The Cats of Butterwick Sands
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About this ebook
Gabriella Thomas
Gabriella Thomas lives in Brixton in South London. She is sixty-seven-years-old, works full-time as a Clinical Nurse Specialist with children and families; she has worked in Nursing, mainly in the NHS for over twenty-five years. Gabriella was born in Reading in Berkshire, though of Italian origin and is married with two older children and has two young grandchildren, Mariella and Elliot. See also her website: gabriellathomas.webador.co.uk and her Amazon Author's Page: amzn.to/3nKsKh4
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The Cats of Butterwick Sands - Gabriella Thomas
The Cats of Butterwick Sands
The Cats of Butterwick Sands
Gabriella Thomas
Copyright © 2020 Gabriella Thomas
The moral right of the author has been asserted.
Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of research or private study, or criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, this publication may only be reproduced, stored or transmitted, in any form or by any means, with the prior permission in writing of the publishers, or in the case of reprographic reproduction in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside those terms should be sent to the publishers.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Matador
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Twitter: @matadorbooks
ISBN 9781838596477
British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
Matador® is an imprint of Troubador Publishing Ltd
To my inspirations: my grandchildren Mariella and Elliot, my daughter Sonia and my son Alex, and special thanks to my husband Ivor.
With thanks to Ena Hodzic for the illustrations.
Contents
Ernie And Old George
The Caravan Park
A Very Hot Day
Hamish And The Chip Shop
Lala And Milo
Woody
The Lost Kitten
Blooms
More Cats And Friends
Ernie And The Siamese Twins
The Cats’ Choir
The Cats’ Blanket
Big Changes In Butterwick.
The Big Meeting
The Animals’ Meeting
The Grand Opening
Happy Days
1
Ernie And Old George
There is a small seaside town in the southeast of England, sadly rather run down now, called Butterwick Sands. It stands in the centre of a curved bay; there is a cliff overlooking the town at one end and then the seashore sweeps round and curves as far as the eye can see, past a small harbour and the pier and round toward Fairmile, the nearest ‘big’ town to Butterwick. At the other end of the bay towards the west, after miles and miles of beach and seashore, you will eventually reach another town, which has its own railway station; both the town and station are called Barrow-on-Sea. It was from here, up until a few years ago that buses and coaches would run every half an hour to Butterwick in the summer. Now only one bus will run every two hours in summer and only once a day in winter. In the past, trains used to run regularly, but today only a few will stop now and then. The locals say, Trains used to come here from all over; it was so busy and full of life, it was great for the town… I suppose we are too old-fashioned now, kids want them rides where they hang upside down and all sorts.
Today the town relies on old George the station master to keep the station going hoping for the good times to come back again.
The station has a cat called Ernie. He is a rather striking chocolate coloured tom-cat with green eyes who lives in the station master’s office and can be found most days sprawled on the desk, whilst his human George is looking after the station. George is very proud of the station and it is said by locals that George has been there forever, like his father before him. The station has won the Best Kept Station
award for many years in a row and George has a display of little cups on a shelf in his office.
Look Ernie,
he says to the cat, our potted flower displays are famous all over England, maybe even the whole world!
He will chuckle to himself and draw on his pipe, blowing the smoke in the air. Ernie has got used to the pipe smoke and the old man’s ways.
Ernie has a white smudge at the corner of his mouth which makes it seem as though he is smiling, so whenever George speaks, he will look at Ernie, chuckle to himself and say, Well even you’re laughing, Ernie.
Ernie likes to keep his human happy so he will give a small meow to show George he understands because after all, George looks after Ernie very well, only the best tit-bits and food that is cooked by George on the small stove in the back-room will do; chicken and fish, sometimes crab or a tasty meat pie and sometimes a plate of hot stew.
George lives in the back-room of the station, as station masters used to do. In the back, there is a small sitting room with a bed in the corner covered by a patchwork quilt. A small table and two chairs sit in the middle of the room with a big hearth where George still lights his coal fire, takes up most of the back wall. Beside the fire is an old armchair which belonged to his mother. It is sagging now with bits of stuffing coming out of it, but George will not get rid of it. Good bit of furniture that,
he says to Ernie, who gives a meow as he will often sleep on the armchair as the fancy takes him. On the mantelpiece are lots of faded black and white photographs of George as a boy; one is with his parents on the beach with his mum and dad on deckchairs. Mr George Locket Senior is wearing a magnificent handlebar moustache and Mrs Locket is looking very stern and wearing a big straw hat. George is sitting on the sand wearing a one-piece striped swimsuit with a very serious expression My old dad, he was very strict, Ern, fair frightened I was of ’im I can tell you but he taught me manners and everything there is to know about trains!
Ernie was glad that it was George who looked after him; George was kind and never shouted at him. Old George remembered the days when the station was very busy.
Those were the days, Ernie,
he would say to his cat, people would come here from far and wide to take the sea air and the beaches were packed with lots of families having fun. Ah! Those were the days.
Ernie felt that these times today were good too because, as the station was not busy, there was plenty of time to sleep in flower-pots, to chase mice, to sit on the station benches and watch the world go by… and to go into the old station buffet although it was now closed. It was where George kept all the nice tit-bits for their supper and Ernie would sometimes curl up in the old tea urn in winter and keep warm… Yes, all in all, it was a good life for a cat.
George has never travelled and has spent all his life in Barrow-on-Sea. He was an only child and grew up in the town, going to the local church school and then following his father to work on the station. He learnt all about timetables, tickets and all the different steam engines and he would help to keep the station clean and tidy. He would help the tea lady, Mrs Peabody, in the small railway buffet on the station platform. She would always have a sticky bun kept aside for him. She was a very large rotund lady with a very red face which got redder throughout the day because of the tea urn steamer which was always puffing out steam to make endless cups of tea, it puffed and puffed and sounded like the big old steam trains that ran past every day. George thought that Mrs Peabody was the fattest lady he had ever seen. She would always squeeze him tight and it felt to young George like sinking into a giant pillow, she smelt of cough drops and a sweet perfume called ‘violets’.
