'Ding Dong Bell' by Zoe Critchley

Ding dong, bell peals rang out from the local church. Their knell mixed with the chatter of the group of nosy townspeople that gathered at the gate to the farm.

“What is it?” someone asked. 

“Pussy’s in the well!” someone else told them. She wasn’t actually called Pussy. Her real name was Cat - Catherine Kitter - but children could be cruel, and adults could turn a blind eye. She had been working as a farmhand to make some extra money. Her family were poor, you see.

 “Who put her in?” 

“I’ve heard it was that little Johnny Flynn, the farmer’s boy.” 

As Johnny Flynn would have it told, he and Cat had been playing. Johnny Flynn was full of malice. He would never have played with her. He would have pushed her, though. 

“Who pulled her out?” 

“I don’t think they have yet! They are still trying!” 

“Who found her?”

 “That little Tommy Stout from the butchers, you know?” 

“My god! That must have been horrifying for him!” 

Nobody cared about Cat. 

“What a naughty boy was that!” they always said of Johnny Flynn, “What a naughty boy he is!” 

Johnny Flynn would not suffer consequences. He never faced any music. They dismissed each and every transgression because they thought he could and should be trusted, every time; trusted not to break the school window; trusted not to set fire to the heather; trusted not to try to drown poor ‘Pussy’ Cat Kitter. 

Poor Cat Kitter, who never did him any harm. She never did anybody any harm.

 They replaced her with a real cat, you know. That was what I heard. The real cat could not milk the cows or sweep the yard, but ate all of the mice in the farmer’s barn, so was considered an improvement.