The Brave Kitten Read online

  “Oh! Sorry, Caramel…” Her mum shut the door gently, and crouched down, holding her hand out for the frightened cat to sniff. “I’m really sorry, Helena, I didn’t realize the door would frighten him so much. He’s been so good this weekend.”

  “I know…” Helena agreed sadly. “But I suppose he’s still upset, deep down. It’s going to take a while for him to get over that.” She looked at her mum. “He will be happier again one day, won’t he?”

  “I’m sure he will.”

  But Helena didn’t think her mum was very sure at all.

  “Be good, Caramel.” Helena ran her hand lovingly down his silky back. “Have lots of lovely sleep. Gran’s going to come and see you at lunch time, and I bet she’ll bring you treats.”

  Caramel stood in the middle of the kitchen, looking up at her uncertainly. He wasn’t sure what was happening. Since he had arrived at Helena’s house, early on Saturday morning, Helena had been with him almost all the time. She had even come down in the middle of the night to check on him. But now she had a coat on, and a bag with her. It looked as though she was leaving him behind.

  At his old house, his owner had gone out to work most days. Caramel had lazed the time away, curled up on the back of the sofa so that he could watch the people passing in the street. And the cars. Caramel laid his ears back with a frightened little hiss.

  Most days he’d slipped out of his cat flap and patrolled his territory in the gardens behind the house. There were several other cats in the street, and he was one of the youngest and newest, so he’d had to be careful to stay out of their way. But he still had plenty to explore. There was a pond a few houses away, and he liked to watch the frogs. And catch them, sometimes. He could creep up on them among the plants around the water. But his owner hadn’t liked it when Caramel had brought one home. He had taken Caramel’s frog outside, and locked the cat flap so that he couldn’t slip out and fetch it back in again.

  But here, there was no window to watch from, and no cat flap to slide out of. He was all alone in this little room. It was better than the cage at the vet’s surgery, of course, but being shut up still made him want to claw at the door and fight his way out. When would Helena and her mother come back? Perhaps they weren’t coming back at all? His old owner had fussed over him, and fed him, and loved him, but now he was gone. Maybe Helena had gone, too. Caramel stared anxiously at the kitchen door, hoping to hear them coming back. But there wasn’t a sound.

  Perhaps he could go and find them himself?

  Caramel hobbled across the tiled floor, sniffing hopefully at the door out to the garden. There was a faint breath of fresh air around the side of the door – just enough to make him desperate to go out. He scratched at the door, but not very hard. He could already see that he wasn’t going to be able to get out.

  Wearily, he trailed back to his basket. His broken back leg was aching, not used to carrying his weight. Caramel snuggled into the basket, and hoped that Helena hadn’t left him for ever. He hoped that she would come back soon.

  “So does anyone have any exciting news from their weekend?” Miss Smith looked round at the class as she finished marking the register.

  “Tell her!” Katie hissed, nudging Helena in the ribs with her elbow. “Helena does, Miss Smith!”

  Helena went pink, but she nodded. “I’ve got a cat.”

  “Oh, lovely!” Miss Smith smiled. “Where did you get him from, Helena? Or her?”

  “He’s a he. And he came from the vet’s where my cousin Lucy works,” Helena explained. “He was run over last weekend.”

  Everyone in the class sat up and started listening more closely. Until then there’d been a bit of a Monday-ish feeling going on, and most people had been staring vaguely at the whiteboard, or whispering to each other.

  “Run over?” one of the boys asked. “What happened, was he hurt?”

  Helena nodded. “He’s got a fractured back leg. But he was lucky. Often they have to operate on cats and put pins in, but he’s just got a cast.”

  “But who does he belong to?” Miss Smith asked, sounding a little confused. “Was he a stray? Has no one claimed him?”

  “No. And the vet’s even put a little article about him in the local paper. That page where the animal shelter usually puts a photo of a cat or dog that needs a home.”

  “Oh, that’s how we got our dog!” Marley called out. “We saw him in the paper.”

