‘What do you think could cause burn marks like that?’ he asked, crouching down to examine one of them.
‘Giant pizza slices,’ mused the cat, and jumped out of the way as a twig came hurtling towards him.
‘Well, whatever they were, they’ve all been cleared away, by the looks of it.’
Disappointed not to have found anything more and guessing that he probably wasn’t going to now, Arthur left the cat stalking something in the hedgerow and headed to the jetty. On the other side of the lake, yesterday’s crowd had returned; groups of kids were jumping and shouting near the water’s edge, while their parents lay on towels nearby, looking like pink seals.
‘Damn birds!’ meowed the cat, catching up to him.
‘No luck?’ Arthur asked, casting out his fishing line.
‘Luck? Depends on what you mean by luck. I wasn’t trying to eat them, if that’s what you were thinking. Not much into feathers—they’re always getting stuck in my teeth. No, if you must know, I was just trying to teach them a lesson.’
‘Really? What kind of lesson?’
‘I don’t know, just a lesson… What?’ he meowed, seeing Arthur’s puzzled look. ‘Why should there have to be a reason for wanting to teach pesky birds a lesson?’
‘Yeah, but Cat…’
But before he could finish what he was going to say, the tip of his rod dipped sharply.
‘Oh my God. It’s a monster!’ he cried, striking hard and feeling a heavy weight suddenly twisting and pulling on the other end.
‘Speaking of fish, it might come as a surprise to you to know that I’m not into fish much, either.’
‘What kind of cat are you?’
‘The roast chicken kind.’
Arthur laughed.
‘You know that they’re birds too though, right?’
‘Not the way I get served them, they’re not.’
It must have taken a full ten minutes before Arthur was been able to land it. The fish had weaved left and right, breaking the surface, and thrashing about wildly before diving again, attempting to tangle his line in the reeds. Finally managing to haul it onto the jetty, Arthur watched triumphantly as it flopped around on the weathered wooden boards. By far the biggest ever, in his mind he could already picture the expressions on everyone’s faces when he brought it home.
‘So, do I take it that you’re planning on keeping it, then?’ asked the cat.
‘Too right I am! This one’s for the frying pan. Aunty M will have a fit. She’s always laughing because I never catch anything big. Now let’s see what she’s got to say!’
‘Right you are, then.’
‘Just look at it! Why would you ever think I wouldn’t want to keep it.’
‘Oh, no reason, really,’ purred the cat. ‘Only it seems pretty desperate to try to make a deal with you, that’s all.’
Arthur raised an eyebrow.
‘A what?! Oh, come on—you’re having me on?’
Arthur stared at the fish and then at the cat and back at the fish again.
‘Honestly?’
‘Yep, it’s true.’
‘What sort of deal?’ he asked, bewildered. ‘And why can’t I hear it?’
‘No idea, but it keeps going on about some kind of box thing. It’s quite hard to understand him, actually—he has a really strong fishy accent. Apparently, this box fell into the lake last night during the white light, and hundreds of men came looking for it afterwards. If we agree to let him go, he’ll take us to it.’
‘The white light? You mean the fish saw it, too?’
‘What did I just say?
‘Well, yeh, but…’
‘So, you have to decide and decide quickly because he says that he can’t breathe.’
