Peter thought he would go out and forage. It would be nice if when Jennie woke up there he would be with maybe a mouse, if he could find one, or perhaps a bone dug out of last night's refuse from some of the better houses on the square, or even a bit of melon rind of which Jennie was extraordinarily fond.
And so, moving quietly in order not to awaken her, he stole away from her side, bade an amiable good morning to Putzi and Mutzi who were tidying up close to the door, slipped through the narrow spot at the bottom, and found himself in Cavendish Square just as the All Souls' clock struck nine.
Simultaneously with the chime of the steeple clock, Peter was aware of a little shriek close by and then the most extraordinary voice he had ever heard: `Oh, I say. You did give me a turn. I wasn't expecting anyone. Lumme, but you are tall, white and handsome. Whooooooooooeee! Where do you think we all ought to go, then?'
Peter himself was startled, because the voice was so deep, husky and disturbing, and turned around quickly to see who it was had spoken. And what he saw was the most astonishing and beautiful creature on which he had ever laid eyes, either as boy or cat.
She was a small puss, much smaller than Jennie, but with a wonderfully firm and compact body that was coloured a kind of smoky pearl, or biscuit, or maybe it was more cream-coloured, or the colour of coffee with a lot of milk in it, and he had never in all his life seen a cat exactly that shade.
But this was only the beginning of the surprises for Peter, for she had a seal-coloured face and mask, coal- black triangle of a nose, cream head and dark brown ears. She also had four almost black feet, and tail. But the most marvellous and beautiful of all, out from the middle of the dark face gleamed two of the loveliest, shining, liquid and deep blue eyes he had ever seen. They weren't violet, and they weren't sapphire; they weren't really the colour of the sea, nor did they quite match the sky; one couldn't exactly describe what shade of blue they were, except that having once seen them one could only think of blue being that colour thereafter. Peter also noticed that they were slightly crossed, but this in a way added, rather than detracted, from the interest and beauties of her countenance. He was quite aware that he was standing there dumbstruck staring at this lovely vision, and also that it seemed as if he could do nothing else.
The spell was broken by the little creature herself who skipped three steps sideways and three steps back again, bushed her tail and said, `Good evening! I know it's morning, but I don't care. I say what I please. In the evening I say 'good morning' if I feel like it, and I never say 'good afternoon.' Well?'
The last being a direct question addressed to him, Peter felt he must reply, but was so bewildered by the charm of the cat as well as her odd way of speech that he could think of nothing to say but `Good evening, Miss,' which brought another shriek from her and this time she jumped straight up into the air, and when she came down she cried-Oh, I say, you are going to be fun. My name is Lulu, but all my friends call me Fishface for short. That's because when I eat bloaters, or kippers, or have a little hake, brill, cod or pollock my breath always smells of fish. Here, I'll show you. SMELL?' And she came over quite close to Peter and breathed in his face. The aroma of fish was unmistakable, but somehow, perhaps now that he was a cat, Peter did not find it unpleasant.
He smiled and said, `My name is Peter, and-' but could get no further, for Lulu made a backwards and forwards dash almost simultaneously and cried `Peter, Peter! There was a poem that started that way, but I've forgotten the rest. Anyway, I think up my own poetry. I am thinking of one now about thimbles. Very well then, I'll recite it for you,' and here she sat down with her tail folded about her and a most sanctified look on her face that reminded Peter of some of the saints he had seen on the stained-glass windows in church, and recited as follows”
`Thimble,
Thimble, Thimble,
Thimble, THIMBLE!
`You see,' Lulu explained to him after she had finished, `unlike most poetry, it ALL rhymes. Whoooooeeee!' With a leap and a bound she was away, chasing a wholly imaginary leaf, whirling, striking at it with her swift, dark paws, then finally imagining that it had been blown back close to Peter where she landed on it with a terrific pounce and crouched there, looking up intensely into Peter's face as she said: 'Do you like tea? Do you like coffee? I love olives. Wasn't it a nice day next Thursday?'
'Never mind answering!' she cried in her deep voice before Peter could even so much as think of a reply, and got up and danced away from him with one shoulder all hunched up and crooked-'Come on, dance with me, all sideways and twist about. Up you go, and down you go, and AROUND you go; now RUN!!'
