The Naughty Kitten

by Paula Harrison

  “What’s wrong, Tiger?” Alfie sank into a chair and examined his cut knee.

  “His food bowl is empty. He must have finished the last bit of salmon while we were out.” Bea rummaged in the drawers, found a box of plasters and handed one to Alfie. “Here you go.”

  “Thanks.” Alfie stuck the plaster on his knee and limped to the door.

  Bea shut the door behind Alfie, careful not to let Tiger out. Then she turned to the little kitten and rustled the shopping bag with the pet food inside. “Hey, Tiger! Guess what I’ve got in here.”

  Tiger scampered across the room, paying no attention to Bea. He began climbing the curtains, gripping on to them with his sharp claws. He scrambled on to the curtain pole at the top and balanced there with a triumphant mew.

  “You are silly!” cried Bea. “You won’t be able to get down from there by yourself.”

  Tiger mewed again and disappeared behind the curtain ruffles at the end of the pole.

  There was a knock at the door. Bea quickly hid the shopping bag under her pillow. “Who is it?”

  “It’s me!” said Natasha. “Mrs Stickler wanted me to tell you dinner’s at half past five.”

  “OK, I won’t be long,” Bea called back.

  “Who are you talking to in there?” said Natasha.

  “No one! I’ll come downstairs in a minute.” Bea looked around in panic. If Natasha burst in, like she sometimes did, there would be no time to fetch Tiger down from the curtain pole. Swiftly, she hid the homemade scratching post under her bed.

  The door swung open and Natasha looked round the room suspiciously. “It really sounded like you were speaking to someone.”

  “I was just talking to myself.” Bea shrugged.

  Natasha folded her arms. “Mrs Stickler told me that you brought that kitten home from the Kite Festival. I knew you were up to something this morning.”

  Bea glanced at the curtain pole, her heart racing. Thankfully Tiger was still hidden behind the ruffles. “I should get changed for dinner…”

  “Don’t be cross that dad made you take the kitten back,” Natasha went on. “The rule is there can’t be any pets in the palace. If there were animals running about everywhere they’d get in the way every time we had important visitors.”

  Bea spotted the curtain ruffles twitching. Tiger might appear at any moment and then her sister would tell Mrs Stickler that the kitten was still here. Bea steered Natasha away and started closing the door. “Well, thanks for telling me about dinner…”

  “Hey, Bea!” Alfie came back down the corridor. “Did Tiger like the cat food?”

  Natasha frowned deeply. “Who’s Tiger? What have you done, Bea?”

  Bea sighed. She might have known Alfie would give the game away. “Tiger’s the kitten’s name. He’s still here because I haven’t found his owner yet.”

  Tiger’s furry face popped out from behind the curtain ruffles and his tail swayed like a little branch in the wind. He mewed sadly and gazed at Bea.

  Climbing on to a chair, Bea reached out for the kitten. “It’s all right! Just hold still.” She lifted Tiger down from the pole and cuddled him gently.

  “Oh, Bea! Mrs Stickler will be so cross when she finds out,” cried Natasha. “She thinks you’ve already given the kitten away like you were supposed to.”

  “But dad only said he should be gone by tomorrow … and look how small he is!” Bea brought the kitten closer to her sister. “I couldn’t just leave him alone somewhere. He needs to be looked after properly.”

  Tiger snuggled in Bea’s arms and purred. Then he began licking his paws with his little pink tongue.

  “Please don’t tell Mrs Stickler,” begged Bea. “It’s only for one day and I promise he won’t cause any trouble.”

  Natasha softened. “He’s really cute! I’ve never seen a cat with such stripy ginger fur before.”

  “That’s why he’s called Tiger,” said Alfie.

  “Can I hold him too?” Natasha made a grab for the kitten and Tiger stiffened and gave a sharp yowl.

  “Sorry!” Bea pulled a face. “Maybe Tiger’s not used to lots of different people yet.”

  Alfie laughed. “Ha ha! Cats don’t like you!”

  Natasha’s smile vanished. “He’s not a very nice cat, is he? I don’t think you should be breaking royal rules like this, Bea. If that animal makes a lot of mess don’t expect me to cover for you!”

