Chapter Three
“Youuwwll!” Nell cried. The wet stuff was horrible.
Inside his underwater castle, Eric the goldfish had decided to play dead. For a goldfish, Eric was quite bright.
Tom ran over to the tank and scooped Nell out. Holding the dripping kitten under one arm, Tom used his other hand to touch Eric gently.
Eric flicked his tail and shot out from his castle.
Tom breathed a sigh of relief, but was cross with himself. His mum was always telling him not to leave the lid off Eric’s tank. He put the lid back on firmly, then went to the airing cupboard for an old towel to rub Nell dry.
“Thanks for rescuing me, Tom,” Nell mewed weakly. She looked up at him, but Tom didn’t smile. Nell felt miserable.
Tom wrapped Nell in a rather rough, threadbare towel then carried her down to the kitchen where it was warmer. “Cats are meant to be afraid of water, not jump into it!” he said sternly as he rubbed her dry. Nell looked very small and skinny with her wet fur.
Tom did smile then. “You look like a little rat,” he said, “except I’ve never seen a tabby rat before.”
Nell began to feel better. Her fur felt warmer and less heavy. She yawned. All the excitement had made her tired, so she curled up in her towel and went to sleep.
Tom put Nell down by the radiator and was about to go and top up Eric’s tank with water when Hattie and Jo came in, carrying two almost full trays of eggs from the hens.
“Look at all the eggs we got this morning. Forty-four!” said Hattie.
“Mum was really happy,” said Jo.
They stacked them carefully on the table. “We’re going out to see Poppy and her piglets now,” they told Tom.
“OK,” said Tom. He left Nell fast asleep by the radiator and shot off upstairs to sort out Eric.
Eric was fine. He was happily swimming around in about 10 centimetres of water, wondering what had happened to the rest of it. Eric had already forgotten about Nell falling in. Although Eric had a good memory for a goldfish, he still forgot everything after about five minutes.
Tom filled up the fish tank, gave Eric some more fish food and made sure he put the lid on. Then he heard the crash.
Tom bounded down the stairs, expecting the worst. And he was right. Nell was on the kitchen table. On the kitchen floor were one upturned tray and a couple of dozen smashed eggs.
“Oh, Nell, look what you’ve done!” gasped Tom, staring in horror at the oozing, slimy mess.
Nell looked at Tom’s face and thought she’d better get off the table. As she sprang down, Hattie burst into the kitchen.
“Mum wants her coat – aagh!” Hattie skidded on the eggs and banged right into the draining board. A glass and two cereal bowls toppled to the floor with a clatter as Hattie came to a halt.
“Oh no,” groaned Tom.
“What a mess!” shouted Mrs Morgan when she ran in to see what was happening. “What has been going on?”
“Wow!” breathed Jo as she rushed in too, not wanting to be left out.
Nell sat crouched in the corner on her threadbare towel and looked at Tom’s mum.
Tom’s mum looked at Nell. “Did Nell do this?” she demanded.
“Not all of it,” miaowed Nell, beginning to lick her paws, which were sticky with egg. All this noise and fuss – she wished more than anything that she was still safely asleep in her basket up in Tom’s room.
“Well, Tom? Did she?” asked Mrs Morgan sternly.
“Sort of . . . I suppose . . .” Tom said reluctantly.
“I thought so,” said his mum. “That kitten is nothing but trouble! I don’t think she’ll ever make a good farm cat. We won’t have a farm left if she carries on like this!” Mrs Morgan sighed. “I really think Nell may have to go and live somewhere else,” she said quietly.
“No, Mum!” cried Tom.
Nell looked down at her eggy paws, feeling very miserable.
“But Mum, Nell didn’t break the crockery,” said Hattie. “I knocked it all on the floor when I slipped on the eggs.”
“And I’m sure Nell didn’t mean to break the eggs, Mum,” said Tom. “Please give her another chance. Please!”
“Please!” said Hattie and Jo.
Mrs Morgan looked at the three pleading faces. “All right,” she said, sighing again. “One more chance. Just one! But that’s it, OK?”
“OK, Mum,” said Tom, smiling in relief.
While Hattie and Jo helped Tom clear up the broken eggs and smashed crockery, Mrs Morgan went out to feed the pigs.
Nell sat quietly under the radiator and carried on cleaning her paws.
The kitchen was soon clean and tidy again. Hattie and Jo ran off outside to play.
Tom decided he ought to try and get back in his mum’s good books. He’d go and help her with the pigs. “Back soon, Nell,” he said. “Be good.”
Nell stopped licking her paws and watched the door close behind Tom. Then she watched it swing open again as it came off the latch.
Nell sat and looked at the slight opening in the kitchen door. Her nose twitched. It was such a lovely warm day and the farmyard sent such interesting smells wafting her way.
She sat there a bit longer. Then she decided. She could be just as good sitting by the open door, couldn’t she? She crept over to the doorway and poked her little pink nose out into the sunshine . . .
Chapter Four
Over in Poppy’s pen, Tom and his mum were giving Poppy and her piglets some clean straw to lie on. Suddenly a burst of squawking came from the duck pond.
Tom’s heart thumped quickly. Nell! He rushed out just in time to see Nell scooting round the pond, chasing all the ducks into the water. He caught the naughty kitten almost at once, but by then Tom’s mum had seen what had happened.
“I’ll take Nell inside and shut her in my room,” said Tom quickly.
Mrs Morgan nodded crossly. “And make sure she stays there this time,” she snapped. “I’ve had quite enough of that kitten today.”
Nell could tell that she was in trouble again. Tom took her up to his room and played with her for a while, but Nell could see that he was thinking about something else. After a while, she went over to snooze in the warm sunshine by the window.
Nell was right, Tom was thinking about something. He was thinking about Nell’s last chance and hoping that his mum did not mean what she had said.
But that evening, when Tom was on his way to clean his teeth, he heard his mum and dad talking in the kitchen.
“Tom will be very upset,” Tom’s dad was saying. “He’s become especially fond of Nell.”
“I know,” sighed Tom’s mum, “but that kitten is never going to settle down here. It would be kinder to let Julie take Nell now so that she can get used to a new home while she’s still young.”
“Maybe . . .” said Mr Morgan. “But let’s give it just a little bit longer, just for Tom.”
“You’re a big softie,” Tom heard his mum say. “OK, one last chance, then.”
Tom rushed back to Nell. He picked her up and hugged her tightly. “From now on you really, really have to stop being so naughty, Nell,” he told her. “Otherwise you have to go and live with Auntie Julie.”
Nell was having a strange dream about being hugged by a talking pig. She gave a muffled miaow.
Tom smiled. He loved Auntie Julie, but there was no way she was going to have Nell . . .
The next day was hot and sunny. Tom’s mum and dad were busy up in the fields turning the hay so that it dried in the sunshine.
Nell was sitting quietly on Tom’s windowsill, gazing out at the sunny farmyard. She stuck her pink nose right up against the window and wished she was outside too, having fun.