The Khat Who Became a Hero 5

"Was There Ever a Khat So Clever?"

Previously: On Tuesday morning, the Thyme & Seasons shop cat, Khat K’o-Kung, does not report for work. Instead, he decides to take a little vacation while he waits for Gillian, a friend from a former life who works with magical herbs. Alarmed by Khat’s absence, China begins to ask around the neighborhood, ending up over at Lila’s Diner, where she puts up a Lost Cat! flyer. Meanwhile, Khat (who has put in a request for a visit from a certain witchy friend) has been having adventures. You can read the earlier episodes here.

China was taping her flyer to the diner window when Hark Hibler came along, headed for a cup of Lila’s coffee. Hark was the managing editor at the Enterprise, Pecan Springs’ newspaper. A while back, China had agreed to take over the Thursday Home and Garden page, so strictly speaking, Hark is her boss (or thinks he is). He frequents the Diner because it’s the best place in town to plug into the grapevine and get an earful of the local stories making the rounds. The coffee is also better than it is in the Enterprise break room.

“Lost your cat, huh?” he grunted, glancing at the flyer. “I’ve got a hole at the bottom of tomorrow’s page three. How about if I run a story on him?”

“Oh, would you?” China said gratefully. “I’ll email his photo when I get back to the shop.”

Hark bent over and peered at the photo in the window. “Hey, I know this cat.”

“Everybody knows this cat,” China replied resignedly. “Mr. Cowan throws zucchini at him, Fannie Couch is waiting with a fly swatter, the Cavettes feed him catfish, and he gets biscuits and cream gravy at the Diner.” She was beginning to feel that Khat was public property. “What’s your connection?”

“No connection.” Hark straightened up. “But I saw him. Today. An hour ago.”

“An hour!” China exclaimed. “Where?”

“Perched in a tree.” Hark waved his hand vaguely. “Like the Cheshire Cat. In Alice.”

“In a tree where?” You’d think a newspaperman would have a head for dates and places, but Hark sometimes has a problem with details.

“Somewhere over around Alamo Street, maybe. I was coming back from a Chamber meeting.” Hark frowned defensively. “Wasn’t taking notes. Didn’t know there’d be a quiz.”

“Try,” China urged. Surely it shouldn’t be hard to remember where he had seen a large Siamese perched in a tree. “Concentrate.”

He squinted at the photo in the window. “Maybe it was that big old live oak on Crockett Street. In front of the Birkett house.” He brightened. “Have you heard that they finally located the woman who inherited that place? I went past on Monday and there was a moving van out front—”

But China was already racing for her bike.

The Birkett house is one of those places you’d love to inherit, if only it wouldn’t take the entire national defense budget to make it livable. Old Mrs. Birkett—one of China’s best customers—had inherited it from her grandmother, Jane Crow, and it had stood vacant while the estate was settled. Mrs. Birkett had been one of the most active members of the Herb Guild and had often invited China to visit her garden and her stillroom, where she (and her grandmother before her) had experimented with all kinds of herbs. The old Victorian needed a new roof and probably a fortune in heating, plumbing, and wiring, but it was still lovely.

And China was glad to see that somebody was actually moving in. Sheets covered the blank front windows and there was a stack of boxes on the front porch. The live oak out front was empty, though. No sign of Khat.

China knocked at the front door, waited for a moment or two, and then knocked again. No answer. Well, the new owner must be home, because she could see a car parked in the drive. She had to smile at the catchy bumper sticker: Never Mind the Witch. Beware of the CAT.

So she went around to the back and knocked, but without success. She made a fist and banged again, loudly. This time she thought she heard something. Meowwrr? 

“Khat?” she called. Or maybe it was the new owner’s cat. But then she heard Khat’s distinctive Siamese meow and some urgent scratching on the other side of the door. “Khat, it is you!” she exclaimed. “What are you doing in there? This is not your house. Come out this minute!”

If you know China Bayles, you probably know that she isn’t in the habit of lecturing delinquent cats through the closed doors of other people’s houses. And she isn’t in the habit of breaking and entering, like a few fictional sleuths we might name. But in this case, she felt . . . extremely urgent. And then she . . . well, she sort of slipped, you see. And sort of fell against the door. Accidentally. With her shoulder.

