The Missing Kitten

by Holly Webb

  The girl kittens let Scarlett’s mum and dad pet them, then they set off chasing after a feathery cat toy, racing round the kitchen and patting it ahead of them with their paws. The ginger kitten watched them, but he didn’t join in. Instead he placed a hopeful paw on Scarlett’s knee, and she looked back at him, just as hopefully. Did he want to be picked up?

  “He’s very cuddly,” Julie said quietly. “He’s a real people cat. Try and put him on your lap.”

  Scarlett gently wrapped her hands around his gingery middle. Even though he was the biggest of the kittens, he still felt tiny – so light, as though there was nothing to him.

  The kitten gave a pleased little squeak, and padded his fat white paws up and down her jeans as though he was testing how comfy she was. Scarlett found herself smoothing her jeans, wanting him to think she was nice to sit on. He padded all the way round in a circle a couple of times, and then wobbled and flopped down, stretching his front paws out, and flexing his claws gently in and out of the denim fabric of her jeans.

  “That tickles!” Scarlett giggled, stroking him under his little white chin.

  The kitten purred delightedly. That was the best place, the spot he was always itchy. He pointed his chin to the ceiling and purred louder, telling her to keep going.

  Jackson joined in, stroking one finger gently down the kitten’s back. “His fur’s really soft. And look at his paws! They’re bright pink underneath!” The kitten was enjoying the stroking so much that he’d collapsed into a happy heap on his side, purring like a steam train.

  Scarlett looked down at his paws and laughed – they really were pink. A sort of pinkish-apricot colour, and so soft and smooth-looking.

  “They’ll probably get a bit darker once he starts going outside,” Julie explained. “They’ve only been indoors so far. He’d need to stay in for a bit longer if you decide to take him.” She looked at Scarlett’s mum and dad.

  Scarlett and Jackson got up, then both turned to look at them too, and their mum laughed. She turned to Julie, and asked hopefully, “I don’t suppose you could lend us some cat litter, could you? The shop in the village would have cat food…”

  “You mean we can take him now?” Scarlett gasped.

  Her mum shrugged. “Why not?”

  “Dad, we’re nearly out of Bootle’s food. There’s only the salmon flavour left, and I don’t think he liked that one very much.”

  Bootle wrapped himself lovingly round Scarlett’s legs. He knew quite well what was in those tins, and he didn’t see any reason why he shouldn’t have a second breakfast.

  Calling him Bootle had been Jackson’s idea. Scarlett had suggested Boots, but it was like Ginger – a little bit too everyday for such a special cat. Bootle was much better.

  Jackson looked up from his huge pile of toast. “We could go to the shop,” he said. “I’ve nearly finished the bread, and there’s not a lot for lunch.”

  “I’ve got a work call in a few minutes,” said Dad. He looked at them thoughtfully. “Though I suppose you guys could go if you like.”

  “On our own?” Scarlett stared at him.

  “Why not? You were going to try it when school started next week, weren’t you? If you’re careful, and you stick together.”

  Scarlett shut her eyes for a second at the mention of school. She was trying not to think about it. “Will you look after Bootle while we’re out?” she said seriously.

  “Scarlett! You’ll only be gone half an hour!” Dad grinned.

  “But he’s not used to me not being here!” It was true. Scarlett had spent all of her time with Bootle since they’d brought him home, only leaving him at night-time, when he was safely tucked up in his cardboard box, padded out with an old towel, and a hot water bottle to feel like his mother and the other kittens. Just until he got used to them not being next to him.

  “I think it would be good for him to see you go out,” her dad said gently. “I know you don’t want to think about school, Scarlett, but you do go on Monday. Bootle’s had a whole week of you around all the time. He needs to learn to be without you.”

  “But he’ll be lonely,” Scarlett said worriedly.

  “It’s only for half an hour,” Dad reminded her.

  “When we’re back at school it won’t be!”

  “Then he’ll have me for company while I’m working. And you know how he loves the computer.”

