by Holly Webb
For Sophie
For more information about Holly Webb visit: www.holly-webb.com
CONTENTS
Title Page
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
About the Author
Other titles by Holly Webb:
Copyright
Chapter One
“Are we going past the farm today?” Rosie asked her gran hopefully. They had a few different ways back from school to Gran’s house, but the lane past the farm was Rosie’s favourite. That was the good thing about Gran picking her up from school while Mum was at work. Gran wasn’t usually in a rush, and she didn’t mind walking slowly while Rosie stopped to look at any cats she happened to meet on the way. Rosie loved cats and was desperate for one of her own, but she hadn’t managed to persuade her mum yet.
Gran smiled at her. “Oh, I suppose we could go home that way. I could do with picking up some eggs from Mrs Bowen. I might make a cake tonight, as it’s the weekend.” She looked down at Rosie, and said thoughtfully, “But you know how she likes to chat, Rosie. Are you sure you won’t get bored?”
Rosie looked up at her in surprise, and realized that Gran was teasing. Gran knew that Rosie loved going to the farm, because while she was talking to Mrs Bowen, Rosie could go and watch the stray cats in the farmyard. There were lots of them, and Gran said they were called feral cats because they weren’t anyone’s pets. Rosie had never managed to count them all, as they were so hard to see, but she thought there were probably about twenty of them. Mrs Bowen put food out occasionally, but mostly they lived on the mice they caught in the barns.
Rosie loved to imagine that the cats belonged to her, but they weren’t really very friendly. If she sat on the foot step of the old rusty tractor for ages and ages, they might prowl past her, but none of them would come to be stroked.
One of the prettiest cats, a tabby with beautiful spotty markings, had given birth to a litter of kittens about five weeks before. Rosie had heard them mewing in the barn, but she hadn’t been able to see them for ages, as the tabby cat had hidden them under some old hay bales that were stored in there.
Now the kittens were all dashing about the farmyard, and they weren’t quite as shy as the older cats. Rosie was really hoping that she could tame one of them. She couldn’t help dreaming of taking a kitten home for her own pet.
She knew which one she wanted most of all – the gorgeous little ginger boy kitten. He was so sweet – he had gingery-creamy fur with darker ginger stripes, and an amazingly bright pink nose. His eyes were very green and very big, and Rosie thought he was the most handsome cat she’d ever seen.
Sometimes people called Rosie Ginger because of her long, curly red hair. Mum had always told her that her red hair was lovely and different, and that she’d like it when she was older, but Rosie wasn’t so sure. Then she had seen the kitten. She felt like she and the kitten were a pair, with their ginger colouring. They were ginger and proud of it!
She wished the ginger kitten would let her stroke him. She could just imagine how soft his fur would be. The other day he’d actually come close enough to sniff at her fingers, but he’d darted off again without letting Rosie touch him.
Gran called hello at Mrs Bowen’s back door, which was half open, and Rosie looked eagerly around the farmyard. She had something special for the cats today, and she was really hoping she could tempt the ginger kitten to come over to her.
Rosie had noticed at lunch that her friend Millie had ham sandwiches. Mum usually put jam sandwiches in Rosie’s lunch box, because they were her favourite, but she couldn’t help thinking that the kitten would love Millie’s sandwiches, the ham smelled really nice. Millie was picking at the ham with a bored expression.
“Don’t you like your sandwiches?” Rosie asked, a plan starting to form in the back of her mind.
“I wanted peanut butter, but my brother had nicked it all,” Millie sighed. “I hate ham…”
“Do you want to swap? I’ve only got one left, but it’s jam,” Rosie offered hopefully.
“You sure?” Millie looked delighted. “I didn’t know you liked ham. You can have both of them!”
Rosie had slowly eaten one of the sandwiches, and then tucked the other one away in her lunch box.
“Didn’t you like it after all?” Millie asked.
