If you have read my first adventure in Paris, you will know all about me. This part is just for any new readers to catch up. My name is Pebbles and I’m a fashionable, sophisticated Parisian cat. I am a rather special feline with a beautiful tortoiseshell coat. My apartment, which I share with my ‘family’, is very close to the Eiffel Tower. It’s so close that when you’re on the top terrace, you feel you could almost touch it. I have a special secret which I am going to meow softly, just to you. I am the seventh tortoiseshell kitten of a seventh born tortoiseshell mother which gives me nine wishes as well as nine lives! Unfortunately, my last adventure cost me two wishes. It was worth it because it saved the life of Ki-Ki. She is a beautiful royal Burmese cat with a deliciously milk chocolate coat with dark chocolate paws and mask! She is my best friend and a true aristocrat.
This summer the family moved to England for six months — something to do with a mysterious place called ‘the office’. It plays an important part in the father’s life. Ki-Ki thinks it must be a luxurious spa or a very upmarket restaurant because he even goes there at weekends sometimes!
I had never flown by aeroplane before. What a fuss it all was! Ki-Ki and I were inspected by a vet and given several injections. I really hate seeing that needle coming towards me. We were put into cages and stowed away in something called ‘the hold’. We could hear a dog somewhere near us barking and howling. So typical of dogs, they have no self-control. I don’t know about Ki-Ki, but I had an awful feline headache by the time we landed. They had given us a snack for the flight – a very cheap sort of cat food which we would never touch in any of our nine lives.
At last, we were taken through some mysterious ritual called customs. It may be an English ‘custom’ but not one any well-bred Parisian would practise. We were really relieved to see the family again, especially the youngest boy, Noah.
‘How are the ‘catkins’?’ he joked.
We purred politely and tried to smile. For some reason people like to hear us purring. To tell you the truth, it’s a bit of an effort at times. At least we could sleep in the taxi. We had heard our destination in Paris over a deafening loud speaker — flight 534 to London.
From our basket in the back of the car we had our first glimpses of London. We had heard the boys chatting about something called ‘Big Ben’ which sounded as if it might be a large structure like the Eiffel Tower. Why was it called Ben? This seemed rather odd. Of course, we had heard of Buckingham Palace. It had interested Ki-Ki with her royal connections. Sadly, the Royal Family seem to prefer Corgis, rather yappy, annoying little dogs.
Noah suddenly exclaimed ‘The Thames, we’re going over Tower Bridge!’
I caught a glimpse of miniature castles and turrets at either end of the bridge. Ki-Ki yawned elegantly, but a little sleepily. ‘When you’ve seen one bridge, you’ve seen them all.’
We were turning into a tree lined Avenue which reminded me of Paris with its boulevards.
The car suddenly stopped and we were both flung across the basket. That didn’t improve my cat ache, or my temper.
Once inside the house, even Ki-Ki had to admit it was elegant and very well furnished. Two large, luxurious cat beds were in the kitchen in front of something called an ‘Aga’ which seemed a combination of a heater and a stove.
‘Ah! The catkins like their beds. Of course, Ki-Ki’s bagged the bigger one,’ Noah shouted up the stairs.
‘Thank goodness there’s a cat flap,’ meowed Ki-Ki, in relief.
‘What’s that? I’ve never heard of such a thing.’
‘Well, we don’t go outside the apartment in Paris. Here there must be a garden at the back. So, we can pop in and out through the cat flap when we need to — you know what I mean?’ she meowed softly.
‘When we need the loo; that’s what you mean.’’
‘Please, keep your meows down. Don’t yowl about such subjects.’
Really, Ki-Ki can be rather old-fashioned!
The family were outside looking round the garden. There was a long stretch of grass with beautiful trees on either side. The father and mother were chatting.
‘London Plane trees, you can’t beat them for shade and elegance.’
‘You’re right and there’s not much gardening here — just cutting the grass. A good thing, you know, with you stuck in the office.’
‘There’s an office here too. He’ll still be going there.’
‘Lucky, he’d really miss it wouldn’t he?’ purred Ki-Ki.
‘Well, the garden’s well fenced and too high for the cats to jump over. They should be fine but watch the boys don’t let them out the front,’ with this warning, he turned back into the house.
We were still exploring the top of the garden when a rather loud meow startled us. A large black tom cat had poked his nose through the wire netting.