  Bea’s heart sank as Natasha marched off. “You shouldn’t have said that cats don’t like her,” she told Alfie.

  “I was only joking.” Alfie looked around. “So where’s the new cat food?”

  Bea set Tiger down on the carpet and pulled the shopping bag from underneath her pillow. “This is chicken flavour. I hope he likes it.”

  “Can I do it?” Alfie pulled the packet open and poured some food into Tiger’s bowl. “There you go, kitty. Dinner time!”

  Tiger took no notice. He pounced on a scrap of paper lying on the carpet as if it were a mouse. Then he hurtled round the room, diving under Alfie’s legs and making him laugh. Bea tried to catch him, but the kitten slipped through her fingers and ran off down the corridor.

  “Tiger, wait!” Bea raced after the kitten, her heart pounding. What if Tiger got lost? What if Natasha saw the cat running around everywhere and told Mrs Stickler?

  She had to catch Tiger before the kitten turned Ruby Palace upside down!

  Chapter Seven

  A Kitten on the Loose

  Bea stared round the passageway, desperately wondering where Tiger had gone. Then she spotted a flash of ginger fur behind a bookcase. The kitten scampered out of hiding and scratched an expensive-looking chair. Bea pulled a face. Mrs Stickler was bound to notice those scratch marks!

  Next Tiger leapt on to a side table and peered into a gold-painted vase. Bea crept up to the kitten, planning to catch him while he wasn’t looking. But as soon as she got close, Tiger sprang off the table and darted towards the stairs.

  Alfie, whose knee seemed much better, ran after Bea. “Let me help!” he yelled. “I’ll catch him!”

  Bea didn’t wait for him. Her stomach was churning. What if Tiger ran outside? The palace gardens were so big he was sure to get lost somewhere.

  Tiger raced down the stairs and Bea and Alfie chased after him. Alfie tried to overtake his sister by leaping down the last two steps. He lost his balance and banged his injured knee on the floor. “Ouch!” he yelled, clutching his leg.

  Tiger jumped in surprise and ran behind a shoe rack. Then he peeked over the top of the king’s wellington boots, his whiskers trembling.

  “Prince Alfred, what on earth is the matter?” Mrs Stickler came rushing out of the dining room. “For a moment I thought something terrible had happened.”

  “Sorry!” Alfie rubbed his knee. “I just banged my leg.”

  “Then perhaps you should try coming downstairs a little more carefully,” said the housekeeper sharply. “I hope you weren’t chasing him, Princess Beatrice.”

  “No, I wasn’t. I promise!” Bea edged in front of the shoe rack to hide the kitten from view. She really hoped Tiger didn’t move until Mrs Stickler went away again.

  “Well, I hope you aren’t coming to dinner dressed in those dusty clothes,” said the housekeeper. “Dinner’s in twenty minutes so there’s plenty of time to change.”

  Bea tried to think of an excuse for staying downstairs. “I’m just looking for my jumper. I think I left it somewhere.” She pretended to look around.

  There was a scraping noise from the shoe rack behind her and a wellington boot slowly toppled to the floor.

  Luckily Mrs Stickler was brushing dust off a picture frame and didn’t notice the fallen boot. She inspected the grey fluff on her finger and tutted. “Nancy!” she called. “You didn’t dust properly over here.”

  Nancy scurried out of the king’s study with a cleaning cloth. Through the doorway, Bea saw a row of gold and silver crowns laid out on the desk. Each one sparkled with rubies, e
meralds and diamonds.

  “Sorry, Mrs Stickler,” said Nancy. “I was just polishing the king’s crowns. I’ll clean the picture frames now.” She swept the cloth along each frame.

  Bea caught a flash of something grey outside the study window but she was worrying about Tiger too much to wonder what it was. “Try to catch the kitten!” she muttered to Alfie. “I’ll keep Mrs Stickler busy.”

  Alfie peered at the shoe rack. “I think Tiger’s gone,” he whispered back. “I can’t see him anywhere.”

  Bea’s heart thudded. Nudging Alfie aside, she crouched down to look under the shoe rack. Tiger had been there just a second ago! Surely he couldn’t have disappeared that fast.

  “Princess Beatrice, what on earth are you doing?” snapped the housekeeper.

  “Um… I just wondered if my jumper was down here,” said Bea.

