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Lucy spotted the basket, and flashed the torch over the top, looking for her hat and scarf. It was cold outside and she might be out searching for a while– she wasn’t coming back until she’d found Sky and brought her home!

Then she stopped with a gasp. Peering out from under her hat was a tiny creamy-white head. Big blue eyes blinked at her uncertainly.

“Sky!” Lucy breathed. “There you are! Mum was right, you didn’t get out after all! Oh, Sky, we’ve been looking for you all night.” She crouched down next to the basket, and looked closely at her. “Are you all right? Were you stuck in here? Why didn’t you call?”

[Êàðòèíêà: img_28]

Sky watched Lucy warily. Her voice sounded loving, but a little sad as well.Please don’t give me back… she mewed.I want to stay!

“Were you hiding?” Lucy asked slowly. “Because you didn’t know what was going on? Oh, Sky, I’m so sorry…” She reached out one finger, very gently, and rubbed Sky under her chin. “It’s all going to be fine now, I promise. No more pretending I don’t love you, because I really, really do. I know I do. Please come out!”

Sky stood up unsteadily on the pile of hats and gloves, and mewed again.I’m so hungry! she told Lucy.

“You must be starved,” Lucy muttered. Very gently, she picked Sky up, cradling her close.

Sky could feel Lucy’s heart beating as she carried her to the kitchen. Her own heart was thumping anxiously, too. Where would her basket be? She sat tensely in Lucy’s arms as she opened the door, and turned on the kitchen light. Then she howled in dismay. It was piled up on the counter still, with her bowl and food bag. They were still going to give her away!

“Hey, hey, Sky, what’s wrong?” Lucy asked. “Oh! Your basket. Does it look strange up on the counter like that? It’s all right, look.” Whispering soothingly and cuddling the tiny kitten in one arm, Lucy took Sky’s toys out of the basket and put it back in its warm corner by the radiator. Sky stopped crying, and leaned over Lucy’s arm to sniff it suspiciously. It seemed right. Good. Now all Lucy had to do was get her food bowl.

“Lucy!” Lucy’s mum was at the kitchen door, her dressing gown half-tied, looking worried. “What are you doing?” she said. “Oh, you’ve found her! Where was she?” She turned to Lucy’s dad, who had followed her downstairs. “Lucy’s found Sky!”

Lucy carried her kitten over for her mum to stroke.“She was in the cupboard under the stairs. She must have been there all that time!” She looked seriously at her parents. “I think she was hiding because she didn’t know whether we wanted her or not,” she said quietly. “But we really do, don’t we?”

“Of course we do,” said Mum.

[Êàðòèíêà: img_29]

Her dad poured some food into Sky’s bowl. “I bet she’s starving.”

Sky started to eat, gulping down the food, then looking hopefully for more.

“It’s not that long till breakfast, Sky, don’t worry!” Lucy giggled. She looked up at her mum and dad. “Can Sky sleep on my bed?” she begged.

Her mum nodded.“If you get back to bed right this minute! In fact, I think we shouldall get back to bed!”

Sky rubbed her head against Lucy’s chin as she carried her upstairs. She could tell how happy Lucy was.

As Lucy snuggled up under her warm duvet, Sky curled up next to her on the pillow and purred loudly. There was no place either of them would rather be! Lucy and Sky were home.

8. GINGER THE STRAY KITTEN

Chapter One

“Are we going past the farm today?” Rosie asked her gran hopefully. They had a few different ways back from school to Gran’s house, but the lane past the farm was Rosie’s favourite. That was the good thing about Gran picking her up from school while Mum was at work. Gran wasn’t usually ina rush, and she didn’t mind walking slowly while Rosie stopped to look at any cats she happened to meet on the way. Rosie loved cats and was desperate for one of her own, but she hadn’t managed to persuade her mum yet.

Gran smiled at her.“Oh, I suppose we could go home that way. I could do with picking up some eggs from Mrs Bowen. I might make a cake tonight, as it’s the weekend.” She looked down at Rosie, and said thoughtfully, “But you know how she likes to chat, Rosie. Are you sure you won’t get bored?”

Rosie looked up at her in surprise, and realized that Gran was teasing. Gran knew that Rosie loved going to the farm, because while she was talking to Mrs Bowen, Rosie could go and watch the stray cats in the farmyard. There were lots of them, and Gran said they were called feral cats because they weren’t anyone’s pets. Rosie had never managed to count them all, as they were so hard to see, but she thought there were probably about twenty of them. Mrs Bowen put food out occasionally, but mostly they lived on the mice they caught in the barns.

Rosie loved to imagine that the cats belonged to her, but they weren’t really very friendly. If she sat on the foot step of the old rusty tractor for ages and ages, they might prowl past her, but none of them would come to be stroked.