by Holly Webb
“We have to take her back,” said Mum. “Remember, it was our deal.”
Amy was silent for a moment. There was nothing she could say. “I know. But I still think it’s wrong.”
Back home, Misty wasn’t in the house, running to the door with welcoming mews, like she usually did.
“Maybe she’s in the tree house,” Amy suggested. But a little seed of hope was growing inside her. If she couldn’t find Misty, she wouldn’t have to give her back, would she?
Amy ran out into the garden, and climbed up to the tree house, but it was empty. She sat down on the beanbag. It felt warm, as though Misty might have been curled up there until a moment ago. “Oh, Misty, I wish I’d kept you a secret,” she whispered. “Please don’t come!”
But then she heard a familiar thud on the boards of the tree house, as Misty jumped from the branch. The tears spilled down Amy’s cheeks, as the kitten ran to her, leaping into her lap.
Misty rubbed her head lovingly against Amy’s arm, and then stood up with her paws on Amy’s shoulder, and licked the wet tear trails with her rough little tongue.
“That tickles!” Amy half-laughed, half-sobbed. She picked her up gently. “Sorry, Misty, we have to go and find Mum.” Amy carried her down from the tree house and across the garden. Misty purred in her arms, so happily. She was such a different kitten from the nervous little creature Amy had first seen. It felt so wrong to take her back!
“Oh, you found her!” Mum came over to stroke Misty, as Amy opened the kitchen door. “Please don’t cry, Amy.” But she looked close to crying herself, as she gave Amy a hug. “I don’t want to give her back either, but we have to. You know we do. Look, shall we wait until tomorrow? So you can have tonight to say goodbye?”
Amy shook her head. “No. That would be worse. We should go now. Come on, Mum, please, let’s just get it over with.”
“All right. I’ll call the number on the poster. Rose Tree Close isn’t far. We can just carry her there, can’t we?”
Amy nodded, and sat down at the table with Misty, half-listening as Mum explained to someone on the phone that they’d found their missing kitten. With shaking fingers, Amy started to take off Misty’s pink collar. Misty wasn’t even Misty any more! She had another name.
“They’re really glad to know she’s safe,” Mum told her gently. “I said we’d bring her round.” She grabbed her bag, and they set out, Amy with Misty held tightly in her arms as they walked down their street and along another road, to the little turning that was Rose Tree Close.
Misty looked around her curiously, wondering what was happening. Amy had never carried her outside like this before. Then, all of a sudden, her ears went back flat against her head, as she recognized where they were going. Why was Amy bringing her here? She struggled in Amy’s arms and mewed with fright as they walked down the path.
“Oh, Mum, she doesn’t want to!” Amy protested, but her mum had already rung the doorbell.
The door opened, and an old lady stood there, staring at them in delight.
“Jet! It really is her! Oh, thank you so much for finding her!”
Amy only just stopped herself from shouting, “No, her name’s Misty!” Instead, she stared at the brooch on the old lady’s cardigan, which was a little silver cat, with green glass eyes.
“Come in, please! Oh, Jet, where have you been?” Mrs Jones stroked Misty, and Misty actually relaxed and purred, and let the old lady take her from Amy.
Amy felt the tears starting to burn the backs of her eyes again. This really was Misty’s owner. It was true. Her little cat belonged to someone else.
Chapter Eight
Misty felt very confused. She was back with Mrs Jones, but Amy was there too. She wasn’t sure what was happening. Mrs Jones had Charlie now, so why had Amy brought her here? But it was so nice to have Mrs Jones holding her again. She rubbed herself against the old lady’s cheek lovingly.
Mrs Jones led them into the sitting room, and sat down with Misty on her lap. “Where did you find her?” she asked, smiling at them so gratefully that Amy felt guilty.
“She came into Amy’s tree house,” her mum explained. “We did ask around, but no one seemed to have lost a kitten. She’s actually been with us a couple of weeks. I’m sorry, you must have been so worried.”
Mrs Jones nodded. “I was terrified that she’d got lost or had even been run over. I’ve only just moved here, you see, to live with my daughter, so Jet doesn’t know the area very well.” She scratched Misty behind the ears, and the little cat stretched her paws out blissfully. “She kept wandering off – we hardly saw her – and then she disappeared. I thought she’d gone too far and got lost.”
Mum gave Amy a look, and Amy stared at the carpet, feeling miserable and guilty. Mrs Jones had hardly seen her because Amy had been tempting her away. She’d been so stupid! Mum had been right – she really had stolen someone else’s cat.
“Amy looked after her very well,” her mum said, giving Amy a hug. “We’d always thought she was too young for a pet, but we’ve changed our minds after watching her with your cat. We’re definitely going to get a kitten of our own. I mean it,” she added to Amy in a whisper. “We’re so proud of you.”
There was a scuffling noise at the door, and Misty suddenly tensed up. She had forgotten! It had been beautifully quiet, almost like things used to be, with just Mrs Jones. But now Millie and Dan were home!
“Gran! Gran! Oh! You’ve got Jet back!” A little boy raced into the room, and tried to grab Misty.
