Mister Mishkins' Apothecary

Chapter One

Mosaic Street

At exactly one minute to dawn, if you knew where to look, just past the third tree to the east of the early morning blackbird, a small rainbow rippled in the breeze. The ripple was there for a moment; blink, and you would miss it. One solitary butterfly, almost invisible to the eye, remained where the rainbow had rippled. Mister Mishkins had arrived.

On an ordinary, quiet day, with a cloudless blue sky overhead, Luca Alexander sat on a swing in the park, looking around him. Luca was nine years old, and he loved to spend his time outside. He liked the feeling of space around him, preferring it much more to being at home where his big brother and sister picked on him, and his mum and dad were too busy to spend time with him. He was always trying to drag his mum out for a walk in the park so they could play together, but she was too busy with everyone and everything else. Instead, he would wait until no one was watching and then slip away by himself. His mum always knew that he went to the park and made sure that he knew to be back before 6pm.

Luca had unruly blond-brown hair that curled around his chubby cheeks. He was a serious boy, but when excited by something, his mouth would break into a wide smile showing a toothy grin that lit up his whole face. His eyes were Nordic blue, and he often screwed them up looking against the sun. Luca seemed to have an inquisitive look on his face, and he was always asking questions. He was just over four feet tall – and some of that was down to his curly hair. He was also regularly covered in mud, as Luca loved nothing more than kicking up leaves and jumping into puddles. Today, he was wearing dark green shorts and a navy blue t-shirt, both decorated with mud splashes from previous puddle jumping.

Luca kicked his legs again, urging the swing to go higher and higher, each time peering hard into the distance to see what he could see. So far, it was only houses, and he knew what they looked like. He just knew that there was something special out there, something only he could see.

With one very powerful push, Luca flew high, and he thought he was going to come off the swing. His tummy felt funny. He had a fluttering sensation inside as though there were butterflies in his stomach, and he gripped the chains tightly, hanging on for dear life. It was then that he saw it. In that moment, just before gravity took his body back down again, he saw the glimmer of a rainbow. Scowling in concentration, Luca braved the big swing once more and – yes! He saw the glimmer of a rainbow – with what looked like butterflies hovering above it.

‘What on earth…?’ he exclaimed, as he dragged his feet on the ground, trying to get the swing to stop quickly so he could follow the rainbow. The swing twisted sideways as Luca battled to get it to slow down. As soon as he could, he jumped off and ran off down the street as fast as he could, towards where, over the rooftops, he had seen the flicker of a rainbow with butterflies hovering by the colourful sky.

The bell on the door tinkled as Mister Mishkins, using a beautiful ornate golden key, unlocked his shop and opened the door. As he closed it behind him, he looked out through the square panes of glass on to the sunlit street outside. Apart from a pair of pigeons, there was no one else on Mosaic Street. Everything felt calm and peaceful. It was the start of a new day, and all was quiet.

Happy that all was well, Mister Mishkins pressed a button on the inside of the shop wall, just inside the door, and waited. Slowly, a rainbow-striped awning unfolded itself outside. The bright colours cast a second pastel-hued rainbow on the floor as the sun shone through the awning. The pastel awning moved gently in the breeze, causing the colours on the floor to flicker. With his striped ginger tail held aloft, Mister Mishkins smiled to himself as he played hopscotch on the floor, his paws dancing on the different colours as he went back and forth. When he smiled, his whiskers moved around his face, as if they were floating beside him. Of course, he played hopscotch standing up on his two back legs, as - in case you haven’t already realised - Mister Mishkins is a very special cat.

The pigeons on the street flew past Mister Mishkins’ shop, breaking the spell he had cast upon himself. Straightening his emerald-green waistcoat, he walked over to the long wooden counter that ran the length of his shop. Pressing another button, the name outside above his shop gradually became illuminated, another rainbow of slowly changing colours spelling out:

Mister Mishkins’ Apothecary

Satisfied that all was as it should be, Mister Mishkins stretched and poured himself a cup of cream, and then jumped up onto a tall stool. The stool was tucked into a corner behind the counter, opposite the door, so that Mister Mishkins could keep an eye on what was happening on Mosaic Street. On the stool was a luxurious cushion, gold velvet with dark green tassels. Having settled down, he waited, and waiting was something that he was very good at.

Mister Mishkins was very impressive indeed. When he drew himself up to his full height, he was a whisker over 3 feet tall, plus you had to allow extra height for the top of his tail and the tiny tufts on the tips of his ears. He was ginger and caramel in colour, and if you mixed the colours together, you would make butterscotch, which was one of Mister Mishkins’ favourite flavours. He gave the appearance of wearing spectacles, with perfect white rings around his eyes that grew naturally in his thick fur. His eyes, the colour of burnished copper and sage, gleamed with curiosity, and the cushion he sat on matched his eyes perfectly. His thin face ended in a natural smile, one that became bigger when he spoke with his deep, resounding, comforting bass voice. For Mister Mishkins was a gentle soul.

