by Holly Webb
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.”
“What’s the matter, Lucy?” Gran looked up from her book and peered across the table at her granddaughter’s pile of books. “You haven’t written anything for ages.”
“It’s a project.” Lucy sighed. “It’s difficult. It’s about Egyptians and we can make the project about whatever we like – that’s what’s so hard about it. I can’t choose, even though I’ve got all these books out of the library.”
And, of course, only half her mind was on her project. The rest of it was worrying about having lied to Sara two days ago. Especially as Sara was really, really excited. She kept asking about Catkin, and she obviously really wanted to come and see her. But she was too nice – or maybe too shy – to ask straight out if she could come round. Lucy had a feeling that she was working herself up to it, though.
The awful thing was, Lucy would have liked Sara to come round. She’d love to have a friend home for tea. Gran and Dad kept gently asking if there was anyone she really liked at school and if she wanted to invite somebody over. William had had Harry round and been back to his house, too. And he’d been invited to a birthday party already.
But if Sara came round, then she’d know that Lucy had been lying about Catkin and she’d hate her. She might even tell the entire class that Lucy was a liar.
“I went to Egypt, you know,” Gran said thoughtfully, breaking into Lucy’s thoughts. “It must have been, oh, goodness, eight, ten years ago? Yes, just before you were born, Lucy. We went to see the pyramids, me and one of my old schoolfriends. Auntie Barbara, you remember her?”
Lucy didn’t, but she nodded as if she did. “You really went there? What was it like? Did you go and see the Great Pyramid?”
“We certainly did. We went inside it, as well. It was quite frightening,” Gran added slowly. “Very shadowy and hard to breathe. I didn’t like it much, Lucy, I have to admit, but I’m glad I saw it. And from the outside, they were incredible to look at. Wait a minute.” She smiled and got up, walking through into the living room. Lucy could hear her opening drawers in the big display cabinet that had most of her precious, ever-so-breakable ornaments in it.
Gran came back in, carefully unrolling a piece of brownish paper. “Look, this is what I brought back as a souvenir of the holiday, Lucy. It’s a papyrus. Like paper, but made out of reeds.” She held it out. “You can take it, have a look.”
Lucy looked at her uncertainly. “Isn’t it fragile?” she asked worriedly. She wanted to hold it – she could see that the painting on it was beautiful, a black cat wearing a jewelled necklace and even an earring, it looked like.
“I know you’ll be careful.” Gran smiled at her. “I ought to get it framed, really, it’s such a lovely painting. The box at the side says my name in hieroglyphics. I watched the man doing it.”
Lucy took the papyrus, feeling the roughness against her fingers. She could even see the lines of the reed stems in the weave. “The cat’s so beautiful,” she murmured. Then she grinned up at Gran. “I can’t see many cats agreeing to wear
all that jewellery, though. Most of them don’t even like collars!”
Gran nodded. “But then she’s a goddess, this one. Bast, she’s called.”
Lucy examined the picture again. “There was a cat goddess? Wow… Gran, I could make my project about her!” Very carefully, she laid the papyrus down on the table so she could fling her arms around her gran. “I could copy the painting, maybe. You’re so clever!”
As she hugged Gran tightly, Lucy realized something else. Gran couldn’t possibly dislike cats that much, could she? Not when she’d chosen a painting of a cat as a special souvenir.
The black-and-white kitten was enjoying a patch of sunlight in the yard. Her mother was off looking for food and the little kitten was stretched out, snoozing, with her nose on her paws.
Her ears fluttered a little as she caught a noise, coming from the back of one of the shops, and then her eyes snapped open. Someone was coming!
She darted back into the safety of the box den, her heart thudding fast against her ribs. The voices were loud, frightening even, and there were heavy feet clumping all around her.
She pressed herself back into the corner of the box, thinking that they would just dump their rubbish in the bins and go. But no one usually came close to the pile of old boxes like this. It wasn’t a delivery – no van had driven down the alleyway. She was almost used to that noise, although she still didn’t like it.
This was something different. And then suddenly the box, her safe, warm box, shifted and split and she let out a high-pitched squeak of fright. What was happening?
“There’s something in there,” a deep voice growled. “Ugh, not rats?”
“I don’t think so – oh, there’s a stray cat that hangs around the yard – perhaps it’s her?”
Someone clapped their hands loudly, the sound sharp and echoing in the enclosed yard. “Go on, shoo! Off you go, cat!”
The kitten squeaked again and her box tipped sideways. She shot out, terrified, and streaked across the yard, away from the growling voices.
“There she goes – but that’s just a kitten. Not much bigger than a rat, poor little thing!”
The kitten huddled in the corner, panicking. Someone was coming towards her, huge boots thumping. She had never tried to climb the fences before, but anything was better than staying here. She sank her claws in the wood and scrabbled frantically upwards, balancing for a moment on the very top of the fence. Then she jumped down the other side and set off through the bushes, who knew where.
Lucy was stretched out in the long grass, idly picking the blades. She’d done her homework and typed up loads of work for her project on the computer. She felt relaxed and happy in the autumn sun. Gran had given her a sandwich, to keep her going until Dad got home and they could all have dinner together, but Lucy hadn’t finished it – she was feeling too lazy even to eat.
She could hear William right down the end of the garden, humming to himself as he investigated the greenhouse. Gran didn’t use it very much these days and some of the glass panes were broken, but Dad had told them he’d plant seeds in the springtime. He’d already tidied up the bit of the garden nearest to the house, but Lucy and William loved this wild part, with the overgrown bushes. It was full of hidden nests and little dark caves. Lucy glanced sideways, checking that the big spotted garden spider hanging off the branch by her foot hadn’t moved. She didn’t mind him being there – he’d probably lived here longer than she had – but she didn’t want him getting any closer.