Rosie leaned over closer to her. The kitten felt like a special secret, and she didn’t want everyone to know. “I’m saving it. Remember the gorgeous ginger kitten I was telling you about that lives on the farm on the way back to my gran’s house? He came right up to me the other day, and I bet if I had some food he might even let me stroke him. You don’t mind, do you?”
Millie shook her head. “Of course not! Oh, you’re so lucky, going to see kittens. Are they tiny?”
“The lady who owns the farm thinks they’re about five weeks old. They’re so cute! Maybe your mum would let you come home with us and see them one day? I’m sure Gran wouldn’t mind. She could do tea for you as well.”
Now Rosie carefully unwrapped Millie’s sandwich, and started to crumble it into little bits, very gently, trying to keep as still and quiet as she could. It didn’t take long for the cats to get a whiff of the delicious, meaty smell.
Rosie caught a movement out of the corner of her eye, just a streak of black fur. It was one of the kittens, popping its head round the tractor wheel, trying to see what that yummy smell was. Suddenly, several more little cat faces popped up, their whiskers twitching as they sniffed the air.
Rosie threw a bit of sandwich on the ground a little way away, and the closest kitten, the black one, pounced and swallowed it whole. Then he looked up for more. All the other kittens padded a few steps forward, not wanting to miss out. This time Rosie dropped the food closer, and one of the tabby kittens darted in and grabbed it, running back to a safe distance before she dared to stop and eat.
Rosie’s heart thumped with delight as she saw her favourite ginger kitten patter across the farmyard, eager to join in. She tried to throw the next piece close to him, but the tabby kitten got there first and gobbled it up, right under his nose. The ginger kitten gave Rosie a piteous stare. I’m so hungry, he seemed to be saying. Pllleeeease feed me…
This time Rosie threw him an extra-large piece. The ginger kitten held it down with one paw, and hissed protectively when the others circled round him. Rosie laughed out loud – his furious little face was so funny – and the kittens looked up at her in shock, their eyes wide. Then they all shot off back into their hiding places. “Oh no!” Rosie muttered to herself, wishing she hadn’t been so noisy.
But the ginger kitten had only run a couple of steps away from his piece of sandwich, and now he eyed it uncertainly. Food – but also noisy girl. What was he supposed to do? He eyed her thoughtfully. He’d seen her before, she came quite often. She didn’t usually make a noise, and she was quiet now. She wasn’t even moving. And she still had lots more of that sandwich.
He darted over and gulped down the rest of his piece, then looked around. His brother and sisters were hiding still. If he went a bit closer, while they weren’t here, he might get more sandwich… Nervously, ready to run in case she made that loud noise again, he edged closer, his eyes on the ham.
Rosie carefully tossed him a little bit, much nearer to her feet this time.
The kitten stared at her suspiciously. Rosie looked back. Maybe it was too close. But then the kitten moved one paw forward cautiously, and then the other, and then he was just close enough. He started to gobble the sandwich, wit
h one eye on Rosie all the time.
When it was all gone he sat up and eyed her hopefully, licking his whiskers. He cast a quick look behind him. The others were all watching, but they weren’t coming any closer. The food was all his! He knew it was risky, but the sandwich was too delicious. He had to have more!
Rosie couldn’t help smiling. He was only about a metre away from her foot, almost close enough to touch. This time, instead of throwing the sandwich, she just held out her hand with the last few pieces in.
The ginger kitten stared at her nervously. What was he supposed to do now? The smell of that sandwich was so good. He could just run up and grab it, couldn’t he? He skittered forward, his whiskers trembling, and quickly licked up a few crumbs from Rosie’s hand, before stepping back to watch her again.
Then he heard a noise and looked round. His brother and sisters were starting to creep closer! They’d seen that he wasn’t afraid, so they were getting braver, too. If he didn’t wolf that sandwich down fast, he might have to share it.
The ginger kitten hurried back to Rosie and started to eat as fast as he could, licking the crumbs away with his rough little tongue. Rosie had to try hard not to giggle – he was tickling her!