  “Mm-hm. The article was in on Wednesday. But still no one claimed him. So we reckoned it was OK to take him home. We think maybe he’s been lost for a while, even before he got hit by the car. He’s quite thin.”

  “Show them the photo,” Katie suggested, and Helena pulled it out of her bag. She’d brought it in to show Katie and a couple of her other friends. It was Caramel curled up asleep in his basket, and you could see his plaster cast. She passed it round, and all the class murmured about how cute he was and how sad his leg looked.

  “He’s come home with us because otherwise he would have had to go to the animal shelter,” Helena went on. “He’s been really lucky. All his vet care’s been paid for by donations from the shelter he almost went to, and the PDSA.”

  “The what?” someone called.

  “It’s a charity, isn’t it?” Miss Smith asked.

  Helena nodded. “It stands for People’s Dispensary for Sick Animals. It’s a big charity, but they have a clinic close to here, in Thirtover Road. They look after animals when people can’t afford to pay. Vet bills can be really, really expensive. Thousands of pounds, my cousin told me.”

  Helena frowned thoughtfully. Ever since Molly had told her that the PDSA were helping to pay back the surgery for Caramel’s treatment, she’d been wishing she could do something to help. Something more than just giving them her pocket money. She’d already decided to get her mum to buy their Christmas cards from the PDSA – they made very cute ones with cats and dogs in the snow – but it would be good to think of a way to raise some money, too. So that if another cat got hurt like Caramel, there wouldn’t be a worry about having enough money to look after it.

  Lucy had said that when she’d phoned the shelter to tell them that they wouldn’t have to take Caramel after all, the girl on the phone had been relieved. She’d said they were full to bursting. They needed a lot of money just to feed all the animals, let alone pay for vet care.

  “Miss Smith, do you think we could try to make some money for the PDSA, and some for the shelter? We could have a cake sale or something?” Helena asked hopefully. “Mr Brown said he wanted all the junior classes to think about fundraising for charities. It was in assembly, back at the beginning of term.”

  “He did…” Miss Smith agreed. “It’s a good idea. What about the rest of the class, though? What do you all think?”

  “I definitely want to raise some money for the shelter!” Marley nodded. “There were loads of other dogs there when we went to get Chester. It was really sad – my mum cried. And the other charity sounds good, too,” he added.

  Everyone in the class was nodding, but Alice, another of Helena’s friends, waved her hand at Miss Smith. “Can we do something different, though? Everyone does cake sales.”

  “That’s because everyone likes cake!” Katie pointed out, and Alice shrugged.

  “It’s still a bit boring.”

  “So what do you want to do instead?” Miss Smith grinned. “How about a sponsored silence?”

  Lots of people groaned, and Helena twisted her fingers in her hair, trying to think. They needed to come up with a good idea and quickly, before people lost interest. Already a couple of the boys were suggesting a sponsored parachute jump. It would just get silly in a minute. She put her hand up, looking hopefully at Miss Smith.

  “We ought to do something that’s about pets. Since that’s what we’re raising money for.”

  “Like a dog show!” Alice suggested, but Miss Smith looked rather horrified.

  “Sorry, I don’t think Mr Brown would let us have a dog show
in school,” she said firmly.

  “But we could have a sort of competition,” Helena said slowly. “With videos of our pets, instead of bringing the actual pets in! Like a funniest pet competition. We could ask the whole school if they wanted to enter. And the teachers! Mr Brown’s got a really cute dog, hasn’t he?”

  “I could borrow my mum’s phone and film Charlie skateboarding,” Katie yelped excitedly. “He’s not very good at it, but he loves trying. It’s really funny to watch.”

  “And people could pay a little bit to enter,” Helena said, still trying to think it through. “Then we could show all the videos one lunch time. And sell tickets – oh, and have cakes and biscuits for sale, too,” she added to Katie.

  “I’ll ask Mr Brown about it at break,” Miss Smith said, as the whole class tried to tell her about their pets’ funniest tricks at once. “And then maybe we can use your IT lesson this afternoon to make some posters.”

