The Library Cat Page 3

  It would be terrible if this library were closed, thought Beancat. All these different people of different ages who get so much from it. For the briefest moment her trademark purr turned to a growl.

  A few minutes later, Dave was closing the doors to the library and sliding the bolts across.

  Soon after that, Furry Purry Beancat was given her final meal of the day and Marcia switched the light off before leaving through the back door.

  Now she had the library to herself. Well, mainly to herself. There were Gregory and Daphne, of course, and – she rather suspected – a whole host of other spiders she had yet to meet.

  There was an under-fives’ corner in the children’s library with some rather nice big cushions in it, where children could sit and look at picture books. Furry had been eyeing them earlier and thought that they’d make rather a nice bed.

  I’ll have a proper explore later, she thought, but, in the meantime, I’ll have a quick nap.

  She gave a really good STRETCH, then settled down.

  * * *

  She awoke later to sound of shouting. High-pitched squeaky shouting.

  ‘Oi, fatty! Clear off, you ball of fluff!’

  I must still be dreaming, she thought, trying to settle back to sleep.

  ‘Oi, YOU. Furry Purry Whatever Your Name Is! Clear off!’

  Furry Purry Beancat opened a big green eye.

  ‘Yes, YOU. I’m talking to you. We agreed. Now clear off!’

  Beancat opened the other eye and scanned the darkness. There! There was the offender. Sitting on his haunches, in front of a row of books about pets, was a mouse. Brown and beady-eyed.

  ‘You said you’d stay out of the children’s library if I stayed out of sight all day and only came out after closing! You lied to me, you bag of fur!’

  Well, he’s brave, thought Beancat. I’ll give him that. One swipe from my paw and he’s a goner.

  ‘And I suppose calling me names was part of the deal too?’ she said.

  ‘I’m only calling you names because you’ve broken your promise, you great big, whiskered whoppy-teller!’

  Beancat gave a warning growl. ‘Be nice!’ she said.

  ‘But,’ said the mouse, sounding a little less sure of himself now, ‘you did say that you’d leave us be.’

  ‘If you say so,’ said Beancat. She had no reason to believe that he was lying. She began ambling towards the entrance to the main library. ‘But stick to your side of the deal.’ If she saw the mouse running around the library in daylight, she might be expected to catch him! Beancat loved chasing things as much as the next cat, but she did NOT like the idea of being the resident mouse-catcher!

  The library had a very different feel without people. The carpet somehow smelled stronger and more carpetty, and the bookstacks seemed to loom larger.

  Daphne dropped out of nowhere and landed on the floor in front of her.

  ‘How DO you do that?’ asked a startled Furry Purry Beancat.

  ‘Just one of my many skills,’ said Daphne, wiping her face with a front leg. ‘Did I hear Graham having one of his shouting matches?’

  Graham must be the mouse, Beancat reasoned. ‘I think I broke my side of our agreement,’ she explained. ‘Apparently, I agreed to stay out of the children’s library after closing.’

  ‘Apparently?’ Daphne snorted. ‘I remember the peace talks! Crumbs everywhere. I must live in the only library where a cat and a mouse make a treaty!’

  ‘I’m all for peace, love and understanding… and food and sleep,’ said Beancat.

  ‘And adventure,’ said Daphne. ‘You told me that you like adventures!’

  ‘I’ll be having one of those tomorrow, trying to save you from the bug spray!’ said Beancat.

  * * *

  Furry Purry Beancat’s first big surprise the next morning was when a stranger came through the back door. Of course, everyone seemed a stranger to her when she first woke up in her library life, but she thought she’d met all the library staff: Marcia, Lizzie and Dave. And now here was a man in a blue suit, with thick black-rimmed spectacles and slicked-back white hair.

  ‘Good morning, Furry!’ he said with such enthusiasm, bending down to greet her, that she found herself trotting over and nuzzling against him.

  ‘Did you miss your old Reg?’ he asked. ‘I missed you!’

  As Furry Purry Beancat rubbed her furry body against his bent legs, purring as loud as loud can be, she realized at once that this was HER human. Yes, Marcia and Lizzie were very fond of her – loved her even – and she also ‘belonged’ to the library, but she knew – just KNEW – that she was Reg’s cat, the library caretaker’s cat.

