A Childrens story

 

A Cake and a Cat called Forget-me-not.

 by

Zachary Twoshoes

Henry and Irene live next door to each other, in two little houses on a hill, just around the corner from here.  They've been friends ever since Irene locked herself out of her house, and Henry helped her, and now they often spend their weekends together, so that it's not so far, from Saturday to Sunday.

Henry's eyebrows are the lowest you've ever seen. They're so low that you can't even see his eyes, and this makes him look as puzzled as a jigsaw that's still in it's box. Henry has marvellous ideas for inventions, but, because he always looks so puzzled, nobody listens to him.

Sometimes this makes Henry sad.

Irene has a heart shaped face, with a mouth like a rosebud. She doesn't like to wear her glasses, because she thinks that they make her eyes look a little too large.

She loves to bake cakes and has delicious ideas about the ingredients, but, sometimes, the cakes taste quite, well, quite surprising. The last one she'd made, with raspberries and raindrops, had smelt of seaweed, and tasted like a tomato.

Henry has a clockwork cat, called Forget-me-not, & Forget-me-not suggests that since the sun is shining, as well as the moon, they should call for Irene, and go together, to Ring-a-bell River, and watch the fish play.

Henry and Forget-me-not knock on Irene's door. She opens it wearing a yellow coat, and a purple hat. Her belt matches her eyes, which are a greeny-gold colour, the colour of the sea when the sun is setting. Irene is beautiful, and always has a tale to tell. Everyone listens to every word she says, even when she's whispering.

They walk over Remember-me Hill and down to the bridge at Ring-a-bell River. They stop here, resting their elbows on the edge of the bridge, and watch the fish play.

The fish are playing on their phones when an idea pops into Henry's head, like a pinball. One minute he's watching the fish play, and the next he's wondering why doors are square, instead of round. 'Because', he says, looking as puzzled as ever, 'if they were round, then they could just roll along, and they wouldn't get stuck, and Forget-me-not would be able to open them too, and could help me when I make tea'.

There's a silence, which goes on for a little too long, and, as Henry's expecting a reply, he says 'Pardon?', quite loudly. Irene's been thinking about baking, instead of listening to Henry, and hopes that Forget-me-not will say something.

But Forget-me-not's having a little cat-nap, so Irene says the first thing that pops into her head: 'Moonbeam cakes taste better, if you batter them with butter', she says, looking as beautiful as ever.

Henry very nearly says 'Pardon?' again, because Irene's moonbeam cake was the worst cake he'd ever eaten, and had smelt of rats, and tasted of sprouts.

Forget-me-not purrs, the sort of purr that cat's purr when they're not quite sure what to say, but want to seem friendly, and suggests that after they've said their good byes to the fish, they walk back home, and put the kettle on, and have a cup of tea.

They link arms, walk back over Remember-me Hill and settle around the table in Irene's kitchen. In the middle of the table, is a cake. 'It's a lemon cake', says Irene, proudly, 'made with real lemons, and rainbows'.

It's a pink colour at the bottom, green in the middle, and violet on top. Henry has a little taste, and Forget-me-not has a large mouthful. It tastes so peculiar that it makes Henry's eyes water and Forget-me-not's whiskers change from straight lines, into zigzags.

'Golly', says Henry, trying to be polite, 'What an unusual taste, for lemons.'  'And what an unusual taste for rainbows, too', splutters Forget-me-not, who's had to drink three cups of tea, one after the other, before being able to speak at all. Because the cake smells like bonfire night, and tastes of pickled eggs.

The taste of the cake takes up all the room in their heads, and they're quiet for a while. Forget-me-not is far too busy straightening his whiskers to say anything anyway, but in the middle of the quietness you can hear Irene say: 'I'm sure they were lemons, and rainbows, because I saw the labels on the jars, with my own eyes'. Henry burps, softly, and then says: 'Pardon?'.

There's another silence, as silent as the sound of a snowflake, landing on a toadstool, when a thought falls into Henry's head. He coughs, delicately, looking at Irene's shiny hair and her perfect outfit. 'I wonder', he says, 'I wonder if it's possible for a person that makes cakes to get the ingredients muddled, and, instead of lemons say, they put pickled eggs in, and maybe fireworks instead of rainbows?'  And then adds, quietly, 'Especially if that person is not wearing their glasses'.

Forget-me-not looks thoughtful, and then, all of a sudden, realises that when Henry says 'a person that makes cakes', he really means Irene, and this is why his whiskers are zigzagged, because instead of lemons, Irene chose pickled eggs, by mistake, and fireworks instead of rainbows, because she wasn't wearing her glasses.

Irene isn't really listening to Henry, and she starts to sing a little song, instead of replying, and doesn't stop until Forget-me-not holds up a paw:

'We should listen to Henry,' says Forget-me-not, firmly, 'because  this cake has made my zigzags quite whiskered, I mean, my whiskers quite zigzagged, and the muddles are ingredients. I mean, the ingredients are muddled. It has fireworks instead of rainbows, and pickled eggs in it, instead of lemons'.

Irene swallows, and has a little sip of tea, and Henry's so happy to be listened to, that, one after the other, his eyebrows slip slowly up his forehead, until he doesn't look puzzled any more, and you can that his eyes are shining.

'Let's make another cake' says Irene, and her eyes are shining too, 'and this time, I'll wear my glasses, and won't get the ingredients muddled'. 'And then', says Henry, smiling, 'we'll know what lemon cake really tastes like, when it's properly made with rainbows'.

Forget-me-not purrs, sounding surprised. Because, now he can see Henry's eyes, he can see that they're a beautiful greeny-gold colour, the colour of the sea when the sun is setting, exactly the same shade as Irene's.