Felix The Railway Cat

With the pink heart-shaped tag now gone for good, Chrissie – who had originally bought that distinctive ID – kindly commissioned a new identifier for Felix: this time it was a slim gold circular disc. It was engraved with the same details as before: Felix’s name and address on the front, and the team leaders’ mobile-telephone number on the back, so that Felix’s family could be found if she ever went missing again.

With a tiny purple bell added as a final flourish, Felix’s new ensemble was complete. What a stunner she would be in it!

The station team cooed over the cat like true fashionistas as she strutted up and down her platform catwalks, displaying the purple accoutrements just as a supermodel would the new Dior couture in Paris. Yet – to Angie’s surprise – when Billy saw the cat’s new glittery get-up, he didn’t say a word. There was neither commendation nor condemnation; a far cry from his outspokenness when Felix had first got dressed up to the nines all those years before.

But Billy had not been feeling well lately. In October he started suffering from a spot of heartburn and a bad sore throat, an affliction which seemed to grow steadily worse as 2014 drew towards its close. Come November he was feeling so poorly that he called the station manager, Paul, and informed him that he’d regrettably have to take a bit of time off sick.

Felix, however, was not under the weather at all. Rather, she went from strength to strength. That December, to Angie’s delight and pride, the station cat was once again chosen to be the star of the official TPE Christmas card.

As for where Felix would spend the holidays, it was Jean Randall, in the booking office, who that year volunteered to take the cat home for Christmas. She didn’t know it when she signed up, but it would turn out to be a Christmas she would never forget.

26. Santa Claws

‘Here we go, then, Felix,’ Jean said as she opened up the door of the cat carrier. ‘Welcome home.’

Felix stepped gingerly out of the blue-and-oatmeal carry case and looked around with interest. Jean lived in a lovely two-bedroom cottage, built in 1802. On the ground floor it had a long kitchen/diner, as well as a huge living room with wooden floorboards and plain cream walls. The focal point of that living room was the fireplace, which was framed by a beautiful stone mantelpiece set before an open chimney. When the fire was lit and the white voile curtains drawn across the glass French doors, it was a wonderfully cosy place to spend a winter’s night.

Felix had a good old nose around, sticking her twitching whiskers into every nook and cranny, familiarising herself with this environment which was so very different from the station. She had stayed with Jean for Christmas 2012, too, but showed no sign of recognition as she padded round the living room on her white-tipped toes.

It had been a great Christmas two years ago with the little black-and-white cat, so Jean had been more than happy to volunteer to look after Felix again. In 2012, when Jean and Felix had first got home from the station on the afternoon of Christmas Eve, after investigating her new pad Felix had simply curled up on Jean’s lap and fallen fast asleep, exhausted by the novelty of being in a family home.

On Christmas Day, however, it had been Jean who’d been exhausted, for Felix – bless her – had spent the whole of Christmas Eve night crying and howling. She’d been lonely without the night-shift team around her and was clearly disconcerted by the stillness and the silence, where normally there were trains coming and going through the night. Jean had got up and sat with her at least three times – but they didn’t see Santa. Instead, they’d snuggled up on the sofa together and listened to the radio as Christmas morning had broken across the town.

Christmas Day had been a fine affair with Felix receiving a special festive treat of fresh prawns while Jean and her visiting family and friends ate their dinner; it was a very full house, and Jean was convinced that at least some of the visitors came because they knew the railway cat was the guest of honour that year and wanted to meet her. Felix had been as good as gold as they’d pulled their crackers and told the jokes, so used to the noise of the station that the bang of the crackers didn’t even make her start.

But busy and well-populated as the celebrations were, Felix had been far more interested in her hostess than in her new admirers; she’d followed Jean around devotedly, and every time she’d got close to her she’d purred loudly, delighting in the familiarity of her friend when everything else was so strange. Yet it didn’t take her long to adjust to her new environment: before she came home, Felix was sleeping through the night without a peep and Jean thought she’d adjusted very quickly to domestic life.