The warriors didn’t pay any attention. This time it was Bones they went for. One of the warriors stepped on her tail. Mrs Tucker shoved him off with a shoulder charge. ‘They’re trying to stop the cats!’ she shouted. ‘We need to close this out before one of them gets hurt.’
The referee started the game again. ‘Let the warriors have the ball,’ Mrs Tucker ordered. ‘So they don’t see Thomas climbing the wall.’
Atticus stood back from the game with Thomas while the warriors passed the ball from one to another. The others pretended to try and intercept. The crowd roared the warriors on. ‘Now!’ Atticus hissed.
Thomas ran to the wall and started to climb. The warriors didn’t see him. They were trying to get themselves in a position to score.
‘Hold off until he’s out of reach of the warriors!’ Mrs Tucker ordered the other players.
The warriors were working their way down the court. The ball was getting closer and closer to the hoop. Elbow-knee-thigh. Elbow-knee-thigh. They had a rhythm going now. It wouldn’t be long until they scored. Atticus waited anxiously. The prisoners would have to be careful.
Thomas wriggled up the wall. Atticus watched him in amazement. He really did climb like a woolly monkey, especially now he had a strong tail to help him.
Elbow-knee-thigh. Elbow-knee-thigh. The warriors were underneath the hoop, getting ready to flick the ball through. The crowd was going wild.
Atticus gave a big wave with his tail. Thomas was out of reach.
‘Okay!’ Mrs Tucker said. ‘Let’s take them down.’
This time it was the Litttleton-on-Sea Jaguars who charged at the ball. The captain of the warriors saw them coming. He went for a shot on the hoop with his elbow. Mrs Tucker threw herself at him just in time. She grabbed him by the ankles in a rugby tackle and pulled him to the ground. The ball soared into the air, missing the hoop by a fraction.
‘Oooooohhhhh,’ roared the crowd.
Thomas had reached the top of the opposite wall. He crept towards the hoop, keeping low. But the crowd had seen him. Everyone started pointing. Benjamin Posh-Scoundrel was on his feet, shouting with Pam on his shoulder, screeching away.
‘CAT! CAT! CAT! CAT! CAT! CAT!’
The warriors swung round. They looked up, bewildered.
‘Get into some space, Atticus,’ Mrs Tucker cried. ‘We’ll send you the ball.’
Atticus got into position beneath the hoop. ‘Thomas, get ready!’ he called. ‘We’ll only get one shot.’
‘Oh no, you don’t!’ a posh voice bellowed. It was Benjamin Posh-Scoundrel. ‘Pam, go get him!’
A large green balloon rose up from the crowd. It floated towards Thomas slowly, flapping a pair of wings. Atticus gasped. It wasn’t a balloon; it was Pam! She was going to try and push Thomas off the wall!
‘CAT! CAT! CAT! CAT! CAT! CAT! CAT!’ shrieked Pam. She had nearly reached Thomas.
She lunged at him viciously with her beak. Thomas smacked her away with a paw. Pam floated about, flapping furiously.
‘Peck him, Pam!’ shouted Benjamin Posh-Scoundrel.
Come on, thought Atticus. Get the ball! But the warriors were back on the attack. The Littleton-on-Sea Jaguars couldn’t shake them off.
‘CAT! CAT! CAT! CAT! CAT!’ Pam pecked at Thomas again. He wobbled on the top of the wall, his paws slithering this way and that on the slippery stone, using his tail for balance. Atticus watched helplessly. She was going to knock him off!
Mimi raced over. She had something between her teeth. She dropped it in front of Atticus. ‘It’s from Nellie,’ she said.
Atticus dragged his eyes away from the battle on the wall and focused on the object at his feet. It was a round, green, knitted parrot. Nellie had knitted a voodoo doll of Pam! This time he didn’t need Nellie to tell him what to do. He pinned the knitted parrot by the tail with his claws.
Pam let out a horrible squawk. But she wasn’t finished yet. Her momentum carried her forwards. She bashed into Thomas with her huge, inflated body.
Atticus flexed the claws on his other paw. He didn’t particularly like hurting anything, even Pam, but there was nothing else for it. He got ready to jab his claws into the knitted parrot.
‘The ball, Atticus! Hit the ball!’ Mrs Tucker shouted.
Atticus looked up. The Littleton-on-Sea Jaguars had found space. The ball was winging its way towards him. Instinctively he dropped the voodoo doll and swung at the oncoming ball. SWISH! THUMP! It came vertically off his tail and soared up towards the top of the wall.
