Felix The Railway Cat

As he approached, he could see that the boy was shivering. He was wearing scruffy trackie bottoms and a T-shirt with a thin black coat over the top. Given the freezing temperature, Andrew would have expected him to be wearing a scarf, gloves and a hat, but there was nothing like that on the lad. His hands looked red raw from the cold.

‘Are you all right there?’ he asked him.

The boy shot him an anxious look and nodded, saying nothing. He was perhaps eleven or twelve years old.

‘Where are you travelling to, then?’ Andrew enquired. You did sometimes get kids travelling by themselves on the station, and he didn’t want to jump to conclusions. But alarm bells were ringing for him – it wasn’t far off 11 p.m. and the lad had been there too long. He had to find out more. ‘Have you got a ticket?’

The boy shook his head. He seemed very shy.

‘Are your parents meeting you here or at your destination?’ Andrew went on delicately.

The boy looked as though he’d been thrown a lifeline. ‘My mum’s coming to get me,’ he said hurriedly, perhaps thinking that his answer would buy him a little more time in the shelter of the station.

He had a strong southern accent and Andrew could tell instantly that he wasn’t a local. Though he had a lovely manner about him and his reply seemed convincing, it was evident nonetheless that he was extremely vulnerable.

‘OK, that’s fine,’ Andrew said slowly, not wanting to scare the boy off – he was safer by far here at the station than out on the streets and he didn’t want the child to panic and run. ‘Do you want to wait in the waiting room? Can I get you a drink?’

The boy nodded again, and Andrew took him into the waiting room and fetched him a hot drink from the back office. The lad clasped his hands around the warm cup eagerly, blowing on the steaming brew. As he drank his drink, Andrew tried to keep chatting with him in order to find out more about his background, asking him where he’d travelled from and similar queries. None of the boy’s answers added up.

‘My mum’s coming to get me,’ he kept saying, over and over, but it plainly wasn’t true.

In the end, the boy realised that Andrew wasn’t fooled and started opening up to him, explaining what had gone on. He’d recently been moved to a care home up north and had run away from it on impulse, without any kind of itinerary or plan. He obviously had a fair few issues and Andrew knew he’d have to call the police. Not wanting to alarm the boy, he told him he’d be right back and quietly slipped away to the office where he could make the call. He informed them of the situation, and they told him they would come and collect the boy – but they couldn’t be there for half an hour or more. It was up to Andrew to try to keep him safe on the station.

To begin with, it wasn’t too hard. The boy was a rail enthusiast, and when a freight train began to rumble by languorously, he asked if they could go out onto the platform and watch it pass. Andrew went with him, a bit concerned that the suggestion was just an excuse for the boy to leg it – but it wasn’t. The train’s lights lit up the child’s face and for the first time since Andrew had met him he looked happy, watching the freight train pass.

But after its red taillights had disappeared into the darkness, the young lad and Andrew were left alone in the cold night, with the clock ticking by so slowly. The boy didn’t know the police had been called, and Andrew wanted to keep him there until they showed up. Half an hour wasn’t long at all in the grand scheme of things, but as each second ticked sluggishly by on the orange-digit display boards above their heads, it suddenly seemed like an eternity.

Andrew was just starting to panic when a brainwave hit him: Felix. If anyone could keep the boy safe, it was her. She was just having a wander about, so Andrew picked her up and placed her on the bench next to the boy.

‘Have you met Felix?’ he asked him brightly. ‘She lives here on the station.’

The lad, who’d been staring glumly at the ground, looked up in surprise to find a black-and-white cat sitting next to him. Felix’s fame hadn’t spread down south and the boy didn’t know that the station had its own cat. He stared in some astonishment at her, uncertain what to do next.

Felix sat very still on the bench, as though assessing the situation. Her tail, hanging off the back of the seat, flicked to the right, to the left, as she considered the child before her. Then, very slowly, as though conscious of his vulnerability, she stood up and edged towards him.

‘Why don’t you give her a treat?’ Andrew asked the lad. He handed him some Dreamies. Felix sat down again at once, knowing the drill.

‘Would you like one?’ the child asked her hesitantly.

In response, she flickered and flashed her green eyes at him, almost as if she was rolling them and saying in affectionate amusement, ‘Stupid question, my lad.’