That did it. The old door flew open with a shriek of rusty hinges, and China half-stumbled, half-fell inside. The back entry was so dark that if she hadn’t been familiar with the house, she would have hesitated. But there was Khat, doing figure-eights around her ankles, butting his head against her calves, and meowing imperiously as if to demand, “What took you so long?  I expected you hours ago!”

She bent over, scooped him up, and snuggled her cheek against his dusty fur. He allowed her to caress and croon to him for a moment, and then jumped out of her arms, landing lightly on the floor. Holding his tail aloft like a flag, he beckoned her to follow him, making for the darkness at the end of the hall.

“Khat,” she said firmly. “This is not our house. We’re trespassing. We can’t—”

That was when she heard it. A low moan, almost inaudible. Khat turned and stared at her, his dark ears forward, his blue eyes intent and glittering.

And there it was again. The moan.

China’s skin prickled. “Is somebody here?” she called. She fumbled for a wall switch and an overhead light came on. “Do you need help?  Hello—where are you?”

“Mrrrow!” commanded Khat, in his most authoritative voice. He raised one sable paw and pointed toward a door.

That was how China found her. The narrow back stairway had collapsed, and the new owner of the old Birkett house—a woman with remarkable blue-green eyes and dark hair now gray with plaster dust—had fallen through into the crawl space under the old house.

“I am so glad to see you,” she said plaintively. “I don’t think I’m hurt, but I can’t move, and I’ve left my phone in the kitchen. Can you help me out of this bloody predicament?” She was half-sitting, half-lying, pinned down by a massive wooden beam that was too heavy for China to lift.

While they waited for the Pecan Springs Fire Department to answer the 9-1-1 call, China sat on the floor to talk to the woman. Khat crouched beside her, peering down into the hole with great interest.

“I’m China Bayles,” she said. “I apologize for barging into your house, but I’ve been looking everywhere for my cat. Somebody said they saw him here, so I—”

“Your cat is a hero, you know!” the woman broke in, and China could hear the British lilt in her voice. “He appeared just as I was about to give up hope. He’s been keeping me company, telling me all kinds of stories. And now he’s brought you. I am so very grateful.”

All kinds of stories? China thought that the woman must be delirious, but she only said, “Yes, he’s my shop cat. I own Thyme and Seasons Herbs, a couple of blocks up the street.”

The woman smiled through the plaster dust on her face. “Did I hear you say herbs?” When China nodded, her smile broadened. “Isn’t that the most brilliant coincidence? I love working with herbs, too. That’s why I was so excited when I discovered that I had inherited this house. The previous owner, my great-grand-aunt Jane Birkett, worked with herbs. Why, there’s even a fully-equipped stillroom here, and an herb garden. Perhaps you knew Aunt Jane?”

“I did know her,” China said, pleased. “She was a customer at my shop and a longtime member of our local herb guild. Maybe you’d like to join us.” She paused. “What did you say your name was?”

“I’m Gillian.” The woman smiled again. “Gillian Morgana. My friends call me Gilly. And I’d love to join your herb guild.”

Looking distinctly smug, Khat had begun to purr. And while China couldn’t make out the tune, he was humming his favorite song.

OH! Well I never! Was there ever a Khat so clever . . .

From Susan, a few questions for you

Well, of course you had it figured it out—right? So tell me: when did you begin to suspect that there might be a connection between the new resident of the old Birkett house and Khat’s summons of his witchy friend, who he hopes will introduce China to the magical uses of herbs? What clues tipped you off?

As a reminder, here’s how this new character is introduced in Episode 2.

Then he thought of Gillian, a British hedgewitch he had known during one of his lives in the English Lake District. (This is a known features of cats’ past lives. Some attract cohorts—individual colleagues or groups who, for a variety of reasons, accompany a cat from one life to another, and who are available, when invited, to undertake an assignment that fits their skills and experience.)

Yes, Gilly, of course! A perfect choice. It took some extra extrasensory effort to track her down, but Khat finally located her at a workshop in East Indian Magical Herbalism being held in Mumbai. She had been reluctant to come, saying vaguely that, what with one thing and another, her life was rather complicated just now. But Khat could be quite persuasive, and she finally agreed.