‘Hello, ladies, you must have just arrived!’
‘Yes, we ‘ave flown in from Paris today.’ Ki-Ki’s French accent seemed a little exaggerated.
‘Well, I’m going to have the pleasure of showing you two ladies the sights of London.’
‘The only problem is, we are prisoners. We can’t jump this fence.’ I meowed pathetically.
‘You don’t ‘ave to, Mesdemoiselles. Allow me.’
He ambled along the fence until he was about half way down. Scrabbling with his front paws and pushing with his nose, he managed to squeeze under the netting. The next minute, he was in the garden. ‘My name’s ‘King Alfred’, Alf to my friends.’
‘I’m known to my close friends as ‘Ki-Ki’ and this is ‘Pebbles.’
I heard Noah calling us from the kitchen.
‘Look you be ‘ere at 9 tonight and I’ll take you on a little tour. Okie doki?’
We only had time to nod uncertainly before he disappeared under the fence.
‘What’s he mean by ‘okie doki?’
‘We’ll find out at nine o’clock,’ purred Ki-Ki.
The family had decided to go to bed early. The journey from Paris had been tiring. They had a busy day ahead of them. This suited our cat plans purr fect ly!
We lay in the kitchen listening for the chimes of Big Ben, seven, eight and at last nine o’clock.
Ki-Ki slipped quietly through the cat flap. I followed warily. It was still a little strange to me.
It was a bright moonlit night. The trees were touched with silver. We edged slowly up the garden, keeping close to the fence. We could see Alf sitting waiting, his black coat shining in the moonlight.
‘Good evening, ladies. All ready for our feline adventure?’
‘Yes, looking forward to it,’ I meowed softly. Somehow it sounded rather loud in the silent garden. Even Ki-Ki was excited but too much of a lady to show it!
Always the gentleman, Alf lifted the netting with one paw. One by one, we crawled under the fence. Any moment I feared hearing Noah’s voice and being caught, even before our London adventure had begun. The next moment, we were wriggling between some iron railings into the street.
‘Here we are, easy as pie,’ purred Alf proudly. ‘First, I’m going to show you where I work.’
‘Work! That’s too tedious. Remember I’m from the Burmese royal line.’ Ki-Ki began to clean her delicious chocolate fur.
‘Ah, but my job is the most pres ti gious of any cat job in London.’ Alf purred in a deep, bass tone.
‘Well, it better be worth being dragged out of a very cosy bed.’ Ki-Ki tossed her head and flicked the rich brown tip of her tail.
Alf led the way down the brightly lit street. Ki-Ki and I slowly followed.
It seemed a long walk, through backstreets, as we followed in Alf’s paw steps. I thought Ki-Ki was going to sit down and refuse to budge. Then suddenly we came out on a busy street, still noisy and crowded, even at night. Alf stopped in front of a large building with blazing red lights. My reading had improved but I must admit my English was still limited. Ki-Ki read it out, ‘The Mousetrap’ and an odd name — ‘Agatha Christie’. The red lights made even our cats’ eyes blink. We followed Alf down a narrow passage at the side of the building.
‘If I don’t sit down for a minute, I’m going to collapse. My paws are killing me, walking on these horrid, hard streets.’
‘Ok, Mademoiselle Ki-Ki, sit down for a minute,’ meowed Alf. ‘This is St Martin’s Theatre in the famous West End of London. I’m the theatre cat.’ Alf bowed proudly. ‘Now you’ll have to go on tip-claws here. No meowing. Perfect silence!’
Alf pushed against the Stage Door. It opened enough for the three of us to squeeze in. We crept stealthily up some narrow stairs. Alf stopped outside a door with ‘Royal Box’ engraved on a brass plate over the top.
‘Oh, this is obviously meant for me, the ‘Royal Box’. Kiki purred with pleasure and seemed to have quickly recovered.
Alf stood on the tips on his back paws and managed to reach the door handle. Although it was dark in the theatre, we were able to see the splendid chairs which I was later told were covered in gold and red material. We each jumped quietly on a chair and looked towards the front which Alf said was called ‘the stage’. When we looked round, we could see the theatre was full of people watching the play. It was so quiet you could have heard a mouse scurrying. Suddenly the lights on the stage went off, the whole theatre was dark. ‘This is the scariest scene,’ Alf meowed very quietly in a true stage whisper.