  ‘A present for you, my gorgeous girl!’ he said, getting her special cat bowl from the cupboard, producing a small pot of cream and pouring some of it into the bowl.

  Thank you, Reg! said Beancat, ‘Meow!’, and lapped it up.

  ‘It’s so good to be back, Furry. I was very well looked after in hospital. I saw one of the nurses who looked after our Jean –’ he paused with a faraway look in his eye – ‘but I couldn’t wait to get back to the library and to you.’

  Now that Furry Purry had a beautifully oily tongue from all that cream, she began washing her paws.

  Reg had bought a local paper from the newsagent on the corner and brought it in tucked under his arm. He placed it on the staffroom table and, after making himself a nice strong mug of tea, he sat down.

  The headline read:

  Local marathon cheat ‘secretly wore rollerskates’

  Underneath there was a photograph of a very puffed-out-looking man with a number thirteen pinned to his running shirt.

  ‘A quick look at the news before I get back into the swing of things,’ said Reg. Though seated at the table, he left his chair at an angle, leaving his lap available for any furry, purry cats nearby.

  Beancat jumped up on to it and settled down. Reg stroked her with one hand while holding his cup and turning the pages of the paper with the other.

  ‘WHAT?’ said Reg so loudly that Beancat stopped purring mid-purr.

  What’s wrong? she wondered.

  ‘This can’t be happening,’ said Reg.

  What is it? asked Beancat. ‘Meow?’

  Reg jabbed the newspaper. ‘Here,’ he said. ‘It says here that they’re going to close the library.’ He began reading the report out loud: ‘In an exclusive interview with Gothport Chronicle reporter, Dan Williams, Mayor Angela Haycroft has announced that Gothport Library is to close. “We have exciting plans for Gothport,” she revealed, “and a new centre will be built housing a swimming pool, health spa and self-service library corner, launching Gothport Leisure into the twenty-first century.” Self-service library corner?!’ said Reg, his face turning a very funny shade of purple. ‘Is she MAD? This library is about so much more than books!’

  Oh no! thought Beancat. It’s happened! Our worries have come true! Of course libraries are about so much more than books. They’re a place for people like Mr Pasternak and Joan and Yusuf to come …and for the classes of schoolchildren, and those doing their homework… and for people to use computers. Who is this Mayor Angela Haycroft?

  When Marcia and Lizzie and Dave arrived, there were mixed emotions. There were hugs and handshakes and happiness at Reg’s unexpected return. From what was said Furry Purry Beancat realized that they weren’t expecting him back until the following week.

  ‘We were plannin’ balloons and cake!’ said Marcia.

  ‘Which is why I came back early.’ Reg smiled. ‘I didn’t want a fuss.’

  Then there was the upset about the news of the plan to CLOSE THE LIBRARY.

  ‘This is crazy!’ said Dave. ‘On Saturday we were marching to save the county’s libraries, and today we discover that ours is one they plan to close!’

  ‘And the community will lose a PROPER library,’ said Marcia. ‘We ain’t gonna take this lyin’ down!’

  CHAPTER 5 ONE GOOD THING

  The one good thing ab
out the terrible news about the library was that, when the cleaning supplies were delivered, Reenie put them straight in the cupboard instead of grabbing the bug spray and spraying it here, there and everywhere. It was forgotten – thought unimportant – in the shock, which gave Beancat a little more time. Also, because Reenie was all of a fluster, she didn’t slide the door of the cupboard all the way across when closing it. There was no need to create a diversion.

  Furry Purry Beancat pretended that this was of no interest to her as she sauntered past, rubbing Reenie’s legs. She had called the hiding of the bug spray Operation Magic Bean. This had nothing to do with being Beancat, but plenty to do with the hiding place she had in mind.

  Everyone who came into the library seemed to have read the newspaper article too.

  Mr Pasternak was outraged. ‘I shall be writink a letter to the mayor, the local newspaper and the international press!’ he declared.

  Others offered their support.

  When Yusuf arrived, he went straight up to Marcia at the counter.

  ‘I am most unhappy to hear this news,’ he said. ‘You were all most welcoming yesterday and I was hoping to come here often. I am very saddened. Will you lose your employment, Marcia?’

