by Holly Webb
“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?
Chapter Eight
“Oh, Rosie, he was so close!” Gran came hurrying over, her face stricken. “That was such bad luck. He really seemed to be trusting you.” She shook her head. “I just can’t believe how patient you’ve been with him. You deserve to have him, Rosie, you really do.”
Rosie gave her a grateful hug.
“Well, what are we going to do now?” Gran wondered. “How on earth are we going to get him out? He’s too frightened to let anyone pick him up – you might just about be able to do it, but those builders can’t let you go on to the site, even if they want to. If you hurt yourself, they could be in real trouble. I suppose we’re just going to have to call the rescue centre and get them to do it.”
Rosie nodded. “I hadn’t thought of the rescue centre people coming back. They’d probably have to use a net or a cage or something, wouldn’t they?” She shuddered. “I suppose it’s better than staying where he is, it’s really dangerous here. But he’ll be terrified and he might run away from them again… Oh, Gran, there’s got to be a better way!” She sat down on the grassy verge, thinking hard. “Well, I can’t go in, so he’s got to come out, hasn’t he? But I just don’t see how – this fence is like a prison, even for a cat.”
Gran sighed. “I’ve a feeling we’re going to be here for a while, aren’t we?” She patted Rosie on the shoulder. “You stay here and watch for him, I’ll nip home and make us some sandwiches. I won’t be long.” Rosie looked up suddenly. “Don’t worry, Rosie, I’ll bring some more ham for Ginger as well. But if we do catch that kitten, he’s going to have to learn to like something other than the best ham…”
Rosie watched her walk slowly off down the lane. She was so lucky having Gran. For a start, if Gran didn’t have her after school, she’d never even have met Ginger. But mostly because Gran was never in a rush. She didn’t mind spending an hour sitting outside a building site, watching for a kitten. That was pretty special.
Rosie turned back to the fence and stared at it hopelessly. If only she could climb over it! The builders were starting to leave now. Once they’d gone, no one would see… But the fence was so high, and Gran would be really upset with her. She’d trusted Rosie to be sensible, leaving her here. Rosie couldn’t let her down.
Rosie shook the fence, making it rattle. It was even taller than the one at school, round the playing field. Then she stopped, and stared at the fence thoughtfully. The one at school had holes in, where people had leaned on it over the years, and one place where some of the boys in the year above had decided to dig a tunnel underneath while they were bored in lunch break. She couldn’t get over the fence, but maybe she could get under it. Or at least the kitten could…
She crouched down again and peered at the base of the fence. It ran along the ground, and it was held tightly between posts, so there were no gaps – yet. Rosie started to hunt for a likely place. Oh! Yes, here, a couple of posts along… Something had already done half the job for her. Maybe that fox they’d seen before. Whatever it was had scrabbled a hole a few centimetres deep under the fence before it gave up.
Rosie lifted the fence carefully. She was pretty sure that Ginger could fit under there, but she’d better dig it out a bit more, just to be certain. Rosie found a big stone and started to scrape the earth away as fast as she could, looking up every so often to check for Ginger.
The farm was quiet. Ginger’s ears and whiskers stopped their panicky twitching at last, and he poked his nose out from under the black tarpaulin where he’d dashed after that huge bang.
No noise of diggers, no rumbling wheels, no men shouting. They had gone. It should be safe now. He slid out, still listening carefully. There was an odd scritch-scratching noise coming from across the yard. It wasn’t the men. Was it that fox who’d been stealing from his bins? He’d seen it again the other night.
There was no smell now, so it couldn’t be a fox. He padded slowly out into the yard, following the noise. It sounded like something was digging under the fence, maybe it was that fox. The fur rose up on Ginger’s back. The sooner he got out of here, the better. He crept round the back of the tractor, and darted a quick look over at the fence.
It was her! The girl! She was still there! The noise hadn’t scared her away. And she was digging under the fence. Was she trying to come in?
Ginger gave a hopeful mew, and crept across the yard towards her, glancing round occasionally, just in case.
Rosie dropped the stone. “Ginger!” She sat up on her heels eagerly, catching hold of the fence to look through the wire, and Ginger paused, scared by the sudden movement. “Oh, I’m sorry…” She edged back on her knees, leaving a little space between herself and the fence. “I didn’t mean to scare you, Ginger. I was just so glad to see you! Look!” Rosie dug the last tiny handful of fishy cat treats out of the packet that she’d been keeping in her school bag, and scattered them for Ginger – on her side of the fence.
“Come on, Ginger… Please…”
The tiny kitten sniffed thoughtfully. The smell was familiar. Those strange round things he’d found before! They were from the girl, too? Well, he preferred ham sandwiches, but he wouldn’t complain. Still, he had to climb under the fence to get them.
He padded closer, peering through the hole. It seemed big enough. And he’d been hoping to find the girl, and a way out. Now she had made him one. Ginger stared up at Rosie, his big green eyes hopeful, and almost trusting. He would do it.
Rosie stared back, her eyes hopeful too, and pleading, desperate for him to trust her. “Hey, little one,” she whispered. “Come on…”
Ginger crouched down, and started to wriggle under the fence, the wire just skimming the fur on h
is back. He popped out the other side, shook himself and sneezed from the dust. Then he eyed the cat treats, eagerly.
“Go on, they’re for you!” Rosie reassured him, and Ginger gobbled them down, a curious expression on his face. Such an odd flavour. But he could get used to it. He licked his whiskers to make sure he hadn’t missed anything, and looked up at Rosie. Then he put one tiny paw on her knee, and mewed.
More?
“Are you still hungry?” Rosie smiled. “You could come back to Gran’s with me… She’s making ham sandwiches, your favourite.” She stood up, very slowly, and stepped backwards. “You coming? Hmmm? Coming, Ginger?”
And Ginger stepped out after her, his tail waving, following her home.
About the Author
Holly Webb started out as a children’s book editor, and wrote her first series for the publisher she worked for. She has been writing ever since, with over sixty books to her name. Holly lives in Berkshire, with her husband and three young sons. She has a pet cat called Marble, who is always nosying around when she’s trying to type on her laptop.
Other titles by Holly Webb:
Lost in the Snow
Lost in the Storm
Alfie all Alone
Sam the Stolen Puppy
Max the Missing Puppy
Sky the Unwanted Kitten
Timmy in Trouble
Ginger the Stray Kitten
Harry the Homeless Puppy
Buttons the Runaway Puppy
Alone in the Night
Ellie the Homesick Puppy
Jess the Lonely Puppy
Misty the Abandoned Kitten
Oscar’s Lonely Christmas
Lucy the Poorly Puppy
Smudge the Stolen Kitten
The Rescued Puppy
The Kitten Nobody Wanted
The Lost Puppy
The Frightened Kitten
Copyright
STRIPES PUBLISHING
An imprint of Little Tiger Press
1 The Coda Centre, 189 Munster Road,
London SW6 6AW
Text copyright © Holly Webb, 2009
Illustrations copyright © Sophy Williams, 2009
First published as an ebook by Stripes Publishing in 2012.
eISBN: 978–1–84715–268–8
The right of Holly Webb and Sophy Williams to be identified as the author and illustrator of this work respectively has been asserted by them in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.
All rights reserved.
Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any forms, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publishers or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
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