Kitten Cupid (2 page)

I stomped sulkily towards the garden, intending to call Jaffa in, but Dad wouldn’t let it go.

‘Bertie,’ he said, following me out,’if you’ve got a problem, you know you can talk to me. Have you and Jazz had one of your, er, fallings-out?’ he asked nervously.

‘No!’ I spluttered. ‘Really, it’s nothing.’

‘Well, it doesn’t look like nothing to me,’ he persisted.

That was it. Something inside me snapped, and everything I’d been silently battling with that afternoon came out in a rush.

‘OK!’ I said harshly, throwing my hands up in the air. ‘You want to know what’s bugging me? It’s this: I don’t want to go to school. I don’t want to go to a big new school where I hardly know anyone and where I’m going to have to be bottom of the pile again – one of the babies.’ I hesitated, gulping for air. ‘And I . . . and I don’t want to leave Jaffa at home every day!’ My voice rose in a squeak and a hot pricking sensation rose up behind my eyes. I blinked hard. I was
not
going to cry.

Dad frowned and then bit his bottom lip. He looked as though he was trying to decide whether to tell me off for being rude to him or give me a big bear hug and reassure me things would turn out OK.

In the end he said softly, ‘Bertie, I wish you’d talk to me before you go and make everything so complicated for yourself.’ He shook his head slightly and looked at me sadly. ‘I was your age once too, you know.’

I rolled my eyes. Yeah, yeah. About a hundred years ago, I thought bitterly. But I just said, ‘You weren’t a
girl
though, were you, Dad?’

‘Not as far as I remember,’ Dad said, a cheeky grin breaking through his worried expression. Then his eyes lit up and I saw he was having one of his light-bulb moments. My stomach did a somersault as I realized even before he opened his mouth what he was going to say.

‘No, Dad!’ I said hastily, waving my hands in front of his eager puppy-dog face. ‘No, no, no. I am
not
going to talk to Bex about this.’ Dad was always trying to make up for the fact that I didn’t have a mum. (Any more, that is. She died when I was small.)

Dad blushed and said, ‘I was only going to say—’

‘I know what you were going to say: that Bex, being a girl – woman, whatever – might be a good person to talk to. Well, I don’t want to.’

Dad opened his mouth to reply, but then, as if on cue, the doorbell rang.

‘That’ll be her,’ Dad said, blushing a deeper red and flicking his eyes towards the door. ‘Look, I promise I won’t embarrass you, OK? But don’t go to your room, Bertie – stay and have pizza with us?’

I gritted my teeth.

The doorbell rang again, and Dad shot me a pleading look and went into the house to let Bex in.

I followed, wondering whether I should ignore Dad’s request and go to my room anyway, when my thoughts were interrupted by Jaffa, who came skittering down the hall so fast her little legs were flying out at all angles.

‘Is it Jaffsie’s teatime yet?’ she mewed breathlessly. ‘Jaffsie was sleepin’, then me hears that ringy bell thing goin’. Where’s the Jazzer gone? Oh!’ she said, skidding to a halt as she saw Bex standing in the doorway, greeting Dad, all shiny smile and sparkly teeth and glittery everything. Urgh. ‘It’s the lovely Bexy lady!’ Jaffa purred, trotting up to her and rubbing her head against her legs.

‘Hello, Bertie!’ Bex beamed. ‘And hello, little darling!’ she cooed, bending down to stroke Jaffa.

‘Thought you were talking to me for a moment there,’ Dad said in a goofy voice.

‘Oh, Nigel! Tee-hee! You are a silly billy!’ Bex trilled, tittering in that annoying way she always did whenever she spoke to Dad.

‘Yes, Bertie’s dad
very
silly. Me is the only darling around here,’ Jaffa muttered grumpily.

I let my head sink back and stared at the ceiling in despair. How was I going to survive this evening?

Jaffa was up on her hind legs now, pawing at Bex and begging for a cuddle.

‘Someone’s pleased to see me!’ Bex twittered, picking Jaffa up and nuzzling her. ‘Good job I didn’t bring Sparky. Otherwise you might change your mind, mightn’t you, you gorgeous little thing?’ she went on.

Jaffa was purring so loudly she sounded more like a contented puma than a small ginger kitten. ‘You is so right – me is totally gorgeous,’ she said.

‘Doh!’ I let out an exasperated breath and stomped off to the kitchen, thinking I might as well leave the three of them out there to enjoy their mutual love fest.

‘Bertie!’ Dad called. ‘Can you lay the table out in the garden? There’s a love.’

I crashed around the kitchen, getting what I needed, and then went out on to the patio, practically throwing plates and cutlery at the table in my fury. How dare that woman be such a flirt with my dad – not to
mention
with my kitten! My mind was whirring with so many confused and angry thoughts that I didn’t hear anyone come outside.