  “I don’t understand how the two of you lose things so easily.” Mrs Stickler turned back to the maid. “Have you finished now, Nancy?”

  Bea looked around frantically. Then she spotted the welly boot that had fallen off the rack. It was twitching and wobbling. Then it jumped forwards as if there was a frog inside it. Bea’s heart leapt. Tiger must have burrowed his way inside the welly!

  Alfie giggled and Bea tried to shush him.

  “There’s nothing funny about dusting, Prince Alfred!” Mrs Stickler frowned. “Please let Nancy concentrate on what she’s doing. It’s very important that the palace is absolutely spotless at all times.”

  “Yes, Mrs Stickler.” Alfie sidled towards the boot with the kitten inside but Mrs Stickler reached for it first.

  “Here, you can put this back where it belongs.” She bent down to pick up the boot just as a little ginger paw poked out of the top.

  Bea panicked. “DUST!” she shrieked, pointing to a cabinet filled with china plates. “Look there’s dust right there!”

  Mrs Stickler turned round to look at the cabinet. The welly boot performed a funny one-footed jig behind her. Nancy saw it moving and stared, round-eyed.

  “Princess Be-a-trice.” The housekeeper pronounced Bea’s name very slowly. “If you’re over-excited I suggest you go and lie down before dinner.”

  “Yes Mrs Stickler – sorry!” Bea edged past her and grabbed the welly, holding it tightly as she hurried back upstairs. Luckily Mrs Stickler was too busy staring at the imaginary dust on the cabinet to watch her closely.

  Bea didn’t stop running until she reached her bedroom. Then she sank on to the bed and tried to get her breath back. Tiger popped his head out of the welly and his little nose twitched.

  “Are you going to spend five minutes without getting into trouble?” Bea smiled as she lifted the kitten out of the boot and gave him a cuddle. Then she set Tiger down beside his food bowl and went to the window.

  Daylight was fading outside. A man in a grey jacket was walking across the palace drive. Bea’s heart lifted for a moment as she wondered whether he’d seen her “Lost and Found” posters. Maybe he had some information about who Tiger belonged to. But the man turned away from the palace steps and disappeared behind a line of trees.

  Bea didn’t eat much dinner because she wanted to get back to Tiger as quickly as she could. The kitten seemed happy though and spent the evening exploring Bea’s bedroom. His favourite pastime was still climbing the curtains but he also liked clambering up the bookcase and on to the wardrobe. He would shake his whiskers happily every time he reached the top before mewing sadly because he didn’t dare jump down again. Each time Bea laughed and climbed up to rescue him.

  Bea made Tiger a kitten bed using an empty cardboard box from the pantry with a blanket stuffed inside. At last Tiger grew tired and snuggled down on the soft blanket. Bea opened the window a little to let in the cool breeze. Lying down in bed she watched the moon rise above the palace garden.

  Tiger was such a lovely pet. Bea wished with all her heart that somewhere out there was a good home for the little kitten.

  Chapter Eight

  A Leap in the Dark

  Bea woke up in the middle of the night to find the moon shining through her bedroom window. She peered at Tiger’s little cat bed but she couldn’t see the kitten.

  Bea switched on her lamp. Tiger’s bed really was empty.

  “Tiger, where are you?” Bea checked the curtains first but Tiger wasn’t there and he wasn’t hiding under the bed either.

  Bea’s heart sank when she noticed the door was ajar. She was sure she’d closed it properly last night but maybe the breeze from the window had blown it open. She pulled on her slippers, grabbed a torch and slipped out of her room.

  Every step she took seemed to echo in the silent corridor. The torch beam flickered across the palace paintings and the side table with the priceless vase. Bea shone the beam into every corner, hoping to see a flash of stripy fur. She stopped every few steps to listen for mewing or the sound of Tiger padding along the carpet.

  She reached the stairs without seeing any sign of the kitten. Shining the torch down the steps, she caught her breath. Everything looked so strange in the dark. The torch beam caught on the gold picture frames and the silver stair rail making them gleam like treasure.

  A snapping sound made Bea jump. That didn’t sound like Tiger … unless he’d knocked something over. Bea hurried down the steps, whispering, “Tiger, is that you?”

