by Dave Warner
Leila was not going to be dissed by a parrot. 'At least I can sleep, Feathers. I don't know how you can after that movie you made with Sarah-Jane set all those box-office records . . . for least money taken.'
Feathers' feathers ruffled. 'It was the way Tommy cut it,' he shot back.
'Hah! There's only one way he could cut it and that's around your massive beak.'
'Easier than cutting around your massive ego.'
Charlotte was lost. It was like Leila and Feathers had their own language. 'By "cut", you mean . . .?' she began to ask.
'Edit,' snapped Leila.
'Like the time they had to "edit" Leila falling at the hurdle,' quipped Feathers. 'Supposed to sail right over it and, instead, she went into a nosedive.'
'I'll edit your head from your bony shoulders,' threatened Leila.
Charlotte felt it was time to intervene. 'Now, now, you two. You know you've each missed one another. Feathers, Leila is always telling me about how you were the only decent thing in Hollywood.'
'She's exaggerating,' muttered an embarrassed Leila.
The last time Feathers had seen Leila she'd been heading off into the woods after the smell of a pizza. It had been the kidnappers' lure to trap her.
'Yeah, well, I guess things have been kind of lonely without you prancing around in front of your mirror. Nice to have you back, Princess.'
Feathers nibbled Leila's ear and she laughed.
'Hey, that tickles, cut that out.'
Charlotte enjoyed the two friends kidding around.
'So Feathers, how big is our trailer this time around?' asked Leila. 'It better be bigger than Sarah-Jane's.'
'That's the least of your worries,' said Feathers. Charlotte noted the serious tone in his voice.
'What are you talking about?' asked Leila and Charlotte simultaneously.
'I'm talking about you may not have a movie. Honey Grace just turned up in tears at Mr Gold's. She's got writer's block. Her cat went missing and now she can't write the script.'
Chapter 4
Leila insisted on heading straight over to the house to find out more. In her haste she hit near-gallop speed, bouncing Feathers off Charlotte's shoulder. Feathers decided it would be more comfortable to fly. As they neared the patio, the sound of a woman's wailing voice reached them.
'Might be best if I leave you guys,' said Feathers. 'I'd prefer Mr Gold didn't realise his prize parrot sometimes has a little outdoors time. Drop in later. I've got the Twister mat ready and raring to go.' He diverted to the top-floor window and disappeared from sight.
Charlotte could hardly believe her ears. 'Twister?'
Leila felt herself reddening. She worked so hard to project 'cool' and now that no-neck lump of sinew and feathers had blown one of her tightly held secrets.
'Feathers likes it. I feel sorry for him cooped up all day in that stuffy room.'
Charlotte smirked, 'Wait till Entertainment Tonight hears that Leila the wonder horse plays Twister!'
'That's enough, okay? You blab to ET and I'll eat your freebies to Disneyland.'
Charlotte would have laughed out loud if it hadn't been for Honey Grace's sobs. Peering through gaps in the Oscar shrubs, she was able to see a woman red-eyed and wringing her hands as tears poured from her eyes. Miss Strudworth was trying to comfort her by pouring tea. Mr Gold and Tommy Tempest had the kind of expressions on their faces that Charlotte associated with the head stockman discovering calves had been ravaged by a pack of dingoes.
'Take me through it again, Honey,' asked Mr Gold. 'You're writing the script . . .'
She was nodding vigorously, her long, dark brown hair bobbing around her face as she alternately gulped for breath and wiped away sniffles with a sodden hanky. She was dressed in a colourful long cotton skirt with calf-length leather boots and she wore big hooped earrings. Charlotte had the impression that under more normal circumstances Honey Grace would probably be quite cheerful.
She spoke as if she had gone over the story many times.
'I'm writing the script in my lounge room with the balcony door open. Oscar doesn't come for his food. I go out to find him, he's not there . . .'
Tommy jumped in. 'So you checked the hallway?'
Honey Grace nodded and continued with difficulty. 'And then when he still didn't come for dinner I knew something was wrong. I asked everybody in the apartment block.'
Miss Strudworth cleared her throat as if she were about to raise a delicate matter.
