At last, the portions were ready. Mr. Grims divided them into two even heaps, one on either side of a plate, and set the dish down on the floor. Peter and Jennie at once squatted down comfortably on either side and fell to eating without further ceremony.
On his part, Mr. Grims poured himself a cup of tea, smeared a slice of bread with margarine, and sitting down to the table with knife and fork commenced to eat what was left of his liver with cheerful gusto and a running commentary of conversation addressed partly to no one in particular and partly at his two visitors.
Said he, spearing a piece of the liver and conveying it to his mouth, 'It ain't much, but what I say is— you're welcome to what I've got. It ain't often we get to see a bit o' fresh meat like this now, and I'll wager you both are wondering 'ow I've come by it.' He wagged his head and said, 'Ah, well, you'll find old Bill Grims still 'as a friend or two.
`Mr. Tewkes the butcher says to me: "'Ere you are, Mr. Grims, a fine fresh bit of English lamb's liver I've set by for you, for I says to myself, it's not much meat you gets to see on your ration book."
`I says to him: "Right you are, and I only wish there was something I could do for you some day."
`Then he says to me: "Well, now that you mention it, Mr. Grims, there is a little something. I've a nephew very anxious to get into the docks to have a word with the foreman about a job, and I says to him, `Mr. Grims the watchman can give you a 'and there—' eh, Mr. Grims?"
`And I says to him: "Quid pro quo, meaning one good turn deserves another! Quid pro quo, Mr. Tewkes, and thank you very much." And 'ere we all are sitting down to liver for tea like the King himself in Buckingham Palace.
`It's quiet living here, but comfortable, pusses, with nobody coming to disturb you for weeks on end if there isn't a call for cargo to be shifted or a ship to unload or clear. Not that it don't get a bit lonely at times, but then the three of us would find plenty to say to one another, I reckon.
`Merry as grigs we three'd be in here, that is providin' as ow you liked flowers. But then I've never seen a puss as didn't like flowers, always sniffin' and smellin' around them and teppin' so nice and dainty with their feet so as not to 'urt them.'
Here he arose and went over to the shelf from which he took down a jampot. He scraped down into the bottom of it with a knife, but scratch and try as he would, not a single smidgen of jam came forth there from on the end of the knife, showing that pot was quite empty.
‘Ah well,' said Mr. Grims, still in utmost good humour, 'it comes and it goes. But never fear that YOU two wouldn't be well looked after. Ol' Bill Grims would see to that. Cereal in the morning with a bit off the top o' the milk ration. And sometimes when a ship comes in from the Argentine, a bit o' real beef right off the 'oof as it were. The run o' the docks and storage 'ouses with me, and WOT parcels, crates, bales and packages to hinvestigate! I don't know where they all don't come from. Hindia, China, South Africa, Australia, and NOO York. ..'
He glanced appraisingly about the tiny room and continued 'Now I'd shift me bed into that corner, so you'd have the other one on a pile of something soft and then none of us would interfere with the other comin' and goin', that is, pusses, providin' you're of a mind to stop and stay a while. It ain't much, but it would be 'ome sweet 'ome for all of us, and welcome you'd be. And that goes for you too, Whitey, as long as you're a friend o' hers.'
Feasting on the nourishing and delicious liver, satisfying fill of milk, warm and comfortable, Peter felt there was nothing he would have liked better than to stay on with Mr. Grims and be looked after by him. He didn't mind his being dirty and everything being poor and cracked and shabby, in fact he rather liked it because there wasn't any danger of hurting anything. At home he was always having to be careful of this article of furniture, or that piece of bric-k-brac….
`What has he been saying?' Jennie inquired of him, her meal finished, as she began licking her right paw and then carefully rubbing it over her whiskers and the side of her mouth and face.
Peter told her the gist of Mr. Grims' conversation as best as he could remember, but with emphasis on the fact that they were invited to remain there and make their home with him. Jennie interrupted her washing long enough to remark—You see. Just as I told you. I didn't like it at all when he shut the door on us …'
`But he's so nice and kind . . .' Peter remonstrated.
`They all are—at first,' Jennie replied. `Believe me, Peter, I know. You must trust me. We must watch for an opportunity. When it comes, do exactly as I say. Now then, get on with your washing, just as though we were quite content to stay here.'
Peter would not have dreamed of disobeying Jennie, for he already owed so much to her wisdom and kindness and generosity, including his life, and so he too set about cleaning his face and whiskers while Mr. Grims said cheerily, `That's what I like to see, pusses, settling down nice and 'omey and 'avin a bit of a clean-up.'
He gathered all the dishes together and placed them in a bucket and went outside with them. `Water an' conveniences not laid on,' he explained to them, `but the tap ain't far and it's no trouble. We'll all have a wash-up.' He closed the door behind him very carefully and was only gone a few moments when he was back with the bucket full of water which he set upon the stove. But this time the latch of the door did not quite click. Peter did not notice it, but Jennie did. She edged over to him and said: `Get ready.'
Peter was just about to whisper, `Get ready for what?' when it happened. A breeze of wind from the outside stirred the door and opened it just a foot.
`Now!' cried Jennie. `Follow me!' and was off like an arrow through the crack, her tail standing out straight and streamlined, and ears flattened back.
Peter was so startled that before he knew what he was doing he was up and after her, right on her tail, through the door and beyond, running as though for dear life.
Behind him he heard Mr. Grims calling—"Ere now! No, no! Don't go, pusses. 'Ere, come back! Next time you shall 'ave all the liver. Puss! Whitey! Come back!'
Hard as he was running to keep up with Jennie, Peter yet managed to turn his head around and look back over his shoulder. Mr. Grims was standing in the doorway of his shack with the boxes of red geraniums on either side, waving his hands in a helpless manner, and looking very bowed and old and lonely with his white hair and drooping moustache and shoulders.
'Ah, there, pusses,' he called once more, `don't go away, please!’
Then Jennie ducked around behind a huge pile of oil drums, with Peter after her, and Mr. Grims was lost from sight; and soon after, as they continued to run, passing from the drums to piles of green timber and then stacks of ingots of copper and tin, and finally into a perfect wilderness of piled-up steel rails where nobody could ever find anyone who didn't wish to be found, he passed also from their hearing. And not until then did Jennie pull up to rest with a `Well done, Peter!'
But somehow Peter couldn't manage to feel that they, or even he, had done well at all.
CHAPTER NINE: The Stowaways
` WASN'T it a lark?' Jennie laughed. `I'll never forget the expression on his face. He looked so foolish when we ran off. Weren't you amused?'
`No,' said Peter, `I wasn't.'
They were sitting on a string-piece down by the Thames-side near the London Docks, hard by Wapping Wall, watching three snub-nosed tugboats shoving, hauling and straining a long grey-and-white Esso tanker into position against the side of its pier. To his surprise he found that his tail, of which up to that moment he had not been particularly conscious, in spite of the fact that he had never had such an appendage before and it wanted some getting used to, was lashing back and forth, squirming and twitching and writhing like something separate and alive that did not belong to him at all.