Swept away, Peter found himself dancing sideways beside her, then leaping up into the air and turning all about before he came down, and then when he landed on the pavement, running, running, running with her as hard as he could. He could not remember when he had ever had so much fun or been in the presence of such a wholly fascinating and enchanting creature.
They did this several times, after which Lulu threw herself down on her side, stared at Peter out of luminous blue eyes and announced: 'Of course, you know I'm Siamese. My father was a King and my mother a Queen, and all my brothers and and sisters Princes and Princesses. I am a princess myself. Aren't you glad?' And again, before Peter could reply that he was indeed very glad, she half sat up and recited as though it was something she had once learned out of a book-'I'm not like a cat; I'm not like a dog; I'm more like a monkey, really, but mostly I'm like ME, and nothing else. I get along with EVERY– BODY.' Then she concluded rather irrelevantly-'I can wear hair ribbons,' and got up and began walking down the block in the direction of Portland Street. When she had proceeded some distance, she stopped and looked back over her shoulder.
'Coming?' she called to Peter.
Without a second thought, indeed, he could not have helped himself had he wished it, so enchanted with her had he become, Peter went trotting after her.
'Where are we going?' he asked.
'Oh,' cried Lulu with one of her little side jumps. `How will we be able to tell until we get there? Some place exciting. I haven't been off like this for ages. I'm so glad I found you. We can do everything together …'
Progress with Lulu, Peter found, was wonderful, enthralling, exciting and somewhat nerve-wracking. One moment she would be shrieking with laughter and leaping along the street stiff legged, or flying along the top of a fence at full speed, her ears laid back, tail streaming out behind her, commanding Peter to a game of 'Follow My Leader,' and the next she would be sitting down in front of a perfectly strange house, miserably sad and woebegone, with the tears streaming from her magnificent eyes and announcing to Peter in heartbreaking tones that she was all alone in a strange country, thousands and thousands of miles away from Siam and all the Siamese. 'You don't know, you cannot know what it is to be so far away, so very far away from everyone …'
Peter felt his own heart would break too, she was so pathetic in her plight and separation from her loved ones. He tried to comfort her by saying, 'Oh, poor Lulu. Tell me about your far-off home and where you were born. Perhaps talking about it will make you feel better.'
'Who me?' Lulu chirped, her tears as suddenly drying up as they had started. 'Why, I was born in London, of course. Where else would anybody of any importance be born? My whole family, too. We have a pedigree longer than our tails. I told you, all Kings and Queens, didn't I? Have you a pedigree? Well, never mind. Your being cute makes up for a lot of things. You came along at just the right moment. You know, I was so bored.' Here her hoarse voice sank to a quite confidential whisper-'I live with very rich people on the Square. No. 35. VERY rich. He has Shares. Don't look so sad, Peter. I'm really quite marvellously happy now.' And off she would go, leaping, twisting, dancing and shouting at the top of her lungs, and of course Peter would be after her full tilt, laughing madly at her funny ways.
Thus in many starts and stops they found themselves at last, after climbing steadily for some time and proceeding up many curvy blocks of small houses one just like another, on a sort of plateau, an open space with a rail around it, almost like being on the top of a mountain. For when you looked over the edge, there was all of London spread out beneath your feet and stretching for mile upon mile of streets and houses and spires, and the silver winding of the Thames, and the millions and millions of chimneypots on the rooftops, the endless rows of grey houses, and in the distance the occasional spots of green that marked the little parks in the squares. There was the big patch of green that was Regent's Park, another that was Hyde Park, and a third that was Kensington Gardens; tall chimneys and cranes far off that marked the docks and factories and warehouses on the Thames and, after that, the whole trailing off and vanishing into a kind of blueish haze of distance and mist and smoke.
`Hampstead Heath!' Lulu announced. `Isn't it picturesque? I often like to come up here just to meditate,' and with that she threw herself down on the ground, closed her eyes and was quiet for just five seconds, when she was up again, gave herself a couple of fierce and energetic washes on both sides of her neck and said, `There! Now that