  Helena hopped impatiently from foot to foot as her mum unlocked the front door. Gran had sent Mum a text saying that Caramel had been fine at lunch time. But Helena was desperate to see for herself that he was all right. She rushed in as soon as Mum got the door open, making for the kitchen.

  “Oh! Listen!” she told her mum, stopping in the hall. “He’s mewing… And I can hear him – he’s got out of his basket, he’s coming to see us!” There was definitely a thumping noise coming from behind the kitchen door, as Caramel limped determinedly towards them. Helena giggled. “Maybe I can film you doing your pirate walk for our competition,” she told Caramel, as she carefully opened the kitchen door. “Whoa! No dashing out…” She caught him gently. “Sorry, Caramel-cat. You have to stay in here.”

  Caramel half climbed into her lap, and rubbed his chin against her school jumper.

  “Is he purring?” Mum whispered.

  Helena looked up at her and nodded. She actually hadn’t dared to say anything. It was only the second time she’d heard him purr. And that first time at the vet’s he had only purred for a second or two, very faintly. Now Caramel was purring properly. A deep throaty purr that Helena could feel as well as hear. He was quivering all over with purrs.

  “He’s glad to see us,” she whispered to Mum. “He’s actually happy!”

  “He’s definitely looking better,” Katie said after school the next day, watching Caramel trying to investigate the fridge. Helena had opened it to get out the butter, and Caramel could smell the ham for her packed lunches. It smelled delicious – and very close to his nose.

  “He is, isn’t he,” Helena agreed happily. “No, you can’t climb in there!” She nudged Caramel back with her toe and closed the door. “Sorry. Am I mean, puss?”

  Caramel stalked away with his tail in the air, as though he wasn’t bothered, but his plastered leg made it a bit tricky. He was still feeling wobbly.

  “He looked quite sad in that photo you brought in,” Katie said. “But now he’s cheered up a lot, I think. It’s lovely to finally meet him in person. Caramel! Puss, puss, puss…” She made kissy noises, and Caramel padded cautiously across the floor towards her, sniffing her outstretched fingers, and letting her rub his head and tickle his ears.

  “He’s much more friendly now,” Helena said happily. “I don’t think he’d have done that on Saturday when we brought him home. When you think that it’s only Wednesday. He’s got ever so much better, and in such a short time. When he was still at the vet’s he was so shy and miserable. He’s quite nervous sometimes, though,” she added. “He hates loud noises.”

  “He walks really well, doesn’t he,” Katie said, watching Caramel prowl round their ankles as they weighed out the ingredients for their biscuits.

  “He’s putting weight on his bad leg a bit more now. Before he was sort of hopping, as if he was trying not to put it down to the ground. He’s got another two and a half weeks, and then hopefully he can have the plaster taken off. Oh, please can you pass me the sugar?”

  The two girls were making cat-shaped biscuits to sell at the Funniest Pet Show. Mr Brown, the head teacher, had said it was a great idea, very creative. He’d told them to go ahead and arrange the show for Friday when he’d be able to judge.

  “Did you send in a video of Caramel with his plaster on?” Katie asked. “I’ve done Charlie – he was brilliant. The skateboard went out from under his paws and he just sort of stared at it as if he didn’t understand what had happened.”

  “Yes, I sent it, but I don’t think he’ll win,” Katie said, shaking her head. “Some of the others are so funny. Bella’s cat trying to drink out of the taps in the washbasin is the best, I reckon. It’s the way she turns her head upside down, and then shakes all the water off her whiskers. It makes me laugh every time.”

  Helena and some of the others in her class had been watching all the videos with their teacher during break and lunch to find the best ones that would be in the show – they’d meant to put them all in, but there were so many, there wasn’t time to let everyone watch them all. They had already made more than eighty pounds, just from people paying a pound to send in a video. Then they were selling tickets for the show, and everyone in the class was supposed to be bringing some cakes or biscuits in to sell, too.

  “We should have got orangey-gold icing for the eyes on these biscuits,” Katie said, peering down at Caramel, who’d gone to sit in his basket under the counter, since they clearly weren’t going to feed him anything. “I hadn’t noticed before what a lovely colour his eyes are.”

