In the kitchen, Mr Days had lots to talk about with his mother over gallons of tea, which Tiger didn’t mind too much as she was now desperate to find the cat.
“Where’s Holly?” she said.
“That cat is still a bit of a mystery,” May Days said. “Why don’t you go and see if you can find her?”
Holly was not in any of the rooms downstairs, or hiding in any of the chimneys, or behind any doors. She wasn’t upstairs in the bath, or in the bedrooms, or inside the cupboard with the lift in the wall where Tiger had first discovered her. Outside, Holly was not in the porch, nor sitting on the windowsills, nor in the tent.
Tiger called and called but no blossom-white cat came padding through the garden. Tiger anxiously went to her grandmother with empty news and worrying fears.
“What if something terrible has happened to her?” Tiger said, in the comfort of her grandmother’s arms.
Every day May Days left out a bowl of food for Holly and the next day it would be empty, even though May Days didn’t always see the cat.
“You know what Holly is like,” May Days reassured Tiger. “She suddenly turns up, just like that, looking quite content. That cat certainly knows how to look after herself and I’m sure she’ll come when she’s ready.”
Before long it was time for Tiger’s dad to return home.
“What if Holly doesn’t come?” Tiger said quietly, with a tremble.
“Don’t give up so soon,” said Dad, giving her a final, final hug. “There might be a completely new adventure waiting for you.”
“Are there any poorly animals we need to look after?” Tiger sniffed, holding May Days’ hand as she waved goodbye to her dad.
“Not this time,” said May Days, and then explained that the builders were coming the next day to fix the chimneys on the roof. “In the meantime, keep your eyes wide open. You never know what else you might find.”
To help feel more at home, Tiger unpacked her case in the tent. Colourful striped rugs from Africa covered the ground and the tent smelled of dried grasses and faraway. There were two camp beds, puffy with sleeping bags and blankets, and Tiger put her pyjamas under the pillow of the one where she’d sleep. A rope was strung from one end of the tent to the other, hung with gas lamps for night-time, coat hangers for clothes, a torch for visiting the outdoor bathroom, and a pair of May Days’ shoes tied by the laces.
Tiger sat on the end of her bed where Holly used to sleep, but it only made her feel worse. A visit to Willowgate just wouldn’t be the same without Holly. Instead she crawled through the hedge and called for Tom, but nobody was home at all. May Days didn’t know if Tom was coming to stay and now Tiger wasn’t expecting to find anything good at Willowgate.
Early the next morning, the builders arrived and had already begun to put up scaffolding at the front of the house by the time Tiger was dressed. Higher and higher the poles and planks and ladders rose, so that the builders could climb up to the roof to fix the cracked chimney stacks and toppling clay pots. They propped open the conservatory door to let warm air flow through and dry out the damp that was making the bricks crumble. The scaffolding made the house look stronger and straighter, but to Tiger it now felt more skewwhiff than ever without Tom and Holly.
Tiger sighed as May Days rolled up her sleeves and helped carry planks to lay on the platforms. Children were not allowed to climb up the ladder – it was against the rules, the builders said – and Tiger soon wandered off when she felt she was getting in the way. She sat at the kitchen table and drew pictures of tigers and a cat, but the outline of the white cat on a white page wasn’t anything like the real thing.
There was a crate in the kitchen, one that May Days had brought from Africa. In the hope of finding something to distract her from waiting for Holly to appear, Tiger leaned over the crate to see what was inside. It was still packed, and there was a small red box on the top that looked interesting.
“May Days!” Tiger called up to the roof. “I found a red wooden box. Can I open it, please? I’ll be careful and won’t break anything.”
“I know you won’t,” said May Day, smiling down to Tiger. “But that little box contains my most special keepsakes, so I’d like to save showing them to you until we have lots of time to sit down together and I can tell you all about each one.”
“OK, but what can I do instead?” said Tiger, a little hurt that all the things she wanted to see were staying hidden – first Holly and now the contents of the red box. From high up, May Days could see her next-door neighbour’s car coming up the lane with an extra passenger. “Why don’t you go and call for Tom again? I think you might have a nice surprise!”
Tiger ran round to the hedge at the back of the house and called for her holiday friend through the gap underneath.
“Boo!” said Tom, appearing at the other side and Tiger was so happy to see at least one of her friends. “Who’s up on the roof?” Tom said.
“Henry and James the builders,” said Tiger. “But somebody else is missing.”
Tom crawled through the hedge tunnel to Tiger.
“A missing person?” asked Tom.
“A missing cat,” said Tiger, sighing sadly. “I can’t find Holly.”
Did Holly know that they were there, they wondered? Where could they f ind her? Tom screwed up his face, thinking hard.
“I know how we’ll find Holly!” said Tom. “This holiday we can be private-eye detectives!” He was already crawling out of the hedge in a hurry. “Come on. Let’s get started!”
“What do we need to be private-eye detectives?” said Tiger, warming to Tom’s idea.
“We need to be a bit brave and probably clever,” he said.
“We also might need notepads,” said Tiger, and then smiled, pleased that her fun friend from next door was there to help.
Tom’s grandfather was affectionately known as Grumps, although he was, in fact, the opposite of grumpy.
