by Lou Kuenzler
Anthony was back to full size, leaning against the shop with his arms crossed.
“What a time you must have had,” cried Gran, rushing towards him. “Let’s get you back to the boat for a nice cup of tea and a chat.”
“Why is everyone making such a fuss?” said Tiff.
“It’s nothing,” I said.
I smiled at Anthony but he ignored me. It was probably best to leave him with Gran. I remembered how she’d made me feel better when I first told her I’d shrunk.
“So, did you find anything good for your Cleopatra costume?” I said, linking arms with Tiff.
“Yes.” She opened a little paper bag and showed me an enormous pair of gold hoop earrings.
“They’re perfect,” I grinned. “Will you come and look in the chemist shop with me? I think they might have something good for my costume.”
“In a chemist shop?” asked Tiff. “What are you going to do, dress up in a baby’s nappy?”
“Not quite. We’ll catch you up,” I called after Anthony and Gran.
We were at the very edge of the market now. The chemist shop was pretty much like the stores we have in Swanchester, with plasters and soap and bottles of shampoo.
“Excuse me,” I asked the man behind the counter, “do you have any bandages?”
“Bandages?” said Tiff.
“I want to dress up as an Ancient Egyptian mummy for the party,” I explained. “Bandages will be much stronger than the toilet roll we used at home.”
The chemist shook his head.
“Two elderly American ladies just left,” he said. “They bought all my bandages. Every single roll.”
“That must be the Calendar sisters,” I said. “Do you think they want the bandages for the cats?”
“Or perhaps they’re going to dress up as mummies like you,” snorted Tiff.
“You’re right,” I cried. “Anthony and I just saw them buying huge bags of cinnamon and nutmeg. I bet they’re even going to make themselves smell like they’ve been mummified in ancient spice.”
“Gross!” squealed Tiff.
No imagination!
“The Ancient Egyptians always used scented oils and spices to preserve the bodies,” I explained. “I think it’s mummy-marvellous the sisters are going to make such an effort. I wish I’d thought of smelling like I’d been dead for thousands of years myself.”
By the time Tiffany and I made it back to the boat, Gran and Anthony were already sitting out on the deck. Gran was smiling but Anthony had his back to her and was staring out at the Nile.
I got the feeling he was blaming Gran for passing shrinking down the family. Why couldn’t he see what brilliant fun it was?
“Hi,” I called out. “We’re back.”
Gran waved and so did Professor Gus, who was reading a big, thick book, wrapped up in brown paper, at a table nearby. Anthony didn’t even look round.
As soon as we reached the top of the gangplank, Ozzy sidled over and wound himself around my ankles, purring.
“That cat worships you,” said Professor Gus.
“And I like him too,” I smiled, tickling Ozzy between the ears. He arched his back and jumped on to my shoulder in a single bound.
“You look like a pirate with a parrot,” giggled Gran.
“Shiver me timbers,” I said as Ozzy’s tail tickled me under my nose.
“He still gives me the creeps,” said Tiff, moving away.
“I think he’s lovely,” I said. “I’m not surprised the Ancient Egyptians thought cats were like gods … though don’t tell Chip I said that.”
“Quite so. Quite so,” agreed the professor, gathering his big, brown-paper-covered book under his arm.
Anthony spun round. “I wish that cat wasn’t even on this boat,” he said. “I wish we could sail away and leave it behind.”
“Anthony, for heaven’s sake,” scolded Gran.
“What a horrible thing to say,” I cried … although I guessed Anthony was probably just worried Ozzy might eat him if he shrank.
Even Tiffany looked shocked and the Calendar sisters, who were coming up the gangplank laden with bags and packages, let out a cry.
“How cruel,” they gasped, clinging to each other as if Anthony had actually taken Ozzy and flung him head first into the Nile.
Anthony didn’t apologize. But he did look at his feet, blushing scarlet as if he realized it had been a pretty nasty thing to say.
Ozzy wasn’t bothered at all, of course. He steadied himself on my shoulder and rubbed his head against my ear.
“Better watch out, Oz,” I laughed, as his tail nearly went right up my nose. “Next stop – Temple of the Cats.”
We arrived at the site of the ancient temple early next morning. I on ahead as Anthony and Tiff walked up from the river behind me.
“Come on!” I called. I couldn’t believe we’d reached the archeological dig at long last.
