The Truth behind The Legends: Schrödinger's Cat(Christopher Long) It is a crisp autumn day. The sun is shining, there is not a cloud in the sky and a gentle breeze blows, making the leaves quiver on the trees. Occasionally one floats downward adding to the patchy carpet of red and brown covering the dull grey pavement. I walk along it, zigzagging through plastic barriers. The road is lined with slow moving cars beeping their horns in frustration at the roadworks and temporary traffic lights, as if this action will somehow change the halting movements into a continuous one. In contrast to these angry motorists I feel excited making my way to TCA's television studio to film the first episode in a new series of my show: The Truth Behind The Legends.

It has been three years since the pilot episode. In the meantime, several events have taken place that still feel like a dream. The show's popularity grows steadily and we have now recorded multiple seasons. To be honest, I thought the show would only last one, before TCA abandoned it and moved on, but it has won several times at the Armchair Television Awards in the Creative Journalism and Interview Categories.

The studio itself has now become a major player in the television and streaming markets. Because of this, well known programs such as the Yum Yum Cooking Show and The Analytical Hour have relocated to TCA. Due to the success of my show, I have been approached by several representatives from other studios, big and small, who asked me to work for them and, in their words, work my magic! The only difference between these studios are the salaries they offer, the price of the meals they buy me and the costs of their suits. I always decline. I would never leave TCA. They took my programme concept seriously and gave me a chance when no one else would, the studio feels like home and the other employees are like my extended family.

To reward my loyalty they have been more than generous allowing me to maintain full creative control, laying to rest my fears that the studio would gradually have taken it away from me. I have been able to select my own team from the studios employees who help me make each episode the best it can be. My show has its own dedicated studio and I have a small office on the second floor.

A sudden shout from a pedestrian jolts me back to the present. I am a few yards away from my destination. Pushing open the entrance doors I find myself in a medium sized studio with grey walls. Written upon them is the name of my show. Next to the title there are pictures representing some of the interviewees from previous seasons: the Tooth Fairy, Father Christmas and my first ever guest: The Easter Bunny. On the wall facing the audience is a medium size projector screen. I take a look around and think: 'It's good to be back'.

Sally, the newly promoted floor manager, approaches me holding two steaming cups of coffee. She is of medium build with shoulder length red hair, green eyes and is wearing a long black sleeved top, matching trousers and brown ankle boots. She smiles when she sees me, "Max, welcome back!" she says excitedly, putting down the cups on a nearby table and rushing over to hug me. The walkie talkie clipped to her waistband digs into me, but I hardly feel it, it is so good to see her.

"Hello, Sally," I say when she eventually releases me: "How are you, how was your break?" "Fine, thank you. I went to visit my parents and had a lovely time. So relaxing, I didn't check my phone once." "Sally, are you lying to me?" I ask. "Yes, of course. I kept checking it constantly to see whether the show would be picked up for a third season! Anyway, enough about me, tell me about your holiday." "I took a trip to Amsterdam, but I could not relax, either, wanting to know TCA's decision after that disastrous series two finale." Sally says: "Don't remind me, I don't think any of us expected Father Christmas, the hero of children, would come in for an interview on live television drunk! Breaking the furniture in the 'Green Room' which took hours to clean up, not the present I wanted for Christmas." "You were fantastic and saved the day!" I exclaim. Sally waves away the compliment replying: "It's amazing what black coffee can do." "If it wasn't for you, Santa would have embarrassed himself on live television." "True, do you think that gives me an advantage in the job market?" We both laugh. "I could not believe we only got told two weeks ago that the show was being renewed," Sally sighs. "The management really knows how to build suspense," I reply. "We need to celebrate. I have just the thing," Sally says, retrieving the coffees and handing me one. "It's not champagne but the sentiment is still the same," she adds. I smile, we raise up our cups to the new season. After we have finished our drinks, I make my way to my office, sit behind my desk, take out my laptop and prepare for the live show broadcasting at six o'clock.

At quarter to, not having heard anything from this evening's guest, despite numerous messages and phone calls, I am worried. Heading down to the studio floor which is now packed, I find Sally watching some technicians conducting last minute checks. Her radio chatters inaudibly and she responds in a low voice. When she sees me, she looks up: "Hey, Max, what's up?" "Any sign of our guest? It won't be much of a season premiere without her," I say worriedly. "Would you relax, I just had confirmation from Jerry that she is in the building. He is bringing her up now, in fact...." she scans the room and points: "There she is!" I follow her gaze and see the guest. I thank Sally before rushing off to intercept a feline, who is looking awestruck, accompanied by a tall man with black hair.

