‘Right, you, come on,’ she said to the little kitten. She reached for her handbag – Bolt, for once, had not climbed into it when she wasn’t looking – and pulled out her iPad, the diversionary tactic of all parents ever since the digital revolution. She quickly scrolled through her movies, pressed play on one and set up the iPad so that Bolt could see it.
On the screen, 101 black-and-white puppies ran across the room, barking and yapping wildly. ‘Just watch this,’ Angie told him patiently, ‘and let me get on with my work.’
Of course she didn’t. How could she – when Bolt’s reaction to the film was so damn cute? It seemed he was a fan of 101 Dalmations. His large ears pricked up straight away and he scooted forward till he was next to the screen. He even touched it with his paw!
It seemed Bolt was touching everything with his paws these days – and that included Felix. Perhaps he had been biding his time by cowering when he’d first met her. While he was still a fraction of her size, he’d got cocky enough to play a game with her, so now he started to test and tease her. If Felix was lying in the corridor of an afternoon, lazily fanning herself with her long fluffy tail, Bolt would become intent on getting at her. To him, that moving tail seemed the most glorious toy. Surely it was meant for him to hunt? He watched it as she flicked it uuuuuup and dooooown. Bolt was still learning how to use his tail and he stared at Felix’s with absolute fascination. He thought she was teasing him. It wasn’t long before the excited kitten started patting at her tail with a well-aimed paw, prodding and poking her whenever he was close.
Poor old Felix! The kitten had, ultimately, been introduced in the hope that, one day, he would help her have more peace and quiet. That would probably be the case, a few months or even a year down the road, but for now Felix was swept up in all his games, whether she liked it or not.
At seven years old, Felix simply didn’t have his energy. When he got too much for her, she would strike out at him with a gentle white-capped paw, but mostly she just gave him the filthiest looks. She raised her eyes to her colleagues too in world-weary appeal. ‘Why won’t he leave me alone?’ At times she would hiss – but these days Bolt would bark right back. He had the sweetest little voice: a pathetically high, mousey squeak. Soon the squabbles of the station cats could be heard up and down the corridor.
Watching them, Angie and Jacqui knew it was time to change things up. Bolt had been at the station for a good month now. He’d settled in, he’d had his shots and he clearly had enough energy to power a rocket to the moon. Up until now, he’d been expending it on exploring the back offices – and on terrorising Felix. It was about time, they decided, that he channelled it in a more useful direction. On 7 October 2018, it was time for Bolt to start his training.
31. Training Time
‘Right, mate,’ said Jacqui to Bolt. ‘Let’s do it.’
Bolt blinked up at her with his khaki-green eyes. He was wearing a pale-blue harness studded with white polka dots that he’d happily let Jacqui slide over his ebony shoulders. He’d sniffed at it thoroughly as she strapped him in, his effervescent curiosity bubbling to the surface. This was a cat who feared nothing, a cat who would abseil using the lanyard of a photo ID if given half the chance. As Jacqui picked him up, he merrily enjoyed the journey, relaxed and calm.
But, as Bolt was about to discover, Jacqui was not carrying him along the corridor to save his long legs the effort. She was taking him outside. He had not been outside since his arrival at the station on 1 September.
She had specifically chosen a night shift for his first training session. Not only that but she’d picked a slot when no trains, not even freight services, were scheduled to run. The noise they made as they rushed through the station could be alarming; Jacqui wanted nothing to spook him this first time.
Earlier that evening, the big brass pole that secured the doors at the front of the station had been drawn across, so that no one but Jacqui, Dale, Felix and Bolt now roamed around inside it. Felix was already outside, off exploring somewhere. The crucial thing for Jacqui was that there were no other people about. Whatever happened next, Bolt could at least begin his training in privacy.
Taking a deep breath, Jacqui opened the door and stepped out with Bolt on to platform one. He shivered a little as the cool October air hit him, but he seemed happy enough in her hands, secure with his mother. However, the moment she put him down on the platform, the little kitten changed his mind.
‘Shall we go for a walk, baby?’ Jacqui asked him, making kissing noises to encourage him and tugging gently on the cat lead.
Well, Bolt did get to his feet – but only to walk straight back towards the door!
It must have been very scary for him. Even in the still of night, Huddersfield station is not silent. There is a constant thrum of electricity from the lights and the rails. Occasionally, from the ring road round the town, the roar of a boy racer on his motorbike will fire, while in the small hours the chronologically confused birds beyond platform eight often chirp and tweet. To Bolt’s huge ears, used for weeks now only to listen to the muffled sounds inside, it all sounded strange. He padded a little on the cold concrete, disliking the sensation. Where was his warm lino that he so loved to slide along? He couldn’t slide on this …
‘Is it cold on your tootsies, mate?’ Jacqui asked him, understanding. This was October in Yorkshire, after all; it was going to be cold. But it was always going to be cold – so Bolt had to get used to it. And the only way he could learn to do that was to experience it just as he was doing right now.
He didn’t like it, though. That much was clear from the way he hugged the door which led back inside. Bless him, it must have been terrifying – what with all the strange sounds and smells, and that odd, discomfiting sensation of cool air all around him. Where were the radiators and oil heaters that he was used to in the office? Where was his air-conditioning? His wiry body trembled and he sat down, resisting Jacqui’s attempts to persuade him to walk.
‘Come on, baby,’ she purred at him. ‘Come on, baby boy.’
Bolt took a deep breath. Although he was still scared, he bravely got to his feet – and managed to take a few small steps, moving parallel to the door that he so longed to return through. He sniffed along its seam hopefully. Then, abruptly, as if inspired by the smells seeping through it, he promptly turned round, twisting himself up in his lead, and walked back the few short steps he had managed, clearly desperate to return inside. The brave, bolshie kitten who had so quickly made the back offices his own was scared stiff.
But Jacqui couldn’t let him back inside just yet. He had been outside for less than a minute. She knew that outside was a world that Bolt could learn to love – he just had to give it a chance.
She watched him worriedly. If only someone could explain to the kitten that it would be OK, she thought. If only someone could show him that this world wasn’t all bad – and that, actually, he might just like it. If only he could have a mentor, who could show him the way …
And then, so perfectly timed it was as if it was scripted, a fluffy black-and-white cat padded slowly up the platform.
‘See,’ Jacqui said to Bolt. ‘Felix is here now.’
She had come to see how her apprentice was getting along.
Felix the railway cat stalked along the platform with all the confidence that her seven years at the station had given her. She too had experienced training sessions like Bolt’s when she had first arrived, as the team had helped her learn about the rhythms of the station and the world that would be her kingdom. Perhaps she remembered what it was like. At any rate, having spent the past few weeks avoiding Bolt as much as she could, she now chose to come closer to him, walking to within three feet of where the kitten still cowered against the door.