Cat Mummy Read online

  Contents

  Cover

  About the Book

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Introduction

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  About the Author

  Also by Jacqueline Wilson

  Copyright

  About the Book

  I sometimes talk about my mum to Mabel, because Mabel doesn’t ever get upset.

  Verity adores her cat, Mabel, and is desperately sad when she dies. Remembering her recent school lessons about the Ancient Egyptians, Verity decides to mummify Mabel and keep her hidden. Verity’s dad and grandparents can’t bear to talk about death, having lost Verity’s mum in childbirth, but when they eventually discover what Verity has done, the whole family learns that it’s time to talk.

  A touching and sensitively-told story from best-selling Jacqueline Wilson now with a new introduction by the author!

  To Nancy (who loves cats)

  I get lots of letters from lovely children who like reading my books. They tell me all sorts of things about themselves. They chat about their mum and dad, and they often say they love them a lot. They mention their brothers and sisters, and they never say they love them, though I’m sure deep down they do. They always go on about their mean, bossy older sister or their incredibly irritating little brother who scribbles all over their books!

  They also mention pets in these letters, usually in the very first paragraph. Some children can’t have any pets, because their parents don’t like the mess, or there’s not enough room in a small flat, or because someone is allergic to fur. They tell me this mournfully, and frequently make up pretend dogs or cats to compensate.

  The children who are lucky enough to have a real pet always always always tell me they love them with all their heart. I get told their pets’ names and special tricks and habits and there are frequent little drawings of Jason the Dog and Jumper the Cat and Gertie the Goldfish. The saddest letters of all are when a very special pet sickens and dies. The letters are often tear-stained, with big wobbly printing, and I often feel sad when I write back.

  I realised that for many children the death of a pet is the first real sad time in their lives, so I decided to write about this in my book The Cat Mummy. It is a sad story and might make you cry a little bit, but there are lots of funny parts too, and I promise it has a happy ending.

  I re-read it after my own dear cat Whisky died, and felt comforted!

  CHAPTER ONE

  Mabel

  DO YOU HAVE any pets? My best friend Sophie had got four kittens called Sporty, Scary, Baby and Posh. My second-best friend Laura has a golden Labrador dog called Dustbin. My sort-of-boyfriend Aaron has got a dog too, a black mongrel called Liquorice Allsorts, though he gets called Licky for short. My worst enemy Moyra has got a boa constrictor snake called Crusher. Well, she says she has. I’ve never been to her house so I don’t know if she’s telling fibs.

  I think Sophie is ever so lucky. I love going round to her house to play with her kittens. They’re so sweet, the way they scamper around everywhere. Sophie’s mum gets cross sometimes because they knock things over and they’ve pulled off all the curtain cords but the kittens don’t care a bit when she wags her finger at them. The only thing they’re the slightest bit frightened of is a little clockwork frog. They used to run away from it but now Scary is getting quite bold and dares stretch out a paw to try to catch it. I could play with Sophie’s kittens all day long.

  I’ve been to tea at Laura’s house too and made friends with Dustbin. He’s a cream dog with big dark shiny eyes and if you hold out your hand he’ll shake paws with you. I know exactly why he’s called Dustbin. He eats all the time! He’s meant to be on a diet as he’s getting very plump but he’s forever on the scrounge. He especially likes crisps. He even licks out the bag.

  Aaron’s dog Licky is great at licking too. Aaron takes Licky up to the park after school. My gran and Aaron’s mum sit on the bench and have a good gossip and play with Aaron’s little sister Aimee and we take Licky for a run.

  Then we go on the roundabout and Licky sits on Aaron’s lap and barks like crazy because he’s having so much fun. Then sometimes if we nag and plead enough my gran or Aaron’s mum will buy us a whippy ice-cream from the van at the park gate. Aaron always shares his ice-cream with Licky. It’s not really fair on Aaron so I tried sharing my cone with Licky too, but Gran stopped me. She whispered that I mustn’t, because of dog germs. My gran has a bit of a germ fixation. She’s not very keen on pets. Apart from Mabel.

  I don’t know what she’d make of Moyra’s pet snake, Crusher. I don’t know what I’d make of Crusher either. I’m not that keen on snakes actually. Moyra sits behind me at school and today she leant forwards and shot out her arm and wrapped it right round my neck and whispered, ‘Watch out, Verity, here comes Crusher!’

  I knew it was only Moyra, and I’m pretty certain Crusher doesn’t even exist – but I still screamed. Everyone giggled. Moyra practically wet herself she laughed so much. Miss Smith didn’t tell me off for screaming. She didn’t tell Moyra off either. She just raised her lovely black eyebrows and said, ‘Settle down, girls’.

  I love Miss Smith. She’s a new teacher, the nicest we’ve ever had. I hate Moyra. If there really is a Crusher I hope he wakes up one morning and takes a good look at Moyra’s beady eyes and twitchy nose, mistakes her for a giant mouse, and GOBBLES HER UP.

  I certainly wouldn’t want a snake for a pet, but at least it would be something exciting to boast about.

  I have a pet. She is a tabby cat called Mabel. I love her dearly. But she is very, very, very boring. She doesn’t do anything. She just sleeps. Sometimes I leave her curled up on my bed when I go to school and when I come home there she still is, in exactly the same position. She doesn’t go out at night and run round having wild encounters with big bad tom cats. Not my Mabel.

  She stays indoors, dozes all evening, and then sleeps all night, back on my bed. She likes to lie on my feet like a live hot-water bottle.

  She’s about as playful as a hot-water bottle too. I can’t believe she was ever a cute little kitten like Sporty, Scary, Baby and Posh. You could run a clockwork frog right over Mabel and she wouldn’t budge. She’s never stalked or killed anything in her life. She doesn’t know that’s the way cats are supposed to hunt food. She is happy to amble into the kitchen and wait for Gran to open her tin of Whiskas. It’s the only exercise she takes all day.

  Gran says I’ve got to remember Mabel is very, very old. Mabel has been very, very old ever since I can remember. She was my mum’s cat.

  I haven’t got a mum. She died the day I was born. That’s almost all I know. Gran still can’t talk about Mum without her eyes going watery. Even Grandad cries. So I don’t talk about my mum because I don’t want to upset them.

  I’ve got a dad but I don’t see him all that often because he’s left for work before I get up and he’s nearly always still at work when I go to bed. I once heard Gran say my dad is married to his job. Just so long as he doesn’t marry a real lady. I definitely don’t want a stepmother.

  I’ve read all about stepmothers in fairy stories. They don’t have a good image. Laura’s got a stepdad and she certainly doesn’t think much of him. He’s the one who put poor Dustbin on a diet. He even suggested Laura’s mum should go on a diet and made her upset about having a big bottom – which she can’t help.

  Thank goodness Dad doesn’t seem interested in any ladies, with big or little bottoms. He hardly ever talks about Mum but he once said she was the loveliest woman i