“Do you feel all right?” Mrs Tappin asked. “One minute you’re here, next you’re gone! You’ve hardly looked at your new bike stuff. I don’t think you’ve even opened your books!”
“I feel great!” Michael replied. “I’m just going upstairs to . . . to write some thank-you letters.”
His dad looked at him with astonishment. “Are you sure you feel all right, Michael?”
“Course I do!” Michael said, then he ran up to his room and closed the door behind him.
Snuggled in Michael’s duvet, Star was snoozing. Earlier, Michael had brought her up a bowl of breakfast cereal, mashed up with lots of milk. She’d eaten every bit; then, with a round, full tummy, she’d fallen fast asleep. Michael was planning to bring her some turkey later.
Suddenly the kitten’s eyes opened. Seeing Michael, she began to purr madly.
Michael gently ruffled the fur around her ears. “Are you ready to play, now?” he asked. He trailed a piece of tinsel that he’d picked off the Christmas tree across the duvet.
As she caught sight of it, Star’s green eyes opened wide. She leapt to her feet, then crouched, ears pricked, quivering all over as she prepared to pounce. Suddenly she leapt on the moving tinsel, attacking it with tiny paws and teeth.
Michael laughed out loud. Then his face grew more serious. “I don’t know what to do about you going to the loo, Star,” he said. “You’re going to want to go soon, now you’ve woken up.” He looked around his room thoughtfully. Star put her head to one side, watching his every move. “I think I’d better put some newspaper under the bed and then you can—”
Suddenly, Michael’s door opened and his mum stood in the doorway. Her eyes widened as she saw Star. “Where did you . . . Where has that kitten come from?” she gasped.
Michael ran over and scooped up Star. “She was outside!” he said. “This morning, when I got up to open my presents, she was outside in the snow.”
“I don’t believe it!” Mrs Tappin said faintly. She sat down on the bed. “Clive,” she called to Michael’s dad, “come quickly!”
Mr Tappin came hurrying in. He too stopped still in the doorway when he saw the kitten in Michael’s arms.
“She’s mine!” Michael said fiercely. “I wished for a kitten and Star came along!” He held her close. “You will let me keep her, won’t you?” he pleaded.
Mrs Tappin sighed. “I’m sorry, love,” she said. “She belongs to someone else. Kittens don’t just turn up on your doorstep like magic.”
“And whoever she belongs to will be missing her,” Mr Tappin added. “We’ll have to put her outside again so she can go back to her real home. It’s only right.” Michael hugged Star even tighter.
“Think how you’d feel if you had a kitten and it just disappeared,” his mum said gently.
Michael nodded slowly.
“She’ll find her way back to where she came from,” Michael’s dad reassured him. “But you must say goodbye to her now.”
When his mum and dad had left the bedroom, Michael put his head down on Star’s fluffy tummy. His wish had come true: he’d got a kitten for Christmas. But now she was being taken away . . .
Chapter Four
“Anyone for second helpings?” Mr Tappin asked. The family were sitting at the dining table, eating Christmas lunch.
Michael’s granny always came to lunch on Christmas Day, with Archie. She puffed out her cheeks. “No thanks, love, I’m full,” she said.
“If I ate anything else I’d go pop!” said Mr Tappin.
“How about you, Michael?” his mum asked.
Michael shook his head, a great lump in his throat. He’d managed to eat some of his Christmas lunch, but he hadn’t enjoyed it half as much as he usually did. He was too worried about Star.
After the kitten had been put back out into the snow, she’d hung around the door for a while, miaowing – then she’d disappeared. Michael’s mum and dad had said she’d gone home. But Michael wasn’t so sure.
“So – who’s for Christmas pudding?” Mrs Tappin asked next. Mr Tappin groaned. “Or shall we wait a while?” she added hastily.
“Good idea,” Michael’s gran said as she sank down on the sofa next to Archie.
Suddenly Michael heard a familiar mewing sound. He turned to look over at the glass door. “Look! Star’s come back!” he shouted.
Everyone looked towards the garden. Star stood there in the snow, her fur sticking up in damp spikes. She mewed again, then started scratching at the glass.
“So that’s the little thing you’ve been telling me about!” said Michael’s gran.
Michael nodded, then looked at his mum, hopefully.
Mrs Tappin stood up. “If we ignore her, I expect she’ll go home. Now, does anyone want a mince pie?”
“But, Mum!” Michael pleaded. “She’ll be freezing cold out there. It’s starting to snow again. The snow will get so deep that it will go right over her head.”
“Cats are very sensible . . .” his mum began, and then she looked at Star and hesitated. “Oh, dear,” she said. “She does look a bit wet, doesn’t she?”
“And it is Christmas . . .” said Michael’s gran, winking at him.
“Perhaps just for a little while, then,” Mrs Tappin agreed. “Until we can find her owners . . .”
Before they could say anything else, Michael was opening the door and lifting the shivering kitten into his arms. “You came back!” he said, holding her close to him and not caring a bit about his Christmas jumper getting wet.
Mrs Tappin went to get an old towel from the kitchen to dry Star.
Archie seemed to sense that there was something going on and woke up from his snooze. Raising his head, he spotted the tiny intruder, jumped down from the sofa and stood at Michael’s feet staring up. He gave a loud, loud miaow. Who was this cheeky young thing?
“You can be introduced in a minute,” Michael’s gran said. “The youngster needs to be dried first.”
Mrs Tappin gave Michael the towel and he sat by the fire with Star on his lap. Very gently he patted her wet fur, rubbing under her tummy where she was wettest of all.
As her fur got dry and fluffy, Star curled round and round on Michael’s lap, loving all the attention. Purring non-stop, she put out her tongue and began to lick Michael’s hand.
“It feels all tickly,” he laughed. He was so happy! He’d wanted a cat for ages . . .
While he’d been drying the kitten, the family had been watching, and now they all thought Star was really sweet.
But someone didn’t think she was very sweet. Archie stood on red alert, ears pricked and eyes wide, watching the stranger’s every movement.
Michael’s dad told him to put Star down next to the older cat.
“I hope they’ll be friends,” Michael said anxiously, lowering Star to the floor.
The big tabby cat and the tiny black kitten stared at each other. Their noses twitched as they sniffed unfamiliar scents and their tails swung slowly from side to side. They were weighing each other up.
Star took a timid step closer to Archie, but Archie immediately gave a low growl of disapproval. He raised his back into a high arch and fluffed up his raggedy fur.
Star shrank away, scared. Michael moved in to pick her up and protect her. He wasn’t going to have his little kitten frightened!
“They’ll be friends all in good time,” said Michael’s gran.
“I expect the little thing’s hungry,” Mrs Tappin said. “Maybe she wants her Christmas lunch.”
Michael nodded eagerly. “Oh, yes, please,” he said. “If you give me some turkey, I’ll chop it up for her. And can she have some gravy on it?”