us wanted to think what the end of Gran’s sentence might have been.
“Maybe someone stole him,” I said. “He is a very beautiful cat.”
“Perhaps,” said Musa sadly.
Gran and I looked at each other as he went back down to the kitchen. Did someone on the boat really know what had happened to Ozzy? Had they hurt him somehow or hidden him away somewhere? Who would do a thing like that?
“It’s like a proper whodunit,” said Gran.
“If only I could shrink,” I whispered. “Being tiny always makes it so much easier to creep about and find out what’s really going on.”
“No more pickles for you then,” said Gran, squeezing my hand.
“Poor Ozzy. I’ve grown to love that cat,” I said.
“At least we know it wasn’t you who did something to him,” said Gran. She looked over at the eleven teacups Musa had spread out on the buffet table. One for every passenger. She took the teacup nearest to her and turned it over so that it was upside down in the saucer. “There. That’s you counted out, Violet.”
I saw what she was doing at once. “Tumbling temples, you’re brilliant, Gran!” I said. Each passenger on the Cleopatra was represented by a teacup. We just had to keep turning them over until we saw who was left.
“It definitely wasn’t you either,” I said turning over the next cup.
“It’s just like solving a puzzle,” winked Gran.
“It wasn’t Tiff,” I said, turning over another one. “She might be a fluffy-haired, mirror-mad flea-brain sometimes but she would never do anything mean to an animal.”
“And it wasn’t Anthony,” said Gran.
But my hand shot out towards the cup before she could turn it over.
“I’m not so sure,” I said.
It was tummy-twistingly awful to think that Anthony might be the criminal but I couldn’t ignore the feeling that was churning in my gut.
“He hates cats. Do you remember when we came back from the market?” I asked. “He said he wished that Ozzy wasn’t even on this boat.”
“I did think that was strange,” said Gran. “He has two cats of his own at home. Cocoa and Caramel. He used to send me pictures he’d drawn of them when he was little.”
“Shrinking’s changed him,” I said. “He’s terrified. You saw how worried he was when we were near the spotty strays. I bet he’s scared that if he shrinks on board the boat, Ozzy will eat him.”
Gran looked pale. “I really don’t think it’s Anthony,” she said. But I still had my hand on the cup and she didn’t try to turn it over.
“How about Signor Sipperetto?” she asked.
“I’ve seen him stroking Ozzy a zillion times. He loves cats,” I said.
“Ah … so does he love Ozzy enough to steal him for himself?” asked Gran.
“No.” I turned Signor Sipperetto’s cup over. “No one who really cares for an animal would ever try and take it away from a happy home.”
“True. And it wasn’t Signora Sipperetto either,” said Gran. “She’s too busy thinking about herself and keeping fit to even notice a cat.”
“And Lola and Louis L’Amour are too busy thinking
about each other,” I said, turning over their cups and blushing pink as a raspberry as I thought about how they were always kissing. “And it definitely wasn’t the Calendar sisters. They’re far too crazy about cats to want to harm Ozzy in any way.”
“Agreed,” said Gran, and we flipped their cups over too.
“So that just leaves the professor,” I said.
“…That just leaves the professor for what?” boomed a posh voice right behind my ear.
I spun around to see Professor Gus leaning on the back of my chair.
How long had he been standing there? How much had he heard?
“Erm,” I said helplessly.
“That just leaves the professor … to see if he wants tea or coffee this morning,” smiled Gran. “Musa was wondering how many of each he should make and we were trying to guess. Weren’t we, Violet?”
“Er … yes,” I said, nodding so hard it must have looked as if my head was on a bouncy spring.
Gran is amazing. She might be a little old lady but she thinks so fast her brain is like a skiddy motorbike on a race track.
“I’ll have English tea, please,” said Professor Gus.
Gran pushed his empty cup towards him. We still hadn’t turned it over.
There was definitely something not quite right about the professor… That silly ghost story last night that Musa said he had never heard before. And the way, for a world-famous history whizz, it always seemed as if he had just read his facts from The Bumper Book of Ancient Egypt. But what did any of that have to do with a missing cat?
I glanced down at the table. There were only two cups we had not turned over.
One was for the professor … the other was for Anthony.
The sun was baking hot already this morning but a cold shiver ran down my spine. Did either Anthony or Professor Gus really know what had happened to Ozzy?
All day long I kept a lookout for Ozzy and I watched Anthony as we worked together on the dig. If he really did know something about the missing cat, he didn’t show any sign of it.
He seemed totally relaxed as he raked through the sand, talking happily about how much fun teeny-tiny time travel would be if only we could and go back to Ancient Egypt. We imagined creeping about trying not be squashed by giant stones as the pyramids were built.
Tiffany refused to come back to the dig. “This is our last day on the boat,” she said. “If I want to look beautiful when I dress up as Cleopatra for the party tonight I need to have perfect skin.”
“What is she doing?” asked Anthony as we watched her tiptoeing down to the edge of the river with one of the little plastic pots I had used to keep my pickles in.
“Nile mud,” I said. “I told her it was good for her face. It’s the whole reason she came to Egypt in the first place.”
“Oh dear. Mum uses mud packs sometimes,” laughed Anthony, “but I don’t think you’re supposed to scoop it out of the river like that.”
“Probably not,” I grinned.
Gran had said she was stiff from digging yesterday so she was going to stay on the boat too. She’d promised to try and make a pharaoh mask for Anthony to wear at the party.
“Not that I am much good at art and craft,” she told me. “But I am determined to try and keep Anthony cheerful.”
“And I’ve got my costume sorted too,” I grinned.
Musa had given me some rolls of bandage from the boat’s first-aid kit, so I could dress up as a mummy after all.