At first glance, the ruins didn’t really look anything like a temple – just a flat, sandy field with piles of bricks and some broken pillars. But Miss June and Miss July were right. There must have been at least fifty or sixty stray cats. Lots of them were sleeping in the shade of the broken stones but a few kittens were scampering about on the sand before the sun got too hot.
“The local people feed them a little,” said Musa as he joined us. “But it is a hard life.”
“Thank goodness Miss June and Miss July are here to help them,” I said.
The two old ladies were already making their way around with a watering can and saucers to give the cats a drink.
“There’s something creepy about those Calendar sisters,” said Anthony, as Musa hurried on. “Like this morning when…”
“Honestly!” I interrupted. “You just don’t like them because you’re terrified of cats.”
“And cats is all they ever talk about,” groaned Tiffany.
“Well, I like cats,” I said, crouching down as a grey-and-white-speckled stray sniffed the air and prowled closer to us.
Anthony backed away.
“What a beautiful puss,” said Gran, catching up with us. “He looks like a snow leopard with those spots.”
She was right. As he opened his mouth to yawn, the speckled cat really did look like a leopard cub trying to roar.
“There are about ten more just like him,” I said, pointing to small groups of other spotty strays, sunbathing on the ruins nearby.
“Maybe they’re part Egyptian wildcat or something,” said Gran. “They do look sort of ancient.”
“Shoo!” said Anthony, hiding behind me as one of the speckled strays edged closer. “Surely you can see how dangerous they are, Violet?” he hissed in my ear. “What if we shrank? This lot would us up in no time.”
Poor Anthony. He really was frightened. But before I could answer, Musa called us over to join the rest of the passengers from the boat.
“Time to get started,” he said, handing us each an old toothbrush.
“I’m not cleaning my teeth with this. It’s filthy,” whispered Tiff, looking horrified.
“It’s not for your teeth, silly,” I giggled. “It’s to brush dirt off any ancient objects that we find on the dig.”
Tiff wasn’t the only one who looked as clueless as a fish with a pair of new shoes.
Louis and Lola L’Amour had turned up in bright white clothes which were bound to get filthy in five seconds flat. And as Signora Sipperetto jogged on the spot, I couldn’t see her sitting still long enough to brush mud off a stone. Even Professor Gus looked a little out of place. Musa had to ask him twice not to step on a piece of ground which had been marked off with string.
“No need to tell me what to do,” huffed the professor. “I have been on many important archaeological digs before, you know.”
Musa nodded politely and led us across the sand towards a tall, crumbling statue of a woman with the head of a cat.
“Wow!” I squeezed my way to the front of the group.
Anthony foll
owed. “That must be Bastet,” he said, his eyes sparkling with excitement under the brim of his baseball cap.
“The Ancient Egyptian cat goddess,” I agreed. I’d read all about her in my Bumper Book of Ancient Egypt.
“You two really know your stuff,” smiled Musa. “Even more than our famous Egyptologist.” He winked as we watched Professor Gus scuttling back towards the boat.
“I won’t be a tick,” he called, waving his little gold glasses in the air. “I’ve forgotten my big important book. Then I’ll come back and tell you all a thing or two.”
“This temple was built to worship Bastet,” continued Musa, ignoring the professor. “We’ve found an underground cattery where hundreds of cats would have lived. They would have been sacrificed to the goddess as part of the ancient ceremonies.”
“Yikes! Don’t let Ozzy go down there.” I shuddered. “I don’t think he’d like to know what happened to his poor pussycat ancestors.”
“Luckily, Ozzy never comes ashore,” laughed Musa, pointing back towards the Cleopatra. “He likes to stand guard in case any of the strays tries to visit the kitchens.”
We could see the little ship’s cat at the top of the gangplank trying to look tough, with his tail arched, as the professor hurried aboard.
“Are we going to dig in the underground cattery today?” I asked.
“No.” Musa shook his head. “Work in that part of the temple has finished. We’ve closed it up again, in case it becomes unsafe. We’re going to dig above ground, in the temple itself.”
“Perfect.” I grinned. I felt sure we would discover some dark and deadly Egyptian secrets. After all, this was the very place where the ancient cat-worshipping ceremonies used to take place.
Half an hour later, we’d all been given a demonstration of how to carefully sift through the sand, sweeping away the grains with our toothbrushes and looking for any Ancient Egyptian remains underneath.
There were four or five big white tents scattered across the site to offer shade from the blazing sun as we worked.
Anthony and I were a little bit away from everyone else, inside a tent covering a stone slab that Musa told us would once have marked the temple’s front door. By the end of the first hour, we’d already found three pieces of broken brown pottery.
