“Oh.” Alfie nodded, not sure what to say. “She still calls me Lucy a lot, though. That’s my mum’s name.” She looked around, shaking her head as if she didn’t want to think about it any more. “He isn’t here, is he? Where shall we go now?”
Alfie looked thoughtfully through the trees.“The allotments. I reckon he goes there for bits of people’s sandwiches. He could have got shut in somewhere.” He carefully didn’t mention the road between the wood and the allotments. That was something he didn’t want to think about.
Grace looked at it as they came out of the little gate, but she didn’t say anything either. They just waited, looking carefully both ways. Alfie wasn’t allowed to cross roads on his own, and he suspected Grace wasn’t either. But they’d broken enough rules that afternoon not to care.
The allotments weren’t that busy on a weekday afternoon – most people had gone home to think about dinner, Alfie guessed, inwardly thanking Grace for her sneaky lasagne plan. He hoped Mum hadn’t spotted they’d gone yet. If they didn’t find Penguin soon they’d have to go back, but they could go the street way, which would be quicker, and sneak back down the side path so Mum didn’t notice.
“Lots of sheds,” Grace said thoughtfully, looking around the tidy little plots.
Alfie nodded.“And I bet they’re all locked. We’ll just have to shout for him, see what happens.”
Treading cautiously around a row of tall green things– he had no idea what they were – Alfie pressed his nose up against the window of a small, slightly tumbledown shed and peered in. All he could see were greyish, shadowy shapes. He banged on the glass. “Penguin? Penguin!”
He was sure Penguin would have answered if he’d been there. All that happened was an old lady digging on another plot looked round at them. Alfie sighed. He’d been really hoping. But it was silly to think that Penguin would be in the very first shed. They couldn’t just give up.
[Ęŕđňčíęŕ: _17.jpg]
“She’s going to come and tell us off in a minute,” Grace predicted. “Let’s go and look at some more. Quickly!”
The shed on the next plot was even more battered. The roof was half covered in a green tarpaulin where the proper roofing had worn away, and there were boards half hanging off in places. Alfie felt a little less anxious going up to this one– it didn’t look as though anyone was going to complain about him damaging it. He put his hands up against the glass, which was striped with Sellotape, and called, “Penguin?” as he peered in.
There was a scuffling noise, and then a frantic mew– frantic, but tired, as though the cat inside had been calling for ages, and had given up.
Grace ran up next to him, jumping over a row of flowers.“It’s him! You found him, Alfie!”
Alfie hugged her, without actually meaning to.“He sounds all right, doesn’t he? Not hurt or anything? I can’t see him!”
Grace looked along the shed to the door.“And we can’t get in. It’s locked.”
“What are you children doing?”
Alfie yelped and jumped round. It was the old lady who’d been watching them. She looked rather annoyed. “It’s my cat…” he whispered. “He’s been lost. He’s shut in this shed. We came looking for him, that’s all.”
“You shouldn’t be poking around the allotments,” the old lady said firmly.
“He’s been missing for two whole nights,” Grace said pleadingly. “He could have been shut in here all that time. We’re only trying to get him back, we’re not hurting anything.”
“You’re standing on a row of winter cabbages!” the old lady snapped, and Grace jumped back against the shed. “But if there really is a cat in there, we shall certainly have to get him out. The problem is that that’s Joe Orton’s shed, and he’s on holiday this week.”
Alfie swallowed back sudden tears, looking at the padlock on the door. Was Penguin going to have stay in there for the rest of the week? He supposed they could poke food through the little holes… “It’s all right, Penguin,” he murmured. “We’ll do something…”
There was only a very small meow in response.
“Don’t worry.” The old lady seemed to have decided she was on their side since Grace jumped off the cabbages. “The allotment committee keeps telling Joe he needs to sort out this shed, but for once it’s a blessing. The roof’s half gone. Huge hole in it. It might well be how your cat gotin there in the first place.”
“I could climb up there,” Grace said, looking at the water butt. “Or I could if you pushed me, Alfie.”
“You won’t be able to get out again.” Alfie shook his head. “Then you and Penguin would both be stuck in there. I suppose at least it would cheer him up. But your mum would kill mine if she came back home and Mum said you were stuck in a shed.”
“Joe’s got a stepladder in there that he uses for pruning his apple tree,” the old lady said thoughtfully. “You should be able to use that to get out.”
“Alfie, crouch down so I can climb on your back,” Grace ordered.
Alfie did as he was told. Since he’d heard Penguin mewing, he was so happy he didn’t mind Grace bossing him around. “Ow, you’re so heavy!” he yelped, as she half-jumped off his back on to the top of the water butt, which thankfully still had its lid.
He straightened up and watched anxiously as she pulled the tarpaulin aside and peered into the hole.
“Is he all right?”
“I think so – he’s walking round and round in circles,” she reported back. “He’s not limping or anything. Hi, Penguin! We’re going to get you out!”
“Can you get down in there safely?” the old lady called.
“There’s a wheelbarrow,” Grace told her, swinging one leg into the hole, and then the other. Alfie clutched the rim of the water butt nervously as he watched her jump. He should have climbed up really. After all, Penguin was his cat. Alfie hadn’t realized how brave Grace was. He was suddenly glad she’d come searching with him.
There was a loud clanging as Grace hit the wheelbarrow, and an anxious hiss from Penguin.
“Are you all right?” Alfie yelled.
Grace’s voice came back echoey but somehow muffled.
“Yes. Ow. I’ve got splinters, but I’m all right. Penguin’s sulking; he didn’t like the bang. I’m getting the stepladder.”
There was a series of scraping and scuffling sounds, and then an angry yowl, followed by some muttering, which Alfie thought sounded like,Stupid ungrateful cat. Then Penguin’s front paws, very stiff and cross, appeared out of the hole in the roof, quickly followed by the rest of him, and by Grace, looking scratched but pleased with herself.
Penguin saw Alfie and skidded out of Grace’s arms and down the roof with a joyful yowl. Alfie caught him laughing, and hugged him.
“You’ve got thinner.” He grinned. “The vet’ll be pleased.”
Penguin put one paw on each of Alfie’s shoulders, as though he was trying to hug him back, and purred like a lawnmower.
“Do you need help?” Alfie called up, suddenly remembering Grace, but she was already half out of the hole, wriggling back to the water butt.
“He isn’t the slightest bit thankful!” she told Alfie as she slid down the side. “Look, he scratched me all over!”
“He was scared,” Alfie said apologetically, hugging Penguin even tighter. He didn’t even care if Penguin wanted to go to Grace’s house sometimes, he realized. As long as he knew he’d come back.
[Ęŕđňčíęŕ: _18.jpg]
Alfie turned over in his sleep, reaching out automatically to cuddle Penguin close. He startled awake when his hand stroked the cold paint of the wall. Penguin had gone again!