Blind Cat's Holiday: A Cozy Cat and Witch Mystery (Cozy Conundrums Book 4)

by T. H. Hunter

  “Amanda,” Barry’s faint voice floated across the room. “I think you had better say goodbye properly. Who knows if I’m still here when you return.”

  “You’re not going to die, Barry,” I said angrily. “Cut it out, please.”

  He simply waved his paw weakly in a gesture of a farewell.

  Shaking my head, I raced down the staircase and put on my coat downstairs. I exited the back door and hurried across the lawn, which was a shortcut to Mrs. Faversham’s house.

  When I arrived, she was standing dutifully at the old-fashioned telephone. I could see that she was also very worried. Though she knew nothing of the fact that Barry was a warlock, of course, she had developed a deep affection for him nonetheless.

  “This is Amanda Sheridan,” I said, speaking into the receiver.

  A young, female voice answered immediately.

  “One moment, please… it’s Miss Sheridan for you, doctor.”

  “Hello, Miss Sheridan,” a male voice said after a few moments.

  “Hello Dr. Bentley,” I said.

  “I have the results of the blood test for your cat,” he said matter-of-factly. “Would you mind if we did this over the phone? Only, I’m going on holiday tomorrow. You’d only be able to get another appointment in three weeks’ time.”

  “That’s perfectly… perfectly alright,” I said.

  There was a rustling of papers at the other end. Behind me, Mrs. Faversham was anxiously waiting. I felt sick from the tension that was building up inside of me.

  “Ah, yes, here it is,” he said, breathing heavily into the phone. “Your cat is suffering from severe hypertension, I’m afraid to say.”

  It took me a moment to take it in.

  “Hypertension?” I asked, bewildered. “You mean, high blood pressure?”

  “That’s right,” said Dr. Bentley, as though that clearly settled the matter.

  “But…” I stammered, “I don’t understand. His eyes are…”

  “The blood pressure is most likely the cause of your cat’s blindness,” said Dr. Bentley. “In fact, judging from the other results of the blood test, I’d say it’s positively the case. There are no markers for any systemic diseases. Thus, the hypertension is not a secondary effect of something else. That certainly makes things a lot simpler.”

  “Blood pressure,” I breathed. “Sorry, but how dangerous is it in cats?”

  “It can be dangerous, yes,” Dr. Bentley said. “In your cat’s case, there is a severe health risk which may even be fatal.”

  “Fatal?” I gasped.

  “Fortunately,” Dr. Bentley continued soothingly, “it is treatable. In fact, since we are dealing with primary hypertension, the chances are excellent that we might not only stop the process but even reverse some of the negative effects, including the blindness. With such an old cat, however, I can’t make any promises, of course.”

  “Oh,” I said, feeling immensely relieved, “thank God for that. What do we have to do?”

  “He will need medication straight away,” Dr. Bentley said. “Calcium channel blockers should do the trick. They will relax your cat’s blood vessels and bring down the blood pressure. I’ll write the prescription right away, so you can pick it up this afternoon if you like.”

  “I’ll do that, thank you very much,” I said. “Anything else?”

  “Yes,” he said. “Your cat will have to avoid stressful situations at all costs. Anything that gets his blood boiling, as it were.”

  “That’s easier said than done,” I said. “But I’ll do what I can.”

  “There is also the matter of your cat’s diet,” Dr. Bentley said in carefully measured tones. “Now, I know this is rather a delicate topic for some owners… almost a matter of belief. What… what exactly does his diet consist of?”

  If I had been completely honest, I would have said that I didn’t really know. Mrs. Faversham often cooked tuna for Barry, but I had caught him a few times in his library, munching secretly on a sweet snack or chocolate bar. Since he was technically a warlock, I hadn’t thought much of it at the time.

  “Well,” I said slowly. “There’s tuna and, erm, cat food on occasion, but he might have some other means of acquiring food.”

  “Acquiring food?” Dr. Bentley asked, sounding slightly bewildered.

  “You know,” I said hastily, “from dustbins in the village, the neighbour’s balcony, that sort of thing.”