  Scarlett smiled. It was true. Bootle was fascinated by Dad’s computer. He seemed to love the way the keys went up and down. He would sit watching Dad type for ages, just occasionally putting out a paw to try and join in. Then he would look miffed when Dad told him no. Secretly Scarlett was planning to let him try one day when she was using the laptop she shared with Jackson. She wanted to see what Bootle would write – she knew it would probably be a string of random letters, but she was hoping for a secret message!

  “Come on then.” Jackson stuffed the last of the toast into his mouth. “Can we get some crisps as well while we’re at the shop, Dad?”

  “Mmm-hmm. Here.” Dad gave Jackson some money. “But I do want change. Be back by half-ten, all right? I don’t want to be pacing up and down outside looking for you.”

  “Are you really worried about school?” Jackson asked Scarlett, as they wandered down the footpath in the direction of the village.

  “A bit.” Scarlett sighed. “What if nobody talks to me?”

  “Why wouldn’t they?” Jackson asked, shrugging.

  Scarlett shook her head. He was trying to be nice, but he just didn’t get it.

  “You had loads of friends at your old school,” said Jackson. “Why do you think you won’t make friends here?”

  “It’s such a little school,” Scarlett tried to explain. “Only one class in each year, and not that many in each class, either. They’ll all know each other so well. Like I know Lucy and Ella.” She wished she was as confident as Jackson. He’d already managed to go out for a walk and found a couple of boys playing football. He’d joined in, and then he’d gone back to their house. Scarlett wasn’t sure how he did it.

  Jackson rolled his eyes. “Come on. We’re nearly there.”

  They went into the shop, and Jackson went to look at football magazines, while Scarlett found the cat food. Then she realized that there were a couple of other girls standing behind her.

  “Who’s she?” one of them whispered.

  “Don’t you remember? It’s that new girl. The one who came to school for a morning.”

  “Ohhh! What’s she called?”

  “Something weird. Amber or something.”

  Scarlett felt like her stomach was squeezing into a tiny little knot inside her. That was her they were talking about. The one with the weird name. She wanted to scream, “Scarlett!” But she didn’t. She grabbed a couple of tins of cat food, and scuttled over to where Jackson was.

  School was going to be a disaster. It was so obvious.

  Scarlett lay in bed, watching her clock creep closer to seven. She’d been awake for ages, worrying about their first day at school, and now she just wished it would hurry up and be time.

  A throaty purr distracted her, and a soft paw patted her chin. Bootle liked her to be paying attention to him, not the clock.

  “I’m glad I went downstairs and fetched you before breakfast,” Scarlett said, tickling him behind the ears. “I know I look miserable, but you’re making me feel a lot better.”

  Bootle closed his eyes happily, and purred even louder. Scarlett knew all the places he liked to be stroked, and how he particularly liked being on her bed. It was much cosier than his basket.

  “I’m really going to miss you today,” Scarlett murmured. “I hope you’ll be OK. Dad’ll look after you.” She sighed, a huge sigh that lifted up the duvet round her middle, and Bootle’s ears twitched excitedly. He wriggled forward, and peered down under the duvet. It was like a dark little nest, and he wriggled into it, just his tail sticking out, and flicking from side to side.

  “What are
you doing?” Scarlett giggled. “Silly cat! Oh, Bootle, you’re tickling my legs!”

  Even the tail had disappeared now. Bootle was a plump little mound travelling around under the duvet. Then he popped out at the other end of the bed, his ginger fur looking all spiky and ruffled up. He shook himself, and ran a paw over his ears.

  Scarlett twitched her toes under the duvet, and he stopped washing and pounced on them excitedly, jumping from side to side as she wriggled them about.

  “You’re awake!” Mum put her head round the door. “Time to get up, Scarlett. Hello, Bootle.” She came in and patted him. “Are you worried he’ll miss you while you’re at school?”

  Scarlett nodded, and Mum hugged her. “It’ll be fine, sweetheart. Now he’s allowed in the garden he’ll probably just go out and try and chase butterflies again.” She looked at Scarlett. “And you’ll be fine too. Honestly. Try not to worry about it.”