  ‘Don’t you go worrying about me, Yusuf!’ said Marcia. ‘We’re here – Gothport Library is here – to serve the community and that’s what matters. We’re not going without a fight.’

  Beancat noticed Yusuf’s expression change at the word ‘fight’. ‘Fight?’ he asked. He sounded worried.

  ‘Not with guns and barricades, Yusuf!’ she added with a smile, ‘but with people power and protest. We will have our voice heard.’

  ‘I know that I am a newcomer and an outsider,’ said Yusuf, ‘but I would very much like to offer my services in helping you any way I can.’

  ‘Thank you!’ said Marcia. ‘And you’re not an outsider. You’re in here, with us!’

  Gregory had obviously been listening in too. He and Beancat were on top of a bookstack in the non-fiction section.

  ‘If the bug spray doesn’t get us, the bulldozers will,’ said Gregory with a spidery sigh. ‘It seems that someone has it in for me.’

  ‘Stop thinking about YOURSELF once in a while,’ said Daphne, doing her regular – but still surprising – dropping-in-from-anywhere trick.

  ‘Oh, pardon me for fearing for my own life,’ said Gregory. ‘How selfish of me to want to live.’

  ‘What do we do, Furry?’ asked Daphne, ignoring him. ‘You were right about the library being in danger!’

  ‘First and foremost, I knock the bug spray out of the cupboard,’ said Beancat. ‘Gregory’s right. That’s still a problem. As for saving the library, what can we do?’

  ‘Precisely,’ said Gregory, having let out a big breath of air. ‘What CAN a fluffy cat and a few spiders do to help save a whole building? It’s hopeless.’

  ‘That’s not the right attitude,’ said Daphne. ‘We—’

  ‘We’re doomed!’ said Gregory.

  ‘We n—’

  ‘The library will be closed. Our home destroyed.’

  ‘One thing I DO know,’ said Beancat, ‘is that moaning won’t help.’

  ‘Thank you for your words of wisdom,’ said Gregory. ‘If you hadn’t said that I would have been CONVINCED that moaning would solve EVERYTHING and—’

  Daphne blinked her many eyes and looked at Beancat. ‘Sometimes I wonder why I ever married him,’ she said.

  Beancat nearly fell off the bookstack.

  Daphne and Gregory were MARRIED?!?!

  To each other?!?!?

  She did her best not to show her complete and utter surprise.

  * * *

  As well as class visits from three different schools in the morning, there was a meeting of the Reminiscence Group in the afternoon.

  All the talk was about the plans to close the library. Teachers came to speak to Marcia and, when the children were stroking Furry Purry Beancat, they were saying things like:

  ‘Who will love you like I do, Furry?’

  ‘I will miss you SO much!’

  ‘Where will you live, poor kitty?’

  But VERY soon both grown-ups and children alike were saying, ‘We can’t let this happen!’ and ‘We WON’T let this happen!’ and ‘This is OUR library!’

  The Reminiscence Group was made up of older members of the community who met in the library regularly to talk about their memories of growing up in Gothport. But that particular Thursday all the talk was about the library itself.

  There were cries of:

  ‘We’ll start a campaign!’

  ‘We’ll start a petition!’

  ‘We’ll hold protests!’

  Little did they know, their conversations were being listened to with keen interest by a certain furry, purry cat and two spiders (one more gloomy than the other).

  ‘Start a petition?’ said Gregory. ‘What’s a petition?’ He was spinning a new web across one of the ceiling lights near the enquiries desk. ‘It’s not some kind of fire, is it? They’re not planning on starting a fire, are they? Fires usually end in disaster. We’ll probably all be burnt to a crisp.’

  ‘A petition?’ said Daphne. ‘I think it’s a kind of wall. Perhaps they want to build a wall to keep the library-haters out. Humans seem very keen to build walls.’

  ‘Knowing my luck, I’ll be stuck on one side of the wall and you and our future spiderlings will be stuck on the other,’ said Gregory.

  ‘We’re spiders,’ said Daphne. ‘We can get over any silly old wall.’

  But Gregory wasn’t listening. ‘Or worse still, I’d be stuck with the spiderlings and you’d be on the other. How could I cope?’

