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“Sammy… Come on…” Harper crouched down by the table and whispered to the kitten. She’d been trying to distract him ever since she got back from school, but it was tricky. Sammy just didn’t seem to want to play like he usually did. She picked up one of his favourite toys, a little ball with a jingly bell inside it. Usually if she rolled it for him he’d race after it and leap on it, as if it was some sort of fierce monster he had to squish. Sometimes he even tried picking it up in his paws and ended up doing kitten juggling. He always made Harper laugh.

“Look, Sammy… I’ve got your ball,” she said, holding it up hopefully. Sammy was sitting by the cat flap, hunched up with his shoulder bones all poking out. He glared at her, although Harper could see he’d definitely noticed the ball. “Come on,” she said coaxingly, patting the ball against the kitchen tiles. “Look! I’m going to roll it for you! Come and see!”

Sammy’s tail twitched and Harper hid a smile. Hewanted to chase it, she was sure.

[Êàðòèíêà: img_17]

She’d really hoped that after a week Sammy would be settling into their new home, but it just didn’t seem to be happening. He kept tracking round the house, as though he was searching for something, and he was totally confused by the stairs. He spent ages sitting next to the bottom step and staring up, and he hadn’t tried climbing them yet. Harper wanted so much to pick him up and take him to see her new bedroom, but she’d resisted. Sammy would get up there eventually, she told herself. It was just that she missed him curling up to sleep in the space behind her knees.

Sammy really didn’t like being shut indoors, either. He spent a lot of time sitting by the locked cat flap in the kitchen and banging it with his paw. Then he would look round at Harper accusingly. She usually managed to distract him with a toy or a treat, but she was pretty sure that while she was at school he’d spent a lot of his time scratching the cat flap and trying to get into the garden. Gran was still feeling tired and a bit wobbly after her fall, and she couldn’t keep getting up to come and fuss over him.

Harper could understand that Sammy didn’t like being shut up. She wouldn’t want to be indoors all the time, either, but they had to wait until he was settled in. Mum had looked it up and said she thought a week was long enough, so he’d be able to go out in the garden at the weekend, when someone could be with him to make sure he didn’t dash off and get lost.

At least now it was Friday afternoon and Harper could spend some more time with him over the weekend.

“Harper, have you finished your unpacking yet?” Mum walked into the kitchen, pushing her hair off her forehead with one hand. She’d been busy all week trying to get everyone settled, and keeping an eye on Gran, and going to work. Now she looked hot and harassed. Harper glanced up guiltily. She hadn’t put away much of her stuff at all – just a few clothes – the boxes were still piled up in her room.

[Êàðòèíêà: img_18]

“I was trying to cheer Sammy up…”

“I know, love, but those boxes have to go back to the movers, remember? Can you go and start doing it, please?”

“Can’t I do it tomorrow?” Harper pleaded. “I’ll have loads of time then. I nearly got Sammy to play with his ball a minute ago.”

“Except tomorrow you wanted to let him out in the garden,” Mum reminded her. “You’ll need to be out there keeping an eye on him, won’t you? He’ll be fine for now, Harper, and it’ll definitely cheer him up going outside in the morning.”

Harper sighed and headed upstairs. She knew Mum had been unpacking and tidying and working all day, but she’d been at school, which was work too. No one seemed to be worried about Sammy like she was. It just wasn’t fair.

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Sammy padded into the living room, his tail twitching miserably. He’d been about to chase his ball, but then Harper had gone again, up the stairs. He didn’t like stairs, they felt different, and wrong… His home didn’t have stairs.

Gran was there, sitting in her favourite chair with a magazine, and she stretched out her hand to him. Sammy bumped his head against her fingers, but he didn’t leap up on to her lap. He still felt edgy, and confused, and cross – and even worse, he needed to wee. Back at the flat, he’d have used his litter tray, or popped out of the cat flap to the garden, but here it was more difficult. The cat flap didn’t work, however much he’d scrabbled atit, and his litter tray kept moving around. It had been in a corner of the kitchen, and then in a little room next door, and now he wasn’t sure where it had disappeared to.

He really needed to go. He clawed at the rug, over in the corner of the room away from Gran. It wasn’t the right thing to do, he knew that – but he couldn’t help it! What was he supposed to do, if they wouldn’t let him out? He glanced around guiltily and heard a worried gasp from Gran as he started to wee.

“Oh dear, don’t do that, Sammy…”