Mermare Magic

By Alice Anne Findlay

“In this simply delightful tale, Alice Anne Findlay has woven together a story reminiscent of Beatrix Potter, Gulliver’s Travels, and even Animal Farm. The characters are well-dressed (and even better fed!) and so distinctly well-written that one feels one has known them a long time.
The community that Findlay has deftly constructed is filled with sweetness and gentle humor. Our young cat protagonist, Shiloh, finds himself in great company as he attends his first summer camp. For dogs. Run by cats. As if that weren’t enough excitement, unexpected Mermare magic takes him farther than he would ever have dreamed possible.
Shiloh’s journey allows the reader to explore the tender nuances of blended families, social contracts, and ecology. Alice Anne Findlay’s debut novel reminds us that, though no one is perfect, we can all get along. Especially if there are snacks involved.” – Christina Thrasher, Librarian.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Nov 23, 2020
• ISBN: 9781664140790

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Copyright © 2020 by Alice Anne Findlay.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 11/19/2020

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CONTENTS

Chapter 1 Homeless Again

Chapter 2 Family Photos…

Chapter 3 …Family Feuds

Chapter 4 The Beach

Chapter 5 Ice Cream

Chapter 6 Drawer or Mattress?

Chapter 7 Dogball

Chapter 8 Translating Tails

Chapter 9 Pomander Parade

Chapter 10 A Horde of Words

Chapter 11 Seeking Secrets of the Sea

Chapter 12 Bonbons and Boats

Chapter 13 Adrift

Chapter 14 Tourists, Beware

Chapter 15 The Commune

Chapter 16 Nimble Fingers v. Big Brains

Chapter 17 Warning the World

Chapter 18 Enlisting a Legend

Chapter 19 Treated Like Trash

Chapter 20 Screams at Shallows Cave

Chapter 21 Finding Out, Taking In

Chapter 22 Explanations in Shallows Cave

Chapter 23 Tossed on the Waves of Fortune Again

Chapter 24 Crow’s Nest Lane

Chapter 25 Good and Gone

Chapter 26 Ferrets and Wolf Bones

Chapter 27 Mia Arrives

Chapter 28 Victoria Loses Control

Chapter 29 Verity Has Fun

Chapter 30 Seeing, Sighting and Foreseeing

Chapter 31 Where is Crispin Crumble?

Chapter 32 Tea for Two, and Two for Tea

Chapter 33 And So To Bed

Chapter 34 Heavy Traffic at Meadow Beach

Chapter 35 Blue Paper Airplanes

For Bridget.

Remembering Mia and her kittens, Victoria, Albert, and William,

who were born under Bridget’s bed,

and Shiloh who joined us later.

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CHAPTER 1

Homeless Again

Shiloh knew what the loud knock at the door meant even before he heard the voices. It was difficult to move in the bed with two of the smaller puppies wedged on his left side and the dead weight of a larger, snoring puppy lying on his tail, but he struggled up onto one elbow.

Bailiffs here! We have reason to believe you have been living here unlawfully! came the familiar announcement from outside.

Shiloh knew what to do. He pulled his tail out from under the snorer and shook all the occupants of the bed awake.

Time to go, he whispered.

Tiny growls came from the puppies but they too knew the drill. Yawning and rubbing their eyes, they rolled out of bed and grabbed essential toys and pillows. The bedroom door creaked open as Mrs. Tubbs, their mother, appeared with one puppy tucked under an arm and several small heads bobbing in the darkness behind her.

Oooh, it gets worse every time. Coming after dark, I tell you! What do they think they’re doing! she said hoarsely, her voice full of tired outrage.

Repossessing the property for the rightful owner, offered Shiloh, factually.

Mrs. Tubbs frowned. Now you get along, young cat. Take those pups to Mr. Tubbs. He’s at the back window. We’ll hop into the alley and be off in a jiffy.

Shiloh gripped his rolled-up raincoat and took the smallest puppy by the paw. Mr. Tubbs was already outside the window. He heaved his many offspring, then Shiloh, over the window sill.

Always think ahead when you park your vehicle. He offered this gruff wisdom to Shiloh as he gave him a leg-up into the chaos of chair legs, puppy legs, blankets, toys, and pots and pans on the back of the truck.

Last out of the window came Mrs. Tubbs. It always surprised Shiloh how quickly his foster parents could move, considering their bulk. They had floppy ears, heavy jowls, thick paws, and they looked even bigger than normal now in their travelling coats – huge raincoats buttoned to the neck, rustling and clinking with the many possessions pocketed inside.

Possession is nine tenths of the law was one of Mr. Tubbs’ favorite sayings.

The Bailiff’s voice and more banging drifted faintly from the front door. Would you like to open the door, please? We’d rather not break it down.

Mrs. Tubbs twisted around in the truck’s passenger seat. All in?

One of the older puppies gave a sleepy thumbs-up.

Away we go, George! said Ms. Tubbs to her husband. Home is where the heart is, I always say!