  “Oh, I see, of course,” he said, chuckling into the telephone. “It almost sounded as if he were buying the stuff himself. Well, if possible, Miss Sheridan, try to keep him away from the neighbours and the village. Who knows what he eats there when unobserved.”

  ‘You’re telling me,’ I thought.

  “If he were a human,” Dr. Bentley said in an amused tone, “it would be a lot easier, of course. I’d simply tell him to stay away from alcohol and sweets. That’s usually the main cause. But humans often tend to be a lot more stubborn than our four-legged friends. I suppose that’s why I became a vet in the first place.”

  “Yes,” I said, with an ominous feeling that Barry might well have been overindulging over the summer. “Well, thank you, Dr. Bentley. It’s certainly a great relief.”

  “Not at all, Miss Sheridan,” he said. “I… I hope to see you around some time again. A pleasure meeting you.”

  “Likewise,” I said, smiling.

  “Well, goodbye then,” he said.

  “Goodbye,” I said. “And have a nice trip.”

  “Trip?” he asked absent-mindedly.

  “You said you were going on holiday,” I said.

  “Oh, yes, of course,” he said. “I really do need one. Goodbye, then.”

  “Goodbye.”

  I hung up and turned around to Mrs. Faversham.

  “Hypertension,” I said quickly. “We need to be very careful from now on, but Dr. Bentley said it’s treatable.”

  This explanation was entirely superfluous since Mrs. Faversham had been listening in to every word we had been saying on the phone, but she beamed nonetheless.

  “I’m very glad,” she said. “Poor Barry. He does miss your great-aunt very much. I wonder if I’ve been overfeeding him a bit.”

  “I wouldn’t worry about that, Mrs. Faversham,” I said. “I have an idea that Barry’s dietary problems might have a very different origin.”

  3

  Back at Fickleton House, I found Barry and Val up in the library. Val looked at me anxiously. Barry, also, couldn’t quite hide his hopes.

  “Amy, what did he say? What did the vet say?” asked Val.

  “How long do I have?” Barry asked, dramatically spreading his limbs over the edge of the armchair.

  “Blood pressure,” I said, ignoring Barry. “It can cause blindness, among other things. It’s treatable, but we’ve got to act immediately. You’re getting medication from the vet. Avoid stress and no more cocktails. And you are to be put on a strict diet from now on.”

  At the sound of the last word, Barry’s head swung up in alarm.

  “Strict… diet?” he said incredulously. “But that can’t possibly be the solution to… that’s just not…”

  “That’s what the vet said,” I said firmly. “What exactly have you been eating up here anyway, Barry?”

  Barry suddenly wore a very shifty look indeed.

  “Eating… up here?” he asked, as though the possibility had never occurred to him before. “Why nothing, of course. Merely the meagre scraps of food you grant me at the dinner table.”

  “Nonsense,” I said. “You have a secret stash up here, haven’t you?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said.

  “Fine,” I said, narrowing my eyes. “Have it your way.”

  I drew my wand and gazed around the room in suspicion. Though Barry was very productive when he wanted to be, especially when developing new spells or writing scathing articles about his academic enemies, he was very lazy in most other regards. Thus, I reasoned,
Barry would certainly have chosen to sacrifice a superior hiding place for ease of access.

  I waved my wand at the two large cupboards at the back of the room near the fireplace. They flew open immediately. But apart from old blankets and some candles, they were empty.

  “Really, Amanda,” Barry said in fake indignation, “I find your distrust in me truly offensive. This is ….”

  “Aha!” I said triumphantly, spotting a loose floorboard near Barry’s usual armchair. “What do we have here?”

  The floorboard slid easily back. I lit my wand and pointed it at the now open floor. Val leaned in closer to see. Beneath were countless wrappers of all kinds of varieties of sweets, from chocolate bars to truffles and cakes.

  Having been found out, Barry switched gears quickly.

  “But… but you don’t understand. I need comfort food to relax,” he whined. “To reduce stress.”

  “It’s killing you Barry,” I said earnestly. “And it stops right here.”

