"Uncle Skimble," Etcetera finally spoke as she and the Railway Cat found themselves on the steps of the train station. "Is growing up hard?" "Why d'you ask, little one?" Skimbleshanks answered, surprised and intrigued at the question. No wonder little Cettie had been quiet the entire walk from the Junkyard to here.
"Because I know—well, I think—that I'm not a child anymore. I mean. . . I've thought of it this morning. . . I'm—I want to be—all grown up. But if growing up is like this, when I grow older. . . will I have any more friends to be with?"
"What are you getting at?"
"It got to me that I lost my friends, one by one, to matters seemingly more important than the time we could spend with each other. I don't want to block their way or what they have to do and like, but. . . I wanted their company the moment I woke up, and after a few moments, they were all gone. Something to do this and something to do that. It's unfair."
Skimbleshanks turned to Etcetera, looking at her gently in the eye. He had anticipated this conversation a long time ago. "No, no, lass. It's not. You see, all of us have our own lives to live. Victoria is everybody's friend, and being that makes everyone ask for and receive her help. Everyone looks up to her, and being the kind creature that she is"—Etcetera suppressed a small grin at that—"she does what she can to make everyone happy. Now, Jemima is to lead us all someday, and so she has an obligation to fulfill. If there is something unscrupulous threatening the Tribe, she has to attend to the matter, no matter what. Electra has long been in Coricopat and Tantomile's care, she can't help but do things for them. You know Electra—not always in the spotlight, but skillful when it gets to it . . It's just like that."
"What about me, then?"
"You, Etcetera? You're going to be just you—sweet, thoughtful, special you. You may still be young, but you're capable of a lot of things that will undoubtedly help the Tribe one day. Perhaps it's not just your time yet. But it will be, even before you know it. Just wait."
Etcetera was not sure if she was to buy that. "But what about all my friends. . . and all the fun?"
"You will always have your friends, Cettie. Friends are with you forever, just as fun is. But there is a difference—you can always lean on your friends, but you can't always count on fun. There's a time for everything, yes, and while friendship can't be measured by the minutes or hours that pass, fun, in the minutes and hours that you have them, is always to be treasured. . . but life isn't all about just that, Cettie. But remember: Victoria, Jemima and Electra will be with you for as long as you live. There are just times when you have to let them go. But they'll always come back."
"Do you really think so?" Etcetera asked, searching Skimble's glass-green eyes, wanting so much to know the truth. Skimbleshanks smiled. "I know so."
"How come?" Etcetera queried, unsure. She never wanted to question Skimbleshanks' word, but now she had just a twinge of doubt in her heart. She stared intently at him, waiting silently for his answer.
The Cat of the Railway Train smiled again. "Dear Cettie, I've gone through what you're going through. I was a child once too—yes! With Jenny and Jelly, Gus, Grizabella and Deuteronomy!—Now, am I not a grown cat, and am I not who I've always been meant and wanted to be? Cettie, you and your friends are in a certain stage in life. Once you pas it, everything will be simply perfect. Simply, perfectly happy."
Just then, one of the trains whistled. "Ah," Skimbleshanks exclaimed. "For the morning route!" He gave the kitten a wave. "See you in a bit, Cettie. The porters are calling my name."
"B-but wait!" Etcetera cried. "What—"
Skimble leaned closer and whispered affectionately into her ear, "Just remember what I said, Cettie. Remember it good now, and remember it for the rest of your nine lives. Say hello to the others for me when you get back—I know you can get yourself home safe and sound—I'll see you again!"
With that, Skimble made a dash and leapt onto the carriage, leaving Etcetera looking very thoughtful on the platform.
Etcetera got back to the Junkyard late that afternoon. She found Jemima on the car roof, obviously very tired. Demeter was beside her, stroking her fur and singing her to sleep. Not far from them, Victoria looked just as bogged down by the weight of the day as she half-carried, half-dragged Electra towards them. Etcetera rushed over to help.
"What happened to Lecky?" she asked.
"Exhaustion. Whatever it was Coricopat and Tantomile had her do, it more than wore her out."
"I could say the same about you and Misto. . . Jem?"
"Munkustrap. Alonzo. Pollicles. Little Jemmy in the middle of it all. You get the picture."
"Put her just right here," Demeter called out, and the young white queens lifted their friend next to Jemima, who managed a cracking "Hello." At this, Electra opened her eyes, blinked, and smiled weakly. Victoria shushed them, telling them to rest. Then she curled up next to Demeter as well, and yawned at Etcetera.
"What have you been doing all day?"
Etcetera recalled everything from the moment she woke up to her last instant of conversation with Skimble, to her laying down just at this time. Victoria, eldest of the kittens, waited, looking at her with expectant, sleepy eyes. Etcetera sensed that Jemima and Electra were listening too, and was conscious of Demeter—adult, self-possessed, respected by everyone in the Tribe—watching as well. Etcetera thought of everything Skimble had said very, very carefully. . .
She stretched, yawned and shook her head. "Nothing much," she replied. "I've just been growing up."
She didn't even bother to explain and closed her eyes despite Victoria and Demeter's astonished, curious looks.
In the distance, the hoot of a train sounded.