The Other Kitten Read online

  Copyright © Patricia St John 1983

  Revised 2007

  This edition 2015

  e-book ISBN 978 1 84427 613 4 Last updated (17/09/2015)

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of Scripture Union.

  The right of Patricia St John to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data.

  A catalogue record of this book is available from the British Library.

  Cover design by Luther Spicer

  Internal design and layout by Author and Publisher Services

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  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Chapter one

  Chapter two

  Chapter three

  Chapter four

  Chapter five

  Chapter six

  Chapter seven

  Chapter eight

  Chapter one

  Mark woke first and lay, still half asleep, trying to remember. Then he woke properly and it all came back to him. He jumped out of bed and ran to the window. He flung it wide open and stuck his head far out.

  What a morning! The sun was just rising behind the trees at the bottom of the garden. The dew on the grass sparkled like silver, except for the golden patches where the daffodils grew. The birds were singing wildly, madly. Mark dressed quickly and opened his suitcase to see that nothing had been forgotten. He pushed aside the clothes that Mum had packed. First he checked the really important things: his swimming trunks, underwater goggles and snorkel (he was determined to swim, however much Gran said it was too cold). Then he checked his roller skates and cricket ball. His bat and shrimping net would be strapped to his case and he would carry his football under his arm. Everything was in order.

  He thought he had better wake Carol in case she made them late, fussing over her packing. He went to her room where she lay asleep, her hair spread all over the pillow. He pulled the bedclothes off her and tweaked her toes. She sat up, started to be cross and then remembered too.

  “It’s today, isn’t it?” she said.

  “Of course, stupid! You don’t think it’s yesterday, do you?”

  She ran to the window. “It’s a lovely day,” she said. “I’m going to say goodbye to the rabbits.”

  Carol had already packed her things the day before, leaving her spade and bucket on top of her case. She pulled on her jeans and shirt. Then she ran downstairs and into the garden. She picked some dandelion leaves as a goodbye present and disappeared round the corner of the house. Mark was left alone.

  I’d better wake Mum and Dad, he thought. We’ve got to get to Gran’s by lunchtime and Mum and Dad take so long to get dressed! He decided to take them tea in bed. He made it very carefully, warming the pot and pouring the milk into the jug. When he reached his parents’ bedroom, he kicked the door open. His mum and dad both opened their eyes, blinked and yawned.

  “What on earth do you think you’re doing, Mark?” said Dad. “It’s only quarter past six!”

  Mark put the cups down on the bedside table.

  “You said you wanted to start early,” he said.

  “I didn’t mean this early!” said Dad with another yawn. But he and Mum sat up and drank their tea. It was cosy and still half dark in the bedroom. Mark suddenly wondered if he wanted to go away after all.

  “You’ll tell us when the baby comes, won’t you?” he said. “I hope it’s a boy. Carol’s rubbish at cricket.”

  Mum laughed. “It can’t be long now,” she said. “But Carol wants a girl, so someone is going to be disappointed. Dad and I have decided to be pleased with whatever comes. Anyhow, where is Carol?”

  “Saying goodbye to the rabbits. Dad, you’d better get up, and you too, Mum. You take ages dressing. I’ll make some toast.”

  Dad grumbled a little but decided that it would not hurt to start early. “The sooner we go, the sooner I’ll come back,” he said to Mum as he began shaving.

  Mark had made the toast long before his parents had finished upstairs. They appeared at last and Carol came in from the garden, sniffing and looking sad.

  “I’ll take great care of your rabbits, Carol,” said Mum, “so don’t worry. There’ll be wild rabbits in the field opposite Gran’s.”

  “And squirrels in the wood,” said Dad.

  “And lambs at the farm,” said Carol, cheering up.

  “And the old horse who sticks his head over the gate,” said Mark. “I’m going to ride him this time. Mr Cobbley said I could.”

  “I want to ride too,” said Carol.

  “No, you’re too little. Mr Cobbley said so.”

  “He didn’t.”

  “He did.”

  Carol stamped her foot. “He didn’t!”

  “Now stop it!” said Mum. “If you argue like that at Gran’s, she’ll pack you off home. Mark, you’re the eldest. You must promise me you won’t argue with your sister.”

  “I’ll try not to,” said Mark. “But it’s Carol who starts it!”

  “I do not!” said Carol.

  “You do!”

  “I do not!”

  “STOP IT!” Dad spoke so loudly they both stopped at once. They stuffed their mouths with toast and marmalade and gave each other a kick under the table.

  “Now let’s go,” said Dad. “It was a good idea waking us so early, Mark. If we start at once we shall be almost on the motorway before the rush hour.”

  The children hugged Mum and bundled into the back of the car, leaning out to wave and blow kisses. The streets were still quiet and the shops shut. In a very short time they had left the town behind and were out in the country. Fields were starred with daisies and the trees were bursting into leaf. She couldn’t hear them above the noise of the car, but Carol knew that all the birds were singing as they built their nests. She looked out of the window and smiled. It was going to be a wonderful holiday.

