‘Purrr,’ I replied.
‘And I’ve just had the most brilliant idea. Adventurers have to work both on dry land and under water so I thought I could practise today.’
‘YOWL!’ No, not water.
‘I shall get ready and you can be my assistant. Basically, that means you just have to be with me.’
I felt relieved; I wasn’t planning on being involved in any underwater missions, thank you very much.
Stanley raced around, putting on a pair of swimming trunks, a pair of funny looking rubber things on his feet and goggles over his eyes.
‘Right, so I have trunks, flippers and goggles. All I need now is my stopwatch and the bath.’ The flippers made him walk in a funny way. A bit like an upright frog.
He filled the bath and got in. I sat beside the bath, a safe distance from the water. Stanley took a deep breath and started his stopwatch. Then, with the arm holding the stopwatch sticking out of the bath, he went under. After a while, his head emerged from the water; he spluttered as he looked at his stopwatch.
‘Not bad,’ he said. ‘But I need to do better.’ He took a deep breath and went under again.
I waited. And waited. I moved a little closer to the bath but I couldn’t see anything. I was pretty sure that no one, apart from fish, could spend so much time underwater. I panicked. What if something happened to him? I jumped up onto the side of the tub. Stanley was very still under the water and I didn’t know what to do. I peered over the side, about to reach out with one paw, when suddenly he sat upright, knocking my paw, and me into the bath.
SPLASH!
‘YOWL!’ I screamed.
‘Alfie!’ Stanley grabbed me quickly and lifted me out.
I was horrified as I shook the water out of my fur. ‘Alfie,’ Stanley repeated.
I was soaked and, in a panic, I ran downstairs. I was yelping as I jumped up onto the kitchen counter, skidded and went headfirst into a basket of eggs. They all flew off the counter and smashed. I sat there, soaking wet and covered in yolk.
‘My eggs!’ Mr Clover screamed.
‘What on earth?’ Mrs Clover exclaimed.
Viola said, ‘Stanley!’ They all turned to where Stanley stood in the doorway, dripping wet, still wearing his flippers, goggles and trunks.
‘I am guessing you can explain this?’ Mrs Clover bellowed.
‘My eggs!’ Mr Clover repeated. I licked some of the egg off my fur; it wasn’t bad.
‘Well, you see, I was practising being underwater—’ Stanley started.
‘Underwater?’ Mrs Clover looked horrified.
‘Yes, in the bath. And Alfie came and sat on the side of the tub; I seem to have accidentally knocked him in. It’s well known that cats don’t like water. Then he screeched loudly, and ran down here. I just came to see if he was all right.’
‘My eggs!’
It seemed Mr Clover was very fond of those eggs.
‘I don’t even know where to start. Stanley, you know you are not allowed to have baths on your own and as for being underwater – what if something had happened? Do you really think Alfie would have been able to rescue you, you silly boy?’ Mrs Clover yelled.
Stanley looked at everyone and at me. I would have found a way to rescue him, but I didn’t know how to tell them that.
‘No one would be bothered if anything happened to me anyway,’ Stanley shouted. ‘You don’t care about me at all.’ He stamped his flipper and tried to run off, but he could only manage a wobbly walk with his legs out straight. It would have been funny if he wasn’t so upset.
Viola looked distraught; Mrs Clover looked shocked and Mr Clover was still staring at the broken eggs.
‘What a worry that boy is.’ Mrs Clover looked upset.
‘But maybe he just thinks you’re cross,’ Viola said, reasonably.
‘Viola, can you try to get Alfie cleaned up?’ Mrs Clover asked, ignoring her. ‘And Dear?’ she said to her husband.
‘My eggs,’ he repeated. He really was unreasonably attached to them.
‘For goodness sake, forget the eggs and come and speak to your son. He needs to learn to be more careful, and you need to help me.’ Mr Clover looked up. ‘And, besides, how many times have you been told not to put all your eggs in one basket?’
That evening, having recovered at home with a long nap, I went to look for Tiger.
‘Oh dear, someone looks a bit down in the dumps,’ she said as she joined me in her back garden.
‘It’s just all gone wrong at the Clovers. I’ve never known a family like it.’
‘I warned you to leave well alone, but you never listen.’ Tiger yawned. ‘I’m a bit tired, but if you want we can go and look at the moon; it might cheer you up.’
‘You’re a good pal, Tiger.’
‘Yes I am, and maybe if you weren’t so intent on saving the world you’d remember that a bit more.’
We both sat and stared at the bright round moon and Tiger was right – it did cheer me up.
I arrived at the Clovers early after yet another sleepless night. One of my families was looking after baby Summer so Claire and Jonathan could get some sleep. I was tempted to do the same, but I was worried about Stanley. I found the whole of the Clover family in the kitchen, finishing breakfast. Mr Clover was eating an egg – so it was all right for him to eat them but not for me to accidentally break them.
Mrs Clover seemed cheerful, Viola was smiling but Stanley was quiet.
‘Right, so Dear, do you remember what I said?’ Mrs Clover asked.
‘What exactly was that?’ Mr Clover replied.
‘Tut. Please, listen and you too, Stanley,’ she said. Stanley made a face. ‘I have to take Viola to her new school. Dear, you’re in charge of making sure your son doesn’t get into trouble. Stanley you are in charge of staying out of trouble. You too, Alfie,’ she said, noticing me. ‘Come along, Viola. We don’t want to be late.’ Mrs Clover went to put her shoes on and I followed her so I could say goodbye.
‘Mum.’ Viola pointed at Mrs Clover’s shoes. ‘Your shoes don’t match.’ One was red and the other green.
‘Pah, never mind, no one looks at feet.’
I miaowed. I did.
‘So I have to keep Stanley out of trouble?’ Mr Clover said coming to the front door.
‘Yes, you should be able to manage that, shouldn’t you?’ Mrs Clover replied.
Mr Clover looked as if he absolutely couldn’t.
As Stanley and his Dad cleared up the breakfast things, I managed to get myself some leftover egg; I had acquired quite the taste for it.
‘Right, Stan. I have to paint some fruit. I won’t be long but can you occupy yourself for a while?’
‘I usually do,’ Stanley mumbled sadly.
I rubbed against his legs. I felt sorry for him – he only got his parents’ attention when he was in trouble. It was the same with me at my house at the moment.
‘Alfie, let’s go to the garden,’ he suggested, huffily.
‘Miaow.’ I followed him outside, but he didn’t seem happy as he kicked at stones. I hadn’t seen him this miserable before. I tried to encourage him to play with me. There was a frisbee on the ground which I nudged towards him.
‘Oh, it’s my frisbee,’ Stanley said, throwing it. I jumped up to try to catch it, but it was way too high.
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