  Scarlett nodded. But she wished she felt as sure as everybody else seemed to.

  Bootle sat on the back doorstep, next to his cat flap, staring around the garden. He was confused, and a bit bored. Scarlett had gone somewhere. He’d known that she was going – she had picked him up and made a huge fuss of him before she went, and her voice had been different to normal, as though something was wrong. But he hadn’t expected her to be gone this long.

  He stalked crossly down the garden, sniffing at the grass, looking for something interesting to do. He sharpened his claws on the trunk of the apple tree, and tried to climb it, but he wasn’t all that good at climbing yet, and he only got halfway up before he got worried and jumped down again. Then he had to sit and wash for a while, pretending to himself that he’d never meant to climb it in the first place.

  Where was she? Jackson had gone too – he preferred to play with Scarlett, but Jackson was very good at inventing games with sticks, and bits of string to jump at.

  Why had they gone away and left him? And when were they coming back?

  “Bootle! Did you miss me?” Scarlett picked him up, and hugged him lovingly, and Bootle rubbed his head against her cheek.

  Dad had come to meet them from school, as it was the first day, but tomorrow they were going to walk there and back by themselves.

  “Come and have a biscuit,” Dad suggested. “Then you can both tell me what it was like, now there’s no one else around.” When he’d asked Scarlett at the school gate how her day was, she’d just muttered, “Fine,” but he could tell she was only being polite.

  “It was all right.” Jackson shrugged, munching a chocolate biscuit. “Played football at lunch. The teacher was a bit strict. Shouted at people for talking. But it was fine.”

  Dad looked over at Scarlett, who sighed. “It was OK. This girl called Izzy got told to look after me, and she was nice. She took me around with her at break and lunchtime. But – well, it was only because she had to.”

  “She might really like you!” Dad pointed out.

  Scarlett ran one of Bootle’s huge ears between her fingers, and sighed. “Maybe… It wasn’t as bad as it could have been,” she admitted. The two girls she’d seen in the shop hadn’t said anything else about her weird name, which was what she’d been worrying about. They’d been on the same table as her and Izzy at lunch, and they’d been quite friendly, and asked her where she lived, and if she’d had to catch the bus to school. It turned out that lots of the children did – they came from several different villages, and a school bus went round and picked them all up.

  “It’s nice we can walk to school,” she said to Dad, who was still looking worried about her.

  Bootle rubbed himself against her red sweater, leaving gingery hairs all over it, and Scarlett stroked him again. Whatever happened at school, at least she could come home and play with him. She couldn’t imagine being without him now.

  “You’re sure you wouldn’t like me to come with you?” Dad asked, for about the fourth time.

  “No!” Jackson said. “Honestly, Dad. We’re fine. It takes about ten minutes to get to school, and we don’t even have to cross a road. Stop fussing.”

  Bootle was sitting on the bottom step of the stairs, watching disapprovingly as Scarlett and Jackson got ready. They were going again, just like yesterday! Why was he being left behind? He let out a tiny, furious mew, but Scarlett only kissed the top of his head, and went out of the door, leaving him with Dad.

  Dad picked Bootle up, and tickled his ears, before rubbing the top of his head. But then he put him back down on the stairs, and headed into the room where his computer was. He was going to be too busy to play, again.

  Bootle stalked into the kitchen, and inspected his food bowl, which was empty. He had a little water, and looked at his basket. He didn’t really feel like sleeping. And if this was anything like yesterday, Scarlett and Jackson would be gone for hours.

  He didn’t see why he couldn’t go with them. Until yesterday, he’d been with Scarlett almost all the time.

  Bootle walked over to the cat flap and sniffed at it, carefully. They hadn’t been gone long. Perhaps, if he was quick, he could follow them. Bootle shot out of the cat flap, and dashed into the back garden. Scarlett and Jackson had gone out of the front door, so he hurried around the side of the house, and on to the little patch of front garden. He nosed his way under the blue gate, flattening himself down underneath the wooden panels, and coming out into the lane, next to the car. His whiskers twitched excitedly as he tried to work out which way Scarlett had gone. He could follow her scent, he was sure. He sniffed busily at the grasses, and set off running.