  Chapter two

  It was a great journey. Mark and Carol did not argue once. They played the animal game, seeing who could score 100 first. You got one for a sheep, one for a cow, two for a horse, three for a pig, a cat or a dog, and four for a rabbit. Carol even saw a hedgehog, which counted for five.

  Later, they felt thirsty. So they stopped at a motorway service station and had a can of Coke each and an ice cream. Then they raced back to the car. The day was getting hot by now and the traffic was heavy. Mark was sorry when they turned off the M5 because he loved racing the lorries. But Carol was glad. She loved the little narrow roads that wound up and down. She liked the glimpses from the hilltops of lambs in green fields. Then suddenly they both gave a shout for there was a notice ahead of them. It said they were in Devon.

  “Not long now,” said Dad. “We’ll soon see the tidal river, and then the sea.”

  The first glimpse of the sea was always exciting. Today it
was blue with little white waves breaking all over it. They turned south. Soon the children began to remember the bridge across the river and the steep hill to the cliff top. They remembered the wide coast road that climbed and dipped. Then came the cottages and the village shop, where they turned left into Gran’s lane. Two minutes more, and they saw Gran herself standing at the door of her cottage. In 30 seconds they were out of the car and Carol had run right into Gran’s arms.

  “Can I sleep in the little room where the roof comes down to the floor?” Carol said.

  “Hi Gran,” said Mark, pushing Carol aside and giving Gran a kiss. “Can we go to the sea this afternoon? Can I swim?”

  Gran looked horrified. “In April?” she exclaimed. “I should have thought it was far too cold. What does your dad say?”

  “They’re tough,” said Dad. “Cold water won’t hurt them. How are you, Mum? It’s good to be here again.”

  They carried in their cases and took them upstairs. Carol had the attic room where the roof came down to the floor. Mark had the room overlooking the sea where he could watch the ships steaming up and down the Bristol Channel. But they had not got long to unpack because lunch was ready. They clattered downstairs to the little kitchen, where Gran was serving up pizza and salad, followed by trifle.

  Dad left soon after lunch. Then Gran got out her car, for the cliff road was long and steep. Mark and Carol flung the goggles, the snorkel, the spade, the bucket and some towels on to the back seat.

  “Do we have to go in the car?” asked Mark. “Can’t we run?”

  “If you keep to the side of the road, you can,” said Gran. “But I’m not running! The cliff road is long and steep. You’ll be glad of the car coming back! Now, off you go!”

  They raced down through the dark woods where the stream ran along beside them below the road. Then they came out into the sunshine where the cottages began and great drifts of primroses grew on the banks. Gran had driven behind them and parked the car where the road became just a rocky path that led to the beach. The sun was shining and small waves were breaking in foam on the sand.

  “Quick!” shouted Mark, flinging off his clothes. “Where’s my snorkel?” He raced for the sea, but Carol was not in such a hurry. The water was very cold and she did not stay in it long. Instead, she and Gran built a huge sandcastle.

  “How far does the water come?” asked Carol.

  “Right up to the wall,” said Gran, “and it’s coming very fast. Look, there’s hardly any sand left. We’ll soon have to move the towels. Our castle isn’t going to last long!”

  Mark came up from the sea to help. They shovelled more sand on the back of the castle and put stones in front, but it was no good. It soon crumbled and the sea seemed to be running up the shore. The other people on the beach were packing up and leaving. The children were suddenly glad that they had not got to walk up that steep hill.

  It had been a long, exciting day. By the time they reached home and had some tea, watched a bit of TV and visited the horse, they were quite tired. By seven o’clock, Carol’s eyes were closing.

  “You can’t go to bed yet,” said Mark. “It’s much too early.”

  “It’s the sea air,” said Gran, “and getting up at the crack of dawn! Carol, why don’t you go to bed? I’ll come and tell you a story.”

  “Oh, yes,” said Carol. She loved Gran’s stories. Mark thought he was too old for stories at bedtime, but he did not mind listening to Carol’s. He gave a great yawn.

  “Think I’ll go to bed too,” he said. “And I might come in and listen to Carol’s story. Is it about smugglers and wreckers?”

  Gran laughed. “No,” she said. “I’ll tell you about them when we go to the wreck museum. Now, would you like a snack before bed?”

  Half an hour later, Carol had snuggled down in bed. Gran was sitting beside her. Through the open attic window they could see the sky, still bright from the sunset. There was a wind blowing up from the sea. Carol wondered what it would be like on the beach with the dark waves breaking against the cliff. She gave a little shiver.

  “Is it high tide now?” she asked.

  “It will just have turned,” said Gran. “There’ll be plenty of sand tomorrow morning. Shall I tell you a story about a boat and a storm?”

  There was a big bounce on the end of the bed. Mark had arrived, dressed in his pyjamas. “Tell me, too,” he said, curling up under the blanket. So Gran told them about a dark night, long ago, when the wind came sweeping down from the hills, whipping up the waves. Twelve friends of Jesus were caught in a storm as they tried to row across the lake. Gran said she thought they would have been very afraid their boat was going to sink. She said they must have wished so much that Jesus was with them. But Jesus had stayed behind.

