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cup, then a second after I refilled it. When it was licked clean, she settled down, purring, her tail curled over the keys
of Alice’s typewriter.
    ‘What makes you think someone turned me into a cat?’ she said finally. ‘And that I haven’t always been one?’
    ‘Because you can talk,’ I said.
    ‘All cats talk,’ said Tabitha. ‘But not all people understand them.’
    ‘Twitch definitely can’t talk,’ I said.
    ‘But you can still understand her, can’t you?’
    ‘Yes, but that’s different. She just stands around and meows, but you talk. You really, actually talk . And you drink tea. Normal cats don’t drink tea.’
    ‘It’s more refreshing than milk,’ said Tabitha.
    For the second time, I got the feeling that the cat was being sneaky and more than a little unhelpful. Then I remembered something.
    ‘You said something a minute ago, when you were washing yourself. You said, “I miss soap and water.”’
    ‘Did I?’
    ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘And that proves it – you were a human once. Cats don’t use soap and water to wash, and missing it means it’s something you used to
do!’
    Tabitha’s tail twitched. ‘Cleverer than you look, aren’t you?’
    I was clever enough to know that that wasn’t much of a compliment.
    ‘So who are you?’ I knew I sounded huffy now, but I couldn’t help it. ‘Or who were you?’
    ‘Have to be careful about who I tell that to.’ Tabitha tucked her paws underneath her.
    ‘Why? Are you hiding from someone?’
    I didn’t get an answer. The front door rattled and a moment later Mum called up.
    ‘I’d better go downstairs,’ I said, still staring at Tabitha. I didn’t care about pancakes for breakfast now. I wanted to stay and quiz the mysterious cat, but it seemed
she had had enough of my questions, because she’d gone to sleep.
    I climbed down the ladder, hesitating when I reached the bottom. All it would take was two quick folds of the ladder and the hatch would swing back in place, trapping the cat in the attic.
Eventually I decided not to. She wasn’t my prisoner and, besides, she seemed in no rush to leave. There would still be time for questions and Alice should be back soon. She’d know what
to do.
    Mum was pouring the pancake mixture into the frying pan when I got downstairs and the table had been cleared of the rainy-day boxes and set for two.
    ‘Where’s Alice?’ I asked.
    ‘I haven’t spoken to her,’ said Mum, slicing a lemon into quarters. ‘But I saw her in town just before I came back.’ Her forehead crinkled. ‘I waved, but she
didn’t seem to see me.’
    I sat down at the table. When the pancakes were cooked, we sprinkled them with sugar and squeezed wedges of lemon over them, digging in. But each mouthful of pancake stuck in my throat. I washed
it down with a slurp of tea, unable to shake the feeling that something was wrong. It wasn’t like Alice to go out so early on a Saturday, especially not without telling anyone where she was
going. And she’d been in such a weird mood last night.
    A buzz by the toaster broke the silence. Mum looked up.
    ‘That’s Alice’s phone,’ she said. ‘Strange that she’d go out without it.’
    ‘Do you think she’s all right?’ I asked.
    ‘She looked fine when I saw her,’ Mum said. ‘Why wouldn’t she be?’
    I shrugged. Alice didn’t talk to Mum like she did to me. I knew things about Alice that Mum didn’t, and wouldn’t ever know, because Alice had made me promise. Sometimes I
didn’t know if this was a good thing.
    ‘No reason.’ I glanced at the phone. ‘She’s just forgetful, I suppose.’
    ‘Have you decided who you’re going to make a Likeness of?’ Mum asked.
    ‘Not yet. I was hoping Alice would help me.’
    ‘I can help you,’ Mum offered. ‘Or we can get it started anyway, but I need to pack this afternoon, I’ve got an early flight tomorrow.’
    My head snapped up. ‘Flight? To where?’
    ‘Brussels, Midge. It’s the book fair – I did