Oh yes, it’s French, you know,
she would say and her red face would get redder and her chins would quiver, as she broke into peals of laughter, Yes violets parfume, me lad. Mr Peabody always buys me violets parfume, romantic, ain’t he.
and her whole body would start shaking with laughter.
The hug was always before a lovely sticky bun so George would endure it. She would then kiss him on the cheek leaving bright red marks as she wore the brightest and reddest lipstick that George had ever seen.
Mrs Peabody had a young son called Bertie. Ernie and Bertie would spend hours after school playing together on the platform and in the station office. They were always getting up to mischief such as getting on and off the trains at the very last minute before the whistle was blown and the doors close; the winner of the game would be the one who could get off the train at the last possible second before the doors closed. Mrs Peabody would run out onto the platform her chins quivering and her ample bosom heaving, shouting, Bertie, come back this minute. I will give you a good spanking, me lad!
Bertie and George would pretend to come back to the buffet but then would run off and hide in one of the many secret hidey holes on the station. George Locket Senior would always look very stern but would often chuckle to himself at their antics and games. He would walk into the office or the back rooms and see two pairs of feet peeking out from behind a big trunk or hear giggles from inside a cupboard, but whenever Mrs Peabody, red in the face from running asked him, Mr Station Master, have you seen Bertie?
No, madam, not around here. Now don’t fret, let’s have a nice cup of your wonderful tea,
and a little smile would form under his magnificent handlebar moustache.
Mrs Peabody,
George would tell Ernie, never seen a body that fat,
and he would laugh and laugh until he had tears rolling down his cheeks. Ernie could never understand why the fat lady had been so funny. There was a very fat cat who lived in the town bakery called Ollie and he was fat because he ate sausage rolls every day. Ernie would lick his lips at the thought of a sausage roll but he would never leave the station and old George as, on the whole, he was very contented and there was even the odd mouse to chase around the platform, if he could be bothered to raise himself from the hearth or the armchair or from a nice flower-pot in the summer! Yes indeed, he was a very lucky cat. More old photographs of various aunts and uncles now long gone, adorned the mantelpiece, along with a particularly hideous green vase! Ernie had tried several times to knock it off the shelf with his long tail, almost succeeding several times.
Be careful, Ernie,
George would say, that belonged to my Aunt Edith,
but George would always have a twinkle in his eye when he said it.
George had never married. Such a shame,
the ladies of Barrow would say, he would have made a lovely husband, all alone with just his cat!
George had once ‘stepped’ out with a young lady called Wendy who now lived in the big town Fairmile, but it was not to be. George had got used to being alone now: the station was his home and all the passengers that came and went were his family and of course, Ernie was his best friend. In a little room just to the side of the bed-sitting room, was a small kitchen with a gas stove and an old stone sink. George still used a copper bath which was on a hook in the kitchen and once a week he would fill this up with hot water from the sink, set the bath on the floor in the bedsitting room and have a good scrub. He had never wished for a shower or proper bathroom.
Ernie,
he would say, if you want to keep clean you will.
Ernie was always washing as cats do, wouldn’t it be simpler he thought if humans could wash themselves with their tongues? Ernie took great care of his appearance as befitting a station master’s cat, his fur was always gleaming and his long whiskers always well groomed.
Outside George would lovingly tend to the many flower pots on the platforms creating beautiful and colourful floral displays all around the station. There are hanging baskets filled with flowers of the season, the benches on the platform are gleaming as George polishes them every day and he paints them every year a bright post-box red. The waiting room is spotless with a colourful rug on the floor and photos on the wall showing Barrow-on-Sea from different viewpoints, taken by a local resident of Barrow called Len. There is even a potted palm tree in a shiny brass bowl inside the chimney hearth, where in the old days; a roaring fire would be burning all day. On a round table there are lots of old leaflets and posters on the walls advertising local attractions and ‘fun days out’. There are other magazines like ‘Woman and Home’ and ‘Motoring Monthly’ and even an old copy of ‘The Beano’.
Every so often a train will stop and George, very smart in his red and black uniform and peaked cap, will blow his whistle. All aboard!
he will shout or, Change here for trains to Fairmile or buses to Butterwick Sands.
Sometimes the old fashioned dial-up phone will ring in the ticket office; once it was a film crew wanting to film the station.
It is so quaint, so perfect,
said the nice film lady. She wanted George to blow his whistle and wave his flag, whilst a pretty young lady clambered onto the train in floods of tears just as a pale lanky young man arrived on the platform running after the train shouting, Clara, come back. I love you.
What a carry on,
laughed George. Do you remember, Ernie? All I had to do was to do was blow me whistle! I got fifty pounds for it!
He began to laugh and laugh at the memory of it all until he cried. Oh dear, oh dear what was it called, Ern? The heavy ’art, or something like that.
Ernie did remember because he got best line-caught salmon for his tea and he purred at the memory. Now, if you do ever get the chance to watch the film, look closely and in one scene you will see, peering out of the waiting room window, a chocolate brown cat with a white smudge on his lip, who looks like he is smiling… it’s Ernie!
We will leave Ernie for the moment and come back to him later in our story, for now let’s go on to Butterwick and meet the other cats that live there.
2
The Caravan Park
Butterwick Sands lies in the middle of the sweeping bay. Years ago it was a very lively place with people coming from miles around to the lovely wide golden beach; "Real