Full Steam Ahead, Felix

10. A Sprinkling of Stardust

‘Felix has become an internet sensation after starting work at Huddersfield train station!’ Kate Garraway announced on the sofa in London. ‘Nick Dixon got to meet her …’

And with that short and sweet introduction, they were suddenly live on air from Huddersfield station to the nation.

‘Andrew, what’s the appeal of Felix?’ the presenter pressed him.

Andrew began to answer, speaking as clearly as he could. ‘I just think she is a working cat … She keeps everyone at Huddersfield happy – the staff, the colleagues, everyone at TransPennine Express …’

As he spoke, he felt Felix begin to dig her claws into his arm, as though she was reminding him that he had to present her in the best possible light. Ouch! thought Andrew – but he couldn’t let the pain show. He remembered all too well the mantra that the TV execs had drilled into him beforehand: whatever you do, do not swear … It was advice not easily followed when Felix chose to make her move!

The pressure of her sharp claws made him want to grimace, but he somehow followed Felix’s not-so-subtle instructions, concluding, through his gritted teeth, ‘She just brings a smile to everyone’s face!’

With that, Andrew’s part in the proceedings was over. He and Felix stayed onscreen as Nick spoke next to a representative from Prostate Cancer UK. Andrew kept on stroking the station cat, but Felix did nothing to pull focus from the lady, who said what a difference she hoped the money raised would make. All royalties from the book would be going to support those men and their families who had been affected by this terrible disease, she said.

Throughout the entire segment, which was about four minutes long, Felix was as good as gold, sitting professionally in Andrew’s arms until the broadcast had safely returned to London and the presenter told them that was a wrap. It was almost as if she knew how important this was and she waited patiently for the cameras to stop rolling, not even wriggling once to try to get away. After all the nerves and preparation, everything had run like clockwork.

It was the same with all the publicity Felix had to do – and she did lots. The glamourpuss graced the covers of The Lady magazine and Big Issue North, the latter to resounding success when ‘her’ edition of the magazine sold so well that it was reprinted no less than three times to keep up with demand. Big Issue North was launched in response to growing numbers of homeless people in the north of England; it still works today to give a helping hand to those in poverty, with its sellers earning fifty per cent of the cover price of every magazine they sell. So it was particularly special that Felix could help the homeless and poverty-stricken in this way, not least because homelessness often affects the railway network in particular, stations being one of the places the homeless can migrate towards as they provide a temporary shelter when all other avenues have closed. Mark Allan estimated that through that charity drive alone, Felix helped to raise around £12,500.

There was also lots of Felix publicity on TV and radio, the recordings of which Jack Kempf kept, as an official TPE record of everything Felix had done. By the end of her PR campaign, he had dozens of files in his special Felix folder.

It was brilliant for Felix to have secured so much PR – but the bane of the TPE IT manager’s life! Jack kept getting emails from the IT department, which pleaded with ever-increasing desperation, ‘Please delete space in your drive!’

But while Felix’s media files may have been clogging up Jack’s computer, her hard work was getting the message out there about her book – and how.

The weekend after her book’s first full week on sale, Mark Allan was flicking through the Sunday newspaper. His wife joined him happily, pleased that for once he wasn’t glued to his phone updating Felix’s Facebook page (she was fond of saying wryly, ‘You spend more time with that cat than you do me!’).

But it turned out not to be a Felix-free day, after all. For as Mark turned the pages of the ‘Culture’ section of The Sunday Times, he came across the national book bestseller lists, which chart the top-selling titles of the previous week.

Felix the Railway Cat was sitting pretty at number three. The senior pest controller was not only an author, but a bestselling one at that.

Mark’s wife’s jaw nearly hit the floor and she looked at her husband with pink-cheeked pride. ‘Look, darling!’ she exclaimed happily. ‘It’s in the Sunday Times bestsellers!’

She saw his efforts for Felix rather differently after that.

