Monty and Me: A heart-warmingly wagtastic novel!

‘Slow down,’ I say.

‘How’d you learn reading then? The Professor teach you?’

‘Yes, but don’t tell anyone, Betty. Do you know what happens to animals that do anything out of the ordinary? They put them in cages and experiment on them. Betty, you’ve got to promise me you’ll keep this to yourself.’

‘I promise, on my pups’ lives.’ Betty is panting. ‘This is like a bleeding workout, this is.’

She passes the Ls.

‘Paddy was interested in how animals communicate, especially bees. He was a professor of bees, you see.’

‘Didn’t know they had such a thing.’ She’s slowing down.

‘Paddy saw I was a fast learner, so he started teaching me the English language. I’m not talking about sounds and tones or basic commands. I mean letters of the alphabet.’

Betty stops kicking the pages and stares up at me, jaw open, her minuscule sharp teeth on display. I bet they could inflict a nasty nip. ‘Bleeding Nora! Are you for real?’

‘I got lucky; I had a brilliant teacher. But I get in a muddle when there are too many words, and Mr Google baffles me.’

‘Who’s Mr Google?’

‘A very clever man who lives inside a computer,’ I say. ‘Can you keep going, Betty? We’re nearly there.’

She turns round and kicks the pages again. She reaches the Ns.

‘Stop!’

I follow the columns of names, addresses and phone numbers:

A Nice

Benjamin Nice

Mrs CE Nice

Then nothing. Just teeth marks and a circular hole.

‘Oops,’ she says. ‘Did I eat Larry Nice?’

‘Oh dear.’

‘I never thought I was actually going to need to use it.’

Betty looks sheepish, if it’s possible for a rat to look sheepish.

I sit and consider our situation. ‘I guess we’re going to have to use Rose’s laptop, but I’m a klutz with the keyboard. I’m going to need some help.’

‘Don’t look at me,’ says Betty. ‘I can’t spell and I wouldn’t know one end of a computer from another. There wasn’t much call for reading in them tunnels.’

‘Then we need Dante. He’s really fast with a keyboard.’

‘Dante!’ Betty laughs. ‘Jeez, he must fancy himself with a name like that.’

‘Well, he is a magpie.’

Betty jumps back as if she’s touched hot metal. ‘Magpie! What you doing being friendly with those devils? They’re nasty buggers.’

‘Dante’s all right. He can be a bit snappy sometimes and he thinks he’s a bit of an intellectual, but he’s helped me out before.’

‘A magpie?’ Betty spits on the floor, although the gob is so small I can barely see it. ‘Nah, I’ll never trust one of them. They lie and steal and he’ll probably try to eat me. Can’t you use the laptop without him?’

‘Why don’t you give him a chance?’

‘You guarantee my safety?’

‘I’ll keep you safe. But first we have to contact him.’

‘So how do we do that?’

‘A torch will do.’

‘Where do we find one of them, then?’

‘Paddy used to keep his in a cupboard under the sink.’

The kitchen cupboard doors have small circular knobs and I manage to pull them open, but there is no sign of a torch. There are two bins under the sink: everyday waste and recycling. Betty has crawled onto my shoulder and we both inhale the left-overs. Before I know it, Betty has dived head first into the general waste bin as if it were a swimming pool. I can’t resist any longer and shove my nozzle in and ferret around for left-over chicken. I lick my muzzle. Now what was I doing?

I shake my head, realising I got side-tracked. Again.

‘Betty, we must stay focused. Get out of there, will you?’

‘You’re one to talk,’ she replies, part-buried under scraps.

It takes all my willpower to turn away but just as I’m free of the bins, the larder starts calling to me. Before I know it, my nose is stuck to the door as if it were a magnet. Ah, those biscuits smell so good.

‘Come on,’ Betty says, suddenly by my side, a little slimy with soy sauce in her fur. ‘We’ll have a big feast later. Let’s keep looking for that torch.’

I plod from room to room, with Betty at my side. She has to run to keep up. I discover a dusty dining room that hasn’t been used for years; a cosy sitting room with faded sofa and armchairs; a very messy study with piles of books on the floor like mini skyscrapers; and an under-the-stairs loo. The toilet is making gurgling noises.

‘Should it be doing that?’ I ask.

Betty shrugs. ‘No idea, mate.’

I peer up the stairs. I know they creak but I don’t know where to tread yet to avoid the noise. I prick up my ears to check Rose is still asleep. Her breathing is slow and steady with the occasional little snore. Luckily, she’s a deep sleeper.

‘Best you don’t come up, Betty. If Rose hears me, all she’ll do is send me back to the kitchen. But, if she sees you, I’m not sure how she’ll react.’

‘I’ll wait here then,’ Betty replies, and plonks down on a threadbare section of carpet and starts licking the soy sauce off her fur.