  ***

  A few days later, Barry was already showing signs of recovery, thanks to the medication and our efforts to enforce a diet upon him. He was still blind for the most part, though he was able to recognise vague shapes in close quarters again – a definite improvement.

  ***

  After the last week of worrying, we were all eager to get away for a bit. Luckily, we still had our Magical Holiday Retreat to look forward to, a trip that Barry had instigated after our adventure at Warklesby’s during the summer but had to be postponed as long as his illness remained a mystery.

  With that obstacle out of the way, however, we set off for Bath the next day. Even for heb visitors, it was an extraordinary place. Yet unnoticed to them (and so far unknown to me), a parallel world of magical recuperation centres and spas had sprung up for witches and warlocks as well.

  “Oh yes,” Barry was saying, his mood having significantly improved since the vet’s hopeful prognosis, “Roman warlocks used to come here, you know. Some of the places claim to be open since then, though I don’t believe a word of it, of course. All marketing. But a lot of them have been around since the late Middle Ages, I am told.”

  According to the satnav, we only had a few minutes more to go. The drive from Fickleton House had been smooth so far.

  “How do warlocks usually get here?” Val asked, turning around to Barry. “Not by car, right?”

  “Certainly not,” Barry said, as though the heb mode of transportation was something vulgar. “They use portals.”

  “Portals?” Val said. “Amy, why didn’t we use the portal? It’s in the sitting room downstairs.”

  “I told you, Val,” I said, directing the car onto a lane leading to the rural outskirts of Bath. “People are already getting suspicious because we haven’t had our electricity fixed yet in over a year. You know how much they love to gossip in the village. No, it’s better to be seen leaving by car.”

  “You have reached your destination,” the satnav said smoothly.

  “Where?” Val said, looking around her. “There’s nothing here. This can’t be it.”

  I peered out of the windscreen and then the passenger window. Although it was already getting dark, I could see Val’s point. We were surrounded by meadows, the only exception being a derelict farm on the other side of the road that was clearly uninhabitable.

  “Perhaps that’s the spa,” I said doubtfully, pointing to the broken -down farm house.

  “Well, I’m not staying there,” said Val, crossing her arms. “We’ll probably be setting up buckets for most of the time to stop the rain that’s coming through the roof. Just look at it!”

  “I’ll park the car over there,” I said. “Can’t hurt to have a poke around the place. We can always leave again.”

  I brought the car to a halt in front of the ruins, and we got out. Barry, unaccustomed to his surroundings, almost fell into the ditch next to him.

  “Ouch,” he said angrily. “Do you mind, Amanda?”

  “Just saving your life, as usual, Barry,” I said, grinning.

  “I have a cat’s body,” he said. “A drop of a few feet won’t do me any harm.”

  “What was it the vet said again?” Val said, pretending to have trouble remembering. “That Barry had really been through the mill?”

  “Disgraceful man, they should revoke his license,” Barry said, as both Val and I laughed.

  “And get it right back for saving your life, Barry,” said Val.

  “Come on, Barry,” I said, lifting him up and giving him an affectionate pat on the head. “You’ll be back to normal in no time. Let’s find the entrance first. If there is one, that is.”

  We passed by a shed filled with an odd assortment of junk.

  Then, Val suddenly cursed.

  “What’s the matter?” I asked.

  “I… I think I just got an electric shock or something,” she said, rubbing her nose.

  With Barry still in my arms, I stepped up to where Val was standing and gently extended my foot. But I felt nothing whatsoever. It simply passed through the air as normal.

  “Strange,” I said.

  “Maybe it was some sort of random electric charge,” said Val. “I’ll try again.”

  She imitated my foot movement, but then there was a spark, as though lightning had struck out of the sky, and Val tore her hand back at once.

  “Ouch,” she said.

  “It must be some sort of barrier,” Barry said. “Let me walk through.”

  Hesitating briefly, I placed him down on the ground. Unable to see anything, Barry uneasily walked in the wrong direction – towards the road – but I caught him in time and directed him towards the correct spot.

