Here kitty, kitty

I found it on the way home from school. I almost walked past but a fluttering caught my eye and what I had first assumed was a discarded sock at the side of the road was, in fact, a tiny kitten. As I stooped closer I noticed its foot was caught in a drain. It couldn't move either left nor right and it mewed pitifully as it struggled on.

I kneeled down, ignoring the dampness of the leaves filtering through my woollen tights, and tried to free it, but it was well and truly trapped. Every twist and turn of its meagre body rendered it more and more immobile. I slid my fingers around the side of its heaving ribs and gently grasped the trapped paw. The kitten shrank at my touch but I soldiered on, especially once I had achieved some purchase and with a final twist was able to pull the mewling bundle free.

I stretched out its paw and examined the fur; no cuts or apparent breaks but the kitten was clearly in distress...and hungry too by the look of its tiny body. It had no name tag on. Simply a small red collar with a single silver bell attached. The bell jangled every time the kitten lifted its head to mew in protest.

I straightened up to look around. What next? The street was empty save for a sturdy, middle-aged woman who was steadily advancing towards us, checkered shopping basket in tow. She slowed as she approached and peered closer with an enquiring gaze

"Problem?" she said.

"Yes" I replied. "I've rescued this kitten from the drain but with no address or contact details I'm at a loss what to do next."

"That's no problem at all" she purred. "Hermione Hartman's the name. I run a rescue centre for strays and my house is just around the corner. Give her to me and I'll see she gets fed,watered and homed."

I hesitated. I didn't know this woman but at the same time I didn't know what to do with the kitten and it was getting near teatime. My stomach rumbled plaintively.

"Well..OK...if you're sure.." I stuttered reluctantly.

"Quite sure" She replied firmly and extended a hand. I looked at the stubby fingers proferred towards me and took in the determined set of her mouth, the salt and pepper hair resolutely held back with a clasp and the ample bosom encased in a pewter coloured rain-mac. My empty stomach decided for me.

"Here you are. Look after her" I appealed and turned quickly away as the kitten disappeared into the murky depths of the sensible shopping basket. The woman started to walk on, but after a few paces she turned and announced:

"My house is number 14, Larkspur Crescent. If you want to drop by at the same time tomorrow, you can see how she's doing."

"Fine" I muttered, relieved to have been released from the responsibility. but feeling quite guilty at the same time. I continued home to the promise of a hot meal and a heated ticking off from my Mum for being late.

The next day I found myself opening the latch of a compact gate and walking down an asphalt path towards a blue door marked 14. I knocked, twice, and after the second attempt, the door opened and Hermione thrust her head forward, glasses swinging on a silver chain round her neck.

"Oh its you" she boomed. "I'd forgotten you were coming. I'm just about to dish up tea but you're welcome to join me if you have time."

I advanced through the door. The inside of the hall was plain and solidly furnished. Dark ochre carpet extended up the stairs. All was quiet except for the ticking of the mahogany grandfather clock to one side of the hallway.

"Come through" she beckoned and led the way. I meekly followed the tweed-clad figure as she strode robustly into the dining room. "Have a seat".

I realised that Hermione was used to being obeyed and I felt disinclined to refuse her, so I sat quietly and looked around. There were a battery of feeding bowls along one edge of the room, all empty, but no sign of the expected throngs of strays.

"They're all out" Hermione explained. I hadn't realised she'd returned to the room and I jumped at the brusque sound of her voice.

"Have some tea and I'll show you. Your kitten has settled down nicely. She's fitted right in."

Hermione had brought through a steaming pot of tea with two stripy mugs. In addition, there was a wonderful smell emanating from a crisp, golden pie which she had set on the sturdy dining table.

"Care for some food? It's freshly made." She hovered over the pie and stared at me intently.

Again, my foolish stomach betrayed me, rumbling in earnest so I could hardly say no.

"Yes please, it smells divine."

"Yes it does...it's my own recipe." Hermione spooned out a generous portion onto a plate and watched in satisfaction as I devoured it greedily.

"More?" she enquired, already refilling the plate to capacity.

I grunted a respomse, shovelling in the food, so savoury, meaty, heavenly. I realised that Hermione was staring at me again, head propped up on her substantial knuckles. Her eyes, which I had taken for kindly yesterday, seemed harder and more intense in the half-light of this dusky Autumn afternoon. I chewed reflectively, already full. I bit on a piece of gristle and pulled it out of my mouth and onto the the plate.

"I'm ready to see the cats now please." Her silence had unnerved me.

"Very well" she said and rose to go.

I pushed away my chair. As I did, a glint of silver on the plate caught my eye. I watched Hermione leave the room and I picked up what I had thought was fat. It tinkled softly as I turned it over in my hands. My mouth dried...the clock chimed in the hall...Hermione's footsteps were returning.

I ran without a moment's hesitation. As I fled down the path she called after me:

"Come again. There's plenty more where that came from. Always plenty more."