Холли Вебб - A Cat Called Penguin

Still, the spider distracted Mum from wondering where he’d been.

“Couldn’t you feed it to Penguin?” she asked.

“Mum! I don’t think they’re good for him. Besides, you wanted him on a diet – no snacks, you said!”

“I shouldn’t think spiders are very fattening, Alfie. And he’d probably have to run around to catch it.”

Penguin twirled himself around her legs, purring, and Mum laughed. “Yes, you’d like to eat me up a horrible spider, wouldn’t you? Come on, Alfie, I left Jess with a sandwich, she’s probably wrecked the kitchen by now.”

But Jess was still sitting angelically in her high chair, clapping her hands as Dad sang her “ London’s Burning ”. It was her favourite song, but only he was allowed to sing it for her. It was as if she knew he was a firefighter.

“I saw Mrs Barratt from next door earlier on,” Mum mentioned as she passed Alfie a sandwich.

Alfie nearly dropped it. Had Mrs Barratt seen him? Had she complained that he’d been messing around in her garden?

“I haven’t seen her for weeks…” Dad murmured through a mouthful of chicken sandwich, not noticing Alfie’s rabbit-in-the-headlights gaze. “Is she all right?”

“Yes, she’s fine. She waved to me as I was walking past with Jess in the pushchair. She was just saying goodbye to the meals on wheels people. But she won’t be needing them soon, she said. She was very excited about it.”

“She’s not going into sheltered housing, is she?” Dad asked. “She always said she couldn’t bear the thought of it. She loves that house, even if she hasn’t seen most of it for years.”

Mum smiled. “No, nothing like that. Her daughter’s coming to live with her!”

Dad frowned. “Really? The one she never sees? That’s a surprise.”

Dad did look quite surprised, but it was nothing compared to how Alfie felt. A daughter! That would be someone around Mum’s age, probably. Someone who’d be bound to go upstairs, and look out of the windows, and maybe even try and sort out the jungle of a garden.

“I think Mrs Barratt didn’t get on with Lucy’s husband,” Mum explained. “But now they’ve split up, and Lucy’s coming to stay with her mother for a while. And the best bit is, Lucy’s got a daughter your age, Alfie. She’s missed the first week of school, of course, but you’ll have someone next door to play with, isn’t that great?”

Alfie blinked, and Penguin took the opportunity to snatch a bit of chicken that was dangling from his sandwich.

A girl? Next door? Why was this supposed to be good news?

“She’s coming this week sometime. She’ll probably go to our school !” Alfie hissed, panicked, to Oliver the next morning, as they spilled out of the classroom at break.

Oliver nodded. “Mm, probably. But it’s not that bad – Alice and Emily in Year Two live next door to me. I don’t have to hang around with them or anything. Their mum brings me home sometimes, that’s all.”

Alfie snorted. He didn’t want some strange girl and her mum bringing him home. And he didn’t want anyone in his garden.

That was the real problem. It wasn’t his garden. It never had been. And now he was going to have to give it up.

Oliver frowned suddenly, his dark eyebrows meeting in the middle like furry caterpillars. “What about your tree?” Oliver came over to Alfie’s house every couple of weeks or so, and Alfie had shown him the loose board and the garden next door – after making him swear an elaborate oath of secrecy that had a lot to do with a book about pirates that he’d just read. Oliver was suitably envious of the tree – he only had a baby playhouse in his garden. With curtains.

Alfie stared at him. He felt as though Oliver wasn’t understanding on purpose. “It won’t be my tree, will it?” he snapped. “It’ll be her tree now!” He stomped off, barging Oliver out of the way with his shoulder, and not caring if it hurt. It was Oliver’s fault for being so stupid.

Luckily, Oliver was thick-skinned, and just elbowed Alfie in the ribs at lunch time as a way of getting him back. “No girl’s going to get through all those brambles to the tree,” he pointed out. “You’ll just have to be careful to stay out of her way, that’s all.”

Alfie nodded gratefully.

But Oliver had underestimated the girl next door.

Alfie slid out into the garden when he got home, before Mum could mention homework, or watching Jess while she made dinner. Penguin was asleep in the ironing basket and didn’t seem to want to move, so for once Alfie set off down the garden alone. Even after Oliver had told him not to worry, he still felt miserable as he pushed the board back. Like it might be the last time. He wriggled through the gap, wormed his way along below the level of the brambles and hauled himself up into the tree. The bark was rough against his fingers, but he didn’t care. He settled himself on to his favourite branch and eyed the apple he’d been watching for the past few days. It was a sharp yellowish-green all over, with just a faint brownish flush. Almost perfectly ripe, he thought. And even if it wasn’t, he didn’t want to leave it, in case the girl could climb trees. He twisted it off the stalk, and it came away easily – it was ripe, then.

Alfie leaned back against the tree trunk and stared at the house. Mum hadn’t said exactly when Lucy and the girl were coming – but then Jess was teething, and she’d been having a screaming day. He’d ask Mum later if she’d heard anything. He bit into the apple thoughtfully. He would be like a spy in enemy territory. Penguin could be his scout cat. He grinned to himself at the idea of Penguin wearing a bulletproof vest.

“Did you know you’re stealing that apple?”

Alfie nearly fell out of the tree. The voice had come from up above him. He stared up, blinking against the sunlight filtering down through the branches.

Someone was sitting higher up the tree, astride the slightly wobbly branch that Alfie tended to avoid.

“In fact, you’re trespassing. This is my gran’s garden.”

Alfie opened his mouth to defend himself, and then shut it again. She was quite right. What on earth could he say?

“I bet she doesn’t mind,” he muttered weakly.

“Did you ask her?” The girl lay down along the branch to look at him better, and it bounced in a way that made Alfie’s stomach bounce too.

“You need to be careful with that branch,” he muttered. If she fell out of the tree while he was there, Alfie had a strong feeling that she was one of those girls who’d make sure he got into trouble for it.

“No, I don’t,” she snapped back. “I’m fine. Bet you couldn’t get up here.”

The girl wriggled her way along the branch, her blonde hair hanging downwards. She was wearing jeans and a pale pink T-shirt, now streaked with lichen all down the front.

“That branch isn’t strong enough at the end.” Alfie stood up, very carefully, wriggling his feet to the best place on the branch and hanging on to the one above him. She needed to get down. He held a hand out to her. “Come back down. You have to.”

“Get lost.” The girl smirked. She bounced up and down on purpose, and the whole tree shuddered. Alfie’s foot slipped, and his stomach slid sideways. He gasped. He was going to be sick. He loved the tree, and he was good at climbing, but he liked to be holding on tight.

He grabbed the trunk to steady himself and felt the apple slip out of his hand. Alfie didn’t want to be in the tree any longer. He grabbed the rope and flung himself down, grazing the side of his leg against the bark.