The Brave Kitten

Chapter Eight

“You let him out?” Helena gaped at Gran as they stood outside the gates after school. She couldn’t understand it. For a moment when Gran had started to explain, Helena had thought that she must be joking – that it was some sort of silly story, but it wasn’t.

“I’m so sorry, Helena, I wasn’t thinking. It was the washing, you see – I had to get it in because of the rain. Oh, I’m not explaining this very well.”

Gran looked exhausted, Helena realized. She’d probably spent ages getting Caramel back in. She felt guilty for being angry, but only a little bit. How could Gran have let him out, when it was so important that he stayed in the kitchen?

“He slipped past me. He was so quick…”

“We might need to get him to the vet’s to see if he’s damaged his leg.” Helena started off down the road towards home, weaving round everyone pouring out of the school gates. Usually they went back to Gran’s house on the days that Mum was working late, but Helena was sure Gran would understand that she wanted to check up on Caramel first.

“How did you get him back in?” she asked, turning to look at Gran, who was hurrying after her.

Gran stopped and simply stared at her, and Helena’s stomach seemed to lurch inside her. All at once, she knew what Gran had been trying to make her understand.

She hadn’t got him back. Caramel was lost!

Helena turned back, looking at the road and the cars flashing by, taking everyone home from school. Then she simply ran. She ran all the way home, ignoring Gran calling after her. After a little while, she couldn’t hear Gran shouting anyway.

Her mouth was dry, her heart racing. She was so horribly certain that as she turned into their street, she would see the little heap of sandy fur again. And that this time, Caramel wouldn’t have been so lucky. He had his leg in plaster – how could he get out of the way of a car?

When she turned the corner into their road, Helena stopped for a moment, panting, her face scarlet. There was no cat in the road, not that she could see. And no crowd of horrified passers-by. She took a deep, shuddering breath and went on, hurrying up their side of the road, and then carefully crossing over and checking the other side. Looking under all the cars.

At last she stopped, leaning against the front wall of their house and trying not to cry. Where was he? Gran had tried to explain that he’d run under the side gate, so he must have come out on to the road. Perhaps he was just hiding somewhere, Helena thought, with a sudden jolt of hope. She dropped her school bag by the front door, and set off up the road, calling. “Caramel! Caramel!”

But he didn’t come, and she couldn’t even hear an answering mew. She flinched as a car sped past, wanting to shout after the driver to slow down. What if Caramel ran across the road to get to her?

Would he come anyway? Helena wondered worriedly. Perhaps he didn’t know her well enough to want to come back. He’d only lived with them for half a week, after all. But he’d been getting so friendly – she had really felt like he was their cat.

Perhaps he’d gone back to his old house – his old owner – if he knew where it was. Helena gulped back tears.

“Helena!” Gran was hurrying down the road towards her. “Oh, I was so worried. You crossed all those roads on your own.”

Helena stared back at her. “I’m sorry, Gran,” she said breathlessly. She’d been so frightened, she’d just thought about getting home and finding Caramel, nothing else.

“He’s not here, Gran…” Helena said miserably. “I’ve called and called. Maybe he’s gone back to his old home. Or he might just be lost. He might be one of those cats who doesn’t have a good sense of direction. He’ll never find his way back to us!”

Gran wrapped her arms round Helena. “We must be able to find him,” she murmured. “I’m so sorry, Helena. Surely he can’t be far away.”

Caramel could hear Helena calling him, and his ears pricked forward hopefully. She sounded worried, but he knew her far better than Gran, and he was sure she wasn’t angry. He stirred under the bushes, trying to summon up the energy to get back on to his aching leg and go to her. But as he poked his nose out from under the plants, another car came racing by, and he pressed himself back into the leaves with a frightened hiss.

He couldn’t move. He just couldn’t. Even though he could hear Helena calling him again and again, and her gran and later her mum too, he was too frightened to come out. Every few minutes a car would go by, and Caramel froze, paralysed by the noise.

