by Holly Webb
But when they dashed across the playground together, leaving Oliver standing gaping at the classroom door, only Alfie’s mum was there waving at them.
Grace slowed up, frowning and peering through the fence for her mum.
“Grace, your mum asked me to fetch you,” Alfie’s mum called quietly, and Grace slouched over to her, looking reluctant.
“Is something wrong?” she asked. She looked grumpy, but Alfie realized it was because she was frightened.
Alfie’s mum nibbled her bottom lip and nodded. “She was really sorry, Grace. She didn’t want you to be upset, but it was all a bit of a rush. Your gran’s not very well, you see.”
Grace glared at her. “I know that! She hasn’t been well for ages. That’s why we came.”
“Ye-es, but she’s had to go into hospital. It happened at lunch time,” Mum explained. “Your mum’s with her; that’s why she asked me to pick you up.”
“When will they be back?” Grace asked. Her water bottle rolled out of her fingers, and Alfie picked it up for her.
Alfie’s mum shook her head. “Your mum really wasn’t sure. She didn’t know exactly what was wrong with your gran, and she wants to stay at the hospital while they find out, you see.” She smiled at Grace. “We arranged that you can stay with us if she’s got to be there overnight.”
Grace took her water bottle back from Alfie. Her fingers felt cold when he touched them, by accident. “All right,” she whispered, even though Alfie didn’t think she had much choice.
Grace trailed along behind Alfie and his mum. Alfie kept glancing back at her, not sure what to say. He’d have been upset if it was either of his grandmas in hospital. Grace actually lived with her gran, so it must be even worse.
He hung back to walk next to her, and she slowed down to pigeon steps, and then reluctantly caught up with him. “What?” she muttered ungraciously.
“Um. You still want to go and look for Penguin?” he asked. He felt bad saying it, but Penguin was still missing, even if Grace’s gran was in hospital.
Grace sighed, a very tiny sigh, and nodded.
“OK. Um, don’t tell my mum? She’ll want to come with us, and I bet we can look better if we just sneak around – most of the gardens have got holes in the fences, like ours does. I’ve watched Penguin going off exploring.”
“From in my tree, I bet!” Grace’s eyes sparkled, but she seemed glad to be almost-cross. Alfie just shrugged and grinned at her. She elbowed him, and he elbowed her back, in a friendly sort of way.
“What shall we have for tea?” Alfie’s mum asked, looking back from the pushchair. Alfie jumped away from Grace and tried to look as though he hadn’t been pushing.
“Lasagne!” Grace suggested promptly. “Takes ages to make!” she whispered to Alfie, when he looked at her in surprise. “We want her busy, don’t we?”
“Er, really?” Alfie’s mum murmured, looking a little shocked. “Well, I was thinking more along the lines of sausages, but I suppose…”
Behind his mum’s back, Alfie beamed at Grace and flashed a sly thumbs up. She nodded regally. She was clearly a mistress of deception. Alfie was impressed.
Once they got home, Alfie and Grace disappeared into the garden, promising to be back in for tea.
“Is it OK if we climb over the fence into my garden too?” Grace asked very politely. “I’d like to show Alfie my den.”
“Well, as long as you’re careful,” Alfie’s mum agreed.
“Now if she can’t see us she’ll just think we’re in my garden,” Grace whispered conspiratorially as they headed down to the end of the garden. “And I didn’t tell her about the loose board, either. Where shall we look first? I’m sure he isn’t anywhere round my house, honestly.”
Alfie nodded. “He goes under our back fence sometimes. That’s the Morrises’ garden, and they’re not usually in until later. We could go and check there. Then there’s the little copse behind your garden that’s full of holes and stuff. And he likes the allotments on the corner. That’s a couple more gardens away, but if we were sneaky going along the back fences, I bet no one would see us.”
Grace nodded, not looking the slightest bit daunted by all this skulduggery. Alfie decided he almost liked her, even if she was a thieving cat-rustler.