Shiloh sometimes wished their hearts could stay in one place for longer. Securing his rolled-up raincoat as a pillow, he nudged himself a crevice among the warm bodies and household goods. As they trundled away in the moonlight, he felt grateful for his strange dog family. It was better than no family at all, even for a cat.

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CHAPTER 2

Family Photos…

Eleanor lay on a rock, enjoying the sound of gentle waves breaking on the beach, and the comforting feel of a half-read novel in her hand. Without warning, the calm was shattered by a thunderous eruption from the rock pool beside her. Two shimmering, rainbow serpents spiraled through the air towards her, showering a thousand drops, like wet jewels, upon the rock. Helpless in their power, she felt herself carried towards the sea, towards the white-topped waves, towards unfathomed, unknowable depths.

Prrr! That’s enough of that! She twitched her ears, licked her whiskers and yawned herself awake. Here. Now. Awake. Safe, she told herself.

There had been enough sudden change in Eleanor’s life and she didn’t want any more, even in dreams. Everything was perfect as it was and she hoped it would stay this way for ever.

The sitting room was cozy and dim, lit only by the fire and one small lamp behind Uncle William’s chair. William had been reading a food vendors’ magazine but now dozed and snored gently, Fishfinder’s Annual: A Feast of Fine Foods for Felines and Fellow Gourmets spread flat over his large, fluffy, orange stomach.

Stretching where she lay on the hearth rug, Eleanor pushed aside her math book which demanded to know, as math books do, how many sardines it would take to reach the top of a five-story building. Hmm, I like sardines, she thought, as mouthwatering smells drifted from the kitchen, making her forget the sardines’ average length. Aunt Victoria, in her frilly apron, had been closeted in the kitchen for the past hour – always a good sign.

Suddenly there was a commotion at the back door. They called it the back door, but it was really a side door, half-way up the gable end of the house, accessed by a stone stairway. The front door was reserved as the main entrance to the art gallery which took up the whole of the ground floor. With much jiggling of the doorknob, the door burst open and a slim, tortoiseshell cat stepped in, large flat packages under both arms.

Could someone give me a hand here, please! she called in a voice full of restrained irritation.

Eleanor jumped up.

I can take this one, Mia. Eleanor took the weight of one of the packages, guessing it was a new painting for the gallery.

Thank you, dear. You’re such a help, but that’s awfully heavy for you. Where on earth is William when you need him? said Mia, clawing at the other packages to stop them slipping.

Here! Coming! William tumbled out of a beautiful dream of cream of mushroom soup topped with tarragon leaves and heaved himself up to help his mother. He relieved Mia of all four wrapped paintings and stacked them in the hall.

Mia flopped down on the sofa and loosened the russet silk scarf at her neck.

I do hope someone’s making a cup of tea, she said to no-one in particular.

William disappeared into the kitchen to tell Victoria that their mother was home and in serious need of refreshments (as he was himself, it so happened).

Mia purred enthusiastically to Eleanor, "Four paintings from two entirely new artists. A charming lynx couple. They were on their way to Barnaby Badger’s gallery in Thorny Bottom, but I persuaded them that our gallery in Upper Barking was a much better location for their work. I’ll keep them wrapped until the beginning of next month and have a special showing with the mouse miniatures."

Eleanor smiled to think of Mia looking up at two lynx and persuading them to do an about turn with their bundles of paintings. Once Mia set her mind to something, there was no stopping her. As Eleanor listened to her step-mother, she admired for the hundredth time Mia’s slim delicate features and the rich, dappled gold and brown of her fur.

Mia was not a motherly cat. Her children and Eleanor, her step-child, had always called her by her real name. Eleanor had never felt awkward about this because she reasoned privately that ‘Mia’ was very close to ‘Ma’ - although she would never have told Mia that. Mia would not like to think she was being called ‘Ma’; Eleanor could imagine her tolerating ‘Mother, dear’ perhaps or ‘Ma’am’ and suspected that she would not object to ‘Oh Great One’; but definitely not ‘Ma.’

It was a huge surprise to everyone, when Mia adopted little Eleanor. She already had three grown up children, after all. Two of them, Victoria and William, still lived at home. One day, Mia had accompanied Victoria on one of her daughter’s many charity-related errands, visiting an orphanage to play games and give out presents. Eleanor, among a tumble of kittens, had somehow captured their hearts with her large golden eyes, black velvet fur, and sweet nature. They found an excuse to go back again the next day, and the next… Two months later, Eleanor was part of their family.

Victoria and William wondered privately if it was the memory of their other brother, Albert, which had moved their mother to adopt Eleanor. But it was not something they could ask. Since the day Albert left home, they rarely spoke of him.

Mia loved her new kitten. The hard, business-like glint in her eyes would melt away when she looked at Eleanor and her voice would lose the edge it so often had when she spoke to Victoria and William.