I silently nod my head in thanks to Jerry, the man walks off. "Ms Honeywood, welcome," I say to a slim white furry elegant cat wearing a pink, wide brimmed hat which is secured by an identically coloured ribbon. "My name is Max Sturgess, we spoke on the phone." The cat extends a well manicured paw which she rests on my palm. It had been trimmed, so that all I feel is a slight scratch. When she speaks it is in a refined tone: "Mr Sturgess, I am delighted to make your acquaintance. I have the photos and my grandfather's notebook you requested," she adds, lifting her paw and patting a beige tote bag around her waist. "Thank you, they will be a great help," I say. "Not at all, thank you so much for inviting me onto your show and giving me the opportunity to share my grandfather's story. I must confess, I've never been in a television studio before Mr. Sturgess. It is very exciting to be here. Where do I sit? What should I do?" "Well, our floor manager Sally, will show you where to sit when the time comes. Just answer the questions, be yourself and you will be fine." "I will answer them to the best of my ability," Ms Honeywood assures me, unable to keep the excitement from her voice. As if on cue, Sally walks up to us. "Ms Honeywood, my name is Sally Marsh, I'm here to take you to makeup." "Lead the way Ms Marsh," the cat replies.

The next time I see my guest we are just about to go live. She is curled up on the guest chair waiting for the show to begin, looking through a copy of the questions she is going to be asked, nodding approvingly. She has made herself at home. Ms Honeywood has obviously forgotten about her first time interview nerves. However, I am nervous. It seems no matter how many series I do, I can never shake the feeling that something might go wrong. I go backstage and wait. In the quiet all I can hear is my own breathing. Time slows in the silence. Seconds tick by. Finally, after what seems like an eternity, the title sequence is displayed on the monitor to my left. It features a montage of past guests smiling, laughing and gesturing, accompanied by upbeat saxophone music. The silence is replaced by the buzz of anticipation, as every member of the crew gets ready for the new season. They pat me on the back wishing me luck. My nervousness is replaced by adrenaline. When the intro finishes, I take one last look at my notes, put them in my pocket and walk out from behind a red curtain. The studio audience cheers. I wave and smile, and stop in the centre of the stage to deliver my opening monologue.

"Boxes come in a variety of shapes, sizes and colours, holding anything from new shop bought items to old objects of nostalgic value, birthday presents and baby shower gifts. However, in 1935 one contained a scientific experiment conducted by the Austrian physicist, Ernest Schrödinger. A cat was sealed inside a box with something that might kill it. He theorised that until you reopened it you would not know if the cat was alive or dead. The experiment became well known and Schrödinger became famous, while the identity of his subject has remained a mystery, until tonight. In this episode my guest is Belinda Honeywood, a relative of 'the cat inside the box', who has kindly agreed to share the cat's story with us. Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to series three of The Truth Behind The Legends."

