The Kidnapped Kitten

She was just trying out a clockwork mouse, when a poster hanging at the end of the aisle caught her eye. It was for the Cats Protection League, asking for donations to feed all the stray cats they took in. Tia looked at it thoughtfully. If her family had adopted a kitten from there, they would have made a donation…

She looked down at her basket and put back the feathery cat dancer and the catnip monkey. She could make a bunch of feathers, and Mum had lots of knitting wool. She would buy the mouse, but that was all. The rest of her money she dropped into the collection box at the till. The bag the lady gave her to take home was very light, but Tia didn’t mind.

Chapter Three

The kitten let out a despairing wail. She hated being shut up in the cat carrier. It was too small and it smelled funny, and she seemed to have been in it for ages. But then there was a clicking noise and the door swung open.

The girl was looking in at her now, the one who had stroked her and fussed over her. The kitten nosed forward cautiously. The girl rubbed her ears gently, and the kitten stepped out of the carrier and climbed on to her lap, which was beautifully still after the car ride. Then she peered around worriedly. This wasn’t the place she knew, and there seemed to be an awful lot of people and movement and noise.

“She’s so quiet,” Tia said, as Dad crouched next to her and stroked the kitten.

“She’s just not sure what’s going on, poor little thing. She’ll probably go and explore in a minute.”

But the kitten didn’t. She didn’t go and try out the padded basket they’d bought, or drink from her smart new bowl, or chase after her clockwork mouse. When Tia had to get up and have dinner, the kitten darted off her lap and hid round the side of the cat carrier. She didn’t want to go right back in it, but somehow it felt safe. She could have gone with the girl to the table, but there were too many people over there. Safer to stay by the carrier, she thought.

“I want her to play with me!” Christy wailed, pushing her plate away. “She sat on Tia for ages! Why won’t she play?”

“She will,” Mum promised. “She just needs to get used to us, Christy.”

“Anyway, we need to think about what to call her,” Dad pointed out.

Tia peered at the cat carrier. She could see white whiskers sticking out round the corner of it. The kitten was so pretty, she needed a pretty sort of name – like Rosie, or Coco – except that sounded too much like a poodle.

“What about Milly?” she suggested. “She looks like a Milly, I think.”

“Milly…” Mum nodded. “I like it.”

After dinner, Tia crouched down by the carrier. She didn’t want to scare the kitten, she just wanted to show her that someone was there. The kitten peeped out at her every so often.

Tia had been sitting there for a good twenty minutes when Milly finally edged her way further out from behind the carrier. Tia held her breath. Would she come right out?

“Tia! Are you still there?” Mum asked, coming into the kitchen.

The kitten whisked back behind the carrier with a flick of her tail.

“It’s bedtime. Don’t worry, Milly will be fine. Dad and I will keep checking on her.”

Tia trailed upstairs reluctantly. It felt so mean to leave the little kitten all by herself. She lay in the dark listening to Christy breathing in the bottom bunk, too worried to sleep.

At least she thought she was. She woke suddenly from a dream that she couldn’t really remember, except that it hadn’t been good. She had been searching for something…

Tia sat up in bed. It was late. Mum and Dad had surely gone to bed – she couldn’t hear their voices or the TV.

She could hear something, though. A sad, thin little wail. Yes, there it was again. The kitten!

Tia slid down her bunkbed ladder and padded as quietly as she could out on to the landing and down the stairs. She opened the kitchen door and whispered, “Puss puss… Milly… It’s so dark, I’ll have to put the light on. Don’t be surprised, all right?” She closed the door behind her and clicked on the light, blinking in the sudden glare. She’d expected to see the kitten dart back behind her carrier, or maybe she would be in her basket – but Tia couldn’t see her anywhere.

“Milly?” she murmured, turning slowly in the middle of the room. “Where are you?”

She has to be here, Tia told herself. I heard her. She can’t have got out of the cat flap. Dad had put the cat flap in, but they had kept it locked – Milly wouldn’t be allowed to go out until she’d had all her vaccinations. She was hiding, that was all. Where would a kitten like to hide? Tia wondered.

The oilcloth covering the kitchen table moved slightly, as though there was a draught – but all the windows were closed. Tia smiled and crouched down under the table. There, in the dim light under the cloth, a pair of blue-green eyes shone out at her. Milly was sitting on a stool, with the cloth tucked round her like a little tent.