A Pack of Liars

Crummy Mummy and Me

Flour Babies

Goggle-Eyes

Madame Doubtfire

Step by Wicked Step

The Tulip Touch

And I�m not sure that it�s dead anyway. I mean, I saw it sort of flapping off, looking a bit lopsided. But after that it disappeared. For all I know, the thing�s still somewhere in the house, minding its own business and mucking about wherever it wants.

Unlike me, locked in this garage in disgrace, after a horrible Christmas.

I wriggled free in time to hear the end of his next threat: �� or spend the whole of Christmas in a cattery!�

Up came Ellie�s hands again. This time, when I tugged back my head enough to hear, the only words I caught were: �� in some strong cage!�

Ellie was almost in tears. And so were Lancelot and Lucilla.

�Oh, please don�t say that, Uncle George!�

�No, don�t say that!�

But Ellie�s father was still in a rage. �Well, it�s my view that ��

�No!� Ellie cried. �We three will look after Tuffy! You needn�t worry. We�ll keep him well away from you.�

Her father was still scowling. �And well away from all the clothes in the cupboards? And the tree? And all the food? And all the presents and the decorations?�

Quick as a flash, all three of them reached out to stop me. I was trapped.

�No, Tuffy! We promised!�

�Just to keep you safe!�

�You have to stay!�

I tried to wriggle free. Lucilla shut the door and Lancelot checked the window latch. Ellie could see that I was getting nervous, so, �Never mind,� she soothed. �Let�s think of something to play.�

The Two Big Dafties kept on rearranging her. �Put that arm more closely round Tuffy.�

�And show your pretty ring. That�s right. Oh, Ellie! Now you look like something out of a fairy tale!�

(She did too. Like a frog in a wedding dress.)

�I love little pussy, her coat is so warm,

And if I don�t hurt her she�ll do me no harm.�

Well, she was dead wrong, wasn�t she? Because it was a nasty scratch I gave her. (Mind you, it was not deliberate. I was just putting up a paw to try to stop her stroking me. So how was I supposed to guess that she had just decided her show would be much better if she suddenly leaned down to kiss me on the nose?

They didn�t dare put me inside their stupid well.

�Wait till we�ve practised the song,� said Lancelot, giving me a worried look. �It might be safer.�

�Yes,� Lucilla agreed. �Let�s not put Tuffy in there until we�re sure that we�ve got everything right.�

Ellie looked down at the plaster on her arm, and then at me. �Yes, Tuffy. You can be in the show later.�

I�d had enough of people telling me where I could or couldn�t go in my own house. I gave a mighty squirm in Lucilla�s arms.

Terrified, she let go.

I jumped straight in their silly well.

They were all thrilled. �Oh, Tuffy! You�re a genius!�

I raised my head and yowled.

They were all so excited. �Look! Tuffy can act! He can pretend that he�s stuck down our well!�

�Why?� Lancelot asked.

There was a silence. They all looked at me as if I was a criminal � as if I spent my whole life chasing half-dead mousies round the house.

I was offended, if you want to know. They wouldn�t open the door, so I just went and sat under the Christmas tree, next to the presents.

Okay, okay. So I was sulking. But how is it my fault that my tail was flicking from side to side? I am a cat, and that�s what happens to our tails when we get cross. My tail�s a part of me. From my point of view, it�s just the end of my bottom. You don�t spend all day looking to see exactly what�s going on at the end of your bottom, do you? Well, neither do I. So how was I supposed to notice that it was acting like a little furry brush, and flicking all those silly little labels off and out of sight, under the carpet?

It took them ages, but finally, finally, they managed to choose another rhyme for their show.

��Three Little Kittens, They Lost Their Mittens�,� decided Lucilla.

�Yes! Perfect!� Ellie said. �We can use Tuffy and my two soft cat toys.�

�Use� Tuffy? Excuse me! What am I now? A kitchen towel, or something?

Nobody �uses� me.

Now Lancelot was pitching in. �And we�ll need twelve little mittens.�

I looked up. Mittens? On my paws? Oh, no. No, no, no, no. Not even if they made me Star of the Show.

But they were already rushing off to look for what they needed. While they were gone, I had a laugh, reaching up to bat a few of the glittery balls off the tree. Just like last year, I gave myself five points if they fell down among the presents, and a bonus of five if they rolled on to the carpet.

I got a hundred and twenty points in all.

I settled down on Ellie�s bed. She put her arms round me. �Oh, Tuffy! I do love you so.�

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.�

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.�

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

She pointed. �Look!�

The singing stopped.

�Look at the mess Tuffy is making!� said Ellie�s mother. �What�s that all over his paws?�

�It looks like �� Aunt Ann stood up and hurried round behind the sofa. We heard a shriek. It sounded like an express train screeching to a halt when a green light turns red.

Aunt Ann picked up the bowl and held it out for all to see. �Look! Look at my icing! It�s ruined! All churned up, and full of paw marks!�

Ellie�s dad went mad. �That pest of a cat! This time he�s gone too far! I warn you, the moment the vet�s office opens up again after Christmas, I�m taking Tuffy down there to ��

�No!� Ellie hurled herself towards her father but, blinded by tears, she bumped into Lancelot. He knocked his sister, who fell in the well. I knew that, if Ellie�s dad got hold of me, he�d have my guts for garters. So while Ellie�s and Lancelot�s legs and arms were madly flailing about, getting tangled, I tried to make it to the door.

But Mr I-Have-Had-Enough was blocking the way. So I rushed out of sight behind the sofa. Then, while Ellie pulled herself free and started to shout at her father � �You leave poor Tuffy alone! You�re always picking on him!� � I slid away, under the tree. There were no glittery balls to hide me in the bottom half, so I climbed up the back, branch by branch, higher and higher, while everyone was busy picking themselves up, and comforting Aunt Ann, and rushing off for cloths to clear up the icing footprints.

Now I was almost at the top. Only Ellie�s fat cardboard fairy was higher.

And then I suddenly thought of a brilliant way to hide myself. I looked up at Ms Tomato-Face on top of the tree. �This is the end for you, Sunshine!� I muttered to her. �You have had your days of glory. Now move over. I am going to be the new Christmas fairy.�

I poked a paw up through her big fat cardboard roll. Her stupid red tomato face fell off and bounced a few branches down.

Creepy!

But I�d no time to hang about shivering. Hastily I shoved my head up through the space she�d left, and tried to put on the same snooty simpering look she�d worn for years.