Cat Among the Pigeons by Julia Golding

church?’
    â€˜I don’t fence.’
    â€˜Not a strict Sabbath observer, are you?’ he asked with a curl to his lip.
    â€˜No.’ I couldn’t help smiling, thinking of what we got up to on Sundays at the theatre. That was the day I had the run of the place and got to playon stage, pretending I was Mrs Siddons or Mrs Jordan. Richmond gave me a strange look. I quickly turned off my smile. ‘I mean I’ve never learned to fence.’
    â€˜Lord, Hengrave, are you savages in Ireland? Someone had better teach you then. By the old oak at midday.’ And he turned on his heel and left before I could think of an excuse.
    â€˜Well, I suppose it was friendly of him,’ said Frank, scratching the back of his head in bewilderment when I told him about my visitor. We were making the short journey across the yard to the Abbey, near deafened by the peal of bells.
    â€˜Friendly? Frank, I don’t think so. I haven’t been a boy long but I know when someone just wants to knock the stuffing out of me.’
    Charlie shook his head. ‘And it was the headmaster who accused us of having a talent for mischief, Frank. My little brother can’t seem to stir without attracting trouble.’
    â€˜I think it’s because of Tom Cat’s looks,’ said Frank sagely. ‘Richmond’s a bit of a runt himself, son of some planter from the West Indies. He’s been struggling to find his feet in Ottley’s from what Southey’s told me. The assistant master there, Botch Hayes, can’t keep the thugs under control and Richmond’s been picked on. He’s probably rejoicing in the fact that a boy has turned up who he stands a chance of thrashing. He sees you as a way to earn himself a bit of respect.’
    â€˜So you’re saying I’m even runtier than Richmond, aren’t you? Thanks, Frank. Remind me not to come to you for a compliment on another occasion.’
    â€˜And you’ve never fenced before?’ asked Charlie.
    I didn’t think the question even deserved an answer. I merely raised my eyebrow.
    â€˜Of course not. Sorry.’
    â€˜But I have watched rehearsals for stage fights.’ I neglected to mention that Pedro and Ihad also practised the moves afterwards when everyone had gone home.
    â€˜Well, it’s the same principle, I expect,’ said Frank. ‘You need to learn the moves like in a dance.’
    â€˜I can dance,’ I volunteered.
    â€˜Then you can fence. Don’t worry. It’ll just be practice swords – blunt ones. You might even like it.’
    We entered the church. Being a cloudy winter’s day outside, it was very dark in the Abbey. Little candles flickered in the side chapels like fireflies at dusk. The choir seemed a blaze of light in comparison to the rest of the pews as we shuffled forward to take our places. The choristers filed in, their scrubbed, shiny round faces floating on white ruffs. Then they began to sing and I forgot the dreary day. The singing was exquisite – so pure and penetrating. The anthem lifted me up to the carved roof and let me dance there like a butterfly in a shaft of sunlight.
    â€˜Cat, Cat.’ The spell was broken by Frankdigging me in the ribs. ‘Look, there’s Pedro.’
    I turned in my seat. Standing in the side aisle, listening with critical attention to the music, was my friend. He noticed me watching him. His eyes widened for a moment, he gave a small nod, and then moved towards a side chapel. I half got up but Charlie yanked me back.
    â€˜Stay where you are,’ he whispered. ‘The doctor will flay you if you leave the service.’
    I looked to my left and saw the headmaster glaring in my direction. I bowed my head in a fit of fervent prayer.
    â€˜And look.’ Frank nudged me again. A shifty-looking man with a red scarf had followed Pedro into the chapel. I recognized him well enough. All the runners and those in their pay were