“Are you sure?” Mum asked.
“Definitely. I was right here, so they should be just on the other side of the fence. Ginger’s been here, he’s eaten them! Oh, Mum!” Rosie beamed at her, feeling so relieved. She bent down to empty some more cat treats out of the packet.
“Rosie, what’s that?” Rosie looked up to see her mum pointing across the farmyard, down to the side of the farmhouse. “Can you see? It looks like something ginger, by the bins…”
Rosie jumped to her feet. Mum was right. Slipping along the side of the farmhouse was a flash of gingery fur. It had to be him!
But then the creature slunk out further into the yard, sniffing at the piles of wood from the barn. A gingery fox, with a bright-white tail tip.
“Oh no…” Rosie breathed. It wasn’t very big, but compared to a tiny kitten it was huge. “It might hurt Ginger, and oh, Mum, I bet it was the fox who ate the cat treats!”
Mum sighed and nodded. “I’m afraid it could well have been, yes.”
Sadly, they turned and walked away, Rosie blinking back tears. She had promised herself she wouldn’t give up, but it was starting to look hopeless…
That evening, Rosie’s mum was determined to cheer her up. A television programme they both liked was just about to start and Mum hurried upstairs to fetch her.
“Rosie!” she called, opening her bedroom door. “Are you coming downstairs? Oh, Rosie!”
Rosie was sitting huddled on the floor, leaning against her bed.
“Whatever’s the matter?” Mum asked, sitting down on the floor beside her. “You’re crying!”
“I’ll never see him again.” Rosie sniffed. “What if he’s hurt?” she whispered. “He might have been injured when the barn was knocked down. Maybe he got trapped somewhere. Maybe that fox has eaten him!” Tears rolled down Rosie’s cheeks again.
“Ssshh, Rosie, don’t say that.” Mum hugged her close. “I don’t think foxes normally attack cats. You’re imagining the worst, the kitten might be fine. He’s probably just staying hidden because he’s frightened of the builders.” She looked down, stroking Rosie’s red hair. “You really love this kitten, don’t you? You’ve tried so hard to make friends with him – Gran told me how patient you were, trying to get him to like you.”
Rosie’s mum hesitated. “Rosie, you know, we could try adopting one of the other kittens at the rescue centre… What about that pretty little black one?”
Rosie looked up, her eyes horrified and still teary. “We can’t! We can’t, Mum!”
“I mean, if we don’t find Ginger,” her mum explained gently.
Rosie shook her head. “He’s special,” she said in a quiet voice. “I think because he’s ginger too, like me. But it isn’t just that. He seems so bright, and he’s got so much bounce…”
She twisted one of her red curls round her finger, deep in thought. It was true. Ginger was special. And if she couldn’t have Ginger, she didn’t want another kitten.
Chapter Six
Ginger had felt so brave when he decided to leave the farm and look for a new home. He had waited until all the people were long gone, and the farm was dark and quiet. He would find somewhere warm and comfortable. Maybe he’d even find that friendly girl with the food.
But he hadn’t realized that the fence went all round the farm. It was very high, and it was pinned down tight to the ground. He couldn’t get out! Scratching and scrabbling at it didn’t work, and when he tried climbing it he fell. At last he had slunk miserably away to find a place to sleep. He’d hidden himself eventually in Mrs Bowen’s log-pile, at the back of the farmhouse. It wasn’t very comfortable, but it felt safe, far away from the builders’ noisy, smelly machines.
Most of the mice seemed to have been scared away by the men, too. He’d almost caught one once, but it had slipped into a hole at the last minute, leaving him worn out and hungrier than ever. It had seemed so easy when his mother did it. He’d found some rather fishy-tasting little round things by the fence over the last couple of days, but they hadn’t filled him up. He’d seen a fox hanging around as well, and he had a feeling it had picked all the best bits out of those bin bags, because there was nothing left.
Now he could feel himself growing weaker. Even though the rain leaked through into his log-pile nest and soaked him, he’d been grateful for it, as at least he wasn’t thirsty. He’d been able to lap the water caught in the old buckets that were lying around the yard. But he needed more than water. He was sure the men had food. He’d smelled it, delicious smells like the sandwiches the girl used to bring him. They had been very good. He had hoped she might come back, but probably she didn’t like the big machines either, he thought, as he drifted into a restless sleep.
Ginger was woken by the smell of ham sandwiches. A builder had stopped for lunch and was sitting on one of the big logs. The smell was irresistible. Ginger uncurled himself and crept out. The sandwiches were in an open box, lying next to the man. There was just one left, and out of it trailed a piece of wonderful pink ham. He had to have it. Ginger looked up at the man. He was staring across the yard, chewing slowly. He wouldn’t notice, would he?
Ginger darted a paw into the box, hooking the bread with his claws.
“Hey! Get out of it, you!” The man swiped at him with his hand! Ginger shot away in terror, without even a morsel of bread to show for it. He raced up the tree that had been left standing in a corner of the yard by the fence, and crouched flat on one of the branches, quivering with terror. No one had ever tried to hit him before. He looked down fearfully, digging his claws into the bark. He had never climbed a tree before either, but instinct had taken him to the safest place. The man hadn’t followed him.
Ginger stayed there for hours, too scared to move. By the middle of the afternoon, he felt it might be safe to come down from the tree. It wasn’t as easy as going up had been. He hadn’t really thought about going up, he’d just done it. He looked down from his branch – the ground seemed so far away… He was stuck!
Rosie only got through school that day because Millie kept nudging her, reminding her that Mrs Wilkinson was watching. Rosie would manage to listen or concentrate on what she was supposed to be doing for about five minutes, before she started thinking about Ginger again.
Millie was coming back to Gran’s for tea today, and they were planning to look for Ginger together. Rosie was glad – Millie was so enthusiastic about looking for him. Rosie had been disappointed so many times, it was hard to keep her hopes up.
Millie jogged ahead as they came up to the farm. “Wow! It really is a building site. Oh, Rosie, poor Ginger. He must be really scared with all those people around, and those great big diggers. It’s so noisy!”
Rosie nodded sadly and looked wearily through the fence into the farmyard. It looked so different now, with the barn gone and the yard covered in piles of rubble. She wasn’t expecting to see anything. But what was that in the big tree over there? Rosie peered through the wire fence and grabbed Millie’s sleeve.
“Millie! Gran! Look! Is that a cat in the tree? On that branch, there. No, no, there, look!”
A flash of ginger fur showed among the yellowing leaves. It was hard to see if it was a cat, but something was moving.
“You could be right…” Millie murmured doubtfully. “I can’t quite see.”
Gran was squinting through the fence at the tree. “I can’t tell either…”
“I am right! I know I am!” Rosie looked at them eagerly. “He’s there, he really is. Yes, I can see his stripes! Oh, I can’t believe it, I’d almost given up. Ginger! Ginger! I don’t think he can hear me, with all this noise.” She frowned. “Oh, Gran, he must be so scared with all this going on. We have to get him out, we just have to!”