  Scarlett and Jackson were halfway to school, walking down the footpath along the side of the big field, which was planted with green wheat – Scarlett hadn’t known what it was, but Dad had told her.

  “Can you hear a meow?” Scarlett asked suddenly, and Jackson turned round to stare at her.

  “Don’t be silly. Come on!”

  “No, I can. I really can. It’s Bootle, I’m sure.” Scarlett peered along the track behind them, and laughed. “It is! Look!”

  Bootle was running after them, mewing happily, and as Scarlett crouched down to say hello, he clambered up into her lap and sat there, purring wearily. He’d had to run faster than he’d ever done before to catch them up.

  “What’s he doing here?” Jackson shook his head. “Yes, you’re very clever, Bootle,” he admitted, running one hand down the little ginger kitten’s back. “But now we have to take you back home, and we’re going to be late.”

  “Oh, do we have to take him back?” Scarlett said sadly.

  Jackson rolled his eyes. “Yes, of course we do! We can’t take a cat to school, Scarlett!”

  “I suppose so.”

  “And we have to run, because we’re going to be late.”

  Scarlett swallowed anxiously. She didn’t want to be late, to have to go in after everyone else, and explain what had happened. They hurried back down the footpath and across the lane before bursting through the front door.

  Dad came out of his office, looking worried. “What’s happened? Why are you back? I knew I should have gone with you!”

  “Don’t worry, Dad. It’s fine.” Scarlett held out her arms, full of purring ginger kitten. “Bootle just followed us. He caught up with us as we were going past the big field – the one with wheat in it. We had to bring him back.” She put Bootle into Dad’s arms, and he stopped purring and glared at her. He’d gone to find her, and brought her back, and now she was going again!

  “Sorry, Bootle. I’d much rather stay with you.” Scarlett stroked his head as she went to leave.

  “Come on, Scarlett,” Jackson yelled from the door.

  “You’d better run, sweetheart,” Dad said. “I’d drive you, but by the time we’ve gone all round by the road, it’s longer than the short cut. I’ll ring the school and explain why you’ll be a bit late, don’t worry.”

  “Thanks, Dad,” said Scarlett.

  When Scarlett and Jackson hurried into the playground, the head, Mi
ss Wilson, was standing at the main door watching out for them.

  Scarlett was worried. Luckily, Miss Wilson didn’t look cross. She just smiled at them as they raced towards her, and patted Jackson’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. I used to have a dog that followed me to school. Still, I’ve never heard of a cat doing it. He must be very fond of you.”

  Scarlett nodded proudly. She hadn’t really thought of it like that.

  “I’ve explained to your teachers, so just slip quietly into your classes, all right?”

  “Thanks, Miss Wilson.” Scarlett crept, mouse-like, along the corridor. It was all very well to say to slip in quietly, but everyone was still going to turn and stare at her. She eased open the door of her classroom, wincing as it creaked.

  But her teacher, Mrs Mason, just smiled at her, and waved her over to her table, and went on pointing out something on the whiteboard.

  “I wondered where you were!” Izzy whispered to her. “I thought you might not be coming back!”

  “It wasn’t that bad yesterday,” Scarlett muttered.

  “Are you OK?” said Izzy. “Did you oversleep?”

  Scarlett shook her head. “No. It sounds really stupid, but I had to take my kitten home. He followed us to school.”

  “Your kitten did?” Izzy stared at her. “Oh, I didn’t know you had a kitten! I’ve got a cat. He’s called Olly. But he’s never followed me anywhere! He’s far too lazy. What’s your kitten called?”

  “Bootle.” Scarlett smiled proudly. “We’ve only had him two weeks, and he isn’t used to us leaving him. Mrs Mason’s giving us a look. I’ll tell you more at break, OK?”

  Izzy grinned. “You’re so lucky having a kitten.”