The Secret Kitten

“I do like my bedroom.” William didn’t sound so sure. “But do you think I could keep all my things in my room, then sleep up here with you? I could bring my sleeping bag.”

“Maybe sometimes,” Lucy said comfortingly. It had been strange going to bed last night without William snoring and snuffling on the other side of the room, but she was glad to have a place that was just her own.

All her own, except that it would be so nice to share it with a cat. Any cat, Lucy thought, wondering if the big ginger cat from next door ever came to visit.

Chapter Two

The black-and-white kitten peered around the pile of old boxes. Her ears were laid back flat and her tail was twitching. Out in the alleyway between the baker’s shop and newsagent, she could see her brother and sister frisking about, chasing each other and wrestling. Her paws itched to join in. She stepped out a little further.

Then a car roared past on the main road and she darted back into her hiding place in the storage yard. Seconds later, her tabby brother and sister shot back in after her and they all huddled together in the dark little corner, hissing at the strange, frightening noise. The two tabby kittens wriggled and stamped their paws inside a broken packing case, making themselves comfy on the old rags and torn-up papers, trying to find the warmest, driest spot. The black-and-white kitten licked them both lovingly, hoping that they’d all curl up together and snooze, as they waited for their mother to come back from her foraging. But the tabby kittens didn’t want to hide for long. A minute or so later they were already nosing out into the alleyway again.

Their little sister watched them anxiously, wondering about that loud noise and hoping that whatever it was wouldn’t come back. The alleyway was so open – she liked places where she could hide and still see everything. All that space made her nervous.

“Oh, look! Kittens!”

A little boy came running into the alleyway and the tabby kittens streaked back towards the old boxes, knocking their black-and-white sister sideways. She huddled at the back of their little den, her heart thumping, but the bravest of the tabbies was too curious to stay hidden, even with the boy blundering around, his feet stamping and thudding. She scrambled out past the broken board on to the top of the box and gazed at him.

“Mum, look…” the little boy whispered. “It really is a kitten! She’s tiny!”

“Isn’t she? She’s gorgeous.”

The black-and-white kitten squeaked worriedly. There was someone else out there, too. She wished her sister would come back, but now her brother was wriggling out to see what was going on.

“Oh, there’s two! Look, Owen, the other one’s come out to see you. I wonder who they belong to? I suppose they’re strays, but they look very young. Their mother must be around somewhere.”

The voices were soft and gentle, and the black-and-white kitten stretched her paws, shook her whiskers and began to creep towards the opening. Perhaps she would go and see what was happening.

But then the little boy shrieked with laughter, as kitten whiskers tickled his fingers. The kitten ran back and buried herself among the rags again. At last she heard their footsteps echoing back down the alleyway and she relaxed a bit. Then a tabby-striped face pushed in through the gap between the boxes and she darted forward to nuzzle happily at her mother. The thin tabby cat had been hiding out of the way until the little boy and his mum had gone. She had always been a stray and she wasn’t very fond of people. People meant food, but sometimes they threw things and shouted at her for scrabbling around in bins. She avoided them as much as she could.

The tabby kittens piled in after her and tore at the ham sandwich she’d found for them, scrapping and hissing over the delicious pieces of ham. The kittens were eight weeks old and they were all still drinking her milk as well as eating food, but they were always hungry.

The black-and-white kitten finished her piece of sandwich and snuggled luxuriously up against her mother. She was warm and safe and full of food. Her brother and sister flopped down on top of her in a softly purring pile of fur and all four of them curled up to sleep.

“So, what was it like?” Gran asked, smiling at Lucy, as they walked home from school on Monday. She didn’t need to ask how school had been for William. He was bouncing around the pavement in front of them with his new best friend, Harry, doing ninja kicks.

“It was all right,” Lucy said, not very enthusiastically. It was true. No one had been mean and she’d understood the work they were doing. Emma, the girl who’d been told to look after her, had been nice and had made sure she knew where everything was.

But she’d stayed on the sidelines of all the games. And everyone knew secret jokes about the teachers that she didn’t and there was no one who knew all the fun things about her, the things her friends back home knew. She was just a rather boring new girl.