Holly Webb - The Curious Kitten

Amber waved goodbye to Mum reluctantly and slung her rucksack over her shoulder. Lila came running up as she trailed into the playground.

“Are you all right?” Lila said anxiously. “Your eyes are all red. Amber, what’s the matter?”

“It’s Cleo,” Amber sniffed. “She never came home for her tea last night. Mum and Dad said they were sure she’d be back when we got up, but she wasn’t!” She swallowed hard. “I didn’t want to come to school. I wanted to stay at home and keep looking for her. Mum said she’s going to ring all the vets this morning. That’s in case … in case she’s been brought in because she’s had an accident.”

“Oh no,” Lila whispered. “But you were saying only yesterday that you were worried about her being run over.”

“I know!” Amber pressed her hands into her eyes. She didn’t want to start crying again, not at school. “That makes it worse,” she whispered. “I feel like I made it happen by worrying about it.”

Lila put an arm round her shoulders. “Of course you didn’t,” she said firmly. “All it means is that you were sensible to worry. And you don’t know that anything bad’s happened! She might just be shut in somebody’s garage.”

“I guess so,” Amber muttered.

Then Maisie came hurrying up, and Amber stared down at her shoes as Lila whispered what had happened. She didn’t want to hear her friends talking about it – it only made Cleo’s disappearance seem more real.

“Did you go looking for her?” Maisie asked.

“Down the whole street. And Dad asked some of the neighbours when he got home last night. If Cleo isn’t back by this afternoon, we’re going to put posters up.”

Lila made a face. “I hate those posters. They’re so sad. But I bet they work,” she added hurriedly.

“There’s the bell.” Maisie squeezed Amber’s hand. “Are you going to be OK? Do you want us to say something to Mr Evans for you?”

Amber shook her head, horrified. Imagine her teacher making a fuss and the whole class knowing. “I’ll be fine. Please don’t tell anyone, Maisie. I just don’t want to talk about Cleo – it’s making me feel too miserable.”

After school, Amber dashed out to find her mum, hoping that she’d have good news. But she could tell as soon as she saw Mum on the other side of the playground that she didn’t. She looked worried, even though she smiled at Amber and held out her arms for a hug.

“She hasn’t come home, has she?” Amber asked, her voice muffled in her mum’s jacket.

“Not yet, sweetie.”

Amber swallowed. It felt like her heart was swelling up and blocking her throat. “Let’s go home,” she told Mum, and her voice sounded odd, even to her. “We need to start on the Lost Cat posters. I’ll find a good photo of Cleo.”

“Yes, I suppose we should,” Mum agreed. “I really did think she’d have turned up by now. I wonder if she’s shut in somewhere.”

“Where?” Amber turned to look at Mum.

“Someone’s shed, maybe? You know how nosy Cleo is. If she found one open she’d definitely pop in for a look around. And then maybe the person came back and shut the door without seeing her.”

Amber nodded. “Oh, yes! I’ll put that on the poster, then. We’ll ask if people can look in their sheds. And Lila said she could be shut in a garage. I wonder if there’s anywhere else…”

As soon as she got home, Amber raced upstairs to find the laptop she shared with Sara. Normally they argued about whose turn it was to have it, but Amber knew that today Sara wouldn’t mind if she got it out of her bedroom. She carried it into her own room and started to work out what the poster should say.

“Amber?”

Amber gazed up at Sara in the doorway. “Look!” she sniffed, holding out the laptop to her big sister. There were tears dripping down her nose.

“Oh…” Sara sat down next to Amber on the bed, peering over at the photo on the screen. “I took that one on Mum’s mobile. Cleo thought the phone was something she could eat – that’s why she’s so close up. She looks really cute.”

“I bet she’s really scared, wherever she is,” Amber sobbed. “She’s not going to understand what’s going on, is she? She won’t even know we’re looking for her.”

“I bet she will,” Sara said. “She knows we love her, Amber. I’ll help you put the posters up, and she’ll be home soon. It’ll be OK.”

Once she’d darted out from under the van on to the pavement, Cleo squirmed under the nearest gate. She still had no idea where she was and why she couldn’t find her way home to Amber, but she was so thirsty. She had to find something to drink. She followed her nose down the pathway at the side of the house and came out into the back garden. She could smell water, she was sure. There was a delicate pattering sound and she hurried towards it. She was right – there was a huge bowl full of water, with a little fountain in the middle.

Cleo put her paws up on the edge and drank greedily. It tasted odd, not like the water from her bowl at home, but it was still good. She liked the fountain too, and she darted her head about, trying to catch the water drops in her mouth. They got on her ears and her whiskers, but she didn’t mind – it helped to get rid of the dusty feeling.

Cleo padded across the garden, sniffing for something to eat – she felt much hungrier, now that she wasn’t so thirsty. There was a definite smell of at least one other cat around, but none appeared.

Eventually she came to a little teepee set up on the grass. She peered around the tent flap, sniffing hopefully. There on a rug was a plastic plate, with half a stale sandwich on it. Cleo darted in and gobbled down the sandwich, which was full of dry cheese. It was delicious! She was still hungry, so she washed herself thoroughly all over, making sure she got every last crumb out of her whiskers.

Then she yawned and curled up on the bit of the rug that was in the sun. The garden was quiet and felt safe, and the September sun was very warm. Before long Cleo was fast asleep.

She was woken mid-afternoon by a sudden noise – a loud wailing. Panicked, Cleo whisked round to the other side of the tent and hid behind it, peering out to see what was going on.

A boy came out of the back door of the house, carrying a plate. He wasn’t the one making the noise – that seemed to be coming from inside. The boy wandered to the end of the garden and sat down on a swing beside the tent. He swung idly back and forth, nibbling at the sandwich. He was staring vaguely round the garden when he spotted Cleo.

He stopped swinging at once, and Cleo froze.

The boy slipped off the swing, leaving the sandwich on the grass and crept towards the tent.

“Here, puss, puss…” he called.

Cleo shrunk back behind the tent, as the wailing started up again.