Ginger the Stray Kitten (5 page)

“I’ll never see him again.” Rosie sniffed. “What if he’s hurt?” she whispered. “He might have been injured when the barn was knocked down. Maybe he got trapped somewhere. Maybe that fox has eaten him!” Tears rolled down Rosie’s cheeks again.

“Ssshh, Rosie, don’t say that.” Mum hugged her close. “I don’t think foxes normally attack cats. You’re imagining the worst, the kitten might be fine. He’s probably just staying hidden because he’s frightened of the builders.” She looked down, stroking Rosie’s red hair. “You really love this kitten, don’t you? You’ve tried so hard to make friends with him – Gran told me how patient you were, trying to get him to like you.”

Rosie’s mum hesitated. “Rosie, you know, we could try adopting one of the other kittens at the rescue centre… What about that pretty little black one?”

Rosie looked up, her eyes horrified and still teary. “We can’t! We can’t, Mum!”

“I mean, if we don’t find Ginger,” her mum explained gently.

Rosie shook her head. “He’s special,” she said in a quiet voice. “I think because he’s ginger too, like me. But it isn’t just that. He seems so bright, and he’s got so much bounce…”

She twisted one of her red curls round her finger, deep in thought. It was true. Ginger
was
special. And if she couldn’t have Ginger, she didn’t want another kitten.

Chapter Six

Ginger had felt so brave when he decided to leave the farm and look for a new home. He had waited until all the people were long gone, and the farm was dark and quiet. He would find somewhere warm and comfortable. Maybe he’d even find that friendly girl with the food.

But he hadn’t realized that the fence
went all round the farm. It was very high, and it was pinned down tight to the ground. He couldn’t get out! Scratching and scrabbling at it didn’t work, and when he tried climbing it he fell. At last he had slunk miserably away to find a place to sleep. He’d hidden himself eventually in Mrs Bowen’s log-pile, at the back of the farmhouse. It wasn’t very comfortable, but it felt safe, far away from the builders’ noisy, smelly machines.

Most of the mice seemed to have been scared away by the men, too. He’d almost caught one once, but it had slipped into a hole at the last minute, leaving him worn out and hungrier than ever. It had seemed so easy when his mother did it. He’d found some
rather fishy-tasting little round things by the fence over the last couple of days, but they hadn’t filled him up. He’d seen a fox hanging around as well, and he had a feeling it had picked all the best bits out of those bin bags, because there was nothing left.

Now he could feel himself growing weaker. Even though the rain leaked through into his log-pile nest and soaked him, he’d been grateful for it, as at least he wasn’t thirsty. He’d been able to lap the water caught in the old buckets that were lying around the yard. But he needed more than water. He was sure the men had food. He’d smelled it, delicious smells like the sandwiches the girl used to bring him. They had been very good.
He had hoped she might come back, but probably she didn’t like the big machines either, he thought, as he drifted into a restless sleep.

Ginger was woken by the smell of ham sandwiches. A builder had stopped for lunch and was sitting on one of the big logs. The smell was irresistible. Ginger uncurled himself and crept out. The sandwiches were in an open box, lying next to the man. There was just one left, and out of it trailed a piece of wonderful pink ham. He had to have it. Ginger looked up at the man. He was staring across the yard, chewing slowly. He wouldn’t notice, would he?

Ginger darted a paw into the box, hooking the bread with his claws.

“Hey! Get out of it, you!” The man swiped at him with his hand! Ginger shot away in terror, without even a morsel of bread to show for it. He raced up the tree that had been left standing in a corner of the yard by the fence, and crouched flat on one of the branches, quivering with terror. No one had ever tried to hit him before. He looked down fearfully, digging his claws into the bark. He had never climbed a tree before either, but instinct had taken him to the safest place. The man hadn’t followed him.

Ginger stayed there for hours, too scared to move. By the middle of the afternoon, he felt it might be safe to come down from the tree. It wasn’t as easy as going up had been. He hadn’t
really
thought
about going up, he’d just done it. He looked down from his branch – the ground seemed so far away… He was stuck!

Rosie only got through school that day because Millie kept nudging her, reminding her that Mrs Wilkinson was watching. Rosie would manage to listen or concentrate on what she was supposed to be doing for about five minutes, before she started thinking about Ginger again.

Millie was coming back to Gran’s for tea today, and they were planning to look for Ginger together. Rosie was glad – Millie was so enthusiastic about
looking for him. Rosie had been disappointed so many times, it was hard to keep her hopes up.

Millie jogged ahead as they came up to the farm. “Wow! It really is a building site. Oh, Rosie, poor Ginger. He must be really scared with all those people around, and those great big diggers. It’s so noisy!”