He was also a kind soul. His shop, on Mosaic Street, was tucked away from the busy centre of town, but people always seemed to find it when they needed it most. To many, Mister Mishkins’ Apothecary was a mythical place and Mister Mishkins was a mysterious creature. His was a story, a legend, having passed down from generation to generation, with many firm in their convictions that no such place existed. But often people became lost, and they found themselves standing under the pastel rainbow awning, looking in through the glass panes of the bay window. Their curiosity about the tall ginger cat behind the counter always lured them in, and it seemed that Mister Mishkins was able to help them find their way once more.

Looking up at the array of dark wooden drawers behind him, each with a different word written on it in gold italic lettering, Mister Mishkins wondered what today would bring. For there was no doubt that every day brought something new, something unexpected. But he was always there for those whose feet led them to his old door with the tinkling bell underneath the rainbow awning.

Mister Mishkins settled down for the day, a gentle purr coming from deep within him as he looked out at the world beyond.

Mister Mishkins had barely let his purr out when he saw a young boy run onto the cobbled street. His chest was moving in and out from breathing heavily, as though he had run a marathon. His cheeks were pink from the effort of running, and his curly hair was windswept. As Mister Mishkins watched, the little boy slowed to walk and then stood right outside the Apothecary, turning around on the spot as though looking for something.

As Mister Mishkins watched, he saw the boy look at his shop, his attention focused on the rainbow on the floor. The boy rushed to the window, cupping his hands together and pressing them against the glass, trying to look through and staring intently at the rainbow as it shimmered on the Apothecary floor.

Looking up into the shop, still through his cupped hands, the boy’s eyes met those of Mister Mishkins, who blinked slowly at the boy, his own chubby cheeks breaking into a smile of invitation.

Slowly, cautiously, the boy walked past the glass window and stood by the door, as though unsure whether to go in. Mister Mishkins blinked at the boy again, who then slowly reached his hand up and turned the handle.

The bell jangled as the door opened. Mister Mishkins watched as the boy stood there, his curious eyes growing wider and wider as he looked around him.

Mister Mishkins jumped off his cushion and stretched, first his front legs, and then his back legs, making ballet poses as he did so. He walked towards the boy and weaved around his legs, his tail leaving a trail of ginger fur as he did so.

The boy giggled.

‘That tickles!’ he said, as he bent down to stroke the purring ginger cat.

‘I’m sorry,’ replied Mister Mishkins.

The little boy jumped backwards in shock.

‘Woah!’

Mister Mishkins smiled at him.

‘Hello.’

‘You can talk! But… But… You’re a…’

‘A cat. Yes. All animals can talk, you know, but it takes a very special person to listen and hear them speak.’

The boy nodded, thinking over the words.

‘My name is Mister Mishkins.’ The ginger cat drew himself up to his full height, which was still a foot shorter than the boy.

‘You can walk!’ squealed the boy, hopping from one foot to the other in excitement.

‘Well, yes,’ smiled Mister Mishkins.

‘This is so cool! A walking, talking cat! My name is Luca, by the way.’

Mister Mishkins held out a paw to the boy.

‘It is an honour to meet you, young Master Luca.’

Luca took Mister Mishkins’ paw and shook it, noticing how cool the pink pads of the feline’s foot felt compared to the silky softness of his fur.

‘What is this place? It’s amazing!’ asked Luca as he gazed around the Apothecary.

Mister Mishkins closed the door, the bell jangling once more, and walked back to the stool before jumping up onto his cushion. Sitting up, he looked down at Luca.

‘This is an Apothecary. It is a place where people come when they feel frightened, or scared, or lost. You can only find this Apothecary when you really need to.’

Luca nodded thoughtfully. ‘But all these drawers… What’s in them?’

Mister Mishkins stood up from his cushion, turned around three times, and then curled up, watching Luca intently. He smiled, and as he did so, his whiskers seemed to grow in length.

‘Well, that’s something of a secret…,’ Mister Mishkins began. As he spoke, he heard the first rumbles of a storm outside, fast approaching the Apothecary doors.

Chapter Two

Thunder

The bell tinkled loudly as the Apothecary door slammed shut, making both Mister Mishkins and Luca jump.

‘Sorry!’ came a small voice.

A thin woman with short jet-black hair and eyes the colour of hazel stood just inside the doorway, looking at Mister Mishkins and Luca apprehensively and glancing back over her shoulder at the street behind her.

‘I don’t like thunder,’ said the woman, by way of explanation.

Mister Mishkins raised his eyebrows, waiting a moment for her to relax before speaking. Luca just stood there in silence, switching his gaze between Mister Mishkins and the floor, unsure of what to say or do, as someone else was suddenly in the shop with them.

