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Chapter One

    IT WAS
NOT Ruby’s birthday. It was Jane’s birthday.
    â€œHappy Birthday, Jane! Eight today!” Mum and Dad clapped and cheered.
    â€œHuh,” said Ruby quietly.
    There were seven birthday presents on the kitchen table. There were big parcels and tiny parcels and each was wrapped in different paper.

    â€œYou always have more birthdays than me,” said Ruby.
    â€œNo she doesn’t,” Mum laughed. “It just feels that way.”
    â€œAnd more presents,” whispered Ruby.
    â€œThey’re lovely,” said Jane, smiling. “Thank you!”

    And Jane hadn’t even opened them. This was just the sort of talk that drove Ruby wild. How did Jane know she’d like them? Ruby was always disappointed with
her
presents. They were never quite what she wanted . . . How could Jane be so different?
    Slowly, slowly, Jane opened all the presents. It took ages.
    â€œThat was only seven presents, and she’s eight years old,” said Ruby, who had been counting.
    Mum brought the eighth present in from the other room. A big red box without a lid. It was making a mewing sound.
    â€œIt’s just what I’ve always wanted,” said Jane, smiling happily.
    â€œBut you haven’t looked yet!” roared Ruby,jumping up and down.

    A beautiful black and white kitten with long, long whiskers poked her head over the edge of the box. “Miaow!”

    â€œWow! Brilliant, Mum!” Jane grinned.
    Ruby didn’t think it was brilliant. She wasn’t grinning. “It’s not fair,” she said. “I want one.”
    â€œWhen you’re eight you can have your own pet too,” said Dad.
    â€œYou’re not old enough to care for an animal just yet, dear,” said Mum.
    â€œHuh,” said Ruby. “I bet I could.”
    The kitten was very sweet. Jane took her into the playroom. Ruby followed.

    Jane dangled a strand of wool in front of the kitten’s nose and the kitten leaped and jumped and somersaulted trying to catch it. When Jane rolled a soft ball across the room, the kitten chased it and rolled on it like a circus cat.

    â€œI want to do that,” said Ruby in a small voice.

    Jane didn’t seem to hear. She snuggled the kitten under her nose and breathed in her smell. “Mmm, Kittg, Kitty, Kitty,” she crooned.
    â€œHuh,” said Ruby, watching them. “Can I play with her?”

    â€œSorry, Ruby, but she’s mine. I’ve only just got her.”
    Jane played with Kitty all day and she would hardly even let Ruby stroke her. “In a few days,” she said grandly, “when Kitty’s used to us all, then you can play with her, just a bit.”

    At school the next day, Ruby wrote a long story about her pet puppy.
    â€œI didn’t know you had a puppy, Ruby,” said Miss Allbright. “What’s it called?”

    â€œPiddlypooh,” said Ruby quickly. “And I’m afraid Jane isn’t allowed to touch him. She’s allergic to dogs.”
    But there wasn’t really a pet puppy. It seemed as if there wasn’t going to be a pet for her until she was eight years old and that was a long, long way off.

Chapter Two

    DOWN AT THE bottom of the garden, in the gloomy place beneath the lime tree, beside the compost heap and broken plant pots, was an old bench. It was a good place to sit and be sad. So that’s where Ruby went after school that day.
    â€œIt’s not fair,” she told the rotting tea bags and potato peelings on the compost heap. “I want a pet so badly. Much more than Jane.”
    She filled her pockets with pebbles and tossed them at the pots. Plink! Plink! Plink!
    â€œI need a pet! I
deserve
a pet!”

    Plink! Plink!
Plonk!
Her pebble had bounced against a rock and made an odd sad “plonk” sound. Ruby looked at the rock she’d hit. It had a knobbly lump just like a nose and two dents for eyes. It had a smiling, wonky