She’s not so bad. I gave her a brief purr. I was quite looking forward to the stockings myself.
No such luck. Right in the middle of the night a huge hand scooped me up and dumped me out on the landing. ‘I think these stockings will be safer away from you.’
Well, thank you, Santa! All the other doors were closed, so I just settled on a nice warm towel I pulled down from the bathroom rack. It wasn’t a bad night, though I was woken ridiculously early by frantic squeals. ‘Look! Santa’s left our stockings!’
‘Chocolate coins!’
‘I’ve got a little jumping frog.’
‘I’ve got a clockwork mouse.’
Oh, please! How old are Ellie and the twins? Three? You wouldn’t catch me playing with a clockwork mouse – unless it was to push it into Aunt Ann’s furry slippers and give her a heart attack.
But I still reckoned it would be more fun to watch them unpacking their stockings than to hang around the bathroom on my own.
So I jumped up on Ellie’s bed.
She threw her arms round me. ‘Oh, Tuffy! Christmas is magic, isn’t it? You think so too, don’t you, even though you don’t like chocolate coins.’
Who says I don’t like chocolate coins? They’re bright and gold and shiny, and fun to bat off the bed.
Okay, okay! So twist my tail! Some of the ones I batted went down that giant hole that Mr I-Can-Fix-It-All-By-Myself made in the floor when he was sorting out that leaking pipe. Is it my fault the hole’s so deep she couldn’t fish them out again?
No. It is his.
But not having quite so many chocolate coins as usual meant Ellie got hungry sooner. So we all went down for breakfast. There didn’t seem to be too much Christmas Spirit coming my way. Nobody offered me a special breakfast. To get some sausages, I had to creep up beside Lancelot and jump in his lap, knocking his elbow.
Success! The sausage he was trying to cut flew off on to the floor.
If it had been a mouse, I couldn’t have pounced faster.
Got it!
I reckoned it was safer to take my prize out in the garden. So I rushed through the cat flap.
The last thing that I heard behind me was Mr Not-Very-Nice bolting it closed behind me.
Well, happy Christmas to you too!
11: Showers of falling food
WHILE I WAS looking for a way back in, the grown-ups must have cleared away the breakfast things and started to prepare for Christmas lunch. By the time I had found the only bedroom window that was unlatched, and squeezed inside, the turkey was already stuffed and trussed, and sitting forlornly in its tray, waiting to go in the oven.
I ask you. Honestly! They all go on and on about the way that I chase sparrows. But I would never treat a bird like that.
Hypocrites!
Anyhow, once it was safely in the oven (out of my reach) the four of them went through to the front room, to join the children, and unwrap the presents.
I had forgotten about the labels my tail had accidentally flicked away, out of sight under the carpet.
Uh-oh. The trouble started almost at once.
‘Who is this gift for? It doesn’t say.’
‘This one doesn’t have a label.’
‘Neither has this one. Or this.’
I couldn’t help but look a bit uncomfortable. (I hadn’t realized I’d flicked off so many.) The children rooted around, lifted their heads and wailed, ‘We’ve looked at all the presents, and not one has a label.’
‘What are we going to do?’
‘We’ll simply have to guess.’
That didn’t work too well, and arguments broke out all over. ‘I think this one is probably for me.’
‘No, dear. I think that Santa brought that one for Lucilla.’
That set Lucilla off. ‘But I don’t want it, Mummy. I like this present much better.’
‘But that one was meant for Ellie.’
‘How do you know?’
‘I just do, dear.’
‘You can’t read Santa’s mind!’
‘Neither can you!’
We were a little short on Christmas cheer. And then a scuffle started when Lancelot tried to snatch back a present that Ellie’s father said was not for him. The carpet rucked up underneath his shoe, and there they were – all of the labels.
And one or two telltale ginger hairs, off my tail.
‘A-ha!’ cried Ellie’s father.
Everyone turned to look at me. I turned to look at the door. I don’t think it was my fault that, just at the moment that I fled towards it, Ellie’s mother was coming in carrying a giant plate of tiny tarts and titbits and fancy little things on sticks.
I just think I was lucky that, in the showers of falling food, I managed to get clean away.
12: Star of the show
I SKIPPED LUNCH. And the washing up. And all that fuss when Aunt Ann realized that there were lumps in her cake icing, and she would have to keep stirring.
I wasn’t going back outside. Cold, wet and miserable. So I stayed out of sight, hiding in one of Uncle Brian’s welly boots till I heard Ellie walk past.
‘Tuffy! Tuff-eee!’
I stretched up in the boot to see which way she was headed. That was a big mistake. The boot began to wobble and I lost balance.
Out I spilled, on to the floor.
She scooped me up. ‘Time for the show,’ she told me. ‘And guess who’s going to be the star!’ She nuzzled her nose in my fur. ‘You are! You’re going to be the very best of all of us because you’re so clever.’
The best of them all! So clever! How can you run away and hide when someone as caring as Ellie thinks that you’re the bees’ knees? Call it the Christmas Spirit if you will, but suddenly I felt mean, trying to sneak away after they’d worked so hard painting the well, and practising their songs, and making paper mittens for the two toy cats.
They’d even gone next door to borrow two tiny pairs of real woollen baby mittens they could fit on me.
How could I let them down?
So I gave up and let Ellie carry me into the front room. The cardboard well was on the rug. Lucilla and Lancelot were ready in their costumes. Aunt Ann had even stopped stirring her icing and put the mixing bowl safely down on the floor behind the sofa.
All of the grown-ups settled on the sofa, ready to watch. Even the huge fat fairy on the top of the Christmas tree seemed to be peering down and waiting for the show to start.
‘Ready?’ Lucilla asked.
Why not? I thought. Why not do something nice for Ellie? Why not make the best of things, and turn their stupid little betsy-wetsy show into a triumph?
WOW them! Amaze them with my wonderful acting skills! Help out The Three Soft Noodles, and give the grownups the surprise of their lives!
Tuffy, the Acting Cat. Star of the Show.
Everything started brilliantly. We did ‘I Love Little Pussy’ first. When Ellie tipped her head winsomely to one side, I tipped mine even more winsomely to the other. I stared so lovingly into her eyes. I even purred. It was a shame the only decorations left on the tree were all up at the top, so they won’t show up on the photographs. But, still, Ellie and I made a nice pair, and if it wasn’t for her awful corncrake voice, that bit of the show would have been perfect. Certainly I was
excellent. I think I totally surprised her dad. And Uncle Brian and Aunt Ann and Ellie’s mother clapped like mad when the song ended.
Then it was ‘Ding Dong Bell’.
That was a triumph too. I let them put me in the well, then I crouched down and hid, as if it was really deep. I yowled a bit through the first verse, making my voice sound tragic yet musical. The scene was very moving.
Then we got to the bit where Lancelot pulled me out, and as I reached up to nuzzle him under his chin in pretend gratitude, I even saw Aunt Ann brush away a tear.
We all took a bow after that one. When the applause from the sofa finally died down, we moved on to the third and last show: ‘Three Little Kittens’.
Lucilla set the two toy cats in place on the carpet. She and Ellie made sure their paper mittens were on straight. Then they pulled Next-door’s baby’s woollen mitts on to my paws.
I was such a star! I didn’t even struggle. I actually held out each paw in turn to help. I could tell Ellie’s father was pretty surprised to see me acting so sweet and easy-going. But he said nothing, just sat there, looking suspicious as usual.