“But don’t expect me post-haste,” she said, sounding a little cross. “I can’t just pack up and fly off, you know, willy-nilly. It takes planning.”

Those of you who have read Queen Anne’s Lace (China’s 26th mystery), might remember Mrs. Birkett and her house, just a block or two from Thyme & Seasons. The house does indeed have a stillroom and an herb garden, just as Gilly says. Mrs. Birkett was a nice lady and I was sorry to learn that she had passed on, but I’m glad to know that her house is now occupied by another herbalist and that Khat’s friend from a former life has magically joined him in Pecan Springs. (Please don’t ask me how Gillian got there. I’m sure I don’t know the details of her “planning” or what spells and enchantments she might have used to obtain the title to the Birkett house. I doubt if Khat does, either.)

But now that Khat has achieved his immediate goal—enticing Gilly to come to Pecan Springs—what happens next? Is this pair interesting enough to support another story? If so, what’s the premise? What’s their goal, their agenda? What obstacles might they face? What do you think?

This story dwells in the realm of magical realism, so there are many intriguing possibilities to play with and many creative readers/writers in our group. I’d love to hear your thoughts. If there’s enough interest, we could ask Khat and Gilly to take us through another story.

A few notes on the writing

This story, like others in this series, was inspired by an early, simpler story that I wrote nearly 25 years ago. If you’re interested in the writing process (not just the story content), you might take a look at it, under the same title, in An Unthymely Death and Other Garden Mysteries. I expanded the original story by deciding to let Khat speak in his own voice, like the animals in the Cottage Tales.

But I am telling you the very truth when I say that I was surprised to hear about some of Khat’s previous lives. I had thought of Khat chiefly in the context of my personal relationship to my own cats, and to the Cat Who mysteries, which I discussed in my note to the first episode. But as Khat took me further into his story, I realized that it had another context: the universe of literary cats.

There’s way too much to say about that, so I’ll focus on just one small bit. When I was a girl, I loved T.S. Eliot’s playful poetry cycle, Old Possum’s Book of Practical Cats (1939). In 1981, Andrew Lloyd Webber turned it into the musical Cats. And when Khat let me in on the intriguing possibility that he might have been the inspiration for the magical Mr. Mistoffelees in Eliot’s enchanting collection . . . well, I think you can see the possibilities.

So I had to play Webber’s song for myself (several times!) and invite you to enjoy it, so that you could see how why Khat likes to imagine himself related to Eliot’s mischievous lyrics and Webber’s inspired music—both of which have been reimagined countless times in countless performances. Khat became someone and something else for me as he joined a tribe of magical cats who really do live enchanted lives.

Which, as an author, I always welcome. It’s a great delight when characters insist that they have their own stories and begin thinking and talking and acting for themselves—although I do have to add that this can wreak havoc with the author’s plot plans. When Khat came up with Gillian, he took charge of the story. Where are the two of them taking us? Again, don’t ask me. I’m not the boss here. The story has its own life, quite separate from my intentions.

There’s a downside to this, of course. (Isn’t there always?) China and Ruby are already pretty well established in the real-world context of Pecan Springs. How would this new pair (a magical time-traveling cat and a well-traveled witch) fit in the place readers have known for over 30 years? Does “magical realism” work in the “real” world of Pecan Springs, Texas? Or should we leave well enough alone and get on with something else?

One more thing . . .

As a reader/writer, I have always been interested in the art of allusion, the writerly trick of using a single reference to summon up a galaxy of additional meaning. I’ve enjoyed doing that here, through the reference to Eliot's poem and Webber’s musical (Episode 4). But when an allusion is unfamiliar (that is, the readers don’t recognize the reference), they can be frustrated and feel left out. That’s one reason I am so grateful for the power of the internet, which can (through the magic of hot links) call up the reference. Did the allusion work for you here? Did it add to your understanding of the story? Or was it simply distracting?

As I said, I covet your thoughts on this. But while we take some time to explore our ideas, I will have another story to share with you, beginning later in May. I’ll have a few details for you soon, but I can tell you right now that it isn’t a Khat-story. China and I are in charge of it, which makes the writing a lot easier. 😏

And here’s a quick reminder that the next Pecan Springs/China Bayles mystery is scheduled for June 7. Forget Me Never is available for preorder now.