The Classic Morpurgo Collection. Michael Morpurgo

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      Lizziebeth yowled back at her. “I’m a cat,” she said quite calmly, in between yowls. “I was chasing a mouse, and he ran in here. So I ran in after him and I caught him. I’m very good at catching mice, you know. I gobbled him up, just like that. One gulp. I’ve got to tell you, he tasted just wonderful. Best mouse I ever ate. Byeee!” With that, she yowled at the astonished Skullface, and skipped off down the corridor, still yowling as she went, past Skullface, past Mary and the others, all of whom by now had come out into the corridor to see what all the fuss was about.

      Skullface, it seems, then stuck her head round my door, took one quick look into the room, slammed the door furiously behind her, and stormed off down the corridor, fulminating as she went. “Children, wretched children!” she fumed. “If I had my way they wouldn’t be allowed in the Savoy at all. Nothing but a nuisance, a perfect nuisance. If there’s one thing I can’t stand it’s a spoilt child. And an American spoilt child is the worst of all, the work of the devil himself! Running wild like that all over my hotel. How dare she?” She stopped and turned round, wagging her finger at everyone. “And you tell that Johnny Trott when you see him that he will apologise to Lord Macauley, and polish his boots again. This time I want them nutty brown and shining, not a trace of black, and he’s to come and show them to me before he returns them to his lordship. At once, at once. You tell him.”

      How we laughed in the corridor when she’d gone. We were doubled up and aching with it. Lizziebeth, who was already a great favourite with everyone up there, had now become a matchless heroine to us all. Her quick thinking, her brazenness and her fearlessness had saved the day, probably saved my job too, and most certainly saved Kaspar from being taken away.

      But it was only the next day that this same fearlessness very nearly cost her her life, and mine too, come to that. It was from Kaspar that I first learned something was wrong. He was always happy to see me when I came upstairs after work. He’d be lying there on the bed, his legs in the air, his tail swishing, willing me to tickle his tummy. I came back to my room to see him at about eleven o’clock, my usual time, my first work-break of the morning. I was hoping Lizziebeth might be there with him. But this morning she wasn’t. And neither was Kaspar lying on my bed. Instead he was pacing the room and yowling. He was in a very agitated state, leaping up and down and off the windowsill. I’d seen him do this before if there was a pigeon strutting up and cooing at him from the parapet outside the window. But there was no pigeon. I tried feeding Kaspar – I thought it might calm him down – but he wasn’t interested. Clearly nothing mattered to him except whatever was going on outside that window. So I climbed up, and opened the window wide enough for me to crane my neck, so I could see all the way along the narrow gully in both directions. No pigeons there either.

      That was when I spotted Lizziebeth. I could see at once what she was trying to do. She was on her hands and knees and climbing out of the gully up on to the roof tiles. Ahead of her was a pigeon, hopping ever upwards on one leg towards the ridge of the roof. Its other leg hung useless. Lizziebeth was following it, cooing as she climbed, stopping from time to time to throw it some crumbs, trying all she could to entice it down. She seemed quite unaware of the danger she was in.

      My first instinct was to shout to her, to warn her, but something told me that to alarm her at that moment was the worst thing I could do. Instead, I climbed out of the window, closing it behind me so that Kaspar couldn’t follow me, and crept along the gully trying not to look down over the parapet and down into the street, eight storeys below. Lizziebeth had almost reached the ridge above me, but by now the pigeon was hopping away from her along the ridge towards the chimney stack. I climbed up after her. Only when I was right below her did I venture to call out to her, and then only as softly as I could.

      “Lizziebeth,” I said. “It’s me. It’s Johnny. I’m right below you. You mustn’t go any higher. You mustn’t.”

      She didn’t look down at first. She just kept climbing.

      “It’s the pigeon,” she told me. “He’s awful hurt. Looks like he’s broke his leg or something.”

      That was the moment she looked down. Only then did she realise just how high she was. All her fearlessness left her in an instant. She slipped at once and clung there, frozen with terror. The ridge was only a short distance above her, but I could see that she wasn’t going to be able to get up there on her own, not now, and that there was no possible way she could come down either.

      “Stay right where you are, Lizziebeth,” I told her. “Don’t move, I’m coming up.”

      All I could think of was that somehow I had to get her up on to that ridge. We’d just sit there until we were seen and rescue came. But between me and her was a steep, tiled roof, acres of tiles, it seemed, and with no foothold, nothing to hold on to. One slip, one loose tile, and I’d be slipping and sliding back down the roof and probably over the parapet. It didn’t bear thinking about. So I tried not to. That was why I talked to her all the way up as I climbed. I wasn’t only trying to calm her fears, I was desperately trying to calm my own.

      “Just hang on, Lizziebeth. СКАЧАТЬ