  “I know,” Helena agreed proudly. “Mum and I talked about doing the eyes gold when we made the shopping list, but we decided green ones were more usual. Caramel’s just extra-specially beautiful.”

  “He looks like he’s sulking,” Katie said. “Is he OK? He’s got his nose tucked away inside his basket.”

  Helena looked down under the counter and sighed. “I think that now he’s walking better, it’s making him cross being shut in the kitchen. Every time we open the kitchen door, he’s there, trying to slip round our legs. He never scratches or bites, but you can tell he’s annoyed. His ears go all flat, and his tail’s twitchy. He wants to go and explore.”

  “Couldn’t you let him out?” Katie asked. “Why does he have to stay in the kitchen?”

  “Molly – that’s the vet – she said that if he tried to climb or jump he could jar his broken leg and stop it healing. Even if it was just trying to climb the stairs, he might trip and fall because of the plaster. There’s nowhere in the kitchen that he can reach to jump up to, but there’s enough space for him to exercise his leg muscles. Otherwise his leg’s going to go all thin and weak inside the plaster.”

  “Oh, I see.” Katie nodded. “That’s sensible.”

  “Mmmm, Caramel doesn’t think so, though. He thinks we’re just being mean.” Helena sighed. “Little grumpy-face,” she told Caramel lovingly.

  Caramel heard her, and looked up. He gazed at her for a moment and then yawned hugely, showing all his teeth and his bright pink tongue.

  Helena giggled. “See? That’s what he thinks of us…”

  Caramel sat by the back door, his nose pressed against the narrow crack between the door and the frame. There was something out in the garden, he was sure. He could hear it – a bird, perhaps, tapping and twittering around on the little stone patio. He ached to be out there, too, smelling the smells, chasing the birds. Just feeling the air ruffling up his fur. He hated being an inside cat.

  He paced up and down beside the door for a few moments, letting out a frustrated mew. His leg was so much better now. It felt stronger. He was sure he could even climb a tree, if only they would let him out. Or maybe scramble up on to the top of a fence, just to get a good look around. He wanted to see what the outside was like round here. He was so sick of being shut up indoors.

  His ears twitched as he caught a sound from the front of the house – footsteps on the path, and now scratching as someone fiddled with the front door. Helena was back!

  No. His shoulders
sagged a little. It wasn’t the right time. It would be that other lady come to check on him.

  “Hello, Caramel…” Gran was squeezing carefully round the door, making sure not to let him dart out. “How are you, darling? Want some of these nice little biscuit things?”

  She brought a packet out of her handbag, and Caramel sniffed as she pulled it open, and the delicious smell wafted around. But somehow, it just wasn’t very exciting. Not nearly as good as the fresh air smell through the back door. It was starting to rain now. He could smell the wet pavement smell, and hear the heavy fat drops pattering down on the stone. He wanted to be out in it. Not for long – just enough to feel the freshness, and then dash back in and lick off all the water. It would be so good…

  “Oh, it’s raining! And I didn’t bring an umbrella – what a nuisance.” Gran was staring out of the window, looking irritated. “And look, Caramel, they’ve got washing out! Well, that’s going to get soaked. And there’s Helena’s school jumper. I wonder if she needs that for tomorrow… Drat it, I’ll have to go and bring it all in.”

  She put down her bag on the counter, and hurried to the door, jingling the keys as she unlocked it.

  Caramel hadn’t understood what she was saying about the washing, of course, but he knew what the sound of the keys meant. She was letting him out! He stood by her feet, his tail twitching excitedly, and his whiskers fanned and bristling. Out! After all this time! As the door opened, he darted round Gran’s feet, his caramel fur brushing against her legs, and hopped down the little step on to the patio.

  Gran was thinking about the washing, not about Caramel, and so she didn’t realize what had happened until it was too late. “Oh! Oh, no! You’re not supposed to go out! Oh, my goodness, how stupid of me…” She abandoned the washing and went after the cat. “Caramel! Come on… Caramel… Puss, puss…”