Strange, isn't it? That I should meet both my best friend and nemesis on the same day. I doubt that this happens to many people. But you and I both know, Reader, that my life is by no means normal. I am sure that you have all wondered how on earth I came to meet Syd and Billy, am I right? And so I will tell you.
The freezing air greeted me with a blast as soon as I took my first step out. The grey clouds seemed to be brewing up a storm, much like the three witches in Macbeth, or, should, I say, the Scottish Play. The wind moaned low laments as it swept high above us. Wisps of air curled from my mouth as I breathed out. I dearly hoped the heavens would not drop their tears and give me an impromptu bath.
In short, it was a typical London day.
I could simply walk back to my home, the magnificent Theatre Royal, Drury Lane, but where would be the fun and trouble in that? With this reasoning, I marched forward. I did not know the streets of London as well as I do know, but I was still confident enough not to get lost too badly.
I was calmly walking by when a leg appeared out of nowhere and tripped me up.
"Nice one Billy!" I heard.
I fell and found myself in a puddle, dirty and grimy. I gagged as the foul stuff went onto my lips. I spat it out again – I already had most charming manners then – and turned to face this Billy idiot. I noticed he had a most gruesome boil; his name was instantaneously imprinted as Billy Boil in my mind. He was regarding me with mild curiosity, as one would an exotic bird. He pulled me up by my hair. I squealed in shock but then forced myself to restrain this. I would not give him the satisfaction of one tiny wince. I knew his type – a bully. And you never satisfy a bully, you surprise him.
"Yes, thank you for asking, my name is Cat Royal, now let me go!" I said, trying to make myself look taller. But he would not let me go, although he seemed quite surprised that I said anything.
"Let 'er go Shepherd," said menacingly a voice behind me. I twisted back and a wince escaped – Billy still had a hold of my ginger locks.
"Whaddya want Fletcher? This sewer cat mean anythin' to ya?" The Boil taunted – 'The
Boil' that has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?
The other boy had a look of cold anger in his blue eyes.
"She ain't done nothin' to you Shepherd, just let 'er go," The boy repeated.
"Naw, Syd! You're always ruinin' my fun," Boil says with a crestfallen expression.
"Let go or I'll punch you," Syd threatens, sparks almost flying out of his angry eyes. It seems this boy had a reputation for his fists. Besides, at that point, his friends came to stand beside him. Billy walked off, trying to consume his dignity.
"Nice meeting you … Moggie," Billy said and then ran off with his gang.
"Hey, I'm Syd Fletcher," The boy reached out his hand. I took it and he helped me back up.
"I'm Cat Royal," I said. His height meant that my neck was constantly hurting.
"Let's get you back home," Syd said gently and, to his friends, that he would be back soon, "So, where do you live?" Syd asked.
"Theatre Royal," I replied. Syd's eyes were a little disbelieving at first, and I didn't ameliorate my situation by giving him my famous death glare – his eyebrows shot above his forehead – but then he got over it.
Syd took one glance at me and hoisted me up on his shoulders. I shouted gleefully for the whole journey back; so it's a wonder Syd didn't drop me and run to save his eardrums. But can you blame me? I was happy: I didn't have to walk, and I had forged an everlasting friendship; although I didn't know the last part then.