During the applause that follows, I make my way across the stage, taking my seat. Opposite me, Ms Honeywood's, once relaxed demeanour, has crumbled under the bright studio lights; she is terrified. Sitting bolt upright, tail swishing from side to side, clearly agitated. I cover my microphone and whisper: "It will be alright, just forget about them and talk to me." My words seem to have the desired effect. She gradually relaxes, the tension slowly draining from her body. Only when she is completely relaxed do I begin the interview. Uncovering my mic I say to the audience: "You are probably wondering what is happening, our guest is suffering with first time nerves. I would ask that you extend her the same courtesy you did to me in the first series. Please be patient. Are you ready to begin, Ms Honeywood?" she nods and says: "Just before we do, I would like to say that most of what I am about to share with you and your audience has been told to me by my family." She takes a deep breath and readjusts herself on the seat. "May I call you Belinda?" "Only if I can call you Max." The audience laughs. "It's a deal," I chuckle. "Belinda, welcome to the show." "Thank you for having me, Max," she answers. "My first question is a simple one. Would you tell the audience, both here and watching at home, your relations to Schrödinger's cat?" "He was my grandfather, Percy Lightpaw." My audience is stunned by this revelation. They had no idea the cat inside the box had an identity, let alone a granddaughter. "I see Belinda, let's start from the beginning. Percy was born in 1901, he was the youngest son of Barney Lightpaw, a miner, and Florence Lightpaw, a school teacher." As I say this, a black and white photograph appears on the projector screen of a kitten being cuddled by a tall cat wearing a peak cap with a pocket watch, and a smaller one in a dress. Every member of the audience let out an "Ahh!!!" "Isn't that adorable!" I comment. "What was Percy like in his youth?" "From what I've heard, he was kind and gentle, never hurting a living thing. He chased a lot of animals but only for exercise, never for food." "A vegetarian cat! Now I've heard everything," I laugh. "Later his parents enrolled him at the prestigious 'Meow Academy'." Another black and white picture appears of Percy in his school uniform. The academy emblem, a ball of yarn with one loose strand hanging vertically, is embroidered on his blazer pocket. "What was he like as a father?" "Apparently mischievous, always giving my mum and her sisters sweet treats when their mother was not looking. She could never understand why the kittens were putting on so much weight," she laughs. The audience responds with laughter of their own. "How did he earn his fortune?" "When he was eighteen, he got a Saturday job in restaurant kitchens washing dishes and working his way up until he earned enough to open a club." Another black and white picture appears, in this one Percy is standing proudly in front of an ornate building. "In 1924, 'Nine Lives' opened its doors to the public. Despite a rocky start, due to staffing issues, in the mid twenties and into the thirties it became a lucrative establishment, boasting famous clientele including actors, singers, fashion designers and politicians, all putting aside their ideological differences to enjoy the food, drinks and entertainment that the club had to offer. My researchers tell me that, at this time, your grandfather met your grandmother, is that correct?" Belinda nods: "That's right Max, she worked in the club as a cabaret dancer. It was love at first sight and a year later they got married." A wedding photo appears on the screen of Percy looking very dashing in a morning suit holding paws with his bride, a Siamese cat wearing an elegant wedding dress with a ribbon in her fur. They are standing in front of a church with confetti thrown in the air by well wishers. Their happy union produced offspring including my mother." A picture appeared of six cats of varying sizes sitting in a row looking directly at the camera, one taller than the rest is highlighted for the benefit of the audience. "This is my mum, Violet, with her five sisters. My grandparents were inseparable, living an idyllic life until the day of 'the incident'." "What a lovely romantic story," I say, "But now, I'm afraid we have to confront 'the incident' as you put it." I hand her the small rectangular box of tissues from the table alongside me: "You might need these," I say gently. "I imagine this part of your grandfather's story is quite upsetting. Please take as much time as you need. If it's too uncomfortable, we can stop anytime and continue the interview next week. Turning this episode into a two part special might be good for ratings," I laugh. The audience laughs nervously.

Ms Honeywood pauses and takes a deep breath before responding: "No, let's continue. I believe that it is what my grandfather would have wanted, to bring his story to a wider audience." "You are very brave," I reply. "At what point did Percy Lightpaw meet Ernest Schrödinger?" "From the stories I have heard, he was a regular at the club. In 1935 the business ran into difficulties." "Why was that?" I ask curiously. "Because at that time, new clubs were opening, offering cut price entertainment and so the customers, even the loyal ones, left 'Nine Lives'. My grandfather tried to keep the club open for the sake of his staff, some of whom had families to support. However, with no revenue coming in, his personal fortune took a hit and he could no longer afford to keep his establishment open. This was the biggest regret of his life, not being able to support his loyal employees who had given him so much." Ms Honeywood wipes her eyes and blows her nose before continuing: "Percy being the optimist he was, looked for other employment without success. He was at his wits end, all he dreamed about was reopening the club. One night he came home very excited and told grandma Kitty that a former patron had offered him a substantial sum of money to help out with a scientific experiment and that with the money he will get paid his dream could be realised. The next day he woke up, said goodbye to his family and went to the house of Ernest Schrödinger. Months passed, my grandma had to move in with her mum so she could save money and had support with the kittens. It was very noisy in the house, having six kittens all demanding attention."

The audience laughs: having noisy relations is something anyone can relate to. "How did his absence affect your grandmother?" "Not well, my mum would find grandma staring blankly out of the front room window. When mum asked her what she was doing, she would reply absently: 'Waiting for my Percy to come home.' When he did not show, she would go to her room and cry herself to sleep. You must understand, Max, this period was the longest she had been apart from Percy." Ms Honeywood wipes her eyes again. "Grandma did not even know whether she would see her husband again.