Thomas flexed his tail, ready to strike the ball through the hoop.
‘Don’t, Thomas!’ Atticus shouted. He could see that the kitten needed his tail to balance while he fended Pam off. If he hit the ball he would fall. ‘Save yourself!’
Pam flapped towards Thomas, beak gaping.
Atticus pounced on the voodoo doll and sunk his claws into it.
‘THTTHTTTHTHTHTHTHTH!’
Pam didn’t exactly pop. Instead, all the gas that had been building up inside her fizzed out of the punctures that had been made by Atticus’s claws.
‘I’ll be okay now!’ Thomas shouted down. ‘She’s had it!’ He swung at the ball with his tail. It sailed through the hoop. They had won! But neither Thomas nor Atticus had reckoned on Pam’s flatulence. The parrot was out of control, like a balloon with all the air escaping, except much, much, much heavier and full of fruit gas. She cannoned into Thomas like a small meteor. Then she whizzed backwards and forwards over the court before landing in a cascade of parrot poo on top of the magpies.
PLOP!
‘CHAKA-CHAKA-CHAKA-CHAKA-CHAKA!’
But Atticus couldn’t care less about the magpies. Or Pam. All he cared about was Thomas. ‘Hang on, Thomas!’ he meowed desperately. ‘Hang on!’ Thomas was still trying to cling on to the wall with his front paws but the force of Pam’s impact was so great that even his monkey tail couldn’t save him. The kitten lost his grip. He fell through the air and landed on the ball court with a dull thud.
‘Thomas!’ Atticus raced over to where the kitten lay.
Thomas smiled at him weakly. ‘We did it!’ he whispered. Then he let out a long shuddering breath and closed his eyes.
‘Thomas!’ cried the children.
‘I’m afraid he’s very badly hurt, children,’ Mrs Tucker said quietly, gently stroking the kitten’s limp body.
‘He’ll be all right, though, won’t he?’ Callie was crying. So was Michael.
‘I don’t know.’ Mrs Cheddar hugged them close. ‘Poor Thomas!’
‘He saved our lives!’ Professor Verry-Clever sniffed.
‘He’s me favourite kitten!’ Mr Tucker sobbed. ‘Come on, Thomas, wake up!’ Tears streamed down his beard-jumper and dripped on to the court.
Atticus stroked Thomas’s ears. Mimi and Bones were beside him. ‘Atticus,’ Mimi began, but he turned away. This was his fault. He shouldn’t have been such a scaredy-cat. He should have climbed the wall, not let Thomas do it. And he should have finished Pam off by throttling her when he’d had the chance. As it was, Pam was still alive and Thomas was seriously injured. He might not even survive! Thomas was only a kitten. He had eight more lives to live! But he had risked them all at once to save his friends.
He heard the rustle of skirts. Nellie knelt beside him. ‘Don’t worry,’ she said to the children. ‘I thought something like this might happen.’ She reached into her knitting bag and drew out a small tube. ‘That’s why I brought some spare ointment. He’ll be fine in a minute.’
Atticus felt a glimmer of hope. If anyone could help Thomas, Nellie could. Nellie took the lid off. To his surprise she offered the tube to him.
You do it, Atticus, said her voice in his head. The magic is stronger when a witch and her cat work together.
So he was her familiar. It was definite now. Nellie had said so. Atticus gazed at Thomas with his big green eyes. He wasn’t going to fight it any more. He just hoped that Nellie’s faith in him was justified.
Give me your paw.
He allowed Nellie to squeeze some ointment out of the tube on to his paw.
Now rub it under his chin.
Very gently, Atticus rubbed the ointment into the fur under Thomas’s chin with soft strokes of his paw. ‘Come on, Thomas,’ he purred gently. ‘Come on!’ He felt Thomas stir. It was working! Atticus rubbed a bit more ointment in.
Thomas lifted his head. Then he sat up. ‘That tickles!’ he said. Then he saw the humans. ‘What’s the big deal?’ he asked Atticus. ‘Why is everyone looking at me?’
Atticus didn’t get a chance to reply.
‘He’s okay!’ Michael cried, scooping Thomas up.
‘Oh, Thomas!’ Callie buried her face in his fur. ‘We were so worried!’
‘That ointment really works, Nellie!’ Mrs Cheddar said admiringly.
‘You can stop crying now, Herman!’ Mrs Tucker told her husband. ‘Thomas is fine.’
