The Loneliest Kitten

Darcy raced down the road towards home. She wasn’t thinking very clearly – she was too upset to think. She just wanted to get away. That old lady had stolen Charlie! She had shut him up in her flat and made him her cat instead. “She stole him! She stole him!” Darcy whispered shakily to herself as she ran.

But the problem was, even though she was upset, Darcy knew that wasn’t really what had happened. It was only what she wanted to believe. If that old lady had shut Charlie up and kept him there when he hadn’t wanted it, he would have raced away as soon as she opened the door. He hadn’t been trying to escape when Darcy saw him – he’d just wanted to see who was at the door. It had been Darcy who’d upset him. He’d actually run away from her.

The old lady had adopted him. She’d probably thought he didn’t have a home because he’d kept turning up in her garden and he had no collar on. They had neglected him, all of them, but especially Darcy, and Charlie had gone looking for someone to love him.

Darcy sniffed hard. He’d found someone and he’d chosen them instead.

She shoved the front gate open and stumbled up the path. Then she realized that of course the front door was locked and Dad had the keys.

Darcy sank down on the doorstep, the last copy of their flyer in her hands. She stared at it and a fat tear splashed on to the photo of Charlie, blotching his beautiful pink nose. How could they have been so stupid and forgotten how special he was?

“Darcy!” Dad came hurrying down the path with Mum and Will close behind him.

“What happened?” Mum demanded. “We saw you running along the road! What’s wrong? Did you find him? Oh, he’s not…” She stopped herself, but Darcy knew what she had been going to say – she was worried that Charlie might have been hit by a car.

Darcy sniffed. If that had happened, it would be so much worse. She felt a tiny bit more cheerful – at least Charlie was safe.

Dad reached over her to unlock the front door. “Come on, we’ll explain.” He pulled Darcy up gently and led her inside.

“Did you find him?” Will asked. “What happened? Why’s Darcy crying? Where’s Charlie?”

“At the flats,” Darcy sniffed. “With an old lady. He doesn’t want to be our cat any more.” She pressed her hands against her eyes. “But at least he hasn’t been run over, like Mum thought.”

“What?” Mum put an arm round her. “Oh Darcy, were you listening to me and Dad last night?”

“I didn’t mean to,” Darcy muttered shakily. Then she jumped as the doorbell rang shrilly, just behind them.

Will opened the door and stood staring at the old lady on the doorstep – Charlie was clutched tightly in her arms.

She held him out, looking anxious, and Charlie wriggled.

“I’m so sorry. I’m Rose Macaulay, and I think this must be your cat.”

Charlie nibbled at the little pile of cat biscuits he’d left in his food bowl the day before, but the old lady had fed him that morning and he wasn’t very hungry. He padded around the kitchen, inspecting everyone’s feet approvingly. They were all home, just where they should be. He nuzzled against Will’s trainers and Will leaned down to stroke him. Charlie let Will pet him for a minute and then sprang up on to Darcy’s lap, expecting to be stroked. Darcy always fussed over him.

But she only stared at him, her hand lifted uncertainly as though she wanted to stroke him but wasn’t sure if she should. Charlie gazed back at her, remembering the way she’d yelled at Will the day before and then shouted at him when he peered round the door. Perhaps she didn’t want him after all? He laid his ears flat and crouched a little, wondering if he should jump down.

Slowly, hesitantly, Darcy reached to rub his ears, and Charlie nudged his chin against her hand. No, it was all right. She was just the same as before. He closed his eyes and lifted his chin blissfully to the ceiling as she scratched him underneath. That was the exact place – no, there… He began to purr.

“I’m so, so sorry,” Rose was explaining. “He didn’t have a collar on, you see, and he looked so hungry.” She sighed. “Of course, I’m sure he wasn’t hungry at all. I expect he’s just a very good actor. I never should have let him in that first day…”

“It’s our fault,” Mum said guiltily, turning round from filling the kettle for tea. “Everyone’s been so busy since Darcy and Will went back to school. I should have realized that Charlie was wandering off. But I was occupied with work and we just didn’t pay him enough attention.”

“Well, of course I won’t feed him any more. And if he comes into my garden again I’ll shoo him away,” Rose said, looking down at Charlie, who was curled up on Darcy’s lap now, a little tabby and white bundle. Darcy saw her face twist sadly.

“You don’t need to do that!” she said in a whisper, so as not to disturb the dozing kitten, and Rose looked at her in surprise. “I mean – Charlie likes you. He’s allowed to have friends…” Darcy shrugged, looking embarrassed. She knew what she meant, but it sounded a bit silly.

“Darcy’s right,” Dad said, smiling. “If you don’t mind him inviting himself in, that is.”

Rose smiled rather shyly. “That’s very kind of you. I still feel dreadful about accidentally stealing your cat…”

“You should be,” Will said, glaring at her accusingly. “We were very worried about him!”

“Will!” Darcy gave him a shocked look. “Don’t be so rude!”

But Rose shook her head, smiling. “Will reminds me very much of my grandson, Louis. He’s seven.”

Will looked pleased. “I’m only six, but I’m really big. Does Louis go to the same school as us? There’s a Louis in Year Three, isn’t there, Darcy?”

“No.” Rose shook her head sadly. “He lives in London, I’m afraid, quite a long way away. But I get to chat to him on the phone every week.”

Darcy looked down at Charlie and stroked the fine puffs of fur just at the bottom of his ears. She couldn’t help wondering if Rose was lonely as her family didn’t live close by. It felt as if she needed Charlie almost as much as they did.

“Charlie’s very bad about keeping his collar on,” she explained to Rose. “Do you think we could give you a spare collar, in case he comes over to you and he hasn’t got one on?”

“Oh, of course!” The old lady nodded delightedly. “I’ll make sure to check.” She leaned over to look at Charlie on Darcy’s lap. “He really is a little beauty, isn’t he?” she murmured admiringly.

Darcy nodded. “The most beautiful cat ever.” She wasn’t sure if Charlie heard her but he made a little prrp noise in his sleep and turned over on her lap, so he was lying on his back with his perfectly pink paws in the air. His tummy was all white fluff, with just a few patches of tabby spots around the edge.

“Oh, the angel,” Rose said, laughing, and Darcy smiled down at Charlie, heavy and saggy and warm in her lap. Charlie was their cat – but she didn’t mind sharing him, just a little.