Dreariness and dishonor seemed to trail her as though it had its own sound, like a funeral dirge.
The border of her coat was ragged and stained and the corner of her eye twisted, the result of brawls and general disuse.
She'd been given just enough information, Macavity teasing with snippets whispered by cats on the street:
"He has a young molly from the country"... "She has green-gold eyes"... "Black and yellow, innocent and lovely."
How could he do this to her, she moaned as she trudged the grimy roads of Tottenham Court, headed for The Tomb. The years of debasement and misplaced passion—hadn't that been enough for him? Why did he want to keep hurting her?
Following the directions she'd been given, she squinted into the rising sun and staggered through the foul, close alley up to the broken drainage pipe.
She lamented again her once sparkling silver coat, now dulled to a drab mouse grey, as she cleaned herself the best she could. Then lifting her chest in a deep, brave breath, she made the jump into the lair of the creature she most hated to save the one she most loved.
Had he been waiting for her? He stood there, his fur still a swirl of color and chaos, his grin as infuriating as ever, as he hailed her like a long-lost friend.
"Grizabella! It's been ages, love. What brings you here?"
Her heart made its involuntary leap at the sigh of him, before plummeting at the memories. She snarled. "Don't. Where is she?"
He'd never learned how to feign sincerity. "Why, whatever are you talking about?" he asked, attempting to round out his slanted black eyes in a look of innocence.
"Macavity," she growled, her hair standing on end in exasperation, "do you have my daughter?"
The stripes around his face went diagonal as the evil smile reappeared. "That remains to be seen. This way," he coaxed, standing aside for her.
Grizabella moved toward him and stumbled, hitting the hard-packed dirt and rising with smudges around her mouth and over a bruised cheek.
"The Glamour Cat," Macavity sneered as she licked herself to to repair the damage, then walked past him with her head raised in a semblance of pride.
On the other side of the panel, the audience responded with laughter and enthusiastic catcalls to Teazer's and Mungo's antics as knockabout clowns and quick-change comedians.
Discovering that she wasn't in love with her brother after all had returned Teazer to her usual, animated self. Not that finding out about kinship would have changed her feelings for him one whit, but she'd already imagined the perfect stripey kittens that they'd have together, and so was relieved that she wouldn't have concerns about inbreeding. Three-eyed monstrosities, that hateful Sarah Jane had said. Her favorite ribbon had disappeared after that.
So a rejuvenated Rumpleteazer joined her mate in tightrope walking and acrocbatics, and demonstrated for the other she-cats the proper four-legged curtsey. Soon the bawdiest tams in London were dropping to the floor in a manner to rival any feline queen and laughing uproariously about it.
The morning light seeping in from upstairs shined on the mostly happy, furry faces, and the two tense ones in the corner.
"I want to go home," Demeter said plaintively. "I don't like it here."
"But I though you wanted to see Rumpuscat," Bomba reminded her. "You won't find him back in that silly little village."
Demeter dropped her lip in a pout and shook her head. "I don't care; I want to go home."
Her friend rolled her eyes and swished her tail in irritation. "Why? What's so wonderful there?"
Demeter looked around her at the dark, musty room. She missed the sun warming her spot on the vicarage wall next to Old Deuteronomy. She missed the zest of Jellylorum's kittens, the talks with Jenny, sitting by the fire and receiving instruction in music, crocheting and tatting.
And every image, every pleasant thought that she had of home included a glimpse of pewter fur, the intensity of matching pewter gaze and the warm smile and comforting presence of—
She snapped out of her musings and looked up at Bombalurina, her epiphany making her golden eyes gleam like actual nuggets. What's so wonderful there? "Munkustrap!"
Bomba gasped. The Munk? She thought she was the only one who harbored secret thoughts of the dependable, dutiful and sneakily beautiful tom. It was his indifference to her that had cemented her resolve to leave the village. "But..."
"Well?" Macavity asked, as Grizzabella's eyes widened and a whimper escaped her hardened mouth.
She nodded and tears began to roll down her face like dripping mascara. He fixed her again with his evil-intentioned smirk and lowered the partition.
Grizabella stared at it as if she could see through it for another glimpse at Baby Demeter. How had she come to be here? She'd given her up, left her in the safety of the vicarage with the brother and sister to protect her from just such a fate.
"What have you done to her?" she demanded, glowering at the despised smirk.
He shrugged. "Nothing, and neither has anyone else. But that can change, if I don't get what I want..."
"Which is?"
The smirk broadened to a fangy smile, agleam with its thin salivary coating. "You know what I've always wanted from you."
She lifted her front paws in an imploring gesture. "But it's the only thing I have."
Macavity looked over his shoulder to the main room. "The only thing?"
She dropped her eyes. "All of these years, no matter what, I've kept my Glamour Cat crown."
The ultimate lover of shiny things snorted. "It's been a long time since anyone has thought of you that way."
"I was beautiful then," she said in a breathy, bitter tone.
Macavity shrugged again. "Maybe, but not as beautiful as..." He glanced significantly at the partition.
Grizabella's eyes followed his. "If I give you the crown, you'll let her go?"
He nodded. "You have my word."
As if that's ever meant anything, she scoffed. But she had no choice.
Sighing, she looked up into his still-arresting face. "I'll be back soon."
Standing on the other side of the panel after escaping Bombalurina and her list of all of the reasons Munkustrap was wrong for her, Demeter listened to the former lovers. Her hand touched the spot from which she'd heard the female voice.
With a choked meow she whispered, "Mother."
Grizabella, The Glamour Cat
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