The Curious Kitten

Amber followed Sara back into the house, trying to feel hopeful. They had put up posters all along their street and the streets close by. Then they’d gone into the little convenience store at the end of their road and asked if they could put up one on their notice board. But it still didn’t feel like enough. Amber couldn’t just sit in the house, waiting for Cleo to come home. She needed to be doing something.

Perhaps she could go and ask some of their neighbours who had sheds and garages if she could check them. Then her eyes widened – she’d just thought of another place where Cleo could have got trapped. The family across the road was having a lot of work done on their house and had moved in with their grandparents for a few weeks. Jan, their mum, had told Amber’s mum that they’d have to pack everything up in boxes. But that meant some of the rooms were closed up, and there were piles of stuff everywhere – all sorts of places where a kitten could get shut in.

Amber was so excited, and so sure she was right, that she didn’t even stop to ask Mum or Sara to go with her. She’d just have time to catch the builders before they went home, she reckoned. She slipped back out of the front door and crossed the road. Mum would tell her off, but if she came back with Cleo, surely Mum wouldn’t mind that much… And Amber was certain she would bring her back.

She hesitated outside number 22, looking for one of the builders to ask. Until now, every time they’d gone past there had been someone around, unloading stuff from vans or hoisting materials up on to the scaffolding. But now there was no one at all.

“Hello?” Amber called, stepping on to the driveway.

No one came. Amber clenched her fists. She just couldn’t wait any longer. What if Cleo was starving? She knew it was stupid – and she’d get into trouble if Mum and Dad found out she’d gone into Jan’s garden with all the building going on. But she had to!

She walked up to the house and tried to peer in through the front windows, pressing her nose against the glass. She was trying so hard to see through the dusty panes that she didn’t hear one of the builders coming round the side of the house.

“Just what exactly do you think you’re doing?”

Amber swung round to find a tall man staring down at her. He was covered in dust. The greyish colour made him look like a statue. “I’m – I’m looking for my kitten,” she squeaked.

“Your kitten?”

“She’s gone missing. I thought she might have got shut in…” Amber’s voice trailed away – the man looked so cross.

“You shouldn’t be here. Don’t you realize how dangerous it is, messing around on a building site?”

Amber hung her head, tears filling her eyes. Then she looked up again, straightening her shoulders. This was too important to let go. “But she’s been gone a whole day. What if she’s got trapped somewhere? Jan said some of the rooms were shut up to keep the dust out – what if she’s in one of them?”

“They’ve all been closed up since we started,” the man said, more gently. “And we’d have heard her mewing, wouldn’t we?”

Amber’s head drooped again. “Maybe… I really thought she had to be here. I’m so worried about her.”

“I’ll keep an eye out for her,” the man told Amber. “What colour is she?”

“She’s a tortoiseshell, mostly gingery with black patches. We live just there.” Amber pointed across the road.

“All right. Now, out of here, and don’t even think of coming back. What if something had fallen off the scaffolding?”

Amber nodded, her eyes widening. She hurried out of the garden and crossed the road, her cheeks burning. That had been awful. But at least the builder hadn’t insisted on coming back home with her and telling Mum.

George slid back through the kitchen, glad that his mum was still occupied sorting out Toby, his little brother. Everyone said that Toby was going through a stage, or that it was the terrible twos, but it basically meant that he was either really, really happy or furious and never anything in between. Right now it meant that Mum wasn’t going to notice him sneaking his leftover packed lunch outside to the kitten.

George checked – yes, there was quite a bit of his lunch left. He didn’t think the kitten would be keen on grapes, but she would definitely be up for cocktail sausages, he decided. Pirate was always trying to nick them when Mum was making his packed lunch.

He hurried back down the garden, hoping that the kitten would still be there. Perhaps I should really be hoping that she’s gone home, George thought to himself, feeling a bit guilty. The little kitten was probably still not used to being out much.

Then he saw her peeping at him from behind the tent again and forgot to worry about her owner.

As soon as Cleo saw the boy, she darted out from her hiding place at once and came up quite close. Maybe he had more food. She still felt so hungry, even after both those sandwiches. She was used to two good meals and the odd snack of cat treats from Amber. She stopped a short distance away and sniffed at the lunchbox as George put it down on the grass.

George held out a sausage on the palm of his hand and looked hopefully at the kitten. Then he laughed as the little cat dived at him and started nibbling the sausage straight out of his hand. Her mouth was so soft, and her damp nose nuzzled at George’s fingers.

“You’re really nice,” he whispered, using his not-sausagey hand to stroke the kitten’s soft back.

The kitten finished off the sausage and looked hopefully into the lunchbox for more. She snagged the last sausage out of the little pot, and it disappeared in seconds.

“Don’t make yourself sick,” George told her. “Sorry, that’s the last one. There’s still a bit of cheese, though.” He took it out and pulled off the cling film. “There you go.” He watched, smiling, as the kitten ate the cheese, too, and then sat down quite heavily and began to wash her ears and face. Her stomach looked a lot rounder than it had ten minutes ago.

“I wish I knew where you’d come from, Patch,” George murmured. “I probably shouldn’t have given you all that food, if you’re just going to go home for your tea. But you looked starving, the way you wolfed down that sandwich.”

The kitten licked her bright pink tongue over her nose and then looked at the boy with gleaming golden eyes. She got up and padded a little closer.

George gazed down in surprise – he’d thought maybe the kitten would hurry away once the food had all gone. But instead she clambered on to George’s lap and slumped down, clearly exhausted by so much eating. She yawned, and then she seemed to melt into the space on George’s lap, completely saggy, like a beanbag toy. She was asleep.