'Oi there, Bill. Wotcher doin' with yer light on and yer wireless goin' at this hour. It's just the keys we're after.'
It was one of the foremen accompanied by two of the dock workers, and seeing the door was open they started to come in when the foreman said– 'Ullo-'ullo! Steady there, boys. I don't like the looks of this at all. Here, Bill! Bill Grims! Are ye ill?'
One of the dock hands said, `If ye ask me, it looks loike the poor old chap's 'ad 'is last illness.'
`Aye. And that's the truth ye've spoken.'
All three removed their caps and came inside hesitantly and awkwardly, as if now that there was no longer any possible chance of their doing so they were afraid they might disturb Mr. Grims. The foreman, with a grave look of sympathy and concern on his seamed and leathery face, studied the strange scene, the quiet figure in the bed, all the gay and gracious coloured plants, the two cats, one tiger-striped brindle with small head, shining, liquid eyes and snow-white throat and mask, and the other a creamy tom with broad head and shoulders and not a single mark or blemish on him.
Then he snapped off the wireless set and at the same time extinguished the light so that nothing but the early dawn glow came in through the windows. `Aye,' he said, "tis so. And none but his two faithful pets here to ease the loneliness of his last hours and be at his side when the summons came.'
The foreman's words gave Peter a wrench at his heart He took some comfort that Jennie could not understand all the foreman had been saying and was glad likewise that he did not know that even that solace had been denied Mr. Grims, and that when the call had come he had taken to his cot by himself and faced it alone.
The foreman gently drew the cover over Mr. Grims' shoulders and head, and then went about the place performing the last offices of tidying up a little. One of the dockers bent down before he left and rubbed Peter's ears for a moment. `Aye, pusses, ye know, don't ye,' he said. `Ye'll be in need of a new home now and someone else to feed and look after ye. Ah well…. First there's to see that he's properly cared for and then we'll think of what's to be done for ye. Old Bill would have wanted his friends remembered …'
He and the two dockers went out quietly, leaving the door ajar.
Peter said to Jennie: `He's going to be looked after. I heard the foreman say so. You mustn't grieve so. We came as quickly as we could …'
But Jennie refused to be comforted. She said: `He shared his food and broke bread with us. He spoke to us sweetly and kindly and begged us to stay with him. And I laughed at him and made you run away. Peter, Peter … How can I ever forgive myself? Don't you see, if it hadn't been for me and the way I acted, if we had stayed, it could all have been different? He might even have had something to live for again, instead of falling ill and just lying down to die. And even so, we would have been here by his side, or maybe we could have run and got help for him. Oh, I wish I were dead …'
She fell silent again and Peter, squatting down beside her bethought himself of what to do. He felt that unless there was some way that he could distract her mind, she might well remain there mourning and brooding over something which could now no longer be helped, and perhaps even grieve and starve herself to death. He knew that neither he nor she would ever forget, that a thoughtless cruelty can be too late repented of, that life does not take cognizance of how one feels or what one would like to do to make up for past errors, but moves inexorably, and that the burden is more often `too late, too late' rather than `just in time …' A good deed or a right action wanted much immediacy in its performance. He also knew that he must help Jennie at once.
He said finally, 'Jennie … there is nothing further we can do here. I have a wish … I want to go home …'
`Home?' she said, as though the word had a strange and unfamiliar ring in her ears.
`To Cavendish Mews,' Peter said, and then added-'Just to visit…. Perhaps I could see Mummy and Daddy and Nanny, from the outside, for a moment. We might just walk by and look in. . .'
`Yes,' said Jennie, in a dull, hurt voice, `you must go.'
`But I can't go alone, Jennie..I don't dare. You must come with me. I need you. Don't you see? … Just as you needed me to go to Glasgow, I need you to help me here. I'm not yet enough cat to get around London by myself. I'd get lost, I'm not sure I could even find my way, or get a meal, or secure a place to sleep at night. Jennie, please help me. I do so want to see them just once more …'
A change came over Jennie. Her lithe body lost the sick, slack, slumped crouch and pulled itself together again. As q usual, when she was much moved, she sat up and gave her back a few licks. Then she said, `If you really think you need me, Peter …'
`Oh, but, Jennie, I do …'
`Then I'll go with you, whenever you say.'
Peter jumped up and looked out the window. Off in the distance, down by the goods wagons on the siding, he could see a group of people approaching, the foreman, the two dockers, a man carrying a black bag, and several others.
'I think we'd better go now,' he said, `before they come back.'
Without another word, Jennie arose and they slipped out of the door, but it was significant that this time it was Peter who led the way and Jennie who followed him. They quickly slipped around behind the shack, and then alternately running and walking down the water side of the docks and sheds, soon reached the iron gates of the pier which now stood open, and went through them out into the street again.
CHAPTER NINETEEN: London Once More
IT was only half true that Peter wanted to go home. For boy and cat were becoming so intermingled that Peter was not at all certain any longer which he really was.
More than once during his voyage aboard the Countess of Greenock and the subsequent adventures, Peter had thought of his mother and father and Scotch Nanny and wondered how they were, if they were missing him and whether they had any explanation for his mysterious disappearance. For certainly, none of them, not even Nanny, who had been right there at the time, could be expected to guess that he had changed suddenly from a boy into a snow-white tomcat under her very eyes almost, and had been pitched out into the street by her as a stray.
He thought it was probable that they would have notified the police, or perhaps, believing that he had run away, placed an advertisement in the `Personal' columns of The Times saying: `Peter: Come home, all is forgiven-Mummy, Daddy and Nanny,' or possibly it might have been more formally worded: `Will anyone who can give information as to the whereabouts of Master Peter Brown, vanished from No. IA Cavendish Mews, London, W.C.2, kindly communicate with Colonel and Mrs. Alastair Brown of that address. Reward!'
But in the main, when he thought of those at home he did not believe that he was much missed except by Nanny who, of course, had been busy with him almost from morning until night, leaving out the hours when he was at school, and now that he was gone would have nothing to do. His father was away from home so much of the time that except for their occasional evening romps he could hardly be expected to notice the difference. And as for his mother-Peter always felt sad and heavy-hearted when he thought about his mother, because she had been so beautiful and he had loved her so much. But it was the kind of sadness that is connected with a memory of something long ago that was. Looking back to what life had been like in those now but dimly recollected days, he felt certain that his mother had been a little unhappy herself at first when he was missed, but then, after all, she never seemed to have much time and now that he was gone perhaps it would not have taken her long to get used to it.
Really it was Jennie who had come more and more to mean family to him and upon whom he leaned for advice, help, companionship, trust, and even affection. It was true, she talked a great deal and was not the most beautiful cat in the world, but there was an endearing and ingratiating warmth and grace about her that made Peter feel comfortable and happy when they slept coiled up close to one another, or when even he only looked at her sometimes and saw her sweet attitudes, kindly eyes, gamin-wise face and soft white throat.