“Not exactly a mummy’s skull,” I said. “But it’s a start.”
“Good work,” said Musa, peering under the canvas to see how we were doing. “You have nearly found a whole bowl.”
He lifted the pieces gently and showed us how they fitted together. “Keep looking,” he called as he went off to help Tiffany.
“History Mystery Number One,” I said in my best voice. “I wonder if a temple cat drank out of this? Or perhaps Tutankhamun ate his Ancient Egyptian breakfast cereal from it.”
“I love laughed Anthony. He really did sound happy and relaxed at long last.
“Me too!” I smiled, giving him a high five. “See? It’s not just shrinking we have in common after all.”
“I’m sorry I’ve been so grumpy,” said Anthony, running sand through his fingers. “This has been my best day of the trip so far. It’s really exciting … but we have to concentrate so hard, it’s the first time I haven’t been afraid that I’ll shrink.”
“I know what you mean,” I agreed.
Anthony was smiling as he brushed away the sand from a piece of cracked pottery with his little red toothbrush. There was no sign of his phone or Maze of the Mummy anywhere.
“Wouldn’t it be amazing if a crack suddenly opened up in the ground,” I said, “and we fell down it, back thousands of years to Ancient Egypt.”
“If we did time travel, we’d both be so excited we’d shrink straight away,” laughed Anthony.
“Or we’d land in the cattery and the temple cats would us the moment we arrived,” I teased.
“Don’t!” said Anthony, his eyes looking dark and worried for a moment. Then he smiled again.
It was so much fun talking to him like this. When he was relaxed he was just like the super-cool cousin I had always hoped he would be. Better than that, for the first time in my whole life, I had someone my own age I could imagine sharing dventures with.
But we were interrupted as Professor Gus poked his head into the tent.
“Hello, Professor,” said Anthony. “Can you tell us anything interesting about the goddess Bastet? After all, this temple is dedicated to her.”
“Er … well … Bastet had the body of a woman and the paws of a cat,” said the professor, nodding wisely.
“Paws? Don’t you mean the head of a cat?” asked Anthony, raising his eyebrows.
“Yes … quite. Paws … head … maybe even a tail,” said the professor, looking flustered. “That’s just what I meant.”
I looked over at Anthony and the two of us couldn’t help giggling. I’d thought Professor Gus would have hundreds of brilliant stories and creepy facts about Ancient Egypt. But actually he was a BIG let-down. He was always boasting about how he was a world-famous Egyptologist, but he only ever seemed to know facts that he could have read about in a children’s book.
“I … er … I’d better go and see if Musa needs me,” he said, backing out of the tent. “I expect he could make use of my expert advice…”
“Expert advice?” snorted Anthony as the professor hurried away. “Musa knows far more about Ancient Egypt than he ever will.”
“Even Mr Carl Moon knows more about Ancient Egypt than the professor,” I giggled.
“Who’s Mr Carl Moon?” asked Anthony.
I smiled as I told him about the funny American Gran and I had met at the British Museum.
“He was a big, tall man, dressed like a cowboy,” I explained. “He bought a copy of The Bumper Book of Ancient Egypt in the gift shop.”
“I’ve seen that. It’s a brilliant book,” said Anthony.
“Exactly,” I agreed. “So, if Mr Moon has read it, he will definitely know just as much as the professor by now.”
As soon as we came back to the boat that evening, I had a strange feeling that something was wrong.
The minute I sat down for dinner, I knew what it was.
“Where’s Ozzy?” I said. “I haven’t seen him since this morning.”
Ever since our first night, he’d always curled himself around my ankles under the table because he knew I’d drop a few tasty scraps for him to eat.
“That’s odd,” agreed Musa. “I have never known him to disappear when there’s food around.”
Musa went down to the kitchens and Gran and I searched the deck but there was no sign of the beautiful grey cat anywhere.
“Oh dear,” said Miss July, fanning herself with a napkin.
“I hope nothing terrible has happened to him,” sniffed Miss June. Her eyes were all red and she looked as if she was about to cry.
Musa asked everyone to search their cabins. But there was no sign of Ozzy anywhere on board the Cleopatra.
“Perhaps he’s jumped ship,” said Signor Sipperetto.
“On a night like this, he has probably fallen in love with a beautiful stray,” smiled Lola L’Amour, pointing up at the big full moon.
“I agree,” said Louis. He kissed Lola’s hand.
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 searc
h 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.”