‘Er, are you all right, Bertie?’

I looked up sharply. Great. Dad had sent Bex out to check on me. I glared at her. She was holding a very pleased-with-herself Jaffa in her arms.

‘Only,’ Bex went on tentatively, ‘you seem a bit – cross?’ She waited, but I didn’t say anything. ‘D’you want me to go?’

‘Nooooo!’ Jaffa whined. ‘Jaffsie not want the lovely Bexy lady to goooo!’

Well, Bertie does! I thought. But I couldn’t say that, could I? Dad would be livid.

I settled for a shrug instead.

Bex looked intensely uncomfortable. ‘Your dad and I . . .’ She stalled. ‘We’re not, erm, seeing each other or anything, you know. What I mean is, we’re just friends, that’s all.’

I chewed the inside of my mouth and went back to glaring at her.

Jaffa had started wriggling in Bex’s arms, I noticed gratifyingly. Bex set her down gently on the grass and ploughed on: ‘I mean, I really like your dad. As in, really,
really
like him. But I want you to know there’s no way I’d ever come between you and him.’

‘Bertieeee,’ Jaffa complained, rubbing against my ankles, ‘me is staaaarvin’.’

But I wasn’t listening to Jaffa. Despite the churning in my heart, something about what Bex was saying had shifted the dark feelings deep inside me, and I found myself softening slightly. I felt bad all of a sudden; it wasn’t Bex’s fault that I was in such a mood.

‘I hope you don’t me saying,’ Bex said, taking a step towards me, ‘but your dad said you’re anxious about starting at senior school.’

‘What
is “
school”?’ Jaffa pestered.

I scooped her up and hissed, ‘Be quiet.’ Then I looked at Bex and nodded.

Bex smiled and pulled back a chair. She sat down and looked up at me while I shuffled my feet and stared at the paving stones. ‘It’s always tough starting something new,’ she said quietly. ‘I was scared stiff when I started in Year Seven – not that it was called that back in the Dark Ages!’ She laughed. ‘And I was terrified on my first day of college – and on the first day of my first job . . .’ She paused.

I looked up at her. ‘Really?’ I said hoarsely.

‘Of course!’ she said. ‘There aren’t many people who don’t get flustered by change.’

‘Jazz doesn’t,’ I mumbled, hiding my face in Jaffa’s fur.

Bex put her head on one side. ‘Is that what’s bothering you?’ she asked.

I shrugged again.

‘Are you worried that Jazz is excited about school and you’re not?’

I pulled a face. ‘Dunno. Maybe.’

Jaffa had started wriggling again, so I put her down and fiddled with the knives and forks on the table.

‘What is you doin’, Bertie?’ Jaffa mewed. ‘Me wants teeeeeeea!’ I bent down and whispered into her tiny triangle of an ear, ‘OK! OK!’ Then I turned to Bex. ‘I just have to feed her.’

I went to the utility room, leaving Bex outside, and roughly dished up Jaffa’s food. ‘Listen,’ I said to her,’we’re eating too in a minute. Are you going to be good and sit quietly with us?’

‘Uh-huh,’ Jaffa mewed. She set to gobbling up her meal as if I hadn’t fed her in weeks.

I went back out to the garden to find Bex standing, arms folded, looking at me thoughtfully and saying nothing. I tried to avoid her gaze and wished I could think of something to say to break the awkward atmosphere.

Thankfully Jaffa provided a distraction by appearing in the doorway and mewling, ‘Me done now – can me have a special Bertie cuddle?’

I picked her up gently and she licked my cheek with her pink sandpaper tongue.

Suddenly Bex commented, ‘I suppose it’s always tough going back after the summer anyway. And you’ve had a pretty special summer, what with getting gorgeous little Jaffsie – and then being on television as well! No wonder you don’t want to go to school . . . Hey! What’s the matter?’

I couldn’t help it. Those rough little kitten kisses, together with the reminder that I was going to have to leave Jaffa all day, just set me off, and tears were trickling down my hot cheeks. Jaffa started licking at the tears, miaowing pitifully.

Bex pushed her chair back. The metal legs made a harsh scraping noise on the flagstones. I had my head buried in Jaffa’s fur now and my shoulders were shaking. I felt Bex put an arm round me and heard her mutter soothing words. She gently pushed me down into a chair and drew one up beside me.

‘Come on, Bertie. Tell me what’s going on,’ she whispered. She took Jaffa from me and stroked her so that she stopped mewing and fell into one of her instant snoozes. Boy, I wished I could do that sometimes.