In a few seconds the kitten had eaten the lot. He glared at her hand, obviously wondering when it was going to produce some more.
“Sorry, it’s all gone,” Rosie whispered. “But I’ll bring you some more next time. I bet Mum would let me have ham sandwiches if I asked, and I’d give them all to you.”
The kitten eyed her expectantly, and Rosie stretched out her hand. He licked it, but there was no more ham.
Rosie gently stroked the top of his head, and he jumped in surprise, looking up at her with enormous emerald eyes. What was that for? he seemed to be saying. Rosie guessed he just wasn’t used to being stroked. He didn’t know that she was trying to be nice. It made Rosie feel sad.
“Rosie! Where are you?” It was Gran, calling from the farmhouse door. The ginger kitten raced for the safety of the barn at top speed, chasing after his brother and sisters, and Rosie sighed as she got up. Still, she had managed to stroke him! That was a first. He was so little and thin, but his fur had been gorgeously soft, exactly as she’d imagined. More than ever, Rosie wished she could have a kitten just like him…
Chapter Two
Rosie thought about the ginger kitten all weekend. It was such a big step that he’d let her stroke him! Maybe she really would be able to tame him. He was very young, after all.
She sat dreamily at the kitchen table, while Mum was writing a shopping list, drawing pictures of the kitten. It was so hard to get his stripes right, she had to keep starting again.
“That’s beautiful, Rosie!” Mum said, leaning over.
Rosie shook her head. “His face ought to be more of a peachy colour. I don’t have the right pen for it.”
“Is it a real cat then?” Mum asked. “One of the ones you see on the way home from school?”
“He’s a kitten at Mrs Bowen’s farm,” Rosie explained. “You know, the little farm down the lane, about two minutes’ walk from Gran’s house? There’s five of them altogether. You’d love them, Mum.”
She looked hopefully at her mother. Maybe if Mum came and saw how cute the kittens were, she’d let them take the little ginger one home. If only Rosie could tame him…
“He does look cute,” her mum agreed. “Just be careful though, won’t you? Those wild cats have probably got all sorts of horrible bugs.”
Rosie sighed. That didn’t sound particularly hopeful…
Rosie’s mum couldn’t understand why she was so keen to get to school on Monday morning.
“I’m going to be at work early, at this rate,” she said. “What’s got into you, Rosie? Usually it’s me telling you to get a move on, not the other way around.”
Rosie just smiled. The sooner she was at school, the sooner it would be home time and she could persuade Gran to take her to the farm again. Or it felt that way anyway, even though she knew that really it didn’t make any difference how early she got there.
She’d made sure Mum bought ham for her sandwiches this week, and she’d begged for an extra yoghurt so she could save both sandwiches and not have her tummy rumbling all afternoon.
Luckily, Gran didn’t mind going to the farm again, and chatting with Mrs Bowen. Rosie ran ahead as they went down the lane that led past the farm, calling to her gran to hurry.
“I can’t walk any faster, Rosie,” said Gran. “You really do love those cats, don’t you?” She was frowning a little as she said it, but Rosie was thinking about whether the ginger kitten would remember her and didn’t notice.
It seemed to Rosie that the cats appeared more quickly this time when she sat down on the old tractor. Obviously they remembered her as the food person. The ginger kitten was the first to appear, his wide, white whiskers twitching with anticipation. Rosie wished he wasn’t so nervous of her, and that she could take him home and look after him. She crumbled the sandwich and scattered a few pieces around, hoping that again he’d be brave enough to come really close.
The kitten sniffed the air delightedly. More ham! And the others weren’t as brave as he was, so he could have most of it to himself. He was sure the girl wasn’t dangerous – she had touched him last time, but very gently. It had been quite nice. He’d even let her stroke him again, if there was ham.
Rosie watched hopefully as he crept forward, and she held out a particularly yummy-looking piece of ham. The kitten nibbled it delicately, then bumped her hand with his forehead, as if to say thank you. Rosie held out her left hand with some more sandwich, and carefully rubbed behind his ears with the other.