Amy gasped, as she watched Misty cower back against Mrs Jones. A little girl came running in after him, and tried to pull her brother away so she could reach the kitten too.
“Gently, Dan! Millie, be careful! You’ll frighten her,” Mrs Jones cried. The children stopped shoving as their mum came in. “These are my grandchildren. They’ve missed her too,” Mrs Jones explained to Amy and her mum. “And this is my daughter, Sarah.”
Sarah was smiling delightedly. “I’m so glad you’ve found her. We’ve all been so worried.”
Amy looked anxiously at Misty – or Jet, she supposed she ought to call her now. She was pressed against Mrs Jones, her ears twitching with fright. Amy thought the children were loud, so she couldn’t imagine how a kitten felt.
“We’d better go – leave you all to settle down,” Amy’s mum said.
“Please, let me have your number – I’d like to call and let you know how Jet is. I’m really so grateful.” Mrs Jones stood up, with Jet held against her shoulder, and led them out into the hallway. “My goodness! Jet, what is it?”
The kitten suddenly scrabbled her way up Mrs Jones’s shoulder, and leaped to the top of a shelf, almost knocking over a vase. Her tail was fluffed up, and her ears were laid back. Charlie was here!
“Oh, you’ve got another cat!” Amy exclaimed, seeing the sleek Siamese padding along the hallway, staring up at her little Misty.
“Yes, that’s Charlie. He belongs to my daughter. He and Jet don’t always get along too well. But I’m sure they’ll settle down now that she’s back.”
Watching Misty spitting angrily from her safe spot on the shelf, Amy thought that it didn’t look like they got along at all.
“You were very good, Amy,” her mum said, as they walked home. “I really did mean it about you getting your own kitten.”
“Thanks,” Amy whispered. “Not for a while though,” she added. She knew she ought to be happy at the idea of her own kitten. But at the moment all she could think of was Misty, scared by those noisy, grabby children, and terrified of that Siamese cat. It made her want to cry. When she’d first seen Misty with Mrs Jones, she’d thought she’d got it all wrong, and Misty did belong with her. But now she wasn’t sure. What if that Siamese had been stealing all of Misty’s food and that’s how the kitten had ended up so thin? She wouldn’t be surprised. She was almost sure that Charlie had made Misty run away. And now Amy had made her go back.
Misty raced across the living room, makin
g for her hiding place under the bookshelf. But she couldn’t get in! She wriggled frantically, but she’d grown – two weeks of proper food, and she was simply too big to fit into her special safe place. Why had Amy left her here? Was she going to come back? Shaking, she turned back to face Charlie, who was right on her tail. She hissed defiantly, and raked her little claws across his nose. But he was just so big! With one swipe of his long brown paw he sent her rolling over and over across the carpet, and then he jumped on her.
“Honestly! Mum, she’s fighting with Charlie already! Stop it! Bad cat!” Sarah tried to pull the two of them apart as they scratched and spat.
Mrs Jones heaved herself up from her chair, and tried to help. “Jet, Jet, come here. Oh, he’s hurting her.” She waved Charlie away with her walking stick, and leaned down to scoop up the little kitten. “Oh dear…” She sat down again, the kitten a ball of trembling black fur in her arms.
“Charlie hates not being able to use the cat flap, that’s why he’s being grumpy,” Sarah muttered, picking up Charlie, and holding him as he wriggled and spat at Jet.
“I know, but Jet might run off again, if we let her out. We need to keep her in for now, so she starts thinking of this as her home.”Mrs Jones stroked her gently.
Sarah sighed. “We’ll just have to keep them apart until they get used to each other.”
Mrs Jones looked worriedly down at the kitten, still shaking on her lap.
“Maybe I was wrong to say you’d get along with Charlie… I suppose I was just so pleased to have you back. Poor little Jet. Whatever are we going to do with you two?”
After school a few days later, Amy was up in the tree house lying with her head resting on the beanbag. There were little black hairs on it here and there. She looked up and saw that, sitting on the shelf, there was still one tin of cat food left, that she’d never remembered to bring into the house. It was all she had left of Misty, that and her collar, which was on her bedside table.
Mum kept mentioning the idea of another kitten, and Lily had bought her a cat magazine, so she could look at what sort of cat she might like. But Amy just couldn’t think about it yet. It would feel like betraying Misty – betraying her all over again, because Amy felt sure they had done the wrong thing by taking Misty home. She kept listening out for that telltale thump on the wooden boards that meant Misty was coming back to her, but it never came. She supposed Mrs Jones was keeping Misty shut up so she didn’t stray again.
It had been five days. Nearly a week. Perhaps after a week, they’d let Misty go out into the garden? Maybe she’d come walking along the fence again, and Amy could at least stroke her. That wouldn’t do any harm, would it? As long as Amy didn’t feed her, no one could say she was trying to tempt her back. Even just seeing her would be enough. All she wanted was to know that Misty was all right.
Mum was calling her for tea. Amy looked hopefully along the fence as she climbed down the ladder, but there was no Misty trotting along to see her.
She sat down at the kitchen table, picking at her pasta and staring at the newspaper ad that Mum had ringed. “Kittens, eight weeks old. Tabby and white.” Amy didn’t want a tabby and white cat. She wanted a black one. A very particular black one.