Many of Felix’s fans were not content merely to read her book. They wanted an autographed copy. Andrew and Jack scratched their heads about how best they could help Felix to supply such a thing. She simply wasn’t a paperwork kind of puss so it really needed some thought. Then Andrew hit upon a brilliant idea: perhaps they could get a mould of her paw and create an autograph stamp from that! Full of enthusiasm, he ordered the bespoke kit, which required Felix to press her paw on to a special piece of paper to create the mould, and headed straight to Huddersfield to secure her paw-tograph.

Well, it was a brilliant idea … but it turned out that Felix was more reclusive than Harper Lee. Though Andrew tried to persuade her to let him hold her front leg so he could press it to the paper, Felix gave him short shrift. He came away with a few new scratches … but no mould. Back to the drawing board.

In the end, Jack managed to order a special pawprint stamp for all the paw-tographs. Mark Allan had a few chuckles when he saw it, as it was super-sized, about as big as his palm. ‘It was more like a lion was signing it than a cat!’ he exclaimed, chuckling heartily. But, in fact, its size made it nice and clear for everyone to see it, and no one seemed to mind. Orders soon flooded in for copies that were ‘signed by the author’ and Felix found herself on the bestseller list for weeks. Waterstones in Huddersfield was soon bombarded with calls and emails from around the world as people clamoured to purchase one of their exclusive paw-printed editions. One unconfirmed rumour even had it that the book was the store’s bestselling title since Harry Potter! Certainly, the book seemed to have a magical effect on Felix’s fans – and that was something the team at Huddersfield station noticed straight away.

Prior to publication, there had been regular visitors to Huddersfield to meet Felix, but it was only one or two every now and again, perhaps a couple of times a week. Now Angela Dunn found that she was called to her lady-in-waiting duties two or three times per shift. The book had reached a whole new audience: people who had never even heard of Facebook, but who loved to read. The glorious image of Felix on the front of the book had captivated a new generation of hearts and minds; children fell in love with Felix through the book and only afterwards discovered that their parents could show them her social media too. Elderly ladies, meanwhile, spotted the book in their mail-order catalogues or at their local library and snapped it up, being big cat fans. The revelation to all that the book was non-fiction – that the cat was real and could be visited in person – soon brought swathes of visitors in a volume the team had never seen before. Felix had been famous before, but this was on another level.

And the team found that there was another difference: people were excited to meet them after reading all about them in the book. The team didn’t even have to be at the station for it to happen. One day, not long after the book came out, Angie Hunte nipped into Tesco after work while still wearing her TPE uniform. As the checkout lady scanned her items, she greeted her cheerily and in a familiar manner. ‘Hiya, Angie!’

‘Oh, hello!’ Angie replied, surprised; she was not sure why she was receiving such a personal greeting.

‘I’ve read all about you!’ the checkout lady enthused, giving her a wide, warm smile, eyes twinkling like stars.

Then strangers started stopping Angie in the street to chat about the cat.

‘How’s Felix, Angie?’

‘She’s grand, thanks,’ Angie would reply – always friendly, no matter who it was who had waylaid her.

‘My girlfriend’s absolutely crazy on that book,’ a fella might say. ‘She’d love to meet the cat.’

‘Well, come up and see her, then!’ Angie would encourage him.

‘Can we?’

‘Of course!’

Angie felt as though Felix had cast a spell over them all, as though the station cat had somehow waved a magic wand with a flick of her padded paws – and in so doing covered Angie and the others with a little of her special stardust.

For Angie, though it was peculiar to be recognised so frequently, the real benefit was that Felix had encouraged people to see the softer side of the railway team. It was important because sadly it wasn’t uncommon for railway staff to bear the brunt of customers’ frustration if their journey was delayed; team members had been verbally abused, spat at and even assaulted. Felix’s book reminded readers that the team were individuals too: good people who were simply trying to do their best, and who were coping with their own struggles even as they helped customers.