‘Thomas!’ Mr Tucker blew his nose on his beard-jumper. He stroked the kitten in delight.
Atticus couldn’t have felt happier if he’d eaten a whole basket of sardines. He didn’t mind that Thomas was getting all the attention. Thomas was all right. He and Nellie had cured him. Not that anyone else would realise that, or quite how close Thomas had come to death, except Mimi, of course. Everyone else just thought that Nellie’s ointment was a bit magic, like her, and that Thomas had had a bad bump. They didn’t know anything about Atticus being Nellie’s familiar or how he made Nellie’s magic more powerful or how they’d made Pam pop with the voodoo doll.
And that was how he wanted it to stay.
Just then there was a great hullabaloo amongst the crowd.
‘The king is coming!’ Professor Verry-Clever said.
The king waddled over, accompanied by his courtiers, Benjamin Posh-Scoundrel and Ribena amongst them. The former Ambassador to Nicaragua looked furious. Atticus crossed his paws. Hopefully now they’d won the ball game, the king would listen to Professor Verry-Clever, even if he did have a funny accent. They were heroes, after all!
The defeated warriors fell at the king’s feet. He kicked them out of the way. Atticus felt a bit sorry for them. According to the rules, the losers would have to be sacrificed, unless Professor Verry-Clever could persuade the king to spare them.
Benjamin Posh-Scoundrel opened his mouth to say something but the king silenced him with a dirty look. He went up to Callie and squinted hard at Thomas.
Thomas purred uncertainly.
The king said something to his courtiers.
‘His Majesty says it’s a miracle that Thomas is still alive,’ Professor Verry-Clever translated. ‘He says that Nellie’s ointment must be magic and wonders if he could have some for his toothache.’ The king approached Nellie. To everyone’s amazement he fell on his knees in front of her. ‘He says he would be honoured if you would become his new priest.’
‘But I’m his priest!’ Benjamin Posh-Scoundrel protested.
The king said something else.
Benjamin Posh-Scoundrel gasped in dismay.
‘What’s he saying?’ asked Michael.
‘He’s telling him not any more, you’re not, sunshine,’ Professor Verry-Clever told them. ‘He’s saying he obviously doesn’t know anything about being a priest and that he’s probably just a cheap lowlife crook who’s taken him for a ride. He’s also saying he’d rather eat a pile of beetle dung than marry Ribena, because she’s probably in on it too.’
Ribena started crying.
‘And as for the elderly slaves, he wants to get rid of them immediately because that’s the worst toenail polish he’s ever had.’
‘Bravo!’ said Mrs Tucker.
Mrs Tucker was looking a bit sweaty what with the ball game, the heat and the spear-proof bib, Atticus thought, but the king really seemed to like her despite all that. It must be something to do with him having a different idea of beauty, he supposed. Atticus watched in some trepidation as the king sidled over to Mrs Tucker, beaming. The king muttered a few more words.
‘And as he doesn’t want to marry Ribena any more he would like to marry Mrs Tucker instead.’
‘In your dreams!’ Mrs Tucker muttered. She drew herself up. ‘Tell the king I am very honoured by his offer but I’m already married to Herman here –’ she waved a hand at Mr Tucker – ‘and in our country the Queen does not allow us to have more than one husband at once.’
Professor Verry-Clever translated. The king looked disappointed. He frowned hard at Mr Tucker as if he was thinking about sacrificing him. Then he noticed Mr Tucker’s beard-jumper. The king seemed quite intrigued. He went over to examine it.
‘Tell him also that Nellie will give him her magic ointment to cure his toothache if he lets us return to our own people in our amphibious vehicle. And that Herman will show him how to grow a great beard-jumper of his own,’ said Mrs Tucker. ‘And tell him we would like to take the false priest, his wife, the elderly slaves, the magpies and what’s left of the parrot that was once the size of a pig with us back to the United Kingdom so that they may be punished for trying to trick him.’
Professor Verry-Clever explained all this to the king.
He nodded his agreement.
‘Oh, and one last thing,’ Mrs Tucker said. ‘Tell him that the warriors shouldn’t be sacrificed for losing the ball game, as it was partly Nellie’s magic that made us win.’
The king thought for a moment before he nodded again. A great cheer went up from the warriors. The king waddled back to his throne with Nellie, who proceeded to show him how to rub the ointment into his gums.
Just then Inspector Cheddar woke up from his faint.
‘Dad!’ Callie and Michael ran over to the bench. ‘You’ll never guess what happened.’ They told him all about the ball game and about Thomas falling off the wall and being cured by Nellie’s ointment.
