Кейт Мур - Felix The Railway Cat

But inside her office … That was where she could let it out, if she needed to – and she did need to; she was only human, and sometimes emotions need to be shared. Yet being the boss, there was no colleague she could share these feelings with … No colleague but one.

‘The grumpy old bugger’s gone, Felix,’ she told the cat. ‘What are we going to do now?’

If she needed to, she could turn her chair towards the wall, to face away from the door with its glass window, so that nobody could see – except Felix. Felix was always there, and always listened, and always seemed to understand. Angie used to say to her what she was feeling, and Felix would look at her with so much compassion in those big green eyes of hers, and she would hop up onto Angie’s lap, too, so that Angie could stroke her: long, loving, reassuring strokes that were as much for Angie’s benefit as the cat’s. Somehow, after a cuddle and a chat with Felix, Angie found she could pull herself together again. She could take a deep breath and go out once more onto the platforms, back on autopilot, back on remote, with a cheery smile and a can-do attitude, super-powered by a bit of hidden strength given to her by the station cat.

As for that station cat, she had to learn to live without Billy. But he had left her a legacy that became a favourite haunt. Every day, she would wander over to Billy’s garden. If it was a happy day, she might meander through the catmint. If she was feeling playful, she might use the plants as camouflage for hunting pesky pigeons. But she had some days, too, when she wanted to be quiet, and then she would simply sit in the long grass, thinking her cat thoughts and watching the world go by. And if anyone dared approach her at that time when she really wasn’t in the mood, she would fix them with a look that said, ‘Go away!’

And only the foolish would ignore the glowering glare of the station’s own Mrs Grumpy.

Billy’s passing had a massive impact on the team of Huddersfield station – and beyond. When Gareth Hope learned of the news, he felt a real sense of loss. After all, Billy had a lot to answer for in Gareth’s own life. Without Billy’s fatherly intervention in his career, Gareth knew all too well that there was a very strong chance he’d still have been sitting at Huddersfield station at that very minute – with a cat upon his knee.

Yet he found that Billy hadn’t entirely left him, for his words of wisdom still rattled around in his head from time to time: advice to last a lifetime. Billy would never be forgotten.

And Angie wanted to make certain of it. As 2015 drew on, she and the rest of the team decided that they wanted to commemorate Billy’s incredible contribution to the station. There was no way they could allow somebody like Billy to pass on without marking it in some permanent, respectful way.

Whatever memorial they decided on, Angie was adamant that it had to be situated by Billy’s garden, because that had been such a passion of his when he was alive. When she thought of him, she pictured him over there in his overalls, grumpily digging up dirt. The team elected to erect a memorial bench – and it was paid for by the company, who were more than happy to honour this most special employee.

The bench was due to arrive that summer. But Angie didn’t want the bench to be delivered and be used right away. It was Billy’s bench, in Billy’s garden, and she wanted to do something significant to mark its arrival at the station where Billy had performed his life’s work. She started to put a plan into action …

When the bench finally came, they found it had been damaged in transit. Maintenance man Dave Chin was called out to redo all the joints, which had been twisted. But he said it was a pleasure doing it. If they hadn’t been done, and done properly, Billy would have shouted at them; that they knew. Mr Grumpy was still making his presence and his wishes felt, having been such an unforgettable character in life.

Dave measured out the garden and the bench and picked out a spot for it smack bang in the middle. It would sit just in front of the soil bed, perfectly positioned so that customers could enjoy the environment he’d created and spent so much time working on. And that environment was still being cared for beautifully. Though Billy’s idea to invite the group with learning difficulties to maintain the garden alongside him hadn’t come to fruition before he died, the Friends of Huddersfield Station, a local volunteer group, had taken it over – ensuring that Billy’s legacy would live on.

Angie’s plan to mark the bench’s arrival was coming together, but at the time Dave put the bench up on the station it wasn’t quite ready, so they covered the memorial with sheet plastic and yellow-and-black warning tape – to make sure no one could use it before the grand opening.

Then Angie made a phone call to Billy’s wife.

‘Val?’ she said. ‘Can you come down to the station on Monday, please? We’ve got a little something we’d like you to be here for.’

When Val arrived, she found a smart, pale wooden bench set before Billy’s garden, with an enormous white ribbon tied around it. She found a shiny new gold plaque commemorating her husband attached to its side. And, unusually, she also found the booking-office windows closed, for everyone wanted to participate in the opening ceremony for Billy’s bench, and the team had closed the serving windows as a mark of respect.

‘Oh!’ Val said, in surprise. ‘I didn’t expect all this.’

‘Well,’ said Angie. ‘It’s just how we feel about him. This is how we feel about Billy and this is what he meant to us. We’re just showing you, is all.’

At 12 o’clock on 10 August 2015, Huddersfield station came to a standstill. Over on Platform 4, the team gathered in their uniforms and their hi-vis vests for a very special occasion in honour of a very special man. Angie said a few short words, then Val was invited to cut the white ribbon and Billy’s bench was formally declared ‘open’. It was a lovely occasion, with smiles and shared memories and laughs, and afterwards – as the station returned to its usual, busy self and the ticket windows reopened and the trains moved on – the party transferred to the back offices, where Angie had ordered cupcakes for Val and every member of the Huddersfield team. They were covered in Smarties and chocolate chips and colourful icing, and people helped themselves throughout the working day, and even into the night shift.

Felix loved the new bench, and would frequently wind her way around its four sturdy legs, just as she had once done with Billy himself. The bench was set in a spot where it caught the late afternoon sun, and weary travellers often rested upon it.

That sun sometimes glinted off its smart gold plaque, which read:

In memory of Billy

Station Team Leader – Huddersfield

14/02/1994 – 31/03/15 21 years’ service

Will be remembered fondly and missed dearly at this station

And he certainly was remembered fondly. That was why, whenever Angie did her security checks on an early shift and walked past his bench, she’d always say, in her cheery way, ‘Morning, Billy!’

But it was just the wind that answered now: ‘Morning, Mrs H.’

28. A Helping Hand

With a hiss of its brakes, the train from Leeds pulled into Huddersfield station on a Monday morning in September 2015. Off stepped a nervous gentleman, self-consciously smoothing down the lapels of his smart navy jacket. He cleared his throat, then squared his shoulders and went to find the station manager. It was his first day in his new job. His name was Andrew McClements, and he was the new team leader, replacing Billy.

They were very big shoes to fill. As he was introduced to the team, perhaps Andrew sensed a certain surprise in his new colleagues’ expressions as they covertly checked him out, in the way of all existing employees when they meet a new co-worker for the first time. For Andrew, who came from St Helens, near Liverpool, was not only very different in personality to Billy – he was friendly and laidback, with an easy smile and an approachable manner – but he was also more than forty years younger. Andrew was just twenty-two years old.