But, as the new year began, Dave realised that it had been quite a while now since Felix had done any of that. Her six years at the station had taught her what everyone was up to and she no longer bothered to investigate. Why chase after Adam Taylor when he was watering the plants? She had seen it all before. Why race after Dave as he dragged a ladder along to change a light bulb? She was switched on enough to know that it was a waste of her time. She preferred to snooze on her luxurious ‘chaise longue’ in the ladies’ locker room instead.
It was, in fact, rare, now, for Dave to see her out on the platforms during the day at all. He found he could spend all day at the station and never see her, whereas in years gone by he had seen her all the time. If he wanted a cuddle with the station cat now, he had to go and pay court to her in her radiator bed, just like everyone else. Nine times out of ten she would be sleeping, and Dave would tiptoe out of the room and leave her be.
When he mentioned the cat’s change in routine to Angie Hunte, she could only agree. She too had noticed that Felix had got much more sleepy of late. Cats sleep for an average of fourteen hours a day anyway, but Felix was clocking up much more than that now. To her credit, she would still have bursts of liveliness, where she might stalk after a pigeon or play pouncing games with the on-duty team leader, and for those brief moments she would still be sprightly and springy. But as soon as she’d had enough, she would go and lie down – and that would be her adventure done for the day.
Jean Randall, too, noticed on her infrequent visits that Felix was much less frisky and playful. She had never been a big one for toys anyway, but they seemed to have lost any appeal they’d once had; Felix just wasn’t interested in them. And if Felix did go out on to the platform during the day, she would settle herself down and watch the world go by, without any inclination to engage with it. It was rare that she went to explore the wildflower garden beyond the white picket fence at the bottom of platform one these days – or any further afield. Angela Dunn soon realised that when she went to look for Felix to introduce her to her fans, more often than not Felix was findable, even if not always in the mood to grant an audience. It was unusual these days for her to be off on a patrol somewhere during the daytime. She preferred to stay much closer to home – so much so that even her hunting trips to Billy’s garden on platform four were much less frequent. Though it had once been a favourite spot, she hung out there only sporadically, even though the garden was just across the tracks.
But ‘just across the tracks’ could seem a very long way away when you were slowing down physically, as Felix now seemed to be. And there came an incident in February 2018 that underlined that with heart-stopping clarity.
It was a classic wet and wintry day. The passengers coming through the gateline looked battle-worn, having fought their way through the wind and rain even to reach the station. Commuters crossly dumped inside-out umbrellas that had been destroyed by the strong gusts blowing across St George’s Square, while professional women mourned the loss of the smart hairstyles with which they’d left their homes. The bad weather lasted all day long, so that the platforms were soaked through by the time Felix decided to put in an appearance later in the day.
For the first time in a long time, she decided to pay a visit to Billy’s garden, braving the bad weather to cross the tracks and have a sniff about in the long grasses. Dale Woodward, out working on the platforms, watched her with interest, given it had been so long since he’d seen her explore the garden.
A train began to pull slowly into platform one and Dale turned his attention back to his work. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Felix jumping down into the four foot and crossing back towards her bike racks, but he paid her little mind; she was expert at crossing the tracks by now, and at knowing the timetables of the trains, and he knew she wouldn’t put herself in danger.
Sure enough, as Felix reached the bottom of the four foot on platform one, she gathered her haunches beneath her and sprang upwards, summoning a single burst of energy from somewhere to propel herself to the top. Further down the platform, the train continued to pull in and Dale subconsciously admired her timing – she’d got it just right so that she would be safely on the platform by the time the train arrived.
But, on this occasion, something went wrong. Was it because of the wet platform? Was it slippy, perhaps? Or did Felix, sleepy Felix, simply not have the energy to make the leap?
Either way, something in Dale’s mind registered that Felix hadn’t popped up on the platform after her leap. He looked across at her directly, his heart beginning to pound. And all he could see was her little face peering above the platform edge – as her two front paws clung on for dear life. Try as she might, she couldn’t pull her back legs up. She was hanging from the cliff edge of the platform, her hind legs dangling behind her in mid-air, kicking furiously but failing to find any traction.
Dale began to walk towards her, panic powering his own legs. But even as he watched, Felix the cat failed to find the strength to survive this leap. First her head disappeared from view, and then her white-capped paws, as she let go of the platform edge. Despite all her efforts, she hadn’t had the ability to hang on for any longer.
Felix had fallen back down into the four foot. And the train was still coming in.
21. The Senior Station Cat
Dale’s head snapped round to look at the train. How long did Felix have? Could he get to her in time? Had the driver seen her? There was a long-running ‘joke’ in crew mess rooms up and down the railway network which train drivers often said: ‘My life wouldn’t be worth living if I ran over that cat!’ But it didn’t seem so funny now.
The train, luckily, was moving at a snail’s pace. Dale thought it very likely the driver had seen the cat – all the crews were vigilant as they came into Huddersfield as they all knew about Felix and how special she was. The driver could hardly have missed the sad spectacle of Felix bicycling her back legs as she clung desperately to the platform edge.
As for Felix, before Dale had even reached her, he saw her springing up again from the four foot as she gave it a second attempt. Like an action hero dismissed for dead who suddenly returns in the nick of time, she emerged in a spring of glory. This time, she managed to do it in one take as the station cat powered her whole self on to the platform.
The entire ordeal had lasted only a matter of seconds, but Dale was struck with fear. Felix herself seemed unperturbed. She strolled casually away from the edge of the platform as though nothing had happened. Perhaps she was just trying to style it out.
Although she may have glossed over that incident, nothing could conceal the fact that Felix was growing undeniably older. That May, she turned seven, which in equivalent human years is about forty-four. It was hardly past it but, just like a middle-aged human, Felix found that she wasn’t as sprightly as she used to be. She could still leap the four foot, but she’d to give it a bit more welly each time, and she was more tired afterwards than she once had been. No wonder she reduced her visits to Billy’s garden after that. She was much more comfortable sticking to her favourite spots on platform one, so that was what she did. She reminded Angela Dunn of a grand old lady – no longer the mischievous kitten who had pranced about, but a mature, independent woman who knows what she wants to do and damn well does it.