Coraline had never seen a rat, except on television. She was quite looking forward to it. This was turning out to be a very interesting day after all.
After lunch her other parents did the washing-up, and Coraline went down the hall to her other bedroom.
It was different from her bedroom at home. For a start it was painted in an off-putting shade of green and a peculiar shade of pink.
Coraline decided that she wouldn't want to have to sleep in there; but that the colour scheme was an awful lot more interesting than the one in her own bedroom.
There were all sorts of remarkable things in there she'd never seen before: wind-up angels that fluttered around the bedroom like startled sparrows; books with pictures that writhed and crawled and shimmered; little dinosaur skulls that chattered their teeth as she passed. A whole toybox filled with wonderful toys.
This is more like it, thought Coraline. She looked out of the window. Outside, the view was the same one she saw from her own bedroom: trees, fields and, beyond them, on the horizon, distant purple hills.
Something black scurried across the floor and vanished under the bed. Coraline got down on her knees and looked under the bed. Fifty little red eyes stared back at her.
'Hello,' said Coraline. 'Are you the rats?'
They came out from under the bed, blinking their eyes in the light. They had short, soot-black fur, little red eyes, pink paws like tiny hands, and pink, hairless tails like long, smooth worms.
'Can you talk?' she asked.
The largest, blackest of the rats shook its head. It had an unpleasant sort of smile, Coraline thought.
'Well,' asked Coraline, 'what do you do?'
The rats formed a circle.
Then they began to climb on top of each other, carefully but swiftly, until they had formed a pyramid with the largest rat at the top.
The rats began to sing, in high, whispery voices:
It wasn't a pretty song. Coraline was sure she'd heard it before, or something like it, although she was unable to remember exactly where.
Then the pyramid fell apart, and the rats scampered, fast and black, towards the door.
The other crazy old man upstairs was standing in the doorway, holding a tall black hat in his hands. The rats scampered up him, burrowing into his pockets, into his shirt, up his trouser-legs, down his neck.
The largest rat climbed on to the old man's shoulders, swung up on the long grey moustache, past the big black-button eyes, and on to the top of the man's head.
In seconds the only evidence that the rats were there at all were the restless lumps under the man's clothes, forever sliding from place to place across him; and there was still the largest rat, who stared down, with glittering red eyes, at Coraline from the man's head.
The old man put his hat on, and the last rat was gone.
'Hello, Coraline,' said the other old man upstairs. 'I heard you were here. It is time for the rats to have their dinner. But you can come up with me, if you like, and watch them feed.'
There was something hungry in the old man's button eyes that made Coraline feel uncomfortable. 'No, thank you,' she said. 'I'm going outside to explore.'
The old man nodded, very slowly. Coraline could hear the rats whispering to each other, although she couldn't tell what they were saying.
She was not certain that she wanted to know what they were saying.
Her other parents stood in the kitchen doorway as she walked down the corridor, smiling identical smiles, and waving slowly. 'Have a nice time outside,' said her other mother.
'We'll just wait here for you to come back,' said her other father.
When Coraline got to the front door, she turned back and looked at them. They were still watching her, and waving, and smiling.
Coraline walked outside, and down the steps.
4
The house looked exactly the same from the outside. Or almost exactly the same; around Miss Spink and Miss Forcible's door were blue and red lightbulbs that flashed on and off spelling out words, the lights chasing each other around the door. On and off, around and around. ASTOUNDING! was followed by A THEATRICAL and then TRIUMPH!!!
It was a sunny, cold day, exactly like the one she'd left.
There was a polite noise from behind her.
She turned round. Standing on the wall next to her was a large black cat, identical to the large black cat she'd seen in the grounds at home.
'Good afternoon,' said the cat.
Its voice sounded like the voice at the back of Coraline's head, the voice she thought words in, but a man's voice, not a girl's.
'Hello,' said Coraline. 'I saw a cat like you in the garden at home. You must be the other cat.'
The cat shook its head. 'No,' it said. I'm not the other anything. I'm me.' It tipped its head on one side; green eyes glinted. 'You people are spread all over the place. Cats, on the other hand, keep ourselves together. If you see what I mean.'
'I suppose. But if you're the same cat I saw at home, how can you talk?'
Cats don't have shoulders, not like people do. But the cat shrugged, in one smooth movement that started at the tip of its tail and ended in a raised movement of its whiskers. 'I can talk.'
'Cats don't talk at home.'
'No?' said the cat.
'No,' said Coraline.
The cat leapt smoothly from the wall to the grass, near Coraline's feet. It stared up at her.
'Well, you're the expert on these things,' said the cat drily. 'After all, what would I know? I'm only a cat.'
It began to walk away, head and tail held high and proud.
'Come back,' said Coraline. 'Please. I'm sorry. I really am.'
The cat stopped walking, and sat down, and began to wash itself, thoughtfully, apparently unaware of Coraline's existence.
'We… We could be friends, you know,' said Coraline.
'We could be rare specimens of an exotic breed of African dancing elephants,' said the cat. 'But we're not. At least,' it added cattily, after darting a brief look at Coraline, 'I'm not.'
Coraline sighed.
'Please. What's your name?' Coraline asked the cat. 'Look, I'm Coraline. Okay?'
The cat yawned slowly, carefully, revealing a mouth and tongue of astounding pinkness. 'Cats don't have names,' it said.
'No?' said Coraline.
'No,' said the cat. 'Now, you people have names. That's because you don't know who you are. We know who we are, so we don't need names.'
There was something irritatingly self-centred about the cat, Coraline decided. As if it were, in its opinion,
