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‘Fleabag, indeed. I bet he has more fleas that I do,’ grumbled the cat, as they headed back towards the main crossing to the lake.

‘You know, Cat, I have this really strange feeling that whatever happened here was somehow connected with that white light last night. Only, I still don’t get why it made my hands go all weird?’

‘And my tail!’

‘Really? What happened to your tail?’

‘It went all black hole-like. It totally freaked me out. I thought I was about to get sucked into myself or something.’

‘Army, train, white light, a huge hole in the railway line. What do you reckon it could mean?’

‘That it’s probably time to get the heck out of dodge, while we still can.’

Arthur stopped and looked at him.

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Beats me. I think I heard it on a cowboy film once.’

‘Really!?’

Reaching the road, Arthur found that the barricades from the previous evening had all been removed. The men, too, were gone. The only signs that anything had happened were dozens of scorched patches of ground, all triangular in shape and about the same size.

‘What do you think could cause burn marks like that?’ he asked, crouching down to examine one of them.

‘Giant pizza slices,’ mused the cat, and jumped out of the way as a twig came hurtling towards him.

‘Well, whatever they were, they’ve all been cleared away, by the looks of it.’

Disappointed not to have found anything more and guessing that he probably wasn’t going to now, Arthur left the cat stalking something in the hedgerow and headed to the jetty. On the other side of the lake, yesterday’s crowd had returned; groups of kids were jumping and shouting near the water’s edge, while their parents lay on towels nearby, looking like pink seals.

‘Damn birds!’ meowed the cat, catching up to him.

‘No luck?’ Arthur asked, casting out his fishing line.

‘Luck? Depends on what you mean by luck. I wasn’t trying to eat them, if that’s what you were thinking. Not much into feathers—they’re always getting stuck in my teeth. No, if you must know, I was just trying to teach them a lesson.’

‘Really? What kind of lesson?’

‘I don’t know, just a lesson… What?’ he meowed, seeing Arthur’s puzzled look. ‘Why should there have to be a reason for wanting to teach pesky birds a lesson?’

‘Yeah, but Cat…’

But before he could finish what he was going to say, the tip of his rod dipped sharply.

‘Oh my God. It’s a monster!’ he cried, striking hard and feeling a heavy weight suddenly twisting and pulling on the other end.

‘Speaking of fish, it might come as a surprise to you to know that I’m not into fish much, either.’

‘What kind of cat are you?’

‘The roast chicken kind.’

Arthur laughed.

‘You know that they’re birds too though, right?’

‘Not the way I get served them, they’re not.’

It must have taken a full ten minutes before Arthur was been able to land it. The fish had weaved left and right, breaking the surface, and thrashing about wildly before diving again, attempting to tangle his line in the reeds. Finally managing to haul it onto the jetty, Arthur watched triumphantly as it flopped around on the weathered wooden boards. By far the biggest ever, in his mind he could already picture the expressions on everyone’s faces when he brought it home.

‘So, do I take it that you’re planning on keeping it, then?’ asked the cat.

‘Too right I am! This one’s for the frying pan. Aunty M will have a fit. She’s always laughing because I never catch anything big. Now let’s see what she’s got to say!’

‘Right you are, then.’

‘Just look at it! Why would you ever think I wouldn’t want to keep it.’

‘Oh, no reason, really,’ purred the cat. ‘Only it seems pretty desperate to try to make a deal with you, that’s all.’

Arthur raised an eyebrow.

‘A what?! Oh, come on—you’re having me on?’

Arthur stared at the fish and then at the cat and back at the fish again.

‘Honestly?’

‘Yep, it’s true.’

‘What sort of deal?’ he asked, bewildered. ‘And why can’t I hear it?’

‘No idea, but it keeps going on about some kind of box thing. It’s quite hard to understand him, actually—he has a really strong fishy accent. Apparently, this box fell into the lake last night during the white light, and hundreds of men came looking for it afterwards. If we agree to let him go, he’ll take us to it.’

‘The white light? You mean the fish saw it, too?’

‘What did I just say?

‘Well, yeh, but…’

‘So, you have to decide and decide quickly because he says that he can’t breathe.’

‘Oh right,’ said Arthur, suddenly feeling terrible. ‘OK, fine—I guess.’ And gently placing the fish back in the water, they watched it floating lifelessly in front of them.

‘God, you don’t think that it’s…?’

‘No idea.’

‘Well—go on, ask him then!’

‘What, ask him if he’s dead?’

‘Yes!’

‘Don’t you think that’s a strange question to ask someone?’

‘No!’

‘Fine!’

‘Also, why can’t I hear you talking to him? Is this why you don’t like fish? Because you can speak with them?’

‘Me? No! I don’t like them because they taste like mud. And actually, I’ve never talked to a fish in my life. Well, at least not until this one started just now.’

‘Cat, there’s something really strange going on, isn’t there?’

‘Really strange!’ agreed the cat. ‘And it says it just needs a moment to get its breath back.’

Before long, the fish wiggled its fins and began to swim in little circles. Finally turning in their direction, it poked its head out of the water.

‘He says he’s ready. And that the box isn’t far. Apparently, we’ll find it under an uneven stone in the middle of some long water grass, which isn’t very deep.’

‘What do you reckon? Do you think it’s really telling the truth?’

‘No idea, but good luck finding it because I’m not going down after it.’

Arthur grinned. The cat absolutely hated getting his fur wet, and he remembered how he’d showered him several times with the garden hose when he was younger.