He wriggled back even further when a car pulled up outside the house and footsteps echoed beside his hiding place. It was getting dark, and cold. The cold made his injured leg ache even more, and he shivered miserably. The lights came on in the house behind him, and that just made the night seem darker. He wanted to be home, with Helena putting down his food bowl, and watching him eat.

There were fewer cars now, though, he realized. He had been hiding there for hours, waiting for the next one to roar past, his muscles tensed in case it came close. He edged out from the bushes, his whiskers twitching nervously as he sniffed the night air. Helena’s house was only a little way down the road. He knew it.

He could get home, if only he were brave enough to come out of his hiding place.

And it was home, he realized. He wanted to be back with Helena. Even if they did keep him shut up. The house was safe and warm, and they would look after him. Caramel limped out of the tiny front garden and crouched by the wall, his ears laid back. No cars. It was time to go.

Helena was sitting curled up in bed, in the dark. She’d tried to sleep – Mum kept coming in and checking on her, and last time Helena had actually pretended she was asleep. She didn’t want Mum to tell her all over again that it would be all right, and they’d probably find Caramel tomorrow. Mum didn’t know that! She was just saying it to make her feel better. And it wasn’t working.

Helena sniffed. She had tried so hard to look after Caramel, but it would have been better if he’d gone to the shelter after all. He wouldn’t have been able to run away there, and he’d still be safe. She felt a choking feeling build up in her throat again, and she tried desperately to swallow it back down.

What if they never saw him again?

Helena gulped, and buried her nose in her duvet, trying to muffle the gasping, horrible noises she was making. It was really late – Mum was probably asleep. She sat there, curled up and shaking, tears making a great wet patch on her duvet.

He hadn’t been hit by another car, Helena tried to tell herself. They had searched all the streets nearby, and they hadn’t found him. And Gran had rung Lucy to check he hadn’t been brought into the surgery. He was just hiding somewhere. She pressed her face back into the duvet, thinking how cold and frightened Caramel must be. The wind lashed raindrops against her window again – it was such a horrible night to be outside.

Then another sound made Helena look up. She could hardly hear it, with the wind blowing, and at first she’d thought it was just the rain. But it wasn’t – she knew that noise! That odd knocking, like a pirate walking on his wooden leg. Helena wriggled frantically, trying to unwind herself from her duvet. It was Caramel!

She jumped out of bed, racing to the window. She could hear him mewing now, too. She wrenched open her curtains and shoved the window open, leaning down to see into the garden.

And he was there! A small, bedraggled, golden cat, yowling at her in the moonlight. He’d come home!

“Look, Caramel,” Helena told him proudly, as she stuck the certificate on to the fridge door with a magnet. “Bella’s cat won the prize for the most amazing pet! I told you she would, but you were second! And do you know how much money we raised altogether? Three hundred pounds! That’s a lot,” she added, as Caramel rubbed himself around her knees. “Yes, I know. You don’t care at all, you just want me to get the cat food out. All right.”

She looked down at him as she squeezed the food into his bowl. His fur was soft and caramelly again, and he was only limping a little. Last night, when she’d run downstairs, and out into the garden to scoop him up, his coat had been dark and spiky with rain, and he’d looked so miserable. His leg had obviously been hurting, too. She and Mum had dried him with a towel and he’d purred at them gratefully. Helena had been worried that the rain had softened the cast, or that he’d made the break worse, but Molly had driven round and looked at him, and said that luckily it was all right. She thought Caramel was just limping because he’d been putting more weight on his leg than he was used to.

“Only another two weeks,” Helena told Caramel, as she knelt on the floor, watching him licking out his bowl. “Molly said she was almost sure the cast could come off after that. Then you’ll be able to explore the rest of the house. And go outside.”

Caramel sniffed round the edge of the bowl, just in case any food had escaped, and then nosed lovingly at Helena’s hand. He yawned and licked his whiskers, then climbed determinedly into her lap. He flopped down, stretching his plastered leg sideways and kneaded at her school skirt with his front paws. He was glad to be home.

Helena giggled, and shifted her feet a little, so she wouldn’t get pins and needles. It looked like Caramel was staying for a while.