He was still there. But underneath him, peering out at her from the shadows, was a tiny black-and-white face.
A kitten! The same kitten she had seen in the alleyway, Lucy was almost sure. She looked down the garden at the greenhouse and the fence. She hadn’t realized before, but the shops were very close to the back of Gran’s garden, even though to get to them by the street you had to go quite a way round.
“Did you climb over the fence?” Lucy whispered, very, very quietly.
The kitten stared back at her. She was very small and so thin, Lucy thought. She looked exhausted – as though she was frightened, but too worn out even to run.
Slowly, creeping her fingers across the grass, Lucy stretched out a hand to get her sandwich. It was chicken. Perfect for a kitten treat.
The kitten watched her, wide-eyed, shrinking back a little as Lucy’s hand came close. But then she smelled the chicken – Lucy could see the exact moment. Her whiskers twitched and her ears flicked forward, then her eyes grew even rounder.
Lucy tore off a tiny piece of sandwich and gently laid it down, just where the tufts of long grass met the branches. Then she watched. The kitten didn’t have to move far. If she wasn’t brave enough, maybe Lucy could throw her a piece further in, but that might scare her away.
The kitten looked at the piece of sandwich and Lucy could see her sniffing. She looked between Lucy and the sandwich a few times, then she wriggled forwards on her stomach, inching slowly towards the food. As soon as she was close enough, she seized the chickeny mouthful and darted back into the safety of the bush.
Lucy wanted to laugh, but she folded her lips together firmly, in case the noise scared the kitten away. She watched the kitten wolf down the scrap and then she tore off a little more. This time she left it a bit closer to her feet.
The kitten didn’t take as long to decide she was going for the food the second time. She gave Lucy one slightly suspicious look and then raced to grab it.
After that, Lucy put the plate down, right next to her feet, to see what would happen. Surely the kitten wouldn’t be able to drag away a whole sandwich, would she? She’d have to stop by the plate and eat it there. And then maybe Lucy would be able to stroke her…
The kitten stared at the sandwich. The two pieces she’d already eaten had been so delicious. But now the rest of the sandwich was closer to the girl and she wasn’t sure that she was quite brave enough to go and take it.
But the smell… She could taste it in her mouth still and she was really hungry. She hadn’t eaten for such a long time. After she had scrambled over the fence the afternoon before, she had run and climbed and run again, frightened and desperate to get away. Her cosy den in the box had suddenly been snatched from her and she didn’t understand. She just knew that she wasn’t safe there any more.
She had only stopped in the big garden because she was tired. Wriggling through the tiny gap under the back fence had worn her out. She had simply lain down in the dry, shadowy space under the bush and gone to sleep. When she’d woken, it had been dark and she had been so hungry. She’d finally understood that everything was different now. Her mother wasn’t there to bring her food and there was no one there to curl up and sleep with. She was lost and all alone.
She had been on her own before, of course she had. But she had always known that her mother would come back. The kitten would purr throatily, and her mother would wash her, licking her fur lovingly all over.
Now her fur was dusty and matted with dirt, and a clump of it had torn out when she had squeezed under the fence. She had sat there below the bush and tried to wash herself, but it wasn’t the same and it only made her feel more lonely.
The night sounds seemed louder than they’d ever been before. Cars roared past and made her shudder with fright, and people laughed and shouted. Another cat had stalked through the garden, late at night, but it hadn’t been her mother. She had jumped up eagerly, ready to run and nuzzle it, but all it had done was stare at her and she’d seen it thicken out its tail. Then it had paced on, away down the side of the house and the kitten had ducked back under the bush, knowing that she was more lost than ever.
As Lucy pursed her lips and tried to make kitten-encouraging noises that sounded something like prrrrrrp, the kitten stared back at her and wondered what to do. The girl seemed quiet and gentle, not like those stomping men that had chased her away from her home. And she had food. Just now, food seemed the most important thing of all.
Slowly, paw by paw, the kitte
n came out of her hiding place and crept towards Lucy.
“Lucy…”
“Shh!”
“Lucy, is that a kitten? Is that the kitten from by the baker’s shop?”
“Yes, but shh! Please don’t make her run away. She’s really shy, William. Look, come and sit down here.”
William sat down, as slowly and quietly as he could, and stared at the kitten. She stared back for a moment, but she was so busy devouring the rest of the chicken sandwich that she didn’t really have time to worry about him.
“How did she get here?”
“I don’t know.” Lucy reached out one hand and held it by the plate, close enough for the kitten to sniff. The kitten glared at her and then butted gently at Lucy’s hand.
William giggled. “She’s telling you to get off her sandwich.”
“Maybe. Or she might be putting her scent on me,” said Lucy. “That’s what a cat’s doing when it rubs its face against you. They’ve got scent glands there. They’re saying we belong to them.” I want to belong to you, she added silently. Please stay. Please, please, please.
“Lucy,” William whispered. “Do you think – do you think she could be our cat? Can we keep her?” He looked around the garden. “We could make her a nest in the greenhouse. Wow, she’s actually finished all of that sandwich. Do you think she wants another one? Gran asked if I wanted a sandwich but I said no. I could go and say that I’ve changed my mind…”
Lucy looked worried. “I don’t like telling Gran lies – but we can’t tell her the truth, can we? Dad said she wouldn’t want a pet in the house. And this kitten really needs food. She’s so skinny.”
“The greenhouse isn’t the same as being in the house,” William pointed out. “I bet she wouldn’t mind. So it doesn’t matter if we don’t tell her.”
