“Nice pussies,” said Peter nervously.
The cats continued advancing.
“Good pussies.”
The largest cat, Sebastian, stopped and stared at him.
Its tail moved slowly from side to side.
Peter attempted to walk towards the garden gate.
Two cats immediately blocked his path.
He turned towards the greenhouse.
Another three cats appeared beneath the broken glass panes.
He tried to retreat towards the apple tree.
But Sebastian was already waiting there.
“Oh, I say!” exclaimed Peter. “This isn’t fair!”
The cats began to make a dreadful noise.
First came a low growl.
Then a long, mournful yowl.
Then all seven began together.
MEEEEEOOOOOW!
YOOOOOWWWL!
MEEEEEOOOOOW!
The sound was enough to wake the dead.
Peter covered his ears.
“Be quiet!” he begged. “You’ll wake everybody!”
But the cats only became louder.
Their yellow eyes seemed to grow brighter.
The shadows of the trees stretched across the garden like enormous black fingers.
Then, quite suddenly, a light appeared in an upstairs window.
Peter’s heart sank.
“Oh, crumbs!”
The curtains were drawn aside.
A familiar face appeared.
Mrs Agatha Thistlewick.
And she did not look at all pleased.
