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“No kitten today?” Sarah asked Scarlett, a little sadly.

Scarlett shook her head.“Miss Wilson made my dad promise he’d keep him in. Poor Bootle. He’s going to be so cross.”

“He’s the cleverest cat I’ve ever seen,” Sarah told her admiringly. “Imagine coming all that way! And he’d never even been to the school before – I don’t know how he worked out where to go!”

Scarlett smiled.“It’s amazing, isn’t it? I think he must have heard us all in the playground.”

“You ought to stop in at the shop and buy him a treat on the way home,” Izzy suggested. “I’ve got some money, if you haven’t any on you.”

Scarlett nodded.“It’s OK, I’ve got some. That’s a really good idea.” She grinned at Izzy. “You can help me choose.” It was so nice having a friend back for tea – it felt like being back at her old school. Izzy’s mum had been fine about her walking back with Scarlett – Izzy usually walked back home too. She had a big sister in Jackson’s class.

“He might just about speak to us, if we bring him cat treats…”

[Êàðòèíêà: img_3]

Bootle scrabbled frantically at the branches of the creeper. It had looked so solid, and easy to climb. But it turned out to be much harder to get down than up. It was also more wobbly, and he didn’t like that. The first bit had been easy, just a little jump to that sloping bit of roof, then across the tiles. It was the drop down from the roof that was the problem. His claws were slipping. Bootle gave up trying to cling on, and leaped out, as far away from the wall as he could, hoping thathe remembered how to land.

He hit the ground with a jolt, but he was there! In the front garden, right by the gate and the lane. Bootle darted a glance behind him. Then he scrambled under the gate, and set off to find Scarlett, trotting along jauntily. He knew the way now, he didn’t have to sniff and search and worry.

He was halfway down the field when it started to rain. A very large drop hit him on the nose, making him shrink back. It was shortly followed by rather a lot of others, and in seconds his fur was plastered flat over his thin ribs. He hid in the hedge, his ears laid back.

He would wait for it to stop, Bootle decided, gazing out disgustedly. He certainly didn’t want to go anywhere in that. But it went on, and on, and he needed to find Scarlett. He put his nose out cautiously, and shivered as he felt the drops on his whiskers. It was horrible. But he couldn’t stay here all day…

At last he slunk out from under the hedge, plodding through the wet muddy ruts, and hoping that Scarlett would have something warm and dry to rub him with when he got to the school. He scurried down the pavement, through the puddles, so miserable that he didn’t even bother to dart into the hedge to avoid the car going past. The driver of the car didn’t see the soaked little kitten, and even if he had, he probably wouldn’t have been able to avoid the huge puddle that splashed up over Bootle like a wave.

[Êàðòèíêà: img_32]

There was so much water that he staggered back, letting out a mew of cold and dismay. Then he flat out ran for the school, racing across the playground towards that lovely, warm, open door.

But it was closed.

It had been wet play, and no one had wanted the rain blowing in. All the doors were closed, every single one– as the soaked, mouse-brown-striped kitten found when he ran frantically all the way round the building.

Remembering the window he had climbed out of at home, Bootle looked up to see if there were any he could get through. There was a bench up against the wall, with a window right above it, and he jumped for the seat, scrabbling desperately until he could heave himself up. Then it was a little hop on to the arm, and then again on to the windowsill. But the window was shut, and everyone was gathered together at the other end of the classroom, looking at something and talking excitedly. They didn’t hear him scratching hopefully at the window, and at last he jumped down.

[Êàðòèíêà: img_33]

Bootle sat under the bench and mewed miserably, calling for someone to come and let him in. He didn’t care if they took him back to the cottage again, as long as he was out of the rain. He would stay at home, and never try to follow anyone, if only he was dry.

No one came. No one heard him over the hammering and splashing of the rain, and the bench was dripping all over him. Bootle crawled out, looking around for another place to shelter. There were trees, over on the edge of the path to the field. Perhaps it would be drier there. He ran through the wet grass, shivering as the stems rubbed along his soaked fur, and shaking water drops off his whiskers. He was so cold. Sitting still under the bench had made him shiver, and now he couldn’t stop.

Then something made his ears flick up a little. There was another building. Just a little one, a shed, and he could see that the door was open!