The kitten looked up at her, still confused about why she wanted to stroke him like this, but not minding too much. He even purred, just a little. He was a bit itchy behind the ears, and she was rubbing exactly the right spot.
He finished the last of the sandwich and stared at Rosie, sniffing her fingers to see if more food would appear. When it didn’t, he yawned, showing a very pink tongue, and jumped on his little tabby sister’s tail, starting a kitten wrestling match.
Rosie watched them, giggling quietly to herself. They were so funny! Maybe tomorrow she would bring a piece of string for them to chase, she was sure they would like that.
The kittens suddenly scattered, and Rosie turned to see her gran coming out of the farmhouse and waving goodbye to Mrs Bowen. Gran looked a bit worried, and Rosie jumped up.
“What’s the matter?” she asked, as they headed for the gate into the lane.
Gran looked down at her, and sighed. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about this for a while, Rosie,” she said. “Mrs Bowen is moving – she’s going to live with her son in the village. The farmhouse is a bit too big for her now she’s on her own.”
Rosie stared up at Gran in surprise. She couldn’t imagine the farm without Mrs Bowen. “Oh… So who’s going to live at the farm now?” she asked. “Is Mrs Bowen selling it?” Rosie looked back at the farm gate. There was no For Sale sign up.
“No…” Gran hesitated. “Well, yes, I suppose she is. The land has been sold to a developer – they’re going to knock down the farm buildings and put up some houses instead. Mrs Bowen signed the contract with them a little while ago, and she’s been gradually packing her things up and moving them over to her son’s house. She’s leaving the farm this week.”
Rosie gasped. It was all happening so quickly. Then a horrible thought struck her. “But Gran, what’s going to happen to the cats? They won’t stay around when the farm’s a building site! Where will they go?”
“It’s all right, Rosie,” Gran said soothingly, putting an arm round her shoulders. “Mrs Bowen’s asked the people from the Animal Rescue Centre in Wilmerton to rehome the cats. They’re going to come and collect them tomorrow, she told me. It’ll be much better for the cats, you know. They’ll check them over, and find proper homes for the kittens. As for the older cats, they’ll try and f
ind someone with farm buildings or stables who’ll have them as outdoor cats, like they are here.”
Rosie nodded. “But I won’t see them any more,” she said sadly, her voice quivering. “Not even the little ginger kitten, and he was starting to like me, Gran, he really was. I … I even thought of trying to take him home, if I could persuade Mum…”
“I’m not surprised he liked you, considering you were feeding him all your sandwiches.” Gran smiled at her. “Mrs Bowen does have windows and I’m not blind, Rosie!”
“Oh.” Rosie looked up at Gran, her cheeks a little pink. “You won’t tell Mum, will you?” she asked.
“Well, no. But I think you’d have been better off eating the sandwiches yourself and buying some cat treats with your pocket money,” Gran suggested. “I shouldn’t think your mother would like to know she was making sandwiches for a tribe of wild cats.”
“It won’t matter now anyway,” Rosie said tearfully. “I’ll never see any of them again!”
When Mum picked Rosie up from Gran’s that night, she was surprised by the quiet, sad little figure who trailed down the stairs.
“What’s up, Rosie? Did you have a bad day at school?” she asked.
Rosie shook her head.
“You go and get your things, Rosie,” Gran suggested, and by the time Rosie had packed up her homework and her pencil case, Gran had obviously told Mum what was going on, because she didn’t ask again.
Rosie stared miserably out of the car window as they drove back to their house, which was a bit further out of the village than Gran’s. The rescue centre people would be thinking about new homes for the kittens already, she supposed. All those lucky people, who’d be getting gorgeous kittens. Rosie wondered who would get to adopt the ginger kitten. Maybe there’d be a girl her age. But she was sure no one would ever love him as much as she did. She was so jealous.
