[Êàðòèíêà: img_39]
“There’s a flood, Grandpa!” Tasha called. “I was dreaming about the River Nile. And then I woke up and my tail was soaked!”
“The pipes are leaking again,” Boris put in. “It wasn’t us, though! At least, I’m pretty sure it wasn’t,” he added. “I think I’d know if I’d flooded the whole gallery…”
“Probably that set of damp and panicked-looking rats that shot past me a couple of hours ago.” Grandpa Ivan sighed. “I knew I should have chased after them and found out what they’d been up to. But the old legs weren’t quite up to it.”
“Rats! Of course!” Tasha cried and glanced at the others. “I told you there wasn’t a curse!”
“It doesn’t matter about the rats, Grandpa. You have to come and rescue us!” wailed Bianca. “There’s so much water! I don’t l-l-like it!”
“Yes, yes, very well,” Grandpa Ivan muttered. “Don’t get your whiskers in a knot. I’m coming. Just a moment. Now…” He edged a little further out of the ventilation shaft, pressing his front paws against the wall. “Hmmm. If I’m careful, I can…” He leaped down on to the nearest wooden packing case. “Oooof. Old paws…”
“Grandpa!” the kittens squeaked and mewed, padding their paws lovingly up and down on the glass case. “You did it!”
“Mmmm…” Grandpa Ivan sighed as he eyed the dark water uncomfortably. “I did, didn’t I… But should I have done? There’s the question.”
“What do you mean?” Tasha asked.
“You’re still overthere and I’m still overhere, small tabby one.” Grandpa Ivan came slowly to the edge of the packing case. “I’m not sure I can get to you. And you certainly can’t jump far enough to get to me.”
His voice sounded rather faint and shaky, and Tasha suddenly remembered that Grandpa Ivan had come to the museum as a kitten after he’d been rescued from the river. A little girl had found the half-drowned white kitten tied up in a sack. His owners hadn’t wanted him and they’d thrown him in the water. It was only luck that had let him wash up on the riverbank.
“Grandpa, don’t lean out so far!” she called across the gallery. “Don’t look at the water like that. Please don’t!”
“What is it?” Boris muttered. “What’s wrong with him?”
“Remember the story he told us?” Tasha whispered. “About the farm and the people thinking he was no use because lots of white cats are deaf? They threw him in the river! I don’t think he likes water – look at him. It’s making him all … strange… Grandpa Ivan, step back!” she mewed.
But the old white cat seemed to be mesmerized by the slowly shifting water. He was leaning out further and further.
“He’s going to fall in!” Peter gasped in horror.
[Êàðòèíêà: img_40]
“We can’t let him.” Boris marched to the other side of the glass case and padded his paws against the smooth surface. There wasn’t much grip but he’d have to do the best he could.
“What are you doing?” Bianca shrieked. “You can’t jump that far!”
“Someone has to,” Boris said grimly. “And my legs are longest. We can’t leave him there – he’s going to topple in at any moment! Get back. Stay out of my way, I need a run-up.”
The other three kittens watched wide-eyed as Boris raced across the cabinet and launched himself out across the water.
“Please make it, please make it, please make it,” Tasha murmured.
With a scrabble and a thump, Boris landed solidly next to Grandpa Ivan, who stepped back on top of the case, shaking his white head.
“What was I doing?” he muttered. “Very odd…”
“It was the water, Grandpa,” Boris explained. “I think you were remembering…” He trailed off, not knowing quite what to say.
[Êàðòèíêà: img_41]
“Yes. Yes, I think you’re right.” The old white cat shivered and then straightened himself, glaring across the water at Peter, Tasha and Bianca. “Right. We’d better get back over there then.”
“Do you think you can?” Tasha called anxiously. “It’s a long way.”
“Nonsense!” Grandpa Ivan’s whiskers bristled. “Perfectly capable. Life in the old cat yet. Leave us room to land, you lot. Come along, young one. Together. On three?”
Boris nodded, and the white cat and the ginger kitten lined up next to each other.“One, two, three…”
They ran and leaped, paws outstretched, sailing over the gap.
“There!” Grandpa Ivan gasped. “There, you see? Good work, young one. Very good work.” He licked the top of Boris’s head and Boris sat down beside him, proudly tall.
“Now what are we going to do?” Bianca demanded, looking up at Grandpa Ivan. “We’re still here and so’s all that water.”
“Yes, yes, indeed it is,” Grandpa Ivan said thoughtfully. “So. No obvious way out. The doors through to the Roman Room are shut, which is a good thing I suppose, since they’re nice and solid. They’re probably keeping most of the water trapped in here.”
“But what if it’s pouring down into the cellars?” Tasha said worriedly. “The tunnel behind the mummy case will be completely underwater.”
“Mmm. Maybe some water will have got through,” Grandpa Ivan agreed. “But that tunnel doesn’t go straight down, does it? It dips in the middle and goes back up round another set of pipes. Whole place is riddled with old pipes, that’s what caused the problem in the first place. Most likely a lot of the water is caught in that dip and hasn’t reached the cellars yet.” He sighed. “And that’s a pity, in a way. If the other cats knew there was a flood, they’d be straight up here to see what was going on.”
“So no one’s coming to rescue us?” Bianca asked shakily.
Grandpa Ivan sniffed.“Museum cats are perfectly capable of rescuing themselves!”
[Êàðòèíêà: img_42]
“There is that funny long window.” Boris walked to the edge of the display cabinet and nodded at the gap that opened into the Dinosaur Gallery. “If only we could get to it…”
“Could we jump across?” Tasha suggested, eyeing the various cabinets and boxes scattered around the edges of the gallery. “Like stepping stones.”
Boris peered thoughtfully at the water.“I don’t think so. There’s a big space in the middle where they cleared everything out because of the collapsed ceiling. I wish they hadn’t taken the scaff tower away.”
“I’m not swimming,” Bianca said. “I can’t jump into that water. I’ll sink!” Then she looked ashamed of herself and added, “Sorry, Grandpa. I shouldn’t have said that. It’ll be all right…” But she didn’t sound very sure.
Grandpa Ivan nudged her gently.“I’m not keen on jumping in either. There must be some other way.”
Tasha frowned, looking around at the flooded gallery. The water sloshing against the side of their cabinet made her think of her dream, the river suddenly rising and washing away the path. The dream had started so nicely with the boat sailing by and the little girl making such a fuss of her.
“A boat!” she squeaked. “We need a boat!”
Boris looked at her helplessly.“There’s a clay one in the cabinet underneath us,” he admitted. “But I don’t see how we can get it out. And it’s not big enough for all of us.”
“I’m not convinced it’s going to float either,” Peter said, peering down between his paws. “I don’t think it’s meant for actual boating.”
“I didn’t mean that one!” Tasha sighed. “Isn’t there anything we can make a boat out of? Or a raft? What about the bits of wood from all these packing cases?”
The cats gazed at the sturdy, solid boxes and wrinkled their noses doubtfully. It didn’t look as though it was going to be easy to pull off any pieces.
“This is where it would be really useful for me to know more about power tools,” Boris said to Grandpa Ivan.
The old white cat turned round and glared at him with his one eye.
“Well, maybe not,” Boris said hastily. “So, any other ideas?”