‘You should have used that ointment on your tooth, Dad! Callie said. ‘It really works. Look at the king. He’s feeling better already!’
The king was showing Nellie a war dance. He looked as happy as a flea.
‘Ha, ha!’ Inspector Cheddar said. ‘Very funny! I expect Thomas was just pretending. Well done for winning the ball game, though. Pity I didn’t get to play or we’d have scored much sooner. You should have woken me up.’ He pottered off to retrieve his handcuffs from the warriors.
Atticus watched him fondly. Inspector Cheddar had sort of got there in the end, he supposed. Although he’d missed most of the action and nearly caused them all to be sacrificed, he would at least get to arrest the villains.
Another shout went up from the warriors. They crowded round Thomas, hoisted him on to the captain’s shoulders and ran round the court, cheering. They were giving him a lap of honour. Normally Atticus felt a bit jealous when Thomas got all the attention but not this time. He didn’t mind a bit. Thomas deserved it.
‘Are you okay?’ It was Mimi.
‘Yes,’ he said.
‘You did a great job,’ she said. ‘Congratulations.’ ‘Thanks.’ There was just one small thing that was still troubling him, though. ‘Er, Mimi,’ he said. ‘You know how Thomas stowed away on The Jolly Jellyfish and lived with the woolly monkeys and climbed up the wall just now and everything …’
‘Yes.’
‘Well –’ it was hard to know how to put this – ‘you don’t think I’m getting boring, do you?’
Mimi laughed. ‘You, boring?’ she said, twining her tail around his. ‘Don’t be silly. You’re full of surprises. And you have the most cat-tastic adventures in the world.’
Atticus felt relieved. He wasn’t quite ready to hand over to Thomas yet, although he thought he might be one day. He purred contentedly. It was good to know that for now, anyway, he was still the world’s greatest cat detective.
Buckingham Palace
London
Atticus Grammaticus Cattypuss Claw Esq.
2 Blossom Crescent
Littleton-on-Sea
Dear Atti
cus,
I am writing to thank you and your friends for your excellent work in Nicaragua. I was delighted to hear that the ancient Maya didn’t die out after all but I was also very cross to learn that my former Ambassador, Benjamin Posh-Scoundrel, turned out to be a complete scumbag. To think that he intended to claim all the glory for finding the lost treasure of the jaguar gods so that I would make him a lord! He’s a disgrace to our great nation. I hope the judge sends him to prison and throws away the key.
Professor Verry-Clever (for whom I have the highest regard) tells me that Posh-Scoundrel’s wife, Ribena, is not much better. I expect she’ll get a spell in the clink with her parents, the magpies and that detestable parrot. Let’s hope it teaches them a lesson. Going round trying to steal the king’s treasure indeed! The cheek of it! And the king seems such a nice person. He sent me a lovely letter in hieroglyphs, which Professor Verry-Clever translated, asking if I’d like to go and stay with him. I said I’d think about it. To be honest I’m not sure about the journey – I don’t want those poisonous frogs hopping into my royal pants. Anyway, I said I’d see and if not, he should definitely come and stay with me, although he’ll need to bring some proper clothes as I hear that his loincloth is somewhat scanty for the English weather.
The good news is the king is absolutely thrilled with the Old Hag’s Cure-All Ointment that Nellie gave him. He’s been rubbing it on his tooth, like Nellie showed him, and it’s feeling much better and he’s not foaming at the mouth any more. (Pity you couldn’t persuade dear Inspector Cheddar to use it!) To think that’s why the king was so grumpy all that time and no one knew. No wonder he sacrificed so many people – the poor man was in agony. He says he hasn’t felt like sacrificing anyone in ages now, so that’s excellent news. His beard-jumper is coming on famously as well thanks to Mr Tucker’s good advice and the jumper Nellie knitted for him before she left.
Personally I’m very pleased that the Nicaraguan government has declared the valley of the jaguar gods a protected zone so that the ancient Maya can carry on with their traditional way of life (apart from the sacrificing, let’s hope) and the jaguar gods (if that’s what they are) will be safe in their caves. The king has agreed to lend the treasure to a museum in Managua so that other people can go and look at it, but he wants it back soon otherwise he thinks the jaguars will get annoyed as they like guarding it. It’s a very sensible solution if you ask me. The best way to secure the future is to preserve the past. But you know that because you’re related to an ancient Egyptian cat pharaoh!
Atticus Claw Hears a Roar Page 12