“I’m going to look like a giant, life-size version of my key ring, and you’ll look like your pharaoh one,” I said to Anthony as we were digging.
“Ha,” Anthony laughed. “It’s strange to think this will be our last night on the Cleopatra, isn’t it?”
“Just so long as we find Ozzy before we go,” I said.
“I hope we do too,” said Anthony.
I wanted more than ever to believe that he didn’t know where the little cat had gone.
“Have you noticed,” he said, “there are fewer strays today? All those spotty ones that look like leopard cubs. The ones Gran likes…”
“They’re gone!” I said.
Anthony was right. Although there were plenty of ordinary-looking black and tabby strays dozing in the sun, there was not a speckled cat to be seen anywhere.
I didn’t see a single one in the ruins all day. And there was no sign of Ozzy either.
When I had finished digging, I searched all round the temple and up and down the riverbank for the little missing cat.
When I returned to the Cleopatra I saw Musa carrying tables down to the edge of the water ready for the barbecue.
“I can’t imagine where poor Ozzy has disappeared to,” he said, shaking his head sadly.
“Don’t worry. We will find him,” I said.
I dashed back to the cabin with just half an hour to spare before the party. The minute I opened the door, Tiffany at me, wailing like a zombie. “VIOLET, look what you’ve done,” she howled. “That stinky Nile mud has brought me out in blotches.”
Poor Tiff. Her face was covered in a bright red rash. One minute she was pea-green from feeling seasick … now she had more spots than my trousers.
“I don’t look anything like Cleopatra,” she wailed. “I look more like…”
“Cleo-SPLAT-ra?” I said, trying not to laugh.
Tiffany threw herself on the bed. “Professor Gus was right,” she sobbed. “There is a curse.”
“You didn’t even go outside after dark,” I said. “And anyway, he said you’d grow whiskers, not spots.”
“This is all your fault … as usual,” growled Tiffany.
“We’ll just have to make the best of it,” I said, sitting down next to her and helping her rub some white make-up on her cheeks.
“Wow!” I said. The pale cream made the black lines she’d drawn around her eyes look really dark and glamorous. By the time she’d put on the big gold earrings she’d bought at the market and a sparkly sequin dress from home, she actually looked pretty cool.
“Totally Cleo-tastic!” I said, twirling her around in front of the mirror.
What we didn’t know was that Lola L’Amour had decided to come to the party dressed as Cleopatra too.
I thought Tiffany might run back to our cabin as we stepped off the boat and saw the beautiful young bride in a black shiny wig.
But Tiff threw back her shoulders. “Here goes,” she said. “It’s not every day you get to share the same style as a Paris fashion model.”
“Good for her,” winked Gran from behind a pair of very long false eyelashes she had managed to find for her camel costume. “And I see you’ve wrapped up nicely, Violet,” she laughed, adjusting the hump on her back.
“Tiffany helped,” I said, spinning around so that Gran could see my bandages from all sides. “We had a bit of practice with some toilet rolls before we left home.”
I waved at Tiffany. She looked as if she was going to faint as Louis L’Amour – who was dressed as an Ancient Egyptian soldier with nothing but a tea towel tied around his waist – took pictures of her and Lola on his phone.
“Bet that’s going to go Tiff’s social-face-thingy page,” laughed Gran.
“And the Calendar sisters are going to be dressed as mummies, just like me,” I said, explaining to Gran how they had bought loads of bandages and spice at the market. “They’re even going to perfectly of cinnamon.”
“Really? They told me they were going to come as cats,” said Gran. “After all, that is what the fundraiser’s for.”
Sure enough, I saw the sisters approaching along the riverbank in the lantern light. Each had a little pair of pointy ears attached to a headband and a tabby tail bobbing along behind her.
“Strange,” I muttered. “What can they have wanted the spice and bandages for?”
Before G
ran could answer, Professor Gus appeared. He was dressed like an old-fashioned explorer with big baggy shorts, showing off his very knobbly knees.
“Tell me, Professor,” said Gran with a naughty twinkle in her eye, “do you think it is safe for us to be standing here in the dark like this? I mean, we are outside…”
“If you’re talking about the curse,” said Professor Gus rather crossly, “I think you’ll be all right as long as you stay close to the boat. But don’t go anywhere near the temple.”
“It’s too late,” I giggled, glancing at the Calendar sisters with their tails wrapped neatly over their arms. “I am afraid to say Miss June and Miss July have already been down to the temple tonight. I have proof.”
“What do you mean?” Professor Gus turned white. “Where did you see them go?”
He looked so panicked I felt bad for teasing him.
“I was only joking,” I mumbled, pointing to the sisters’ tabby ears. “…I was pretending they’d been turned into cats, you see.”
“Laugh all you like,” said the professor. “But do NOT go near those ruins tonight … not to any part of the temple, especially the underground cattery … or you WILL be struck by the curse.”
“Careful!” cried Gran as he stormed away, bumping into Anthony and almost tipping him into the river.
“Wow!” I gasped as I caught hold of Anthony’s arm and saved him. “What a totally cool costume!”
Anthony was dressed in blue pyjama trousers and a blue T-shirt, which Gran had sewn a gold trim on to.
Most amazing of all was his Egyptian headdress. It was blue and gold with a cobra rising up in the centre.
“You look like a real pharaoh,” I grinned.
“It’s only cardboard and paint,” said Anthony. “Louis L’Amour made it for me. That’s his job. He makes props and things for fashion shoots. That’s where he first met Lola.”
“You promised you’d say I made the costume all by myself, without any help from the professionals,” laughed Gran.
“You did … of course … completely,” fibbed Anthony as Gran hugged us both.
