The Secret Kitten

They were late the next morning, because William had spilled half a bowl of cereal down his school uniform, so there was no time to stop and play with kittens. Lucy looked down the alleyway hopefully on their way to school, but she couldn’t see even a whisker. She imagined all the kittens having a lie-in, curled up snugly in their old box.

When they stopped on the way home, Emma, the lady from the baker’s, was there, putting some rubbish out in the bins. She smiled at Lucy and William and said, “Are you looking for those kittens? I’m really sorry, that lady I was telling your gran about came and took them home with her this morning.”

“Oh…” Lucy swallowed. William’s eyes had filled with tears and she felt like crying, too. She nudged her little brother. “That’s good,” she said firmly, trying to convince herself as well as William. “It’s getting colder now it’s autumn. Imagine sleeping outside in a box all winter.”

Gran nodded. “It would be horrible. Damp and chilly. They’re much better off with a nice home indoors.”

“I know.” William sniffed. “But I wanted to see them. We only got to see them once.”

“I’ll miss them,” Emma said, as Lucy and William turned to go. “Cute little pair. Gorgeous stripes.”

Lucy glanced back at her. “But – there was a black-and-white kitten, too. Did she take all three of them?”

Emma blinked. “Three? Really? I thought there were only two of them.”

“No.” Lucy shook her head. “Definitely three. We saw the black-and-white one yesterday.”

“She’s right,” Gran put in. “I saw her, too. She reminded me of the cat I had when I was a little girl, called Catkin. This kitten had the same lovely white tip on her tail.”

Lucy glanced at William in surprise. Gran had had a cat of her own? But she didn’t like pets, Dad had said.

William wasn’t really listening, though. “Gran, is the little kitten left all on her own now?”

“Her mum’s still there,” Emma pointed out.

“No other kittens to play with, though,” Lucy said sadly.

William beamed at her. “Maybe she’ll come and play with us instead, then, if she’s lonely.” He ran a few steps further down the alley and called, “Puss! Puss! Kitten!”

“She won’t come out if you yell at her,” Lucy said. “We’ve got to be gentle. Maybe tempt her out. Could we buy some cat treats, Gran?”

“I suppose so.” Gran nodded. “Maybe if that kitten gets a bit more used to people, someone will take her home, too.”

Lucy caught her breath. She almost asked Gran if they could be the ones to give the kitten a home. But then she remembered everything Dad had said about having to keep the house tidy and not damaging Gran’s lovely things and how Gran hated mess. And then she thought about Jessie’s mum rolling her eyes and sighing and saying, “Oh, not again!” when Jessie’s cat Socks had knocked a vase of flowers off the kitchen table.

There was no way Gran would let them have a cat, even if the kitten did look like her old pet, Catkin.

Lucy frowned down at her magazine. It was her favourite one, a pet magazine that she got every week. She’d brought it into school to read at break time. Everyone was still being quite friendly, but she hated having to ask to join in the games. It was embarrassing. It was easier to sit on one of the benches and read.

This week’s magazine had a big article on animal charities and an interview with the manager of a Cats Protection League shelter. She was talking about how important it was to find cats new homes quickly, as they didn’t really like being kept all together. They wanted a place to call their own. Lucy sighed to herself as she thought of the black-and-white kitten.

But the really strange thing was that the Cats Protection League lady also said that black cats and black-and-white ones were much harder to find homes for than tabbies or gingers. Lucy just couldn’t understand why. The article said that people thought black-and-white cats were a bit ordinary, not pretty like tabbies.

It made Lucy so cross that she almost tore the page, she was gripping it so tightly. How could people think that? All cats and kittens were different! Jessie’s cat Socks was white, with a ginger tail and a funny ginger stripe down his nose. But that didn’t mean he was a better pet than the little black-and-white kitten would be.

The article also said that some people didn’t want cats that were black all over because they were worried that they might not be seen on the road, and could get run over. At least that made sense, Lucy thought. But they could always get their black cat a reflective collar, couldn’t they?

“If I ever get a cat, I’m definitely going to a shelter and choosing a black-and-white one,” she murmured. “Or a lovely black cat. Like a witch’s cat.”

“Is it good?”

Lucy jumped so hard she nearly banged her head on the back of the bench and the girl leaning over to talk to her gasped.

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you. I get that magazine sometimes, too. I was just wondering if it was a good one this week.”

“Oh!” Lucy nodded and smiled. “Yes. But sort of sad. There’s a big bit about shelters. And it says not many people choose the black cats. I was just thinking I definitely would.”

“Oh, me, too,” the other girl agreed.

Lucy thought frantically, trying to remember her name. There were loads of girls in her class, but she thought this one was called Sara. “Our cat’s mostly black, but he’s got a white front and white paws. My mum says he looks like he’s wearing a penguin suit.” She leaned over and looked at the article. “What’s that about National Black Cat Day?”

Lucy looked at the bubble down near the bottom of the page. She hadn’t got there yet. “The Cats Protection League invented it! To show everyone that black cats are special. It’s in October – oh, the same day as Halloween. I suppose that makes sense. But black cats aren’t all spooky.”

Sara giggled. “They’re good at appearing out of nowhere, though. I’m always tripping over Harvey.”

“Aw, that’s such a cute name for a cat.” Lucy smiled.

“He just looks like a Harvey,” Sara explained. “Even when he was a kitten, there was something Harvey-ish about him. Have you got a cat?” she added, looking at Lucy sideways. There was something hopeful about the way she asked it, as though she wanted someone to share cat stories with. A friend who had a cat of her own – what could be better than that?

It was the first time someone had really seemed interested in her at school. If she said no, Sara would shrug and smile and walk away, Lucy was sure of it. And she was just as sure that she didn’t want that to happen. So she nodded, slowly, trying to think about what to say. “Yes. We’ve got a kitten.” She slipped her hand under the magazine and crossed her fingers. She hated to lie, especially to someone as nice as Sara, but she had to. “We’ve only just got her.” It was almost true, wasn’t it? She wanted that little black-and-white kitten from the alleyway to be theirs, so much…

“Oh, you’re so lucky! Is she gorgeous? What does she look like? How old is she?”

Lucy swallowed. “She’s black and white, like Harvey. And she’s very little, only just old enough to leave her mother. She was a stray.”

“What’s she called?” Sara demanded eagerly.

Lucy blinked. She couldn’t think. Not a single name would come into her head. What was a good name for a kitten?

Then she smiled at Sara. She knew the perfect name, of course she did.

“She’s called Catkin.”