“Oh, look at him!” Scarlett whispered. “His ears are too big for him!”
Julie nodded. “I know, he’s cute, isn’t he? He’s got massive paws too; I think he’s going to be a really big cat.”
The kitten gently biffed the brother or sister next to him with the side of his chin, and the rest of the kittens popped up in a line, staring at Scarlett and Jackson.
The other three were black and white, very pretty, without the massive ears. They had enormous whiskers instead – great big white moustaches of them.
“I like the ginger one,” Jackson said. “That one’s a boy, right?”
Julie nodded. “Yes, and the three black and white ones are all girls.”
“I like him too,” Scarlett agreed. “Will they let us stroke them? Is that OK?”
“They’re usually very friendly. Especially Ginger.”
“Oh, is that what he’s called?” Scarlett tried not to sound disappointed. She would have liked to choose a name together for their kitten – Ginger was what all ginger cats were called!
“Oh no. I’ve tried not to give them names – I’m hoping to find homes for them all, and if I name them I’ll just want to keep them. But it’s hard not to think of him as Ginger.”
The ginger kitten was standing up now, arching his back and stretching as he climbed out of the basket. He looked sideways at Scarlett with his big blue eyes, to check that she was admiring how handsome he was as he stretched. She was watching him eagerly, and she gave a little sigh of delight as he stepped towards her, gently rubbing himself against her arm.
“Oh, he’s got boots!” Scarlett looked over at Jackson and her mum and dad. “Look, he’s got furry white boots on!”
Mum laughed. “He does look like he has,” she agreed. “Those are very cute.”
“I know lots of cats have white paws, but I’ve never seen one where the white goes that far up before.” Scarlett stroked the ginger kitten lovingly, and his black and white sisters followed him out of the basket, looking for some attention too. Their mother stared watchfully after them, then seemed to decide that Scarlett and the others weren’t dangerous to her babies. She gave a massive yawn, and curled up for a sleep.
The girl kittens let Scarlett’s mum and dad pet them, then they set off chasing after a feathery cat toy, racing round the kitchen and patting it ahead of them with their paws. The ginger kitten watched them, but he didn’t join in. Instead he placed a hopeful paw on Scarlett’s knee, and she looked back at him, just as hopefully. Did he want to be picked up?
“He’s very cuddly,” Julie said quietly. “He’s a real people cat. Try and put him on your lap.”
Scarlett gently wrapped her hands around his gingery middle. Even though he was the biggest of the kittens, he still felt tiny – so light, as though there was nothing to him.
The kitten gave a pleased little squeak, and padded his fat white paws up and down her jeans as though he was testing how comfy she was. Scarlett found herself smoothing her jeans, wanting him to think she was nice to sit on. He padded all the way round in a circle a couple of times, and then wobbled and flopped down, stretching his front paws out, and flexing his claws gently in and out of the denim fabric of her jeans.
“That tickles!” Scarlett giggled, stroking him under his little white chin.
The kitten purred delightedly. That was the best place, the spot he was always itchy. He pointed his chin to the ceiling and purred louder, telling her to keep going.
Jackson joined in, stroking one finger gently down the kitten’s back. “His fur’s really soft. And look at his paws! They’re bright pink underneath!” The kitten was enjoying the stroking so much that he’d collapsed into a happy heap on his side, purring like a steam train.
Scarlett looked down at his paws and laughed – they really were pink. A sort of pinkish-apricot colour, and so soft and smooth-looking.
“They’ll probably get a bit darker once he starts going outside,” Julie explained. “They’ve only been indoors so far. He’d need to stay in for a bit longer if you decide to take him.” She looked at Scarlett’s mum and dad.
Scarlett and Jackson got up, then both turned to look at them too, and their mum laughed. She turned to Julie, and asked hopefully, “I don’t suppose you could lend us some cat litter, could you? The shop in the village would have cat food…”
“You mean we can take him now?” Scarlett gasped.
Her mum shrugged. “Why not?”
“Dad, we’re nearly out of Bootle’s food. There’s only the salmon flavour left, and I don’t think he liked that one very much.”
Bootle wrapped himself lovingly round Scarlett’s legs. He knew quite well what was in those tins, and he didn’t see any reason why he shouldn’t have a second breakfast.
Calling him Bootle had been Jackson’s idea. Scarlett had suggested Boots, but it was like Ginger – a little bit too everyday for such a special cat. Bootle was much better.
Jackson looked up from his huge pile of toast. “We could go to the shop,” he said. “I’ve nearly finished the bread, and there’s not a lot for lunch.”
“I’ve got a work call in a few minutes,” said Dad. He looked at them thoughtfully. “Though I suppose you guys could go if you like.”
“On our own?” Scarlett stared at him.
“Why not? You were going to try it when school started next week, weren’t you? If you’re careful, and you stick together.”
Scarlett shut her eyes for a second at the mention of school. She was trying not to think about it. “Will you look after Bootle while we’re out?” she said seriously.
“Scarlett! You’ll only be gone half an hour!” Dad grinned.
“But he’s not used to me not being here!” It was true. Scarlett had spent all of her time with Bootle since they’d brought him home, only leaving him at night-time, when he was safely tucked up in his cardboard box, padded out with an old towel, and a hot water bottle to feel like his mother and the other kittens. Just until he got used to them not being next to him.
“I think it would be good for him to see you go out,” her dad said gently. “I know you don’t want to think about school, Scarlett, but you do go on Monday. Bootle’s had a whole week of you around all the time. He needs to learn to be without you.”
“But he’ll be lonely,” Scarlett said worriedly.
“It’s only for half an hour,” Dad reminded her.
“When we’re back at school it won’t be!”
“Then he’ll have me for company while I’m working. And you know how he loves the computer.”
Scarlett smiled. It was true. Bootle was fascinated by Dad’s computer. He seemed to love the way the keys went up and down. He would sit watching Dad type for ages, just occasionally putting out a paw to try and join in. Then he would look miffed when Dad told him no. Secretly Scarlett was planning to let him try one day when she was using the laptop she shared with Jackson. She wanted to see what Bootle would write – she knew it would probably be a string of random letters, but she was hoping for a secret message!
“Come on then.” Jackson stuffed the last of the toast into his mouth. “Can we get some crisps as well while we’re at the shop, Dad?”
“Mmm-hmm. Here.” Dad gave Jackson some money. “But I do want change. Be back by half-ten, all right? I don’t want to be pacing up and down outside looking for you.”
“Are you really worried about school?” Jackson asked Scarlett, as they wandered down the footpath in the direction of the village.
“A bit.” Scarlett sighed. “What if nobody talks to me?”
“Why wouldn’t they?” Jackson asked, shrugging.
Scarlett shook her head. He was trying to be nice, but he just didn’t get it.
“You had loads of friends at your old school,” said Jackson. “Why do you think you won’t make friends here?”
“It’s such a little school,” Scarlett tried to explain. “Only one class in each year, and not that many in each class, either. They’ll all know each other so well. Like I know Lucy and Ella.” She wished she was as confident as Jackson. He’d already managed to go out for a walk and found a couple of boys playing football. He’d joined in, and then he’d gone back to their house. Scarlett wasn’t sure how he did it.
Jackson rolled his eyes. “Come on. We’re nearly there.”
They went into the shop, and Jackson went to look at football magazines, while Scarlett found the cat food. Then she realized that there were a couple of other girls standing behind her.
“Who’s she?” one of them whispered.
“Don’t you remember? It’s that new girl. The one who came to school for a morning.”
“Ohhh! What’s she called?”
“Something weird. Amber or something.”