  She stopped at the bottom and shone the torch around again. She wasn’t sure which way the noise had come from. She was about to whisper Tiger’s name again when she noticed a thin sliver of light along the bottom of the door to her dad’s study. Why was his light on?

  Bea hesitated. Her dad wasn’t due back till tomorrow. Had he come back early or was that Mrs Stickler tidying up? It seemed strange to be tidying up in the middle of the night. There were muffled scraping noises coming from inside, which sounded like drawers opening and closing.

  Bea backed away and knocked into a side table. At once the noises stopped and the study light switched off. Bea turned her torch off too and her heart thumped in the darkness. It couldn’t be Mrs Stickler in the study. If the housekeeper had heard a noise she would have rushed out into the hallway immediately.

  Bea stood frozen, her mind whirling. Maybe there was someone in the royal study who wasn’t supposed to be there. Suddenly she remembered the flash of movement she’d seen outside the window the day before. If there was a burglar she needed to get help straight away.

  But what if it was just her dad who’d returned early? He’d want to know why she was out of bed and he might ask what she’d done about Tiger.

  The study light flicked back on and the muffled sounds began again. Bea crept up to the door and knelt down beside the keyhole. There was a large black bag on the king’s desk and the crowns had disappeared.

  At first Bea couldn’t see who was inside. Then she caught a glimpse of a man in a grey jacket with a stubbly chin. It was the same one she’d seen walking across the palace garden the day before. Bea could hardly breathe. He must be stealing the royal treasures. She had to get help right away.

  She scrambled to her feet, accidentally pressing on the door and pushing it open. The man swung round, his eyes narrowing. “Hey, what do you think you’re doing?”

  Bea took a step back, ready to run, but something moved at the top of the red velvet curtains. A furry ginger tail swayed to and fro and Tiger’s little face peeked out from behind the curtain ruffles. The kitten wobbled as he padded along the curtain pole.

  Bea stared in horror. If she ran to get help she would be leaving Tiger in terrible danger.

  The burglar grabbed his bag, knocking over a chair as he swung it across his shoulder. The chair fell to the floor with a clatter. Tiger mewed in surprise and the burglar peered up at the little cat balanced on the curtain pole.

  “Maybe you’ll fetch me some money too.” The burglar snatched at the kitten.

  “No!” Bea stepped forward. “Get off him.”

  “Stay back or you’ll be sorry!”
the man snarled.

  Tiger gave a squeaky kind of growl and tensed his body, ready to spring. His bottom wobbled and for a second Bea was afraid he would fall. Then the little cat leapt from the curtain pole straight on to the burglar’s head.

  The man gave a roar, clutching at his hair.

  “Well done, Tiger!” cried Bea. “Quickly, over here.”

  The kitten jumped on to the king’s desk. The burglar made another grab for Tiger but he lost his balance and staggered, catching hold of the curtains. There was a loud rip and the curtains fell off the pole, covering him completely.

  “Princess Beatrice, are you all right? I heard you shouting.” Mr Wells rushed in wearing slippers and pyjamas. “What on earth is going on?”

  The burglar struggled under the massive velvet curtains. His hands and elbows pushed out of the cloth in all directions.

  “It’s a burglar…” Bea began breathlessly.

  “What’s going on?” Mrs Stickler marched in holding a frying pan as if it was a weapon.

  “A burglar!” Mr Wells scratched his head nervously. “It looks like Princess Beatrice caught him just in time.”

  “It was really Tiger that caught him,” said Bea. “He was amazing!”

  Tiger mewed proudly. Then he sat down on the king’s desk and began cleaning his paws.

  “Goodness! Is that the kitten you saved from the tree yesterday, Princess Beatrice?” asked Mr Wells.

  “Stand back all of you!” Mrs Stickler’s eyes were fierce as she raised the frying pan in the air. She advanced on the burglar, who was still squirming under the heavy curtains. With her yellow satin dressing gown, her hair twisted into rollers and streaks of face cream on her cheeks, she reminded Bea of a strange-looking warrior from ancient times.

  “I’ll fetch the grooms from the stables. They’ll sort everything out.” Mr Wells hurried away and Bea wasn’t sure whether he was more scared of Mrs Stickler or the burglar.