“Has Charlie finished his dinner, Sarah? Can we let Jet in?” Mrs Jones was peering round the kitchen door, with Jet in her arms.
Charlie looked up at her and hissed crossly. He hadn’t finished, and he didn’t want that kitten anywhere near his food.
“Oh, Charlie,” Sarah sighed. “They really aren’t getting on any better, are they?”
Mrs Jones shook her head. “I’m beginning to wonder if I did the right thing,” she admitted, her voice sad. “Maybe I should have let that little girl keep her. You could see she was heartbroken when she brought Jet back.”
“But you’d miss her!” Sarah protested.
“Of course I would! But I think she’d be well looked after. And we still have Charlie. He’s a lovely boy, he just doesn’t like sharing his house…”
Sarah nodded. “Oh, he’s finished.” She picked up Charlie, and took him over to the door to put him out.
Misty watched as Sarah began to open the door, and her whiskers trembled with sudden excitement. The garden! The fence! And along the fence, just waiting for her, was Amy’s garden, and Amy’s house, and Amy.
She wriggled frantically, and made the most enormous leap out of Mrs Jones’s arms. She shot out of the door before Sarah could even think to shut it.
She was going home.
Amy sighed, and stared down at her homework. She was supposed to be writing about her favourite place, but the only place she could think of was the tree house, with Misty curled up on the beanbag. A sudden scuffling at the kitchen window made her look up.
“Misty!” Dad exclaimed, looking up from the pan he was stirring on the hob.
Amy ran to the door to let her in. She knelt down and swept Misty up into her arms. Misty purred gleefully, rubbing her face against Amy’s.
Amy was laughing, and half-crying at the same time. “She came back,” she murmured, and Misty licked her hand gently. Amy’s dad tickled Misty under the chin, then her mum came over to stroke her, too.
“Mum, do we have to…?” Amy asked miserably. “She’s so happy to be here…” She looked pleadingly over at her dad, but he shook his head sadly.
Her mum sighed. “I know. I wish we could just keep her, but it wouldn’t be fair. She doesn’t belong to us.” She picked up the phone.
“Mrs Jones? It’s Emily Griffiths here. Yes, I’m afraid we’ve got Misty again. Sorry, I mean Jet.”
Amy sat down on one of the kitchen chairs, and stroked Misty as she watched her mum miserably.
Her dad put a comforting hand on her shoulder. Maybe Mrs Jones was going out, Amy thought. Maybe it wouldn’t be a good time to bring Misty back, and they could keep her for just one night. But that would be worse, wouldn’t it? She’d never be able to give her up then.
Misty wriggled indignantly as a tear fell on her head, and then another.
“Really?” The note of surprise in her mum’s voice made Amy look up. “Well, if you’re sure. We’d be delighted.”
Amy stared at her, sudden hope making her feel almost sick. She watched her mother put down the phone and turn around, beaming. “That was the first time Misty had been out, Amy. She came straight back to you. Mrs Jones says that she obviously thinks she’s your cat now, and it isn’t fair to keep her. She’s given Misty to you.” She hugged them all – Amy and Misty and Dad together. “Well, we promised you a kitten, didn’t we?”
“Oh, Mum! Wait a minute.” Amy pressed Misty gently into her dad’s arms, and dashed upstairs, then raced back down again and into the kitchen, with something pink in her hand.
Carefully, she fastened Misty’s collar back on. “You’re really ours now. You’re here to stay,” Amy murmured, taking the kitten from Dad.
Snuggling against Amy’s neck, Misty closed her eyes and purred – a tiny, happy noise. She was home!
About the Author
Holly Webb started out as a children’s book editor, and wrote her first series for the publisher she worked for. She has been writing ever since, with over sixty books to her name. Holly lives in Berkshire, with her husband and three young sons. She has a pet cat called Marble, who is always nosying around when she’s trying to type on her laptop.
Other titles by Holly Webb:
Lost in the Snow
Lost in the Storm
Alfie all Alone
Sam the Stolen Puppy
Max the Missing Puppy
Sky the Unwanted Kitten
Timmy in Trouble
Ginger the Stray Kitten
Harry the Homeless Puppy
Buttons the Runaway Puppy
Alone in the Night
Ellie the Homesick Puppy
Jess the Lonely Puppy
Misty the Abandoned Kitten
Oscar’s Lonely Christmas
Luc
y the Poorly Puppy
Smudge the Stolen Kitten
The Rescued Puppy
The Kitten Nobody Wanted
The Lost Puppy
The Frightened Kitten
Copyright
STRIPES PUBLISHING
An imprint of Little Tiger Press
1 The Coda Centre, 189 Munster Road,
London SW6 6AW
Text copyright © Holly Webb, 2010
Illustrations copyright © Sophy Williams, 2010
First published as an ebook by Stripes Publishing in 2012.
eISBN: 978–1–84715–274–9
The right of Holly Webb and Sophy Williams to be identified as the author and illustrator of this work respectively has been asserted by them in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.
All rights reserved.
Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any forms, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publishers or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
www.stripespublishing.co.uk