Before Mister Mishkins could say anything in response to the woman, there was another low rumble of thunder from outside. The skies had gone dark, and the illuminated sign looked brighter than ever against the pewter-grey sky, although, rather mysteriously, the sun continued to shine through the awning.

‘Thunder?’ said Mister Mishkins.

‘Yes. It scares me. It is so – loud. And it makes me jump. You don’t always know when it is going to happen,’ said the woman. She pulled her crimson cardigan closer around her as she looked out nervously on to Mosaic Street. She didn’t even seem to realise that it was the ginger cat who had spoken to her, not the boy.

‘Thunder, you say. I may be able to help,’ said Mister Mishkins, elegantly rising from his stool and jumping down onto the floor. He calmly walked along the row of drawers behind him, whiskers raised as though he were smiling.

‘Ah, here we are.’

Mister Mishkins stopped at the drawer with Thunder written on it in gold italic letters. Glancing briefly at the lady, giving the slightest of winks to Luca, Mister Mishkins opened the drawer and stood back…

As the drawer opened, a cat named Jasper stretched as he sat up and looked out at the people inside the Apothecary. Luca’s eyes grew as large as saucers while the woman took a small step back and gasped as she looked at the colourful cat with bright eyes and who had the sound of thunder echoing around him. The cat had long fur and a white chest and white paws. There was a smudge of white running from between his eyes down one side of his nose, and he had one white cheek. The other cheek was tabby coloured, the colour of a peanut in its shell, with small black lines where the whiskers came out. On the cat’s forehead was a very clear ‘M’ and, like Mister Mishkins, this cat had tufty ears.

Having finished his stretch, Jasper looked at the woman with his pearlescent lime green eyes. Purring gently, he began to speak.

‘Thunder means it is playtime,’ Jasper said, his eyes twinkling as he spoke directly to the woman, who was looking nervously at him.

‘Come and see…’

With that, Jasper looked at the woman before closing his eyes in a long blink. As she looked on in astonishment, a swirling rainbow mist came down around her and the colourful cat with bright eyes. As it cleared, she found herself on top of a mountain with Jasper. There were no clouds, just blue skies and the gentle warmth of the sun shining down on them.

‘What is your name?’ Jasper asked as he looked around the mountaintop. He looked at the dark-haired woman standing next to him, her eyes wide with wonder, although Jasper wasn’t sure whether it was because of the thunder, the magic that had taken them to the mountain, or that a cat was talking to her.

‘Gemma,’ replied the woman, who was still clutching her cardigan close to her as she turned to look at the talking cat. A fluffy tabby, Jasper’s mesmerising bright green eyes were hypnotic, and Gemma found she couldn’t take her own eyes off them. His coat was long and sleek, and she couldn’t help but reach out and stroke him, finding comfort in his purring presence.

‘What are we doing here?’ she asked. ‘Where are we?’

Grinning as only cats can, Jasper blinked at Gemma once more and leapt onto a rock. His paws were huge and, as he landed on the rock, she heard a loud clap – just like the sound of thunder. The clap echoed – away, and away, and away, until it was just a faint rumble.

Jasper turned and smiled at Gemma.

‘That is the sound that you hear,’ said Jasper, lifting a paw and gently waving it at Gemma. ‘These are what make the sound of thunder that scares you so much – my paws. Thunder is just me or my friends, jumping on rocks and stones.’

Jasper leapt again, and he began to purr gently. As he leapt effortlessly from rock to rock, a deep violet butterfly appeared from nowhere and Jasper gave chase, bouncing down the mountain, playing and pirouetting, following the butterfly, and chasing it gently. Each time he landed, the sound Jasper’s huge paws made as they crashed on to the rock echoed around the valley below.

Gemma watched, fascinated, and then slowly began to smile. The fear she had felt since she heard that first rumble of thunder near Mosaic Street left her as she watched Jasper joyously chasing the butterfly. She soon noticed that not only were his feet making the thunderclaps as he landed on the rock, but his purrs also added to the noise, echoing around the mountain top and into the distance.

Watching Jasper elegantly leaping down the mountain, Gemma smiled to herself. Fancy being scared of a beautiful cat chasing a butterfly!

Gemma continued to watch as Jasper disappeared down the mountain and through the mist below. The very tip of his tail was the last part of him to vanish. Suddenly, she felt a movement, as though she was being pulled backwards from behind her belly button, and as she blinked, she realised she was back in the strange shop she had found, staring at the ginger cat with the smiling face and copper and sage eyes. She noticed that when he smiled, Mister Mishkins’ eyes seemed to have more shades of green in them, and his cheeks became chubby, as though he was very, very happy. He really was a lovely cat, and quite majestic. Beside him, there was a little boy. When she first arrived, she had barely realised there was anyone other than the cat in the Apothecary, such was her fear. Now she smiled at the boy, who gave her a wide grin.

Mister Mishkins looked at Gemma, enjoying seeing her smile, and noting that her fear seemed to have vanished.