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Sometimes she could really do without her little sisters.

After a few minutes sitting there with her chin on her hand, Isla realized that she was staring vaguely at the big key hanging on the wall beside the front door. It had a row of little hooks on it, and it was where her mum and dad hung up their door keys, and any other keys they had, like the spare key for her nan’s house – and the key to Hailey’s front door.

It was just there, right in front of her.

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And it would be helpful if she went by herself, wouldn’t it? Mum and Dad were both busy, so why give them the bother of having to go with her?

By this time, Isla had almost convinced herself that it was her duty to go, right now. Chloe and Sienna having another meltdown in the kitchen– because Sienna had tried to write her name and written the S the wrong way round – only made the decision even easier.

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The kitten crouched in the darkness behind a basket of scarves and mittens. The house felt so strange without any of the family there. It creaked and echoed, and Silky’s tail twitched. They had all been out before, but perhaps only for a few moments, or when she’d still been kept in one room by herself. This felt different.

She didn’t know where Pickle was. The fur along her spine kept lifting every time she heard a noise and wondered if it was him, getting ready to leap out at her and cuff her with one of his massive paws.

A sharp rattling made her ears prick up. The sound of a key in the door. Perhaps the family had come back? Silky stood up, edging out from behind her basket and padding hopefully towards the line of pale light that was the door to the cupboard. This cupboard under the stairs was usually kept shut, but when she had finally made it to the bottom of the stairs Silky had seen that it was ajar and sneaked in. It was dark and quiet and it felt safe. Safe places were important now.

She peered round the edge of the cupboard, watching as the front door swung open. She expected to see Hailey run in but it was a different child. Different but familiar. She had met Isla before, though always with Hailey. What was the girl doing here?

Perhaps she wouldn’t come out, not yet, Silky thought. She’d just watch.

“Silky! Pickle!” Isla called, her voice low. Silky knew her name but she didn’t always answer to it, not unless it was someone calling her for food. She squished herself a little closer to the door of the cupboard, her whiskers quivering as she watched Isla. The girl was pulling something outof her pocket – it looked like a bundle of string and ribbons. And it bounced!

Without even thinking about it, Silky darted out from behind the cupboard door. The ribbons danced and sparkled and she wanted them. She heard Isla laugh and say,“Oh, there you are!” but the kitten wasn’t listening. She was sitting up on her hind paws, batting at the dangling ribbons.

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“Do you like them? I put them on elastic so they’d jump about. I got it out of Mum’s basket of sewing stuff. Oooooh, you caught it! Wow, big jump, Silky.”

Silky leaped up again, flailing her paws at the ribbons as they flashed past her nose. She landed on the hall carpet with a thump, the ball of ribbons squashed underneath her, and she rolled around with it, growling fiercely and chewing at the bright strands.

“Do you like it then?” Isla crouched down next to her and Silky could hear the warmth in her voice. “I made it for you. For Pickle too, but mostly you. Hailey says Pickle’s not that interested in toys any more.”

Silky rolled on to her back, still clutching the fluffy ball of ribbons, and rubbed the side of her head against Isla’s outstretched hand. This was good. She liked being fussed over.

Isla laughed in delight and tickled under the kitten’s chin. “You’re so soft,” she murmured. “Such long fur. I should have asked Hailey if I ought to brush you. Do you like being brushed, mmm?” She smoothed her hand over the kitten’s fur. Silky was the perfect name for her.

There was a soft click from the kitchen– so quiet that Isla hardly even noticed it. But Silky sprang up at once, twisting back on to her paws and standing ready, shoulders hunched. Her fluffy tail seemed to get even fluffier and Isla saw her turn sideways. She was making herself look bigger, Isla realized, looking worriedly towards the kitchen.

Isla had never been afraid of Pickle– even though he was really big. He was such a friendly cat, and cuddly, and she’d never seen him scratch anyone.

Now, stalking in from the kitchen, he looked very different. He’d lowered his head and his ears were flattened. The fur along his back had lifted up in spikes and he was hissing, no, more than hissing – it was a deep, throaty growl. He seemed about six times the size of Silky. He lookedterrifying.

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