Life was Full Steam Ahead after that. Pinkella was in the paper nearly every other day promoting the refurbishment of the old theatre and giving loads of interviews about the play She got hordes of her old thespian ‘luvvies’ to pledge their money to the upkeep of the theatre and ran a campaign called ‘Keep Theatre Alive and Kicking!’

And then, once the theatre was up and running, rehearsals started in earnest for Dad’s play Love for Old Time’s Sake.

The opening night got such fantastic reviews that the rest of the run was a sell-out and Dad was soon hounded with calls from actors and directors alike, a sking him to write more plays. It was, as he could not stop telling me, his ‘dream come true’, especially as it meant he could finally quit his boring old job on the Daily Ranter.

And it was pretty cool for me, as it meant he worked from home all the time and didn’t have to go out investigating stupid car park stories. We got to spend loads more time together.

We also spent quite a lot more time with Pinkella. But that was fine by me now I knew she wasn’t plotting to take Dad away. And I finally had to admit that she actually was quite a nice person once I got to know her properly. Especially when Dad took her aside one day and put her straight about calling me Roberta and fussing over my hair and she actually apologized to me!

Pinkella’s career had taken on a new lease of life after the success of the play. She had been the star of the show, and received letters by the bucketful every day from directors who wanted to put her in other plays and films.

‘And it’s all thanks to you, Bertie dear,’ she told me. ‘If it hadn’t been for your Pet-Sitting Service, I would never have come round that night after those dreadful auditions and I would never have had that chat with your wonderful father. You have changed eve rything for the better, Bertie! You are an angel.’

She was so grateful, she asked me and Jazz to look after Kaboodle on a regular basis while the play was on, and she paid us a fiver a day – ‘Result!’ as Jazz put it. She could have bought ten pairs of those trainers she’d wanted by the time the curtain dropped on the last performance!

But then suddenly it was all over.

Pinkella told us she was moving.

‘I’m so sorry,’ she said, taking in the looks of surprise and shock on our faces. ‘I just can’t live so glaringly in the public eye any more, darlings,’ she said. ‘I need to get away from it all. And besides, I’m going to be on the road so much with all the new work I’m getting.’

‘We’ll miss you,’ said Dad, blushing. He was never very good at saying stuff like that.

‘And Kaboodle,’ I said, swallowing hard.

‘Yes, darling, and we’ll miss you too,’ said Pinkella. ‘We’ll come and visit you from time to time though. And of course you must come and see us.’

Dad took her through to the kitchen to make a cup of tea and I sat down on the sofa, my head in my hands. What would I do without Kaboodle? He’d become as good a friend to me as Jazz. He was almost as much my pet as Pinkella’s. Life was going to be so empty without him around. My brain was whizzing around in overdrive, and I was so preoccupied, I almost missed the tiny mewling noise coming from outside the front door.

I went to the window and peered out on to the drive.

‘Kaboodle!’ I cried and ran to open the door.

He trotted up to the porch and said, ‘Mffuuggggle.’

I stared in horror as I realized there was a small bundle of fur hanging from his jaws. ‘Oh no, it’s not a . . . a mouse?’ I asked shakily.

‘Of course not!’ Kaboodle protested, dropping his offering.

Only then did I get a proper look at what he had been carrying.

‘A kitten?’ I squealed.

‘Full marks for observation,’ Kaboodle said coolly. ‘I thought you might like her.’

‘She’s – she’s for me?’ I asked, hardly daring to go anywhere near the tiny creature, which wasn’t much larger than the palm of my hand. ‘But where did you get her?’ She was orange and white. A tiny stripy marmalade cat, with the largest crystal blue eyes I’d ever seen.

Kaboodle gave a rasping sound as if he was clearing his throat. ‘I – er – let’s just say she needs a loving home,’ he said cryptically ‘Best not to ask too many questions. I thought you might like a farewell gift. You’ll have heard by now that we’re leaving?’

‘Oh, Kaboodle, thank you. She’s gorgeous! What’s her name?’

‘Well, her mother called her Perdita de la Chasse—’ he began.

‘De la Chasse?’ I asked. ‘But isn’t that your—?’ ‘Anyway, feel free to call her whatever you like You humans normally do, cut in Kaboodle. He washed a front paw earnestly and then, as if to make it clear that this conversation was over, he turned, holding his tail high in the air, and called out over one shoulder, ‘I thought it was about time you had your own cat. Especially now I won’t be around for much longer. And I think you’ll make a lovely companion for the little one.’

That was the closest Kaboodle had ever come to paying me a compliment, I realized, as I bent down to scoop up the tiny kitten. I watched as the black and white cat who had been my friend for the past year trotted back over to Pinkella’s. I wanted to call out something, but my throat had closed up. He gave his tail a final flick in my direction as he disappeared down the side of the house.

What on earth will Dad say? I thought, as I slowly turned to go inside.

‘Oh, look at that adorable little baby!’

It was Pinkella, who’d just come out of the kitchen with two coffee mugs in her hands.

Dad came after her. ‘Oh good grief, what’s that?’ he cried. ‘It’s not another blinking mouse, is it?’

Pinkella smiled at him as if he were a rather foolish small child and said, ‘Marvin, darling, it’s a gorgeous little kitten!’

I just stood there, holding the kitten and looking up at Dad with what I hoped were the hugest, most pleading, I’m-your-only-daughter-and-you-owe-me-big-time eyes.

Dad looked at Pinkella, and Pinkella looked at Dad. Then he turned to me, sighed, and said, ‘So what are you going to call her?’