Rosie nodded sadly and looked wearily through the fence into the farmyard. It looked so different now, with the barn gone and the yard covered in piles of rubble. She wasn’t expecting to see anything. But what was that in the big tree over there? Rosie peered through the wire fence and grabbed Millie’s sleeve.

“Millie! Gran! Look! Is that a cat in
the tree? On that branch, there. No, no, there, look!”

A flash of ginger fur showed among the yellowing leaves. It was hard to see if it was a cat, but
something
was moving.

“You could be right…” Millie murmured doubtfully. “I can’t quite see.”

Gran was squinting through the fence at the tree. “I can’t tell either…”

“I am right! I know I am!” Rosie looked at them eagerly. “He’s there, he really is. Yes, I can see his stripes! Oh, I can’t believe it, I’d almost given up. Ginger! Ginger! I don’t think he can hear me, with all this noise.” She frowned. “Oh, Gran, he must be so scared with all this going on. We have to get him out, we just have to!”

She dashed along the fence to the gate, with Millie racing after her, and shouted to one of the men walking by. “Hey! Excuse me! Over here, please listen!”

But the man just walked past, trundling a wheelbarrow. He didn’t even look at Rosie and Millie. Rosie rattled the gate, but no one seemed to hear her, the site was too noisy.

Gran came up, looking anxious. “Rosie, calm down!”

“I can’t make anyone listen!” Rosie looked at her wildly. “They have to let us in so we can go and get him!”

Gran pulled them gently away from the gate. “Girls, come back, it’s a building site, I don’t think they’ll let us go in. Sshh, look, that man’s coming out. We’ll ask him.” Gran smiled politely at the builder, who was giving them a curious look.

“Excuse me, but have you seen a ginger kitten around at all? He used to
live on the farm, and he’s disappeared. We think we might have just seen him in that tree.”

The builder shook his head. He didn’t look very interested. “No cats, sorry,” he said, starting to shut the gate.

“He
is
there!” Rosie cried. “We’ve just seen him, we know he’s there. You’ve knocked down his home, you might’ve hurt him! You have to let us find him!”

The builder looked confused, and Gran hugged Rosie tight. “Calm down, Rosie. Look, I’m sorry, the girls are very worried about the kitten. We really do think we saw him a minute ago. Could you please just keep an eye out for him?” She pulled an old till receipt out of her bag and scribbled on it. “This is
my phone number. If you could call us if you see him, we’d be so grateful.”

The man took the note and stuffed it into the pocket of his reflective vest. Then he locked the gate, and walked off. Rosie watched him go, tears running down her nose. She was pretty sure he’d never look at the note again.

Gran shepherded Rosie and Millie away from the gate. She was worried the builders might get annoyed and tell them to stop hanging around.

From high up in the tree, Ginger had heard the voices. It was the girl! The one with the food, who did the stroking. She’d come back for him. He was sure that was why she was there. He tried desperately to scrabble down the tree trunk.

But now she was going! She couldn’t have seen him. He mewed frantically,
please wait!
But no one heard him. He took a flying leap from halfway down the tree trunk, and raced over to the fence.

Come back! Come back! I’m here!

But it was too late.

Chapter Seven

When they got back to Gran’s house, she made Millie and Rosie sit down and have a glass of juice.

“You mustn’t get so het up, Rosie!” Gran said. “You can’t help that kitten if you’re shouting at people and getting into trouble, can you?”

Rosie sighed and shook her head. Gran was right. “I just don’t think he
was even listening, Gran,” she said sadly. “That’s why I was so cross. That man just said no cats, without even thinking about it!”

“But you saw him, Rosie!” Millie put in. “He’s still there, that’s really good news! That was your ginger kitten, wasn’t it?”

Rosie smiled at last. “I’m sure, really sure. It was his lovely stripy fur, I could see it through the leaves. He was up in that tree, I know he was. I wish he’d heard me, but it was just so noisy. I bet he would have come down, to see if I had sandwiches again.” She frowned. “I hope he wasn’t stuck, that tree’s enormous.”

“Well, all we can do is go again tomorrow. As long as we’re back in time for your mum to pick you up, I don’t mind how long we stay. If we’re there when the builders have gone and it’s quiet, then it’ll be easier.” Gran smiled. “If he’s there, we’ll find him.”

“Couldn’t we go back now?” Rosie pleaded. “I’m not sure I can wait until tomorrow…”

Gran shook her head. “It’s getting late now and you both still need to have your tea. We can go straight after school tomorrow.”

“OK,” Rosie sighed.

Ginger sat by the fence and howled. She’d been here, and he’d missed her! He scratched desperately at the fence, hoping to chase after the girl, but it didn’t budge at all. He was still trapped.