'Sometimes cats get excited or scared and . . .' she had no choice but to utter the word, '. . . jump. Did you check the, er . . . pavement, I believe you call it here?'
'Yes. There was no sign of him. He's just . . . vanished. And it was Oscar who brought me all my good luck. I haven't been able to write a word since he disappeared. I'm so worried about him. Where could he be? Is he scared and hiding from dogs? Has somebody stolen him? I just don't know.'
The last word trailed off into a mournful howl.
'Can you believe this? Why doesn't she just get another cat?' whispered Leila.
'Because she obviously loves Oscar.'
'It's a cat. How can anybody love a cat? They're total users. They expect you to cater to their every whim. They only come see you when they feel like it. They think you're beneath them . . .'
Charlotte couldn't help herself. 'Just like certain movie stars.'
Leila was indignant. 'Exactly. We movie stars have earned the right to be completely egocentric.'
'How exactly have you earned it?'
'By our emotional vulnerability. That helps us put ourselves into the characters we play. That's not just a gift, Charlie, that's hard work, all that emotion, you have to feel it in the core of your heart, you have to care for people – and here's all this fuss over a stupid missing cat!'
'Thanks for explaining that, Leila, I can really see how you care for Honey Grace in her moment of need.'
'Apology accepted.'
Charlotte shook her head. The irony was completely lost on Leila. Back on the patio, Joel Gold broached the question that had been on his mind since Honey had first arrived.
'So, Honey. How much of the script have you . . . er . . . actually written?'
'About twenty-five pages.'
Gold threw a panicked look to Tommy.
Leila gasped. 'We're sunk.'
'Why?'
'We begin shooting next week. Twenty-five pages will be shot in a week or two. If the cat doesn't turn up . . .'
Leila left the sentence incomplete but Charlotte understood the doom-laden expression.
'Perhaps another writer could finish it?'
Leila shook her head. 'It would be a disaster. If that cat doesn't turn up, it's no movie. And Thornton Downs –'
Leila drew a hoof across her throat. Charlotte got the picture and one glance at a worried Miss Strudworth told her she had, too. On the patio they were finishing up. Mr Gold was announcing he would buy advertising on prime time TV to get photos of Oscar flashed up. Honey Grace perked up a little as she got up to leave.
Charlotte felt very sorry for her. She whispered to Leila, 'Maybe we can help?'
'If she wants another cat, the studio can pay for it.'
'I meant find Oscar.'
Leila blew out through her nostrils.
'Where will I find the time? I've got rehearsals, wardrobe . . . and all-day buffets with the international press contingent.'
'I'm available.'
Honey Grace had begun moving towards her car, which was parked in the large circular driveway. Charlotte cantered Leila over.
'Excuse me, Miss Grace?'
Honey Grace looked up at the stranger, then broke into a smile.
'Leila, is that you?'
Leila batted her eyelashes and nudged Honey sympathetically. Honey hugged Leila's neck.
'Such a pretty horse. You're her groom, are you?'
Charlotte introduced herself. Honey began to apologise for her tears.
'It's perfectly understandable.' Charlotte
mentioned that she knew the story of the missing cat and Honey thanked her for her concern.
'I wondered if I might be able to help you find Oscar?'
Honey seemed stunned. 'How would you do that?'
'I don't know,' admitted Charlotte truthfully. 'But back home in Snake Hills I'm pretty good at finding stray calves or tracking dingoes.'
Honey was intrigued. 'Really?'
Charlotte explained that she had little to do during the days when Leila was rehearsing.
'Haven't they given you passes for Disneyland and the studios?'
'Oh yes, Mr Gold has been very generous. But I'd rather do something useful and help find Oscar.'
'That's a very different attitude to what L.A. kids have, Charlotte. How would you get to my apartment?'
'Mr Gold has put his driver Fernando at my disposal. So, are we on?'
'Yes. Just call me and let me know when you're coming over. I'll buy some doughnuts.'
'Oh, you don't need to –'
Leila bucked hard. Charlotte got it. She was saying 'save some for me'.
'That would be nice. Bye, Miss Grace.'