A voice was whistling, ‘Three blind mice’. I recognised it from one of Noah’s old books. Suddenly the lights came on. One of the actors was lying on the floor. Seemed an odd place to go to sleep. Alf explained later that she was dead – only in the play of course!
Then a young boy in the audience looked up and stared straight at us. We crouched down, too late. He was whispering ‘cats’ to his mother.
‘Time for our exit,’ hissed Alf. We pushed open the door, ran down the red-carpeted stairs, out of the stage door and into the side alley before you could say ‘King Alfred,’ let alone ‘Jack Robinson.’
Alf led us to a wall at the end of the alley. We climbed over it and found ourselves in an empty car park. ‘Hang on here. Back in a minute’ Alf disappeared into the night.
I could see Ki-Ki was nervous. ‘Don’t worry, he’ll be back. Don’t forget, I can always fly us home!’ I reminded her of the Paris adventure and my magic powers. Before I could meow more, Alf appeared out of the dark.
‘Come on, follow me. I’ve got a tasty surprise for you ladies.’
He led us to what looked like a ticket office on the other side of the yard. Alf suddenly meowed loudly and scratched at the black door.
‘Ok, ok, I’m coming!’.
The door slowly opened. An old man, wrapped up in a shabby coat and long grey scarf, stood on the door step. ‘Look ‘ere Tiddles, you turned yer nose up at the food just now. What are you playing at? Oh, I see you went and got yer lady friends!’ The old man laughed. ‘Hang on there. I’ll see what I can do.’
A few moments later, he re-appeared with three saucers and something which smelt distinctly fishy. He bent down stiffly and put the food in front of us. ‘Just got that from the waiter at the all- night café. He was about to bin it.’
I was afraid Ki-Ki would refuse to eat. She can be a bit of a ‘foodie’. Before I could say anything, her saucer was clean.
‘That was purr fectly delicious,’ she purred contentedly.
The old man leant down to stroke her. I could see Ki-Ki freeze, then shiver slightly. She was purring between her teeth, but he was happy.
As we walked away, the old guy stood looking after us. People can be rather sad sometimes. Alf meowed that he dropped in there most nights to keep the old boy company.
Alf now boasted that he was going to show us one of the most famous houses in London or in the whole world for that matter. He even yowled that it was more famous than the Elysee Palace in Paris. Of course, Ki -Ki and I objected. In fact, we yowled him down. But we could still hear him, meowing under his breath.
It was an exhausting cat walk along the hard London pavements. I thought Ki-Ki was going to sit down again and refuse to move. At last, we turned right into somewhere called Downing Street. Ki-Ki was meowing rebelliously, ‘Famous house! Never heard of it.’
We looked across the road and I could just make-out the number, ’10, Downing Street.’ A rather large man with an odd helmet on his head was standing outside. ‘Oh, he’s a policeman,’ I meowed proudly – I’d see some pictures in Noah’s guide book to London.
The door suddenly opened and a woman appeared. Before it closed, to our surprise, a cat sidled out. It wandered slowly across the road towards us.
Alf was perfectly at ease. He obviously knew the grey tabby approaching. Ki-Ki looked her usual superior self. This was a common enough domestic cat, even if this rather unimpressive town house was famous. I reserved my opinion, after all this was Alf’s territory.
‘This is Larry, the Downing Street cat. He has an official title, ‘Chief Mouser to the Cabinet Office.’ This is the fifth British Prime Minister he has served! His duties include: greeting guests, inspecting security defences and testing the antique furniture for its napping qualities.’
‘I’m rather proud of my defence of the Prime Minister’s house. You can see the evidence in a video that went viral on the internet. I stalked a fox which had been hiding in the Downing Street Garden. Chased it, till it ran off towards Whitehall!’ Larry meowed loudly.
Ki-Ki yawned elegantly, placing a beautiful chocolate-coloured paw over her mouth.
‘Mind you, I’ve had one or two scraps with Palmerston, the Foreign Office cat. He once had the cheek to rip my collar off. Real gun boat diplomacy.’
The policeman strolled across the road. Alf quickly slid away into the shadows. Larry rubbed against the constable’s legs. Too late, I noticed Ki-Ki had actually fallen asleep. The policeman gently lifted her from the pavement and walked back to the famous door of number ten. Alf was meowing softly at me, telling me to run for it. I couldn’t abandon poor Ki-Ki, even to a policeman. I followed the constable back across the road. He knocked on the door of Number Ten. It was opened and after a whispered conversation, Ki-Ki was handed in.