  Then suddenly one of them looked up and saw someone coming towards them, walking on the water! At first they were very scared and thought it was a ghost. Then they saw that it was Jesus!

  Mark interrupted the story then.

  “I’ve heard this story before,” he said. “And I don’t believe it. No one could walk on the water.”

  “Well, we couldn’t,” said Gran. “But if Jesus was really God, then he made the sea and the land. And if you make something, you can do what you like with it.”

  “Yes. Do shut up, Mark,” said Carol. “Go on, Gran. What happened?”

  So Gran went on. “Peter, one of Jesus’ friends, saw Jesus and he thought, I’d rather be with Jesus on the sea than without him in the boat! So he called out, ‘If it’s really you, tell me to come to you on the water.’

  “‘Come on!’ said Jesus. Peter slipped over the side and he too walked on the water, looking hard at Jesus all the time. But suddenly he looked away and saw the great, black waves. He was very scared and began to sink. ‘Save me, Lord!’ he shouted.

  “Jesus grabbed hold of his hand just in time. ‘Why were you afraid?’ he said. ‘Why didn’t you believe in me?’

  “They walked back to the boat together. As soon as they got in, the wind stopped. Everything was safe and all right when Jesus was there. And it’s still like that today,” said Gran. “If Jesus is with us, loving us and looking after us, then everything is safe and happy. But we have to ask him.”

  The sky was quite dark now, and two stars were shining in at the window. Carol was nearly asleep. It had been a scary story and she was glad it had ended like it did, with everything all right. Everyone in the story was OK. They were loved, safe and happy because Jesus was there. She thought of the wind and the waves and the high tide. She wanted always to feel safe and happy too.

  She would ask Gran to tell her more about Jesus another night.

  Chapter three

  The next three days passed happily. The children stayed on the beach when the sun shone. If it was dull or rainy they went to the farm and fed a motherless lamb with a bottle. A little late lamb was born one morning and they watched it take its first wobbly steps. Every evening they phoned home to ask if the baby had arrived. But it seemed to be taking its time. Still, they got news of the rabbits and told Mum and Dad what they were doing.

  Every night when Carol was tucked in bed, Gran came and told her a story from the Bible. Carol was beginning to think that the Bible was a very interesting book with so many stories about Jesus. He seemed such a kind person, always helping people and making them well and happy. Gran said that although people could not see him, he was still here in the world, ready to help anyone who asked him. Mark still said he did not believe it but Gran said it was true. Still, Mark would rather have stories about wreckers and smugglers. But he always came and listened, curled up at the bottom of the bed. And, sometimes, when Gran stopped, he told her to go on.

  The time raced by, and it was not till the fourth day that Mark and Carol had their first real argument. They were just finishing breakfast. Gran was talking to the milkman and they were alone.

  “I’m going to see the horse,” said Mark. “Tell Gran.”

  “No!” said Carol
, standing in front of the door. “It’s your turn to dry the dishes. Gran said we were to help in turns.”

  “I did it yesterday,” said Mark. “Get out of the way.”

  “You did not!” shouted Carol. “I did all the tea things.”

  “Tea doesn’t count. It’s only a little bit. I did it at lunchtime so it’s your turn.”

  “It’s not!” yelled Carol.

  “It is!”

  “I’m not doing it!”

  “Well, I’m not either! Get out of the way!”

  “I’ll tell Gran!”

  “I don’t care. Get out of the way or I’ll—”

  “Don’t you dare push me!”

  But he did. When Gran came back, they were fighting, punching and scratching. Carol was smaller than Mark, but she could hit very hard when she was cross.

  Gran pulled them apart. Carol started crying. Mark looked sulky.

  “He hit me on the head!” sobbed Carol.

  “And she hit me on the arm!” said Mark, showing Gran the red marks. “She’s a cry baby… and it’s her turn to dry the dishes!”

  “I’m not and it isn’t!”

  “You are and it is!”

  “Stop it at once!” said Gran. “I’m ashamed of you both. You can both dry the dishes. If there’s any more of this you can stay apart in your rooms instead of going to the sea. And that would be a great pity, because it’s going to be a lovely day.”

  So they dried the dishes in angry silence, making faces at each other behind Gran’s back. When they had finished, she fetched a shopping basket and a list.

  “Go down to the shop,” she said, “and make friends with each other on the way. It’s the best day yet and, if you come back smiling and friendly, we’ll go to Hartland Point this afternoon and see the lighthouse.”

  Mark and Carol set off. At first, they walked a long way apart but Gran had been right. It was hard to remember an argument on such a bright day. The birds were twittering excitedly over their nests and the lambs were skipping round their mothers. Mark ran to catch up with Carol and Carol soon stopped sniffing. By the time they reached the shop they were happy again and planning how to spend their pocket money.