He led her down to the back fence of his garden, helpfully hidden behind a screen of sweet pea poles, and pointed out the rather dank hole under the fence. It was definitely more cat-sized than Alfie-and-Grace-sized, but then Penguin was a large cat, and they were both reasonably skinny.
Grace eyed it doubtfully, and then looked him up and down. “You first.”
Alfie took a deep breath in and lay down, ready to squirm.
“Do you want me to push you?” Grace asked helpfully, squatting down by his middle.
“No!” Alfie retorted from the other side of the fence. “I can do it with my elbows. Ow, I’m through. Your turn!”
Grace wriggled daintily through the hole, the only casualty her bunches, which were decidedly uneven when she stood up with Alfie on the other side of the fence. She straightened them thoughtfully as they peered round the bush they’d emerged into and along the Morrises’ garden. “They’re definitely out?”
Alfie shrugged. “Neither of them gets home till about six.”
Grace smiled at him. “You really did spy out of that tree, didn’t you? Do you know what everybody does round here?”
Alfie ducked his head, flushing. “It’s good for spotting stuff, that’s all. I miss it,” he added in a mutter.
Grace nodded. “You can maybe borrow it sometimes. Should we call for Penguin, do you think? Or is here too close? Wouldn’t you have heard him meowing if he was stuck somewhere so near?”
Alfie crouched down and peered right under the bush. “I guess so. And they don’t have a shed for him to be shut in or anything like that. Penguin!” he called quietly just in case. “Penguin!”
There was no answering mew, and he stood up, shaking his head. “Let’s go next door. Then we’re on the way to the allotments. And the people next door but one have got a shed. It’s worth a look.”
The Morrises’ side fence was worryingly solid, with no useful loose boards or holes underneath. But they did have a small plum tree that Alfie could shove Grace into, and she could haul him up after her. Then they sat there, wobbling, and peering down into the little wooded patch on the other side of the fence. It was a sort of tiny nature reserve that belonged to the council, with a pond in it that school took them to every so often to do pond dipping. Pond dipping was mostly just an excuse for flicking slime at the girls, as far as Alfie and Oliver and most of their friends were concerned. Last time Asha had shoved Oliver back when he put something disgusting down her wellies, and he’d actually fallen in the pond. Year Two (they’d been Year Two then) had been banned from pond dipping after that.
Alfie frowned down at the ground, which seemed a long way away. “I think we just have to jump.”
Grace nodded. “Those ferny things look quite soft.”
“They’re nettles,” Alfie told her, leaning down for a closer look.
“No! This bit.”
“Oh. OK, yeah. Maybe. Shall I jump then?”
Grace nodded, and settled herself in the tree as though she was preparing to watch something funny.
It actually wasn’t that far down, and Alfie almost missed the nettles. Not quite, but almost. He sucked his hand. “Aim this way,” he pointed, looking up at Grace in the tree.
Grace edged out away from the tree and perched herself on the edge of the fence, holding on to a branch. Then she jumped with a yell, landing spreadeagled in the middle of the ferns and gasping with laughter.
“Are you all right?” Alfie asked, helping her up. But she was all right enough to be giggling, too much to say anything.
“Your dress is covered in stuff,” he told her, but
Grace only shrugged. She took a deep, shaky breath, and sighed.
“That was funny.”
“Are you really all right?” Alfie eyed her doubtfully. “You look sort of weird.”
Grace nodded, and stopped looking at him. “I just want to find Penguin,” she muttered. “I can do something about that. I can’t help Gran.”
“Is she really ill?” Alfie asked.
Grace nodded. “She has been for ages, I think. We didn’t know. Mum had a massive row with her years ago. I’ve hardly even met her before. She sent presents, really nice ones. And she’d phone at Christmas and stuff, but I never knew what to say. Last time she phoned she told Mum how ill she was, and Mum came to see her. Then she came back and told me we were moving!”
Alfie shook his head. “Just like that?”
Grace nodded bitterly. “Right at the end of the summer holidays. I didn’t even get to start the new term or say goodbye at school. Only to my two best friends.”