  ‘They can fend for themselves once they hatch,’ Daphne pointed out. ‘It’s not as if you’d have to feed and burp them.’

  ‘Yes, but—’

  ‘You’re thinking of a partition,’ said Beancat, looking up from the windowsill. ‘A petition is a list of signatures you get from people. The more the better.’ She paused. So Daphne and Gregory are expecting babies! she thought. That’s nice.

  ‘What use is a list of signatures?’ asked Gregory.

  ‘Yes, what will they do with the list once they’ve got all the names?’ Daphne said, a little embarrassed by the partition/petition confusion. In truth, she was extraordinarily knowledgeable for a spider. (That’s what comes from spending your life in a library.)

  ‘The petition shows how many people want to keep the library open, so the more signatures the better. Then they will probably hand it to the mayor,’ said Beancat, ‘to show her how unpopular her self-service library corner idea is!’

  ‘Not the woman with the funny hat?’ said Gregory. ‘Do you remember her, Daphne? She came here to give out the prizes for that writing competition.’

  ‘When we were spiderlings? Of course! Had a hat like a sleeping rabbit on her head. Angelica Hayloft or some silly name like that.’

  ‘Angela Haycroft,’ said Beancat. ‘Mayor Angela Haycroft. That was the name Reg read out of the paper.’

  ‘That’s it! You’ve met her, too, Furry,’ said Daphne. ‘At the prize-giving for the children’s drawing competition, you were sitting on her chair and she got all annoyed about getting cat hairs on her skirt.’

  Of course, Furry Purry Beancat didn’t remember because she couldn’t remember what had gone before when she woke up in one of her nine lives!

  ‘Oh yes… how silly of me to forget!’ she said, not wanting to seem odd. Hmmm, this mayor doesn’t sound very nice, she thought. What does a bit of Furry Purry Beancat hair on your clothes matter when you’re giving out prizes to excited children?

  ‘Look!’ said Gregory, all of his eyes wide open and up on all eight legs as alert as can be.

  ‘What is it?’ said Daphne.

  ‘It’s Reenie. She’s heading for the front door!’

  ‘Are you sure?’ asked Beancat. She couldn’t see out to the foyer from her position on the windowsill
.

  ‘Yes!’ said Daphne. ‘Okay, Furry! It’s time to put Operation Magic Bean into action!’

  With Reenie out of the building for the first time since she’d arrived that morning, Furry Purry Beancat jumped down from the windowsill and dashed into the staffroom.

  There was no one there.

  It was now or never.

  Furry Purry Beancat walked across the wooden floorboards, breathing in the smell of years and years, and layers and layers, of polish. She reached her target and was pleased to see the cupboard of cleaning products still had a gap between the edge of the sliding door and the frame where Reenie hadn’t pulled it across fully.

  Beancat slipped in her paw and pushed. This wasn’t easy for a cat. The runners – the little ‘track’ on which the bottom of the door slid – seemed a little sticky and resistant to her efforts. She pushed again…

  …then her super-cat hearing caused her ears to swivel and she picked up the sound of someone coming.

  It was Dave.

  ‘Hello, cat,’ he said, eyeing Furry Purry Beancat suspiciously as he walked in. ‘Are you up to no good?’

  Why did it have to be Dave – the one human in the library who seemed not to like her – who had interrupted Furry’s mission? Beancat started to wash, trying to look as innocent as possible. She paused, mid-lick, looked up at him and then carried on.

  Dave fumbled in his coat pocket, which was hanging on a hook by the back door, took out whatever it was that he’d come in for and then left. He glanced back at Furry Purry as he went.

  When Furry Purry Beancat was satisfied that he was far enough away, she got straight back to the matter in hand or, to be more accurate, straight back to the paw in the door!

  She PUUUUUUUUSHED and the door stuttered open a bit more then, suddenly, glided freely along its runners. It was wide open.

  And there, on the shelf, was a brand-new can of bug spray.

  Beancat sat down with a plonk, lifted a front paw and swiped the can off the shelf. It hit the floor with a clatter and rolled a short way on its side. It was heavy but the perfect shape for her to butt with her head and steer with a paw to get it to roll in the direction she wanted.