One of Angie’s struggles that had been mentioned in Felix’s book was her grief when Billy Bolt had died. Angie found, however, that many readers now shared with her that they too had felt his loss when he’d passed on in the book; some of them had even cried. Though his absence was still mourned at the station, it was nice to know that he lived on through the book in a way. Angie always made a point of showing those visitors where Billy’s memorial bench stood proudly on platform four, and they would all go over and read the gold plaque that honoured his memory, standing respectfully for a few minutes beside it, clearly thinking of him. It made Angie smile to think what Billy might have made of it all – of all these strangers mourning his death anew.

‘Give over!’ he would have said, she thought; and his gruff, no-nonsense voice rang as loudly in her head as if he had really been there. ‘I don’t understand what all the fuss is about!’

As for Felix, she found that the fuss over her was really quite extraordinary. If she was out on a patrol and a fan spotted her, all hell would break loose. That fan would run to her, exclaiming with glee, taking pictures and stroking her. And their excitement would cause all the other commuters on the platform to look around wildly.

‘What’s going on?’ they would say, curiously.

Then they’d spot the cat, and her celebrity would precede her, making her immediately recognisable. In an instant their cameras would be in their hands and they’d all be calling to her.

As the news spread that the station cat was out and about, it was as though the sun was slowly emerging from behind a grey Yorkshire cloud, lighting up the faces of all those present. People’s expressions literally changed from shadow to smile as they rushed to record their meeting with Queen Felix. Some curtseyed to her as they met; others became really chatty. A four-year-old girl in a purple padded coat and hot-pink trousers plonked herself happily next to Felix on the floor one afternoon and proceeded to tell her all about her brand-new shoes, which were pink and turquoise and covered with images of smiling cartoon cats. Others burst into tears upon meeting her, because she had grown to mean so much to them and they couldn’t believe they were finally getting to stroke and cuddle this very special cat.

Though it must have been intimidating, Felix held court as though the dedicated attention and heartfelt emotion were nothing less than her due. Her tail would be straight up, proud and perfect, its little white tip acting like a tour guide’s clipboard, held aloft to indicate that people should follow. She caused a commotion wherever she went: a saunter through the concourse via the booking office, for example, would see all the people in the queue sigh dreamily. So intent would they be on photographing Felix that they’d unwittingly lose their place in the queue and have to start their wait all over again. Yet any half-hearted complaint would soon fade to silence as they scrolled through their smartphone and caught sight again of their fluffy friend, now caught forever on film.

Out on the platforms, meanwhile, people would literally follow Felix as she strolled along the platform, snapping away. At such moments, she prowled along as though the platform was a catwalk at a fashion show and she had been headhunted to model the latest trends. From left to right, her bottom would wiggle gaily, while her white-capped paws padded with perfect timing so that those watching could capture the glory of her glamourpuss saunter. She was a proper little poser, in fact – holding still with professional poise as a man with purple headphones angled his phone to take her portrait, and moving again only once his work was complete.

As though conscious of the commotion she caused, however, Felix’s favourite spot for a meet-and-greet remained the former customer-information point, which was tucked out of the way so she didn’t hold up the station’s business. It was Felix’s happy place. From here, she could hear what was going on in the back office – the slam of doors, laughing voices and even the occasional decisive stamp of a stapler – yet also keep an eye and ear on the proceedings out on the platform. She liked to face into the wind, which would at times bend her white whiskers, enjoying the breeze blowing through her fur. It acted almost as a natural hairdryer, styling her for her next celebrity appearance.

But Felix wasn’t always ready to meet her fans. So many came these days that it was inevitable that Felix, eventually, would run out of patience, something her fans didn’t always understand. She might have willingly spent time posing, but after a while she would stalk off, her independent feline spirit summoning her away. Some fans, however, followed her, bent double as they walked, so that they could keep on stroking her. Others walked along backwards, snapping her like a pack of paparazzi.

One afternoon, a big group of excited lads surrounded her. They had loud voices that echoed around the station as they struggled to pull their posh camera kits out of their bags to snap the station cat. At their boisterous cries, Felix’s green eyes widened in alarm.

