The Secret Cat

“Are you sure this is the right house?” said Tiger.

She stood close to her dad by the gate, beneath a large drooping willow tree.

Willowgate House was unexpectedly huge, and it stood at the end of a long driveway. It had wide windows and tall chimney pots, and a conservatory that leaned slightly to the left.

Tiger tilted her head to the side to see if it looked any straighter. But it didn’t. The lopsided building made her feel wobbly.

Tiger waited on the doorstep behind Dad while he pulled the bell on the wall beside the door.

The next surprise was May Days.

Weren’t grandmothers supposed to be old and grey and worn?

Instead she had curls that were wild and alive. Her sleeves were pushed up, as if she’d done a hard day’s work, and she bounded out like the kind of person who didn’t sit down very often.

“You’re here, at last!” May Days beamed, throwing her arms around Dad first, and then around Tiger. Tiger peered behind her grandmother at the bare floorboards and curved staircase in the hall. It looked as if nobody had lived here for a very long time.

“You were no bigger than a koala the last time I saw you,” May Days said, holding Tiger by the cheeks.Tiger blinked in surprise, and her tummy did a flip.

“You’ve got a big house,” said Tiger, not sure what else to say.

“Too big for one person,” May Days said, chuckling like a barrel full of chickens. “Come in! Come in!”

Mr Days had also not seen his mother for a very long time and he had lots to tell her over gallons of tea. They laughed and talked while Tiger sat on a chair, still clinging to her tiger-striped suitcase. The faded lino flooring curled up in the corners of the kitchen, and there wasn’t a lot more to see than an old cooking range and a long pine table that had worn into a curve in the middle. Where were the proper kitchen cupboards and worktops? Tiger hoped that the rest of the house had been decorated.

“Thank you for bringing me my granddaughter,” May Days said, squeezing Mr Days’ cheeks when he had to leave.

Tiger clung to her dad for an extra-long hug.

“Are you sure you don’t need me at home?” Tiger whispered.

“We’ll miss you terribly,” said Mr Days, “but you and your grandmother have a lot of catching up to do.”

“It’s just you and me,” said May Days, after they’d waved the car into the distance.

“Shall I put my things in my room?” said Tiger.

“Your room?” said May Days, smiling. “You’d better come with me.”

May Days showed Tiger the outside bathroom first. Although the walls and floor were bare brick, there were soft towels, a cup for toothbrushes, a mirror and a light bulb with a long pull cord, all sparkling clean. Tiger tried to smile brightly.

“I’m afraid we haven’t got a shower or bath yet,” said May Days. “But I have spare flannels if you need one.”

She turned Tiger’s shoulders to face the back garden. “We’re going to share a room.”

Tiger would have her own room one day, May Days assured her, but all of Willowgate needed a lot of work first. For now, they were going to be staying in the garden in an old green tent.

A tent? thought Tiger, her eyes wide. Outside?!

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Tiger sat on one side of the long kitchen table and drew a tiger. She kept her pens tidy and was colouring carefully.

“Do you know what my favourite animal is?” Tiger asked May Days.

“A tapir?” May Days smiled.

“No.” Tiger scratched her head. “Even though I don’t know what that is.”

Tiger stretched her arms as wide as they would go. “It’s bigger than my arms, and about this high.” She measured a level beyond her head and thought for a moment.

“Maybe a bit bigger or smaller, I can’t tell when I’m sitting down. And it’s black and white—”

“A panda?” said May Days.

“And orange.”

“An orang-utan?” May Days chuckled. “An orange bear?”

Tiger squinted, because she wasn’t sure if May Days was joking, and held up the picture she was drawing for her.

“Oh!” said May Days, as if she’d suddenly remembered. “I know what it is! Did you know that I adore tigers too?”

Just then a horn honked loudly outside and made Tiger jump and colour over the lines.

“I expect that’s my other guest,” said May Days, which made Tiger’s tummy turn higgledy-piggledy again. Nobody had said anything to Tiger about anyone else coming to stay.

A van had pulled up beside the house, and a young man wearing a green boilersuit and dark sunglasses jumped out of the driver’s seat.

“You must be Tiger,” said the man. “I’ve heard how ferocious you are.” He grinned, but Tiger wasn’t sure what he meant.

“This is Dennis,” said May Days. “He’s escaped from the zoo, and cheeky as a monkey.”

But it wasn’t Dennis that would be staying at Willowgate.

They all went around to the back of the van and Tiger’s mouth fell open. There, inside, huddled in a cage in the straw, was a snout-nosed, tippy-toed, bristled, sorry-looking, saggy-skinned …

“What is it?” said Tiger, pulling a confused face.

“A warthog,” said Dennis. “Known to us zookeepers as a wartie. Don’t you just love her?”

The warthog was knobbly and brown and Tiger did not like the look of it at all.

The warthog was the other guest.

Being so young and small, the warthog would be kept in a pen in the kitchen and was going to need a lot of attention. Dennis clipped four meshed panels together to make the sides of a pen, and bundled in some straw. The little warthog sat in the middle and shook. From the other side of the room Tiger shuddered and sat back at the kitchen table, while May Days got the warthog out of the pen, put a towel on her lap and fed the wrinkly little creature from a baby’s bottle. The warthog guzzled and milk dribbled down its chin.

“Would you like to feed her?” asked May Days, but Tiger was busy drawing again.