On the day he did return, mum had to reassure grandma that it was not a hallucination, this was hard to do because she didn't believe it herself. Their beloved Percy had come back! They rushed out of the front door racing down the drive to greet him. However, the Percy Lightpaw that came back that day was very different from the one who had left a year earlier." "What do you mean?" "My mother said that grandpa's entire personality had changed. He did not seem to recognise his family, the lust for life he always had exhibited had been extinguished. His coat had gone from glossy to dull, his fur from well groomed to tangled. Once a good natured friendly cat who loved everybody, he became suspicious and afraid, hissing and spitting. He did not enjoy being outside anymore. He refused to share the bedroom with Kitty and insisted on sleeping in the smallest room of the house. He became a recluse staying permanently in his room. Grandma just left his meals on a tray outside the door.

When he fell ill, my grandmother tried her best to nurse him. In time she managed to get close enough but he would not take his medicine, having a deep distrust of liquid in bottles. Whenever they tried to give him some, he trembled visibly and always repeated the same phrase: 'Keep that poison away from me.' 'Hush Percy my love, no one is going to hurt you. This will make you better', my grandmother would say soothingly. He would not listen. The final humiliation my grandfather endured was that the money promised to him by Ernest Schrödinger was never deposited into his bank account and so 'Nine Lives' remained shut." "That is terrible," I remark. Ms Honeywood nods and continues: "My family didn't have any answers and were at a loss to explain any of it until Percy passed away peacefully in his sleep later that year. When they were clearing out the box room, they discovered a notebook that none of them had seen before which explained the dramatic change in his behaviour. I was given his notebook as proof of my mother's claims." "This evening you have very kindly provided us with the notebook you inherited from your mother. If it is alright with you Ms Honeywood, to finish the show I would like to read some passages." "Go ahead Max."

Turning back to the table, I pick up a small black notebook. The relevant pages I am going to read have already been marked with yellow posted notes. I flipped the cover and read the first passage:

'Today I'm excited to make a long lasting contribution to the world of science. Ernest has asked me to get into a box with no further explanation, a puzzling request, but I will do it willingly if it helps my friend in his scientific endeavour'.

I turn to another page somewhere in the middle and continue:

'It is cramped in the box. I am being carried again. We are always on the move. I long to see where we are, but I cannot. I only see patches of light through several holes in the lid. I notice there is something in here with me. It is a glass bottle, every time I reach for it, it rolls away, but when the label faces me I'm able to read it. What I see fills me with horror. The bottle contains poison. Does Ernest want me to commit suicide? What kind of man is he, he who prompts the taking of another creature's life? Well I am not going to. I will survive this strange experiment and go home to see my family.'

I turned to the last marked page:

'I do not know how long I was in that box, but today it opened. Ernest told me: "It has finished, you are free to leave." He thanked me for my participation and told me I can go home, but I have been in the box for so long. The outside world is too big and noisy, the light is too bright. I beg him to let me stay, but he declines. What a cruel man he is to refuse my plea. The box is comforting and relaxing: the box is my home.'

I let Percy Lightpaw's words hang in the air before asking Ms Honeywood whether she has something to add before the end of the interview. Belinda looks at me with tears in her eyes; "I would like to commend you and your team, Max, for bringing my grandfather's story to light. I am sure wherever he is, he is purring." "You're very welcome ," I say, a little choked up at the eloquence and the courage of her commitment to the memory of her grandfather. Then swivelling my seat toward the camera. I say: "Thank you to Belinda Honeywood for sharing her grandfather's incredible story. Join me next Tuesday when The Truth Behind The Legends continues. In the meantime, why not catch up with all previous episodes and seasons on TCM's streaming service." Once we are off the air I say goodbye to my guest and colleagues heading home for the night.

*****

One evening, many months later, I am looking for something to watch on television when an interview catches my eye. The guest is world renowned architect, David Silver, who has renovated a 1920's club which will have its grand opening next weekend. He explains that he got his inspiration after watching his favourite TV show: The Truth Behind The Legends. A Video plays guiding the viewer through the lavish interior of the building; it ends with a close-up of a commemorative plaque. It reads: 'Those who are discussed, will never be truly forgotten.' In loving memory of Percy Lightpaw. The name of the club is 'Nine Lives'. I am filled with warmth knowing that so many years after his death Percy got his wish.

---