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“I hope so,” said Mum anxiously. “We don’t want him to wander too far. If he starts going out in the lane and along the footpaths, he could easily get lost.” She glanced up at the clock. “I’d better get going. Have a lovely day, all of you. Scarlett, do you want to invite that nice girl from your class round after school one day? What was she called? Izzy? I can call her mum. She could come tomorrow, perhaps.”

Dad nodded.“I can pick you all up from school.”

Scarlett smiled. Dad had been so pleased when she’d come home the day before and said she’d actually had a good day at school. She would really like Izzy to come over.

“I’ll ask her,” she agreed, tickling Bootle behind the ears. He was sitting on her lap, hoping for bits of toast. He particularly liked toast with Marmite, so Scarlett made sure she always had Marmite on at least one piece now. She tore off a little corner, and passed it down to him, watchinghim crunch it up and lick at his whiskers for crumbs.

[Êàðòèíêà: img_23]

“Do you really think Bootle will be all right?” she asked Dad anxiously. “I don’t want him to be lonely.”

A cautious paw reached up on to the table, aiming for more toast, and Dad snorted.“He’ll be fine. He knows how to look after himself very well. Don’t you?” he added, scratching Bootle under his little white chin. “Yes, you’re very lovely. Even if you are trying to steal yourself a second breakfast.”

Bootle drooped his whiskers, and stared at Dad, his blue eyes round and solemn.

Scarlett giggled. Bootle made it look as though he was starving to death and even Dad was almost convinced. He glanced down at his own plate of toast, and then shook his head firmly.

“That kitten is a shameless liar,” he told Scarlett.

[Êàðòèíêà: img_3]

Bootle prowled up and down the hallway, his tail twitching crossly. Scarlett had left him behind again, and now his cat flap was closed. He didn’t understand what was happening. Why did she have to keep going away?

“Hey! Bootle! Cat crunchies!” Scarlett’s dad came out of the kitchen with a foil packet, and Bootle turned round hopefully. He loved those crunchies, especially the fishy-flavoured ones. “Good boy. Yes, Scarlett said some of these might cheer you up.”

Bootle laid his ears back as he heard Scarlett’s name, and stopped licking the crunchies up out of Dad’s hand. Scarlett! Was she about to come back? He looked at Dad hopefully.

“Oh dear. You really do miss her, don’t you?” Dad eyed him worriedly. “She’ll be back later, Bootle, I promise. Come on, yummy fish things.”

Bootle ate the rest of the crunchies, but rather slowly. He liked them, but he would have liked them much more if Scarlett had fed them to him. She had a game where she held them in front of his nose, one at a time, and he stretched up to reach. They didn’t taste the same out of Dad’s hand.

“Good boy, Bootle.” Dad picked him up gently, took him into the office, and put him down on an old armchair. “Why don’t you have a sleep?”

Bootle walked round and round the seat of the chair, stamping his paws into the cushions, till eventually he slumped down and stared gloomily at the door. He didn’t feel like sleeping, but he couldn’t think of anything else to do.

[Êàðòèíêà: img_3]

Bootle sat in front of the cat flap, staring at it hopefully, and uttering plaintive little mews. It was still locked. He knew because he’d tried it, over and over, scrabbling at the door with his claws. But it just wouldn’t open.

[Êàðòèíêà: img_24]

“Do you need to go out?” Dad asked, coming into the kitchen, and looking at him, concerned. He crouched down next to Bootle, who gave his knee a hopeful nudge. “I suppose it can’t hurt, it’s more than an hour since Jackson and Scarlett left for school.” Dad turned the catch on the cat flap and pushed it, showing Bootle that it was open. “Off you go.”

Bootle mewed gratefully, and wriggled through the cat flap, trotting purposefully out into the back garden, and straight round to the front of the house, just as he’d done the day before. Next, he was squeezing under the gate, and out into the lane. This time he didn’t run as fast. He knew that he’d been shut in the house a long time, and he wouldn’t be able to chase Scarlett the way he had the day before.

So he padded down the path, sniffing thoughtfully here and there. It was difficult to follow the traces of Scarlett and Jackson– the cottage smelled of them too, much more than the path, which made it confusing. But he was pretty sure they’d gone this way. Bootle bounded happily along, hoping that they would be in the field again, perhaps sitting down, waiting for him.

But no one was there. Bootle walked up and down the edge of the huge field, staring anxiously into the green stalks. Was Scarlett in there? She might be, but he couldn’t smell her, or hear her. He slipped in between two rows of wheat, pushing his way through the green stalks, and mewing.