Alfie swallowed. He couldn’t imagine it. “Let’s go this way,” he muttered, pulling her arm gently. “Are you staying?” he asked, as they set off, wading through the bracken.
Grace shrugged. “Mum says so. But, if Gran’s really ill – really badly ill, I mean…” She trailed off.
“Mm. You could go home again.” Alfie flushed scarlet as soon as he said it, wishing he hadn’t.
Grace nodded. “It’s really bad that I think that, isn’t it?” she asked miserably.
“I don’t think it is.” Alfie looked back at her as she tracked him through the waist-high leaves. “You’ve only known her about a week, haven’t you?”
Grace nodded. “But she is my grandma,” she pointed out. “I feel horrible that I’m more worried about your cat than her.”
Alfie shrugged. “Well, it’s like you said. You can’t do anything about her, but you can help me find Penguin. Once we’ve found him, I’ll help you worry about her, if you like.”
Grace smiled. “All right. We should call him.”
They called and called. There were strange rustles, and leaves shook here and there, but it was only birds, and a dirty, skinny fox that shot across the faint path in front of them and made Grace shriek.
Alfie patted her. “You don’t need to be scared of them. They’re a pain, Mum says. They just tip the bins over and eat the rubbish.” But his heart was thumping fast too.
“Gran likes them,” Grace said, her voice still a little shaky with surprise. “She knows loads about animals, really funny things sometimes. Foxes used to hide out in her garden. One of her notes said so. She leaves notes for herself everywhere,” she added. “She says her memory’s going and she doesn’t want to forget anything. She’s got notebooks in every room, and little sticky notes all over the place. It’s weird.” She paused for a minute, as though she wasn’t sure whether or not to go on. Then she started again all in a rush. “Lots of them are about me. She’s written my name inside the front cover of all the books, so she doesn’t forget what it is.”
“Oh.” Alfie nodded, not sure what to say. “She still calls me Lucy a lot, though. That’s my mum’s name.” She looked around, shaking her head as if she didn’t want to think about it any more. “He isn’t here, is he? Where shall we go now?”
Alfie looked thoughtfully through the trees. “The allotments. I reckon he goes there for bits of people’s sandwiches. He could have got shut in somewhere.” He carefully didn’t mention the road between the wood and the allotments. That was something he didn’t want to think about.
Grace looked at it as they came out of the little gate, but she didn’t say anything either. They just waited, looking carefully both ways. Alfie wasn’t allowed to cross roads on his own, and he suspected Grace wasn’t either. But they’d broken enough rules that afternoon not to care.
The allotments weren’t that busy on a weekday afternoon – most people had gone home to think about dinner, Alfie guessed, inwardly thanking Grace for her sneaky lasagne plan. He hoped Mum hadn’t spotted they’d gone yet. If they didn’t find Penguin soon they’d have to go back, but they could go the street way, which would be quicker, and sneak back down the side path so Mum didn’t notice.
“Lots of sheds,” Grace said thoughtfully, looking around the tidy little plots.
Alfie nodded. “And I bet they’re all locked. We’ll just have to shout for him, see what happens.”
Treading cautiously around a row of tall green things – he had no idea what they were – Alfie pressed his nose up against the window of a small, slightly tumbledown shed and peered in. All he could see were greyish, shadowy shapes. He banged on the glass. “Penguin? Penguin!”
He was sure Penguin would have answered if he’d been there. All that happened was an old lady digging on another plot looked round at them. Alfie sighed. He’d been really hoping. But it was silly to think that Penguin would be in the very first shed. They couldn’t just give up.
“She’s going to come and tell us off in a minute,” Grace predicted. “Let’s go and look at some more. Quickly!”
The shed on the next plot was even more battered. The roof was half covered in a green tarpaulin where the proper roofing had worn away, and there were boards half hanging off in places. Alfie felt a little less anxious going up to this one – it didn’t look as though anyone was going to complain about him damaging it. He put his hands up against the glass, which was striped with Sellotape, and called, “Penguin?” as he peered in.