'Honey, please.'
Honey Grace climbed into her car and drove off.
Leila wasted no time informing Charlotte she was crazy. 'You should hang out at the rehearsal, get a massage from the Swedish guy. Wonderful at getting the knots out.'
'If Oscar isn't found, it doesn't sound like there'll be a film. And no film means no massage.'
Leila's eyes narrowed as she thought on that. 'Hmm. Good point. Find the tabby.'
Miss Strudworth wasn't thrilled with letting Charlotte out of her sight in a big strange city like Los Angeles, but she conceded the cat needed to be found.
'Perhaps I should help too?'
They were in Leila's stables, which were almost as large as those at Thornton Downs. Leila was enjoying having her back brushed. Charlotte knew that Miss Strudworth had been looking forward to touring some equestrian centres to investigate new techniques and equipment.
'No. You need to think about Thornton Downs. And Honey Grace will be there with me. I'm sure I'll be fine.'
'Very well. But we need to make sure Mr Gold approves.'
They found him in his large den surrounded by posters showing the many films he had produced. He was pacing furiously, firing off one phone call after another. Feathers swung on a silver perch that hung from the ceiling.
'This must be the pretty Charlotte,' said Feathers in a parrot voice that sounded nothing like his true speaking voice.
'Extremely clever bird,' remarked Strudworth.
'You bet your behind, sister,' snickered Feathers.
Mr Gold got off the phone. 'I'm calling in favours everywhere to find this cat. Even the police department is going to check the area with their choppers.'
Strudworth explained Charlotte's offer of assistance. Mr Gold shrugged.
'Charlotte, I've got professionals on this. The same guys who found where the studio hid the profits of two of my films. If they can't find Oscar, I don't think anybody can. You should be seeing Disneyland.'
'There'll be time for that when I find Oscar,' said Charlotte, with more confidence than she felt.
Mr Gold shrugged. 'Okay. Fine with me. Honey doesn't have any family here so it will probably be nice for her.'
'Charlotte will make sure she is back in time for Leila's afternoon exercise,' added Strudworth.
Mr Gold chuckled. 'Her "afternoon exercise" is usually eating pizzas and snoozing.'
'Well, not if I can help it,' added Charlotte who noticed, out of the corner of her eye, Feathers doing loop-the-loops, trying to get her attention. She had an idea what he was trying to tell her.
'I wonder if Feathers would be able to come too?'
Mr Gold looked very dubious. 'Feathers never leaves the house.'
Little did he know!
'Love to go, love to go,' said Feathers in the parrot voice.
Mr Gold relented. 'I guess it might cheer up Honey enough to start writing. Fine. But don't let the cat eat him!'
Feathers gulped. Cat? In his excitement at getting out of the house he'd completely forgotten the reason Charlotte was going. Him and his big mouth.
Leila looked at Charlotte and Feathers with big sad eyes.
'Gee, I wish I was going with you guys.'
'No, you don't,' said Charlotte.
Leila tried to look sincere. 'How can you say that, Charlie? I, Leila, who would travel across five continents on cracked hooves . . .'
Unfortunately, at that moment the pastry cooks were wheeling a massive cake in the direction of the rehearsal building and Leila couldn't help but track it with greedy eyes.
'Ha, got you,' quipped Feathers from his gold-plated travelling cage.
One part of Leila actually did want to go with them but today was the get-to-know-you read through where Mr Gold always laid on a spectacular buffet.
'Okay, okay, you guys know me too well. Let me put it another way. I wish you were staying here with me.'
Charlotte kissed her. 'We know that. But if Honey doesn't start writing, we're all . . .'
'. . . up the creek without a paddle,' put in Feathers.
Leila sniffed back a tear. Good old Feathers and that annoying habit he had of finishing your sentences. She'd really missed it. 'Anyways, look after yourselves.'
Leila watched them head off to the limousine where Fernando held the door open. Miss Strudworth was already inside. No point crying over spilt milkshake. It was time for business and the first priority was establishing who was the star: HER, not Sarah-Jane.
