Jack joined her. They climbed the fence and walked together in the field; the cat wasn’t there. They began to investigate the neighbouring streets; they peered at front stoops and verandas and, if there was nobody around, they inspected lanes and back yards, but in vain. Then they walked aimlessly, going farther and farther from the trailer park. In the end they weren’t really looking, because they were positive the cat had come back during their absence.

But the cat wasn’t there when they returned to the Volks.

Nine p.m. and still he wasn’t back.

Suddenly they were very worried. He had gone away and had-n’t been able to find his way home. Or someone had picked him up. Or else he’d been chased by a dog. Or he had followed another cat, perhaps even a lady cat — but no, he was far too young. How old was he exactly? Four or five months. Maybe six. He was really very young.

The girl was in a very bad way.

She felt guilty. She reproached herself for having abandoned the cat in an asphalt trailer park. That wasn’t very smart. She should have taken him with her. By force if necessary. She gave him too much freedom. He was too young to know what was good for him. He was still a baby.

Jack told her she had no reason to feel guilty. The person who was really responsible was himself, because he had been so withdrawn that he’d forgotten the cat for days on end. In any event, he was sure the cat would come back.

There had been a great many cats in his life. One summer he had lived in a cottage with two cats, each of whom had given birth to five or six kittens. As a result the cottage had been completely overrun with cats. All of which meant that the cats had frequently wandered off, but they had always come back, and he even remembered a little black-and-white kitten about the same age as the girl’s, who had gone away for a week. And then one fine day he’d come back.

Cats have a really incredible sense of direction.

True, said La Grande Sauterelle, but there’s the question of territory. As long as cats are on their own territory they manage fine. But when they have no territory?

That night they had trouble sleeping.

They woke up several times because they thought they’d heard meowing.

In the morning, the cat wasn’t there.

While they were preparing breakfast in the minibus, they discussed what they would do. First, they would go to the SPCA; they’d look up the address in the phone book and walk there, if it wasn’t too far, or take the bus; obviously they’d have to leave the Volks where it was, because the cat might come back at any time. After that, they’d revisit all the neighbouring streets, but this time they would ask the children if they’d seen a little black cat. And perhaps they’d put a notice on the neighbourhood telephone poles.