He trailed sadly back to the woodpile, avoiding the builders. At least she had come back. Maybe she’d come again tomorrow?

Rosie raced along the lane, hardly hearing Gran calling to her to slow down. She was desperate to get to the farm, and see if Ginger was still there. At last she reached the fence by the tree, where Ginger had been yesterday. She wound her fingers through the wire, gazing hopefully up at the tree. There was no glint of ginger fur. Rosie sighed. Still, she couldn’t expect him to be in exactly the same place he was yesterday, that would be silly.

He’s there
, she told herself firmly.
You just need to look.

Rosie tiptoed along the fence, trying to peer through. The awful thing was, Ginger might be asleep somewhere, just out of sight! She could miss him so easily.

Suddenly Rosie gasped. It was as though all her breath had disappeared. He was there! Keeping so still that she hadn’t spotted him. He was crouched under the massive wheel of the old tractor, where she used to sit to tempt him with sandwiches. His ears were laid back, and he was watching the builders. Rosie’s heart thudded miserably as she saw how thin he was getting.

Rosie crouched down by the fence. “Ginger!” she whispered, not wanting
to scare him, but of course he didn’t hear her. She tried again, a little louder, and his ears twitched.

“Ginger!” Rosie waved to him as well this time, and she saw his eyes widen. He’d seen her! He stood up slowly, cautiously, and crept across the yard towards her, moving one paw at a time and glancing around fearfully.

Rosie’s eyes filled with tears as she saw how scared he was. “Hey, Ginger!” she whispered gently, as he stopped a metre or so from the fence.

He stood hesitantly, staring at her, and gave a very small mew. Had the girl come back for him?

“Oh, Ginger, I’m so glad to see you!” Rosie murmured. “Are you all right? You look OK, just really thin.” She giggled. “I don’t know why I’m asking you all these questions, it isn’t as if you can answer…” Very slowly, Rosie reached into her school bag. “Look, I’ve got your favourite…” She opened up her lunch box, pulling out the sandwiches she’d saved. “Yummy ham, Ginger, come and see!”

Ginger ran towards her. She
had
come back! And she’d brought food. He was still nervous, but she’d always been so gentle, and the food just smelled too good to resist. Although he was half wild, he’d been used to Rosie feeding him from when he was quite tiny, and he’d missed her. He sat on the
other side of the fence and meowed hopefully.

“Here you go, it’s OK,” Rosie said, laughing and posting pieces of sandwich through the fence. Ginger gobbled them down eagerly. “You look like you haven’t eaten for a week,” Rosie told him. Her eyes widened. “Actually, it
is
a week, isn’t it? You must be starved. Here, have some more.”

“Rosie, I can’t believe you’ve already found him! I won’t come closer in case I frighten him off, all right? I’ll just stay back here.” Gran leaned against the fence on the other side of the lane, watching Rosie and the kitten.

Ginger finished the sandwich, and sniffed the ground, looking for crumbs. The sandwich had helped, but he still
felt hungry. He wondered if the girl had any more. He looked at her uncertainly, and edged forward, closer and closer still. At last he was right up against the fence, sniffing at Rosie’s fingers. He even licked them, in case she tasted of ham, but she didn’t.

Rosie giggled – his tongue was tickly – and scratched him behind the ears. She could only just reach – the holes in the fence were too small for her whole hand to go through. “How are we going to get you out?” Rosie muttered, as she stroked Ginger’s head with one finger.

He ducked his head shyly, rubbing himself against the wire. It was warm and sunny, he had been fed, and now someone he liked was fussing over him.
He closed his eyes, and started to purr, very quietly, his tiny chest buzzing.

Rosie could feel him trembling with the purr as he leaned against the wire, letting her stroke him all over. She almost felt like purring herself, and a huge smile spread over her face.

“He’s purring!” she hissed to Gran in a loud whisper. Rosie was just starting to wonder if she should call to a nearby builder, and ask him to pick Ginger up and bring him out to her. It wouldn’t take him long, and they couldn’t
want
a kitten getting in their way…

Then the man tripped and dropped the bucket he was carrying. It hit the ground with a huge clang. Ginger leaped into the air in fright, and Rosie jumped, her heart thumping.

Ginger had disappeared, streaking across the yard in a panic, and Rosie looked anxiously around for him, clinging sadly on to the wire fence. He had trusted her – he’d actually been enjoying her stroking him, and now all that good work was for nothing!
She sighed hopelessly. Ginger was so nervous. It wasn’t his fault, but he was never going to let one of the builders pick him up. He’d run away from the girls from the rescue centre, and that was before he’d had a week of scary builders invading his home.

Ginger would let her feed him, and stroke him. But she was on one side of the fence, and he was on the other. How was she ever going to get him out?