Leila looked over to where Sarah-Jane was playing tennis with her personal trainer. In addition to acting lessons from the time she was five, her lawyer mother had paid for tennis tuition. Sarah-Jane was grunting loudly as she smashed the ball back to the trainer.
Hmm. Leila recalled Mr Gold had one of those automatic tennis machines that powered balls at you. Yes, there it was on the court next to Sarah-Jane. Leila ambled casually over to the court.
'Come to watch a star . . . uggh . . . have you . . . uggh . . . Leila,' taunted Sarah-Jane, as she continued battering the ball.
It was all the incentive Leila needed. She pushed her butt against the tennis ball machine, swinging it to face Sarah-Jane, checked the feed basket was full of nice new, hard, balls and then got her teeth around the speed dial and twisted to 'maximum'. A flick of the hoof . . .
Bang!
The first ball hit Sarah-Jane in the ear.
'Ow!' she yelped, but it was drowned by the sound of balls thumping her body.
'Get that thing . . . ow . . . off you . . . ouch, idiot!' she yelled to her bodyguard, who had been standing on the other side of the court with his dark sunglasses tilted towards the sky, soaking up a few rays. She was finally forced to hit the ground and lie flat to avoid the plague of angry tennis balls. Leila watched with satisfaction as she trotted away innocently. Sometimes making movies could be fun!
'This is where I last saw Oscar.'
Honey Grace was showing the balcony to Charlotte. Her apartment was on the first floor about eight metres above the ground. Charlotte supposed that if a cat had fallen it might still have been able to land in the soft flowerbed below, without hurting itself. The street was a quiet one with little traffic – especially for Los Angeles. The amount of traffic on the way from Mr Gold's to Honey's apartment had been unbelievable. Charlotte's mouth had been agape the whole time. She'd never seen so many cars and at one point they had all been at a total standstill. She'd wished she'd had Leila there, she could have ridden faster. She moved back a little too quickly and felt Feathers' claws dig into her shoulder.
'No quick movements, Charlie,' he whispered.
Charlotte looked over at the next balcony. It wasn't that far away.
'Could Oscar have jumped to next door's balcony?'
Honey pulled a face as she thought about it.
'Possibly but he's not a big jumper. And why w
ould he?'
Feathers could have given a reason – 'cause all cats are psycho! Maybe he saw some poor little bird sitting on the rail there and wanted to savage it with his vicious claws!
They stepped back into the apartment, which was modestly furnished in bright colours with lots of crazy artwork on the walls.
'Let's go back to that day,' said Charlotte. 'You last remember seeing Oscar . . .'
'At about ten in the morning. Out on the balcony.'
'Then you began writing?'
'Yes.'
'And did you leave the apartment at all?'
Honey Grace thought back and became excited. 'Yes, I did. Around lunchtime. My neighbour Monica on the ground floor had cooked me a casserole, which was very kind of her.'
'Did Oscar go out with you when you went down?'
'He must have. That must have been when he got out. Oh, that naughty boy.'
Charlotte jotted all this in a small notepad.
'So you discovered him missing about three-thirty and he probably snuck out around one. That's two and a half hours.'
Honey Grace was teary. 'But I didn't raise the alarm right away. Not until six o'clock when he still hadn't shown up for his dinner.'
Charlotte asked if there was anywhere Oscar liked to investigate in the building.
'He's very friendly. He drops in on all the apartments but he's never gone out of the building before. I've searched high and low for him.'
'Maybe he's stuck somewhere?'
Charlotte had seen stories of cats stuck in the most unlikely places.
'You think? He'll be starving.'
Feathers took a look at one of the many photos around the place featuring Oscar and his doting owner. The fluffball could afford to lose some weight, probably help get itself unstuck.
Charlotte asked Honey Grace for a list of the other apartment owners. There were twelve apartments in all, which would give her quite some investigating to do. She told Honey Grace to take it easy while she did some door-knocking. When she was outside in the hall she asked Feathers what he thought.
'I think the cat wandered outside, probably after some food, and got itself lost. Cats have no sense of direction. Not like birds. I mean, you know, we have homing pigeons, we have ducks that fly thousands of miles. A cat, it could get lost in two blocks.'