There was a scuffling noise, and then a frantic mew – frantic, but tired, as though the cat inside had been calling for ages, and had given up.
Grace ran up next to him, jumping over a row of flowers. “It’s him! You found him, Alfie!”
Alfie hugged her, without actually meaning to. “He sounds all right, doesn’t he? Not hurt or anything? I can’t see him!”
Grace looked along the shed to the door. “And we can’t get in. It’s locked.”
“What are you children doing?”
Alfie yelped and jumped round. It was the old lady who’d been watching them. She looked rather annoyed. “It’s my cat…” he whispered. “He’s been lost. He’s shut in this shed. We came looking for him, that’s all.”
“You shouldn’t be poking around the allotments,” the old lady said firmly.
“He’s been missing for two whole nights,” Grace said pleadingly. “He could have been shut in here all that time. We’re only trying to get him back, we’re not hurting anything.”
“You’re standing on a row of winter cabbages!” the old lady snapped, and Grace jumped back against the shed. “But if there really is a cat in there, we shall certainly have to get him out. The problem is that that’s Joe Orton’s shed, and he’s on holiday this week.”
Alfie swallowed back sudden tears, looking at the padlock on the door. Was Penguin going to have stay in there for the rest of the week? He supposed they could poke food through the little holes… “It’s all right, Penguin,” he murmured. “We’ll do something…”
There was only a very small meow in response.
“Don’t worry.” The old lady seemed to have decided she was on their side since Grace jumped off the cabbages. “The allotment committee keeps telling Joe he needs to sort out this shed, but for once it’s a blessing. The roof’s half gone. Huge hole in it. It might well be how your cat got in there in the first place.”
“I could climb up there,” Grace said, looking at the water butt. “Or I could if you pushed me, Alfie.”
“You won’t be able to get out again.” Alfie shook his head. “Then you and Penguin would both be stuck in there. I suppose at least it would cheer him up. But your mum would kill mine if she came back home and Mum said you were stuck in a shed.”
“Joe’s got a stepladder in there that he uses for pruning his apple tree,” the old lady said thoughtfully. “You should be able to use that
to get out.”
“Alfie, crouch down so I can climb on your back,” Grace ordered.
Alfie did as he was told. Since he’d heard Penguin mewing, he was so happy he didn’t mind Grace bossing him around. “Ow, you’re so heavy!” he yelped, as she half-jumped off his back on to the top of the water butt, which thankfully still had its lid.
He straightened up and watched anxiously as she pulled the tarpaulin aside and peered into the hole.
“Is he all right?”
“I think so – he’s walking round and round in circles,” she reported back. “He’s not limping or anything. Hi, Penguin! We’re going to get you out!”
“Can you get down in there safely?” the old lady called.
“There’s a wheelbarrow,” Grace told her, swinging one leg into the hole, and then the other. Alfie clutched the rim of the water butt nervously as he watched her jump. He should have climbed up really. After all, Penguin was his cat. Alfie hadn’t realized how brave Grace was. He was suddenly glad she’d come searching with him.
There was a loud clanging as Grace hit the wheelbarrow, and an anxious hiss from Penguin.
“Are you all right?” Alfie yelled.
Grace’s voice came back echoey but somehow muffled.
“Yes. Ow. I’ve got splinters, but I’m all right. Penguin’s sulking; he didn’t like the bang. I’m getting the stepladder.”
There was a series of scraping and scuffling sounds, and then an angry yowl, followed by some muttering, which Alfie thought sounded like, Stupid ungrateful cat. Then Penguin’s front paws, very stiff and cross, appeared out of the hole in the roof, quickly followed by the rest of him, and by Grace, looking scratched but pleased with herself.
Penguin saw Alfie and skidded out of Grace’s arms and down the roof with a joyful yowl. Alfie caught him laughing, and hugged him.
“You’ve got thinner.” He grinned. “The vet’ll be pleased.”
Penguin put one paw on each of Alfie’s shoulders, as though he was trying to hug him back, and purred like a lawnmower.
