Scarlett and Jackson were halfway to school, walking down the footpath along the side of the big field, which was planted with green wheat – Scarlett hadn’t known what it was, but Dad had told her.
“Can you hear a meow?” Scarlett asked suddenly, and Jackson turned round to stare at her.
“Don’t be silly. Come on!”
“No, I can. I really can. It’s Bootle, I’m sure.” Scarlett peered along the track behind them, and laughed. “It is! Look!”
Bootle was running after them, mewing happily, and as Scarlett crouched down to say hello, he clambered up into her lap and sat there, purring wearily. He’d had to run faster than he’d ever done before to catch them up.
“What’s he doing here?” Jackson shook his head. “Yes, you’re very clever, Bootle,” he admitted, running one hand down the little ginger kitten’s back. “But now we have to take you back home, and we’re going to be late.”
“Oh, do we have to take him back?” Scarlett said sadly.
Jackson rolled his eyes. “Yes, of course we do! We can’t take a cat to school, Scarlett!”
“I suppose so.”
“And we have to run, because we’re going to be late.”
Scarlett swallowed anxiously. She didn’t want to be late, to have to go in after everyone else, and explain what had happened. They hurried back down the footpath and across the lane before bursting through the front door.
Dad came out of his office, looking worried. “What’s happened? Why are you back? I knew I should have gone with you!”
“Don’t worry, Dad. It’s fine.” Scarlett held out her arms, full of purring ginger kitten. “Bootle just followed us. He caught up with us as we were going past the big field – the one with wheat in it. We had to bring him back.” She put Bootle into Dad’s arms, and he stopped purring and glared at her. He’d gone to find her, and brought her back, and now she was going again!
“Sorry, Bootle. I’d much rather stay with you.” Scarlett stroked his head as she went to leave.
“Come on, Scarlett,” Jackson yelled from the door.
“You’d better run, sweetheart,” Dad said. “I’d drive you, but by the time we’ve gone all round by the road, it’s longer than the short cut. I’ll ring the school and explain why you’ll be a bit late, don’t worry.”
“Thanks, Dad,” said Scarlett.
When Scarlett and Jackson hurried into the playground, the head, Miss Wilson, was standing at the main door watching out for them.
Scarlett was worried. Luckily, Miss Wilson didn’t look cross. She just smiled at them as they raced towards her, and patted Jackson’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. I used to have a dog that followed me to school. Still, I’ve never heard of a cat doing it. He must be very fond of you.”
Scarlett nodded proudly. She hadn’t really thought of it like that.
“I’ve explained to your teachers, so just slip quietly into your classes, all right?”
“Thanks, Miss Wilson.” Scarlett crept, mouse-like, along the corridor. It was all very well to say to slip in quietly, but everyone was still going to turn and stare at her. She eased open the door of her classroom, wincing as it creaked.
But her teacher, Mrs Mason, just smiled at her, and waved her over to her table, and went on pointing out something on the whiteboard.
“I wondered where you were!” Izzy whispered to her. “I thought you might not be coming back!”
“It wasn’t that bad yesterday,” Scarlett muttered.
“Are you OK?” said Izzy. “Did you oversleep?”
Scarlett shook her head. “No. It sounds really stupid, but I had to take my kitten home. He followed us to school.”
“Your kitten did?” Izzy stared at her. “Oh, I didn’t know you had a kitten! I’ve got a cat. He’s called Olly. But he’s never followed me anywhere! He’s far too lazy. What’s your kitten called?”
“Bootle.” Scarlett smiled proudly. “We’ve only had him two weeks, and he isn’t used to us leaving him. Mrs Mason’s giving us a look. I’ll tell you more at break, OK?”
Izzy grinned. “You’re so lucky having a kitten.”
Scarlett nodded, and stared at the whiteboard. Izzy was right, she realized. She really was lucky.
“I’ll keep Bootle inside until after you’ve gone,” Dad said at breakfast the following morning. “If I don’t open the cat flap for an hour or so, and I pay him lots of attention, I’m sure he’ll stay put.”
“I hope so,” said Mum anxiously. “We don’t want him to wander too far. If he starts going out in the lane and along the footpaths, he could easily get lost.” She glanced up at the clock. “I’d better get going. Have a lovely day, all of you. Scarlett, do you want to invite that nice girl from your class round after school one day? What was she called? Izzy? I can call her mum. She could come tomorrow, perhaps.”
Dad nodded. “I can pick you all up from school.”
Scarlett smiled. Dad had been so pleased when she’d come home the day before and said she’d actually had a good day at school. She would really like Izzy to come over.
“I’ll ask her,” she agreed, tickling Bootle behind the ears. He was sitting on her lap, hoping for bits of toast. He particularly liked toast with Marmite, so Scarlett made sure she always had Marmite on at least one piece now. She tore off a little corner, and passed it down to him, watching him crunch it up and lick at his whiskers for crumbs.
“Do you really think Bootle will be all right?” she asked Dad anxiously. “I don’t want him to be lonely.”
A cautious paw reached up on to the table, aiming for more toast, and Dad snorted. “He’ll be fine. He knows how to look after himself very well. Don’t you?” he added, scratching Bootle under his little white chin. “Yes, you’re very lovely. Even if you are trying to steal yourself a second breakfast.”
Bootle drooped his whiskers, and stared at Dad, his blue eyes round and solemn.
Scarlett giggled. Bootle made it look as though he was starving to death and even Dad was almost convinced. He glanced down at his own plate of toast, and then shook his head firmly.
“That kitten is a shameless liar,” he told Scarlett.
Bootle prowled up and down the hallway, his tail twitching crossly. Scarlett had left him behind again, and now his cat flap was closed. He didn’t understand what was happening. Why did she have to keep going away?
“Hey! Bootle! Cat crunchies!” Scarlett’s dad came out of the kitchen with a foil packet, and Bootle turned round hopefully. He loved those crunchies, especially the fishy-flavoured ones. “Good boy. Yes, Scarlett said some of these might cheer you up.”
Bootle laid his ears back as he heard Scarlett’s name, and stopped licking the crunchies up out of Dad’s hand. Scarlett! Was she about to come back? He looked at Dad hopefully.
“Oh dear. You really do miss her, don’t you?” Dad eyed him worriedly. “She’ll be back later, Bootle, I promise. Come on, yummy fish things.”
Bootle ate the rest of the crunchies, but rather slowly. He liked them, but he would have liked them much more if Scarlett had fed them to him. She had a game where she held them in front of his nose, one at a time, and he stretched up to reach. They didn’t taste the same out of Dad’s hand.
“Good boy, Bootle.” Dad picked him up gently, took him into the office, and put him down on an old armchair. “Why don’t you have a sleep?”