Holly Webb - The Curious Kitten

“Don’t make yourself sick,” George told her. “Sorry, that’s the last one. There’s still a bit of cheese, though.” He took it out and pulled off the cling film. “There you go.” He watched, smiling, as the kitten ate the cheese, too, and then sat down quite heavily and began to wash her ears and face. Her stomach looked a lot rounder than it had ten minutes ago.

“I wish I knew where you’d come from, Patch,” George murmured. “I probably shouldn’t have given you all that food, if you’re just going to go home for your tea. But you looked starving, the way you wolfed down that sandwich.”

The kitten licked her bright pink tongue over her nose and then looked at the boy with gleaming golden eyes. She got up and padded a little closer.

George gazed down in surprise – he’d thought maybe the kitten would hurry away once the food had all gone. But instead she clambered on to George’s lap and slumped down, clearly exhausted by so much eating. She yawned, and then she seemed to melt into the space on George’s lap, completely saggy, like a beanbag toy. She was asleep.

Cleo padded up to the shed and wriggled through a small gap in the boards. She gazed around, hoping to find something else to eat. The boy, George, had left her some food there in the morning – toast crusts and the end of a boiled egg. It wasn’t like anything Cleo had eaten before, but she’d quite enjoyed it. She was feeling hungry again now, though.

George had shown her this place the evening before. He’d opened the door and gone in to shake the dust and spiders’ webs off some cushions from the garden chairs. He had arranged them into a comfy pile for a bed and filled an old plant saucer from the outside tap with water. He’d even brought Cleo a fish finger. It was a bit fluffy from being in his pocket, but she hadn’t cared. Then he’d shown Cleo that there was a hole in the shed wall, just big enough for a kitten to squeeze in and out of.

Cleo had spent the night curled up on the cushions, but she kept startling awake. It wasn’t like being in a house. There were strange noises, and they seemed so close with just the thin wooden walls of the shed to protect her. Squeaks and chirrups and rustlings in the trees and the flowerbeds, and once, horribly close, a great deep sniff. Cleo had frozen, watching the little hole in the shed wall. After the sniff there had been a pause, a terrifying silence while she’d wondered if the creature was going to claw its way in. But it had gone away, obviously deciding that Cleo wasn’t worth the effort. It had left behind a sharp, unmistakeable whiff of something wild, and hungry.

She had spent the day exploring the garden – every so often coming up against that smell again. She could still catch a trace of it now…

Cleo hated the thought of spending another night in the shed, with that creature so close by. As kind as George was, she needed to find her home, where she slept indoors on Amber’s bed or occasionally in her basket. She wanted Amber to snuggle up against. She clambered back out of the shed then crept uncertainly past the house, down the side passage and out into George’s front garden. There she looked out on to the street, wondering how to get home. It was mid-afternoon and quite quiet, even though there were children’s voices in the distance, returning home from school. Cleo peered down the road hopefully, wondering if one of them was Amber, coming to find her. But the voices didn’t sound right.

Cleo hopped up on to the wall, so she could look around from a high point. The street stretched out in front of her – grey and empty, and utterly unfamiliar. Which way should she go?

She sniffed the air, trying to catch a scent of home, but there was nothing. At last she jumped down from the wall and set off down the street, making for a garden with straggly bushes spilling out on to the pavement. She would go in short hops, from hiding place to hiding place, she decided. In case that creature was still around.

A strange rattling sound suddenly came around the corner of the road, and Cleo scuttled towards the bushes and ducked underneath. There was a loud clattering and then footsteps. A face appeared under the branches, and Cleo’s heart slowed a little. It was the boy who had looked after her.

“What are you doing?” George muttered. “You shouldn’t be out on the pavement – I bet you don’t understand about cars.” He thought of Amber at school, worrying about her kitten getting run over. He ought to ask her if the kitten had been out in her front garden again. She’d been really quiet at school today, not at all chatty like she usually was.

He scooped Cleo up and snuggled her with one arm, glancing back over his shoulder. His mum hadn’t got round the corner yet – Toby was throwing a strop about being in the pushchair.

“Don’t wriggle too much,” George warned. “It’s tricky scooting with only one hand.”

He whooshed the last few metres towards his house and shoved his scooter into the little shelter down the side passage. The man next door, Luke, had helped Dad build it for all their bikes and things. The kitten was wriggling more and more. “I know,” he whispered. “I’m just waiting for Mum to open the door. Here, look!” He slipped his rucksack off his shoulders and crouched down, bringing out his lunchbox.

The kitten stopped struggling at once and pricked her ears forward.

“I saved you some of my lunch,” George told her. “You like cheese, don’t you?” He held out a cheese cube to the kitten, who swallowed it almost whole and then tried to burrow into the lunchbox to get more. George giggled. “You really do like cheese…” He peered round the corner of the side passage. “Just putting my scooter away, Mum!”

“All right. Close the front door when you come in,” his mum called back. “Come on, Toby. We’re home now.”

“You see,” George whispered. “Mum’s still busy with my brother. She isn’t going to notice if I sneak you up to my room, is she? You’ll be safe up there, Patch. No more going near the road.”

He picked up the lunchbox again, then hurried in through the front door and slipped upstairs.

“Can I make some leaflets about Cleo, Mum?” Amber asked, as she undid her school shoes. “Maisie suggested it. We could put them through people’s doors, in case they didn’t see the posters.”

“I suppose it could encourage the neighbours to look in their sheds and garages,” Mum agreed. “But you’re not to go out delivering them without me or Sara,” she added with a stern look.

Mum had been really cross the day before, when Amber had come back in after going to the house across the road. Luckily, Amber hadn’t had to explain exactly where she had been – she’d just said that she’d gone out looking for Cleo.

Amber opened up the laptop and started to write the leaflet. She dropped in the photo of Cleo and added a message asking people to check their sheds and garages, then put her mum’s phone number at the bottom. Then she printed them out and went into the kitchen to show Mum.