By the skin of my whiskers, I managed to slip in after her, before the door closed. Inside was a surprisingly large reception hall and a staircase lined with pictures of old, boring looking men. As a queen, I was disappointed to see only three pictures of women.
In a few minutes a black suited man appeared with two wicker baskets. I remembered being put in one of these contraptions as a kitten when I first moved into my Paris home. By this time, Ki-Ki had woken up. The moment she saw the baskets, she began to struggle. She meowed pitifully to me. ‘Help me, Pebbles. I can’t bear to be put in one of those dreadful cat boxes.’
I knew she remembered her terrifying experience when she had been stolen from the Paris apartment. Too late, the man had already bundled her into one of the boxes. Before I knew it, he had dumped me, unceremoniously into the second one.
Despite our resentful cries, we found ourselves in the boot of a car or van being driven through the streets of London.
I wondered what our family would say when they found we had disappeared in a strange city.
The van was pulling up. I could read a notice by the entrance to a large building, ‘BatterseaCats’ and Dogs’ Home’. ‘Oh no!’, I meowed to Ki-Ki. ‘You remember in Paris how Roddy warned us about cats’ homes.?’
Before she could reply, our baskets had been carried into a sort of reception room. One by one we were gently lifted out. There were sudden flashes which made me blink.
‘Don’t worry, they’re only taking our photos. I wish I had been warned.’ Ki-Ki tossed her head.’ I would have tidied my hair.’
‘Now let’s see if these two have been micro chipped,’ one of the attendants remarked.
‘The Burmese almost certainly will be registered but I’m not sure about the tortoise shell.’
I didn’t know what ‘chipping’ meant but I rather resented the man’s dismissive tone. Why
shouldn’t a tortoise shell be treated the same as a Burmese? After all we were both staunch republicans at heart. The two men were busy looking at a computer screen. I quietly meowed to Ki-KI that this was a chance to escape from this ‘chipping’ query, whatever it meant. We sat close to the door.
‘I don’t know about you, mate, but I could do with a cuppa.’ With this, one of the men walked towards the exit.
‘This is our chance,’ I meowed softly in Ki-Ki’s ear. As quick as lightning we shot through the the half open door before either of the men had realised.
‘How will we get home?’ Ki-Ki meowed despondently. ‘We’re lost in London!’
‘Look we just need a wall, something high so we can take off safely.’ At precisely that moment I saw a high wall enclosing a cobbled yard. ‘That’ll do, we can use it as a platform.’
I knew Ki-Ki was exhausted and I was tired too. With our last ounce of energy, we scrambled up the brick wall. The tips of our claws just saved us from falling back.
I wished with all my remaining strength for the magic wings which had saved us in Paris. I could feel them quickly forming. Ki-Ki’s beautiful, regal wings had also sprung into place, transparent and gleaming.
‘Un, deux, trois, take off!’ I yowled. We rose higher and higher. There was the river Thames far beneath. Boats looked like toys floating in a bath in the early morning light. We were drifting past a huge clock.
‘That’s Big Ben,’ called Ki-Ki. ‘Hope it doesn’t strike. It would deafen us,’ she yowled.
Far below, I recognised Downing Street. Larry was a small dot of grey fur sitting by the famous door. Then below us was a large open space. I thought I recognised Horse Guards, from a guide book the boys had been studying. Next, we were looking down on a straight road lined with trees and decorated with the British Flag, same colour as the French Tricolour. Though we cats can’t see the colours.
Then there in front of us was Buckingham Palace with the sun rising. A different flag was flying above the palace. Ki-Ki said it was the Royal Standard which showed the King was there. Trust her to know that! I hovered for a while over the palace but no glimpse of the King.
I knew roughly where our street was by using Big Ben as a reference point. Flying back towards the big clock, I recognised the tree lined avenue which had reminded me of Paris.
I signalled to Ki-Ki to prepare to land. We landed softly on the lawn in the back garden, exactly where we had met Alf the previous evening which now seemed so long ago. Our wings disappeared as mysteriously as they had arrived!
The house was silent. The family were still asleep. We crept into our baskets and were soon snoozing.
We awoke to Noah observing, ‘Look at those lazy cats. They’ve been sleeping all night!’
Sir Socks Le Chat 