I gulped and sniffed and tried to swallow my sobs and gradually managed to calm myself down enough to explain how worried I was about leaving Jaffa after what had happened with Fiona Meerley earlier in the summer.

Bex listened patiently. Meanwhile Dad came out into the garden with the pizzas and a bottle of wine for him and Bex and lemonade for me. He exchanged a questioning glance with Bex and sat down quietly opposite me.

At last I stopped talking.

‘Well,’ said Bex, sitting back in her chair and taking a sip from her glass, ‘I can see why you’ve been getting so upset.’

Dad busied himself with slicing the pizzas and handing them round.

‘You know, I think I might have an idea of how I could help though,’ Bex said carefully.

I looked at her from under my untidy fringe. ‘Yeah?’ I caught Dad giving Bex the tiniest nod and wondered what they were up to. A soft evening breeze washed over me, cooling my warm cheeks.

‘I was just thinking,’ Bex said airily, ‘I mean, it’s only an idea, but say your dad has to go out while you’re at school . . . well, my shop’s not a million miles away, so how would it be if I dropped in on Jaffa throughout the day – just to check she was all right?’

I couldn’t believe it. Why would she want to do that? ‘But you couldn’t,’ I protested. ‘You’d have to shut the shop.’

Bex stuck out her bottom lip and shook her head. ‘No – I’ve got someone who comes in to help out every so often: Ruth. She’s a good friend. She’d be more than happy to stand in for me while I nip out. I’d only be away briefly anyway – just to give Jaffsie a quick cuddle and make sure she’s OK. It’s not like I’d be away from the shop for hours at a time.’

Dad was beaming at me. He took a huge bite of his pizza and nodded encouragingly.

It did sound like a good plan, I had to admit. There was still a niggling doubt in me about Bex and what her motives were where Dad was concerned, but I couldn’t exactly complain if she was willing to give up her own time to help me out with Jaffa.

‘What about Sparky?’ I asked.

‘He’ll be all right in the shop – Ruth can look after him,’ Bex said.

I took a long slug of the cold lemonade. Dad looked at me, waiting for me to say something. I put the glass down on the table and said, ‘Well, thanks, Bex. If you’re sure. It would make it easier for me to leave Jaffsie, I guess.’

‘That’s that, then!’ said Dad, in a satisfied tone. ‘More pizza, anyone?’

J
affa had been asleep the whole time Bex was outlining her offer, so it fell to me to explain to my kitten what would happen while I was at school all day. I was worried about telling her about the plan, and only finally plucked up enough courage to talk to her the night before school started. As it turned out, she didn’t seem bothered at all.

‘Hey, Jaffsie. You sleeping?’ I whispered.

‘Nah,’ Jaffa said, opening one eye. ‘Me is just havin’ a little snoozette. Not the same as a sleep, cos me can still hear Bertie talkin’,’ she said. The tone of self-importance in her tiny kitten-voice made me giggle as always.

At the sound of me laughing she opened her other eye and shot me an offended look, so I bit down on my lip and made myself continue: ‘Remember you were asking me what Jazz and I were talking about the other day?’ I said.

Jaffa stood up and arched her back, and then sat down on her haunches, stretching out luxuriously after her ‘snoozette’. ‘Mmmm,’ she purred in answer.

I gave her a scratch behind the ears, which she leaned into, her pretty mouth turned up into a smile. ‘We-ell,’ I said hesitantly, screwing up my courage, ‘tomorrow after breakfast I am going to school with Jazz, and I won’t be back until teatime. School is where children have to go to learn things,’ I added.

She interrupted me: ‘But Jaffsie will not be alone. Bertie’s dad is here.’

‘Ye-es,’ I ploughed on, smiling lopsidedly. ‘But not all the time. He has a meeting tomorrow in town, so he’ll be out during the day too. But you remember Dad’s, er, friend who came over the other night – Bex?’ I added swiftly, noting the wide-eyed look of alarm that was spreading over my kitten’s fluffy features.

‘Mmm,’ Jaffa mewed anxiously.

‘Well, how would you like it if she looked after you?’ I said in a rush.

‘
What
is you sayin’?’ Jaffa asked. ‘Bertie is not giving Jaffsie to the Bexy lady to go and live in another house, is she?’

‘No!’ I half laughed, to cover the lurching feeling in my stomach. ‘No, of course not. Bex would just pop in and check on you while Dad’s out, and then I’ll be back for tea, and you and I can spend loads of time together in the evening.’

‘Oh, OK!’ she said. ‘So . . . Bertie is going to a place called “school” all day to learn things which is borin’, and Jaffsie is going to stay at home with the lovely Bexy lady until Bertie comes back,’ Jaffa mewed happily.