Coraline

door.
    The other crazy old man upstairs was standing in the doorway, holding a tall black hat in his hands. The rats scampered up him, burrowing into his pockets, into his shirt, up his trouser-legs, down his neck.
    The largest rat climbed on to the old man’s shoulders, swung up on the long grey moustache, past the big black-button eyes, and on to the top of the man’s head.
    In seconds the only evidence that the rats were there at all were the restless lumps under the man’s clothes, forever sliding from place to place across him; and there was still the largest rat, who stared down, with glittering red eyes, at Coraline from the man’s head.
    The old man put his hat on, and the last rat was gone.
    ‘Hello, Coraline,’ said the other old man upstairs. ‘I heard you were here. It is time for the rats to have their dinner. But you can come up with me, if you like, and watch them feed.’
    There was something hungry in the old man’s button eyes that made Coraline feel uncomfortable. ‘No, thank you,’ she said. ‘I’m going outside to explore.’
    The old man nodded, very slowly. Coraline could hear the rats whispering to each other, although she couldn’t tell what they were saying.
    She was not certain that she wanted to know what they were saying.
    Her other parents stood in the kitchen doorway as she walked down the corridor, smiling identical smiles, and waving slowly. ‘Have a nice time outside,’ said her other mother.
    ‘We’ll just wait here for you to come back,’ said her other father.
    When Coraline got to the front door, she turned back and looked at them. They were still watching her, and waving, and smiling.
    Coraline walked outside, and down the steps.

 
    Miss Spink and Miss Forcible came on to the stage.

Chapter 4
    The house looked exactly the same from the outside. Or almost exactly the same; around Miss Spink and Miss Forcible’s door were blue and red light bulbs that flashed on and off spelling out words, the lights chasing each other around the door. On and off, around and around. ASTOUNDING! was followed by A THEATRICAL and then TRIUMPH!!!
    It was a sunny, cold day, exactly like the one she’d left.
    There was a polite noise from behind her.
    She turned round. Standing on the wall next to her was a large black cat, identical to the large black cat she’d seen in the grounds at home.
    ‘Good afternoon,’ said the cat.
    Its voice sounded like the voice at the back of Coraline’s head, the voice she thought words in, but a man’s voice, not a girl’s.
    ‘Hello,’ said Coraline. ‘I saw a cat like you in the garden at home. You must be the other cat.’
    The cat shook its head. ‘No,’ it said. ‘I’m not the other anything. I’m me.’ It tipped its head on one side; green eyes glinted. ‘You people are spread all over the place. Cats, on the other hand, keep ourselves together. If you see what I mean.’
    ‘I suppose. But if you’re the same cat I saw at home, how can you talk?’
    Cats don’t have shoulders, not like people do. But the cat shrugged, in one smooth movement that started at the tip of its tail and ended in a raised movement of its whiskers. ‘I can talk.’
    ‘Cats don’t talk at home.’
    ‘No?’ said the cat.
    ‘No,’ said Coraline.
    The cat leapt smoothly from the wall to the grass, near Coraline’s feet. It stared up at her.
    ‘Well, you’re the expert on these things,’ said the cat drily. ‘After all, what would I know? I’m only a cat.’
    It began to walk away, head and tail held high and proud.
    ‘Come back,’ said Coraline. ‘Please. I’m sorry. I really am.’
    The cat stopped walking, and sat down, and began to wash itself, thoughtfully, apparently unaware of Coraline’s existence.
    ‘We  . . . we could be friends, you know,’ said Coraline.
    ‘We could be rare specimens of an exotic breed of African dancing elephants,’ said the cat. ‘But we’re not. At least,’ it added cattily, after darting a brief look at Coraline, ‘ I’m not.’
    Coraline sighed.
    ‘Please. What’s your name?’ Coraline asked the cat. ‘Look, I’m Coraline. OK?’
    The cat yawned slowly, carefully, revealing a mouth and tongue of astounding pinkness. ‘Cats don’t have names,’ it said.
    ‘No?’ said Coraline.
    ‘No,’ said the cat. ‘Now, you people have names. That’s because you don’t know who you are. We know who we are, so we don’t need names.’
    There was something irritatingly self-centred about the