  He seemed to have no trouble stepping across the threshold either.

  “Why does it always happen to me?” Val said miserably.

  “Come on, Amanda,” Barry called from the other side.

  I turned to Val, who still looked upset.

  “We’re not going to leave you behind, Val,” I said. “Don’t worry. We’ll –”

  But at that moment, a dark shape near the barn caught my eye. It was briskly walking in our direction.

  “I think somebody’s coming,” I said.

  For a moment, I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me in the growing darkness. For although the man came nearer, he remained very much a blurry silhouette. The experience was unnerving, to say the least.

  “I can see him too,” Val said, squinting.

  “Why is he so blurred, though?” I said, frowning. “It’s not so dark yet.”

  “Step over the threshold,” said Barry from the other side. “There might be a clouded vision charm on the barrier.”

  Allowing myself no time to dither, I stepped through the invisible barrier, this time with my entire body. It was a curious sensation, as though I had been sprayed with water by a lawn sprinkler. And yet, as I moved through the barrier, I remained perfectly dry.

  Having reached the other side of the barrier, the scenery changed completely. To my amazement, the broken-down sheds and derelict barns vanished. In their place, a modern complex of out-houses surrounded a three-story hotel in the middle, boasting the name ‘Pomeroy’s Magical Holiday Retreat’ in oversized purple letters.

  The silhouette had also changed into the image of a very overweight man with a markedly cleft chin, reminding me of a painting I had once seen of an Austrian Prince. To say his style of clothing was eccentric would have been something of an understatement. He was wearing a purple frock coat with a huge neck ruffle in white. In his right hand, he was carrying a cane.

  “Welcome, welcome,” he said breathlessly as he approached Barry and me. “Dear me, I hope the barrier hasn’t been acting up again, has it? Darn thing.”

  “Well, I…” I began.

  “Not to worry,” he said. “But where are my manners? My name is Archibald Pomeroy, owner of the Magical Holiday Retreat.”

  He gestured unnecessarily towards the building behind him.
/>
  “My name is Amanda Sheridan,” I said, smiling. “And this is Barry, I mean, the Earl of Barrington.”

  Archibald Pomeroy looked puzzled for a moment, until he spotted the cat several feet below his line of vision.

  “Ah,” Mr. Pomeroy barked. “Of course! I read about the accident in the Daily Warlock recently. The Earl trapped in a cat’s body. I hope you have found a solution to your… malady.”

  “Indeed,” Barry said coolly, unwilling to linger on the subject of his blindness for longer than necessary.

  Mr. Pomeroy’s smile did not falter in the least.

  “A pleasure, a pleasure,” he said. “Always glad to welcome the aristocracy to our humble facilities. They were built by mother and father, you know. Tremendous energy, both of them. Though my father passed away recently, I’m afraid to say. Now, if you would follow me, please…”

  “Hold on,” I said. “Sorry, but I’m afraid our friend, Val, can’t get through the barrier.”

  I pointed towards the blurred shape of Val on the other side.

  “Oh, dear me,” Mr. Pomeroy said, frowning. “So it is malfunctioning again. I’ll have to get Bruno to take a look at it. He’s the cook around here, though he does most of the magic work for me, too. Poor man is rather overworked, seems to fly off the handle every other day! But there we are, I suppose. One moment, please.”

  He vanished into the building, returning after a few minutes. Following Mr. Pomeroy, a red-headed man with a flaming beard and angry eyes traipsed behind him. He was wearing a white cook’s uniform with black buttons.

  “Bruno, if you would,” Mr. Pomeroy said, pointing to the barrier. “It’s acting up again.”

  The cook lifted his wand and bellowed in a deep, stentorian voice:

  “Interruptus!”

  The air in front of Val began to crackle. A moment later, she was perfectly visible again.

  “Amy?” she said, blinking. “What’s going on?”

  “It’s alright, Val,” I said. “The barrier has been disabled. You can come through now.”

  “Only for a moment,” Mr. Pomeroy said, wagging a fat finger at me. “It will reset in a minute or two. Thank you, Bruno. That will be all for now.”