“Are you finishing work now, Lucy?” Gran said, looking at her watch. “Do you want a lift home? I haven’t seen Emily and Bella for at least a week. We could pop in and say hello.”
Emily and Bella were Lucy’s little sisters, Helena’s cousins. They were only four. Helena loved going to see them – they were always so funny. Usually when she went round she got forced into having her hair redone in some mad style covered in feathers, or glitter.
But as she sat in the back of Gran’s car, she couldn’t help thinking about the cat – so quiet and sad. How was he going to get on with two crazy four-year-olds? Not to mention Lucy’s dog, Billy. He was about as silly as Emily and Bella, and he chased cats, too.
Helena had seen Lucy hanging on to the end of his lead for dear life when they were out for a walk and a cat strolled by.
Helena hugged Emily and Bella when they jumped on her in the hallway, and let them drag her upstairs and paint her nails bright blue (Mum would make her take it off again before school, but never mind). But she didn’t enjoy her visit to her cousins’ house as much as she usually did.
She just couldn’t imagine that frightened little cat living here, even for a short while. Billy was a lovely dog (Emily and Bella had painted his nails blue, too, and he’d let them) but Helena was sure that if he could smell a cat on the other side of the utility room door, he wouldn’t rest until he’d clawed that door to shreds. It wasn’t fair on Billy, either. And the caramel cat would be far too nervous to let Emily and Bella draw pictures all over his cast in sparkly pens.
It wasn’t going to work.
“What’s wrong, Helena?” Gran asked, as they got back into the car. “You’ve gone all quiet.”
“The cat…” Helena said worriedly. “I’m not sure he’ll be able to cope with Lucy’s house, Gran. I’m not being mean – it’s just he’s still so nervous, and there’s so much going on there. I think it’ll make him worse.”
Gran sighed. “I was wondering about that, too. But Lucy said he’ll be shut away in one room…”
“Yeah, but there’s no way Emily and Bella will leave him in there,” Helena pointed out. “They’ll be dressing him in their dolls’ clothes the minute Auntie Sam’s back is turned.”
“Mmmm.” Gran drove down the road, frowning to herself. “I wish I could take him…”
“Snow and Smudge wouldn’t like it, though, would they?” Helena sighed. “Everyone’s already got cats, or dogs, or twins.” She was silent for a minute, and then added, “Except us. Me and Mum. Mum’s always said no, because it wouldn’t be good for a cat to be left alone, but this cat needs to have some peace and quiet. Don’t you think so, Gran?”
“And I could always pop in and see him at lunch time. Make a little fuss over him.” Gran darted a hopeful glance at Helena. “You know, maybe we could persuade your mum together.”
“She already said he was gorgeous when Lucy showed her the photo on her phone.” Helena wound her hands together, over and over. She was suddenly so excited she couldn’t keep still.
If only they could convince her mum…
“But we can’t… We don’t have anywhere to keep him.”
“We do, Mum! In here – in the kitchen would be all right. He couldn’t jump on the counter. We could put a blanket in that space under the counter for him, with his food bowls and litter tray, and I promise I’d clean it out, always.”
“I can come and check on him, Clare, at lunch time,” Gran suggested.
Helena’s mum frowned, looking round at her little kitchen.
“He can’t go to Lucy’s house, Mum,” said Helena. “And he’ll be miserable at the shelter, I know he will. No one’s come to claim him, even though we put posters up all round where we found him, and in the vet’s window. He’s been in the local paper today, with a message saying to ring the surgery, but no one has yet. Maybe his owner will see the photo, but he was so thin, Lucy thinks that could mean he’s been a stray for a while. I want to be able to look after him. It feels like I have to, since I was the one who found him.”
Her mum was silent for a moment, then she turned round to look at her. “I suppose not. Oh, Helena. It’s going to be a lot of work, you know. But I am proud of you.”
“You mean … yes?” Helena asked, confused. She’d expected to have to beg for an awful lot longer than that. And even then, deep down, she’d been almost certain that her mum would never agree.
“Yes. I mean, we’d have to give him back, if his real owner contacted the surgery, but yes. Do you think he could stay at the vet’s until the weekend?” her mum asked. “Then we’d have two whole days to get him used to being at our house, before we have to leave him on his own.”
The cat was sitting up the next afternoon when Helena brought her mum to meet him. He peered out of the cage bars, waiting for her. He could hear her talking to someone in the next room, and she sounded excited and happy. She had brought him cat treats the last time she came, fishy ones that he liked. And sometimes she opened the front of the cage and sat for ages, stroking his fur and murmuring to him. She made him feel safe. Even when he was stuck here in this place that wasn’t his home, and he could smell the dogs at the other end of the room.
He sat up, wondering if perhaps she’d let him out of the cage this time. He could sit on her, and then she’d be able to stroke him better and rub his ears.
When he saw the girl come in, he skittered nervously back, knocking his cast against the floor of the cage. She wasn’t on her own – the young woman was with her, the one he saw every day, and someone else, too.
“It’s all right,” Helena murmured. “This is my mum. We’ll be taking you home to our house soon…”
The caramel cat didn’t know what Helena was saying, but he liked hearing her soft voice. And the other person spoke softly, too.
“He’s beautiful, Helena. Even more than in the photos. What are we going to call him? Or have you named him already?”
Helena opened the door of the cage, and the cat stepped out slowly, sniffing at her outstretched hand. She rubbed the dark caramel stripes between his ears, and smiled at her mum.
“I haven’t really named him. But when I think about him, I call him the cat with the caramel fur. Do you think we could call him Caramel?”
“We’re here!” Helena said gratefully, turning round to peer at the crate strapped into the back seat. Caramel had been howling dismally ever since Mum drove off. He clearly hated the crate, and didn’t like the feeling of the moving car at all.
“Do you think being in a car reminds him of the accident?” she asked her mum worriedly.
“No – I think all cats hate being in boxes. Shut in them, I mean. They like getting in by themselves.” Her mum turned off the engine, and looked round, too. “Even when he’s been in the cage at the vet’s for a whole week, it’s not the same. He can’t see out of that travelling basket very well. He’ll be much better when we let him into the kitchen.”
“It’ll probably feel huge,” Helena agreed, opening her door and going to get the basket out of the back. “We’re here, Caramel. This is your house now, too. Just your kitchen for the minute, though. But Molly says you’ll be able to have the plaster off in about three more weeks, since you’re still a kitten, and you’ll heal quicker than a big cat.” She carried the box into the house as she chatted to him, and her mum came in behind her, shutting the door of their little kitchen. There were only the worktops in there, and the oven and the fridge, and Helena was almost sure Caramel wouldn’t be able to jump up on those. So it was a safe place to keep him.