His mum laughed. “I suppose you want the gravy warmed up?”
“Yes, please,” Michael said.
Mrs Tappin returned with Star’s food and gave it to Michael. He put it down in the middle of the floor and sat down right beside her to watch her eat it.
Star munched away, her tiny white teeth flashing and her pink tongue hungrily licking up the gravy.
“Look at her eat!” Mr Tappin said. “Anyone would think she’d never seen a Christmas lunch before.”
“She hasn’t!” Michael said, and then realised that his dad was joking.
Archie had some turkey too, of course, and when both cats had finished their meal they sat by the fire. They didn’t look at each other but sat carefully licking round their mouths and smoothing their whiskers with their paws.
“I think they’re going to be friends,” Michael said. He beamed at his gran. “Archie can be Star’s grandad!”
The three grown-ups looked at each other.
“Don’t forget, love,” his mum said, “Star might not be here for long. She belongs to someone else. You’re just borrowing her.”
Michael didn’t answer. He watched his lovely kitten, not wanting to miss a lick of her paw or a swish of her tail.
When she’d finished washing, Star stretched and yawned widely. Michael thought she was about to fall asleep but she suddenly leapt right over the dozing Archie and made a beeline for Michael’s dad. She ran straight up his trousers, across his jumper and round the back of his neck.
Mr Tappin gave a shout of surprise. “She’s climbing onto my head!”
Everyone started laughing.
“It looks like you’re wearing a furry scarf!” Michael’s gran said.
“Aren’t kittens fun!” Michael said, happily.
“Yes, they are,” said his mum. But then her face turned serious. “But Michael, you must remember that Star isn’t really yours.”
Michael pretended not to hear her again. Star was his. She was . . .
Chapter Five
“Now, what shall we say on this poster?” asked Mr Tappin.
It was three days after Christmas and he and Michael were sitting at his computer. They’d contacted the RSPCA and the local vet to report that they’d found a kitten, and now they were making a poster.
“I don’t know,” Michael said. He didn’t want to be helpful.
“I suppose we should start off by describing her,” said his dad. “Black kitten with white star-shaped mark on her chest . . .”
“What if no one claims her?” Michael asked.
“Don’t build your hopes up,” Mr Tappin replied. “Someone must be really worried about her.”
There was a scratching at the door. Michael went over to open it and Star padded into the room. She rubbed her head against his ankle, purring loudly.
Michael picked Star up and took her to sit with him. The kitten seemed very interested in the computer and leapt from Michael’s lap onto the table.
Zedtonimplurr appeared on the screen as she stepped daintily across the computer keyboard.
“Out of the way, naughty puss,” said Mr Tappin, laughing.
Star blinked up at him, giving her cutest look. “Mia–oww!”
Michael’s dad grinned. “She is a sweet little thing,” he said. “I’ll miss her when she goes.”
“So will I,” said Michael, picking her up and hugging her. Oh, please, he thought to himself, please don’t let anyone claim her . . .
That afternoon, Michael and his dad went round the village, putting up the posters:
KITTEN FOUND ON CHRISTMAS DAY
BLACK, WITH WHITE STAR-SHAPED MARK ON HER CHEST
Please contact: 8 Harshaw Villas
Telephone: 0126 545 593
“I think we only need to put up one or two posters,” Michael said.
“No, we’ll need a few more than that,” said Mr Tappin. “Maybe ten or twelve.”
“I’ll do them,” Michael said quickly. “You can go home.”
Mr Tappin shook his head. “I’m not daft!” he said. “You wouldn’t put up any at all if I left you to it, because you don’t want anyone to find out we’ve got Star!”
“I would,” Michael said. “But I might put them up back to front,” he admitted. “Or I might not push the drawing pin in very hard and they might fall off!”
His dad laughed. “That’s why I think I’d better be here.”
When they’d put up ten posters, including one in the post office, they walked home.
Star was sitting on the kitchen windowsill, looking out. When she saw Michael she began to miaow happily.
Michael walked into the kitchen and grinned. “I love having her here, don’t you?”
“Yes, I do, love,” Mr Tappin said. “But I’m sure the person she belongs to will be searching for her. And they’ll soon see one of the posters we’ve put up.”
Michael picked up Star and held her tightly. He just didn’t want to think about that.
The phone call came two days later, just as Michael was about to take Star upstairs to bed.
Mr Tappin answered the phone and Michael saw his face grow serious. “I see. Yes, we’ve got her,” he said. “That’s right, black, with a white mark on her chest . . .”
Michael began to feel sick.
“Yes, tomorrow morning will be fine,” his dad went on. Mr Tappin put down the phone. “That was a Mrs Patel from Dinby Way.”
Michael didn’t say anything.
His dad shot him a sympathetic glance. “She bought a kitten for her daughter’s birthday a couple of weeks before Christmas and it disappeared.”
Michael felt like he was going to cry. “No!” he said.
“Mrs Patel said her daughter misses her kitten very much,” his dad said quietly.
Michael scooped Star up and ran upstairs to his bedroom. “Star wants to be with me!” he cried as he slammed the door. “They’re not having her!”
Chapter Six
“Post, Michael!” his mum called the next morning. “There’s something for you from Scotland.”
“OK,” Michael said gloomily. He and Star were playing with a ping-pong ball, and he kept thinking that this might be the last time they ever played together.
Star put out a velvety paw and swiped the ball – right between Michael’s knees. “Goal!” he laughed. “Clever girl!” He rolled the ball for Star one last time. While she scooted after it, Michael went into the kitchen.
His mum held out an envelope to him, smiling. “It’s from Scottish Granny,” she said.
Scottish Granny, who lived near Aberdeen, always sent New Year cards and presents instead of Christmas ones. Michael usually got a book token from her.
He took the envelope and looked at his watch. Nearly eleven o’clock! He’d been up since before it was light that morning, playing with Star. This time tomorrow, someone else would be playing with her.
“Aren’t you going to open the card?” Mrs Tappin asked.
Michael nodded, slit open the envelope and pulled out a New Year card. But it didn’t have a book token with it. Instead, there was a cheque – for fifty pounds!
“Oh!” Michael cried. “The rest of my bike money – all at once!”
His mum smiled. “Granny knew you’d been saving hard and wanted to help,” she explained.
Michael put the card and the cheque down on the kitchen table. He tried to feel excited. But really all he could think about was Star.
He went back into the sitting room. Star was now curled into a black fluffy ball, fast asleep behind the sofa.
Michael crouched down to watch her. Star’s whiskers twitched gently as she breathed in and out. She looked so sweet that Michael felt as if he was going to cry.
Just then, he heard a noise on the gravel outside. There was a knock at the door. Star opened her eyes and peered up at him.