Neither Victoria nor William resented this in the least. Being almost a generation older than Eleanor, they looked on her more as their own child than as their sister, and in fact it was always Victoria to whom Eleanor turned with her little scrapes, scratches and childish fears. Eleanor called them Aunt Victoria and Uncle William.

Eleanor could not imagine having a nicer family: kind, fussy Aunt Victoria who cared so much about so many things; big, lovable Uncle William, whose broad, honest face was incapable of a mean look; and beautiful, clever Mia who kept them all in order.

How was school today, Eleanor? asked Mia.

Not bad, said Eleanor. I’ve done my homework already, she added quickly, knowing that her step-mother would ask about that next.

Good. Ah, tea! Thank you, Vicky! Mia beamed one of her rare, charming smiles as Victoria brought in a heavy tray, followed by William carrying fruitcake and a plate piled with sardine pastries, still warm from the oven.

William liked it when his sister bent her principles to cook with fish. Victoria was strictly vegetarian herself but fish was still frequently on feline menus. Most claimed to be at least fishetarian, since few cats would dream of the barbarous old practice of eating mouse or rabbit. (William did actually dream of it sometimes, but he was sure he could never do it. Pretty sure.)

For a few minutes there was only contented chomping and chewing as the four cats sat in front of the fire, balancing cups of milky tea on their knees.

Then, stroking her whiskers clean, Victoria announced, Greta asked me if I’d organize the Puppies’ Summer Camp this year. I couldn’t say ‘no’ again. You remember I turned her down last year.

Mia rolled her green eyes. "But Victoria, you know what happened last year! They had to take Greta straight from the fun fair to the hospital, didn’t they?"

Victoria nodded. But they only kept her in one night. It was the twenty-second trip on the Tooth Rattling Twist of Death that made her feel queasy.

Queasy! chortled William. I heard they had to pull her off when she started screaming about mad dogs, and it took two St. Bernards to get her in the ambulance.

She’d had a trying day, Victoria nodded.

Trying! Twenty-two times on the Twist of Death… William muttered, shaking his head and smiling as he and a plate of sardine pastries retreated behind Fishfinder’s Annual.

Greta said the puppies wanted to do the same again the next day! said Victoria.

Mia looked seriously at her daughter. I trust you won’t have to look after them all on your own.

Oh, no. We never send only one person with them. Actually, said Victoria, "I was hoping that William would help me…"

There was silence for a few moments. William slowly realized that, beyond the sound of crunching pastry, his name had been spoken.

Help? Me? A few crumbs spluttered out of his mouth as he lowered his magazine. What’s that you said, Vic?

"Would you supervise the puppies’ camp with me, William? It helps so much to have a male role model for them. William was looking at her blankly. You’d be so good with them! And you know how much you like going to the beach. It’s just one week in July. Can you do it, William?"

Victoria was correct. William did like going to the beach – not for the sun or the sand but for the seafood restaurants. He wasn’t sure if his sister understood that.

William’s job as a food sales representative did involve traveling to the coast. Each year he was awarded the company’s prize for their most successful sales representative.

Restaurant and shop owners only had to look at William’s face as he talked to them to know that his product was worth their money. William’s furry, orange cheeks would glow, his eyes would take on a far-seeing, mystical glaze, and his broad, pink mouth would glisten as he talked about the food he was trying to sell. Any salesmanship he had been taught was eclipsed by his natural and prodigious love of food. His clients came to know that if Willy Sparlin of Fishfinder’s Fine Foods said it was good, it was good.

He had even been accused of thinking of nothing but food (by Mia, for instance, as she was trying to hang the last few pictures before a show, and William set his tools aside on the stroke of 6:30, their accustomed dinner hour; or by Victoria, chairing a tense meeting of the Cats and Rodents United for Education Committee – of which she was Chair and to which she had appointed William as Treasurer – when he looked at his watch and left the table for elevenses, leaving them without a quorum).

But William’s heart was as big as his interests were narrow. If help were asked of him, he would provide it willingly and to the best of his ability.

Oh, I suppose so, Vic. I was planning to take a week off in July anyway. At the back of his mind, he was hoping that the trip would be to Heron’s End, which had the best beach (and restaurants) on the east coast.

Victoria got up and gave him a sisterly kiss on his golden forehead.

Thanks, Willy. You’re the best brother in the world!

Those words seemed to banish the cozy atmosphere from the room. Victoria started bustling around, saying she must tidy up. William squeezed out of his chair, muttering something about finishing a report. Mia scratched Eleanor fondly behind the ears for a moment, then disappeared in a flutter of silk and scent downstairs to the gallery. Left on her own in the sitting room, Eleanor found her eye drawn to the photograph of Victoria’s other brother, the mysterious Albert.

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CHAPTER 3

…Family Feuds

A black cat looked out at her from the photo. Eleanor had always liked this picture; Albert looked as if he would be a good cat to know. Since no-one ever talked about him, the picture was all the more intriguing. Whenever he was mentioned, it seemed that an uncomfortable silence followed.

When