Luckily, just at that moment, one of her colleagues happened to come along. He opened the door leading to the back office as he went through it and Felix, seizing her chance, darted swiftly after him. The door closed firmly behind them both.

‘Bollocks,’ brayed a young man harshly, as the cat disappeared from view.

For Angie Hunte, Angela Dunn and all the other team members, Felix’s welfare had to come first. That was more important than ever, now that so many people were coming to meet her. They soon learned to ‘read’ Felix, and began to know whether she was in the mood for meeting fans or not. If she was having a doze in the ladies’ locker room and some fans came calling – ‘Is Felix playing out?’ one little girl once asked – Angie Hunte would respectfully knock on the door before entering to see if Felix was free. Felix was still Angie’s little girl, so she treated her with the same care and kindness that she would any child of hers who was being woken from a nap.

‘Felix,’ she would call softly, tapping gently on the door and opening it slowly so as not to cause alarm. ‘There’s somebody here to see you …’

Sometimes Felix was more than willing to make her fans’ dreams come true and would happily come out to say hello. At other times, it was all too much, especially if she’d already been in demand that day. On such occasions, she would fix Angie with a strong, non-negotiable look in her green eyes that clearly said, ‘You just try disturbing me, missus.’ At such a time, even a single step towards her would provoke a guttural growl and Angie would know to back away and go out to break the bad news. The broken looks of disappointment were hard to bear, especially if they were children or had travelled a long way, but the team had to put Felix first.

Angie learned to interpret Felix’s moods when she was out and about, too. If the cat had chosen to sit on one of the metal benches that were spaced along the platforms, she very much wanted attention and eagerly sought out strokes with insistent prods of her fluffy black head. If she was sat up at the erstwhile customer-information desk or curled up on the lobby’s grey striped carpet, meanwhile, she was in an easy-come-easy-go mood, and would be pretty laid-back if anyone approached her. When she chose to sit at the bike racks, she normally wanted to be left alone. That was ‘her’ space and ‘her’ time, and she did not always look kindly on having it disturbed.

All manner of people came to see her at the station: men and women, old and young, locals and people on their travels. For team leader David Jackson, however, there was one visitor – or should I say four? – that he would never forget.

It happened on one of those early spring days, when you can feel the promise of warmer weather on its way. David was out on the platforms that afternoon when he was approached rather officiously by a lady in a short-sleeved shirt. She carried two cotton tote bags, one over each shoulder, and had a manic energy to her, as though excitement was buzzing through her veins.

‘I’ve come to see Felix!’ she announced, straight to the point.

As with all the other members of the Huddersfield team, this was a statement that David had already heard several times this shift. He already knew that Felix was off on a patrol somewhere, so he apologetically broke the news. ‘I’m sorry, but Felix is out and about and we don’t know where she is.’

‘But …’ the woman began, as though she couldn’t process that response. ‘But I’ve brought my cats to see her!’

At this extraordinary statement, David looked closer at the two bags that were resting upon her shoulders. Sure enough, they were moving, as though each held a couple of animals …

‘Er, how many cats do you have?’ David asked, uncertainly.

‘Four!’ she said enthusiastically. ‘Look, this little one looks just like Felix, so I had to bring him down!’

She thrust one of the bags towards David and, somewhat apprehensively, he peered inside. And there in the tote bag sat a little black-and-white cat, who did indeed bear a strong resemblance to Felix. His limbs were entwined with his neighbour’s as they fought for space inside the bag; the second cat was white with tabby markings.

To David’s astonishment, neither seemed at all perturbed to be travelling around in this fashion. They merely blinked lazily at him when he peered inside; this was clearly not their first adventure of being taken outside in such a way. Though he did not see inside the second bag, it was evident from the way it was moving that the other two cats must be entwined within it. They had travelled all the way to the station on the bus, the lady said.

‘I really am very sorry,’ David said again, once he’d recovered his equilibrium. ‘But cats or no cats, Felix isn’t here.’

Goodness only knew what she would have made of those particular feline fans!