We tried to take your things to the lost property room, said the officer, but… your cats quite the fighter. Wouldnt let us near them. Best come and collect your stuff and your cat. Weve got more than enough on as it is
Every train station has a waiting room. Sometimes theyre spacious and bright, sometimes cramped and gloomy. In some you find pleasant armchairs, in others, hard benches. All different, but united by one thingendless waiting.
Nearly everyone travelling by train shows up early at least once, worried about missing their train, then winds up waiting for ages. Suitcases and bags pile up near your feet, time seems to crawl, and you cant help cursing your own over-caution in your head.
That afternoon was no different: people filled the waiting room, all trying to avoid eye contact. One man flicked through a newspaper, another had his nose buried in a book, but most were hunched over their phones. Some were eating hastily made sandwiches. And it was to these people that he strode
The waiting room was on the ground floor, with a separate entrance by the street. The smells of food drifting from bagged lunches must have drawn him in.
He was a large, scruffy grey tomcat, with a battered collar and a telephone number dangling from it.
People tried to shoo him away, especially mothers feeding their young children:
Off you go! You filthy thing, covered in fleas. Dont you dare get near my child!
The cat would sigh and shuffle off. He didnt beg, not really. Hed just sit down next to someone and stare and stare
He was hungry. But hed never learned how to ask for a meal.
Just days before, hed been brought here by car. His owner died suddenly, and the family decided to sell the flat. Someone had found a solutionhe was dumped at the train station, with a mumbled, At least he wont starve here, before they stalked off.
But how could he ask? What was he supposed to do? How was he to tell people he was hungry? The cat truly didnt know.
So he just quietly sat beside people, staring up at them, breathing in the tempting smells that made his head spin.
But the travellers, already irritable with the long wait, hardly wanted to be bothered with a homeless cat. They only wished to hurry away and forget this waiting room altogether, as if it were nothing but a bad dream
A man arrived at the station well ahead of time. It was a work trip, just a night on the train, then straight to the office and back home the next day. He had forty minutes to wait, so, trying to pass the time, he watched the people around him and spotted the cat at that moment, just as a mother snapped and waved her hand at him.
The cat withdrew, unruffled by the shouts. He was used to that now.
The man noticed the collar. He assumed the animal must have gone missing and that some family, somewhere, was worrying sick. He opened his briefcase and took out pork pies his wife had packed for the journey. He opened the box, breathed in deeply, and smacked his lips:
Cor, thats good, he said, glancing at the cat. Here, puss. Come here, love. Ill share.
The cat shifted his weight from paw to paw, wary of another kick.
Go on, its all right, the man encouraged, Just come here. I wont hurt you.
Eventually, the cat edged closer. The man placed a pie down on a napkin. The cat gave a tiny mew and started to eat, careful and polite, not dropping a crumb.
Youre definitely a house cat, arent you? the man murmured.
He looked at the collar, dialled the number, but found it disconnected.
He muttered under his breath. The train was leaving in twenty minutes; this was turning out to be more complicated than hed thought.
What am I supposed to do now? the man whispered, glancing around in frustration.
Feeling lost, he rang his wife. Quickly and rather incoherently, he explained it all, then asked, What should I do? Hes obviously someones pet. The numbers not working. Hes just wandering around the station, being chased away.
Its always something with you! his wife sighed. Why do you get involved?
You dont get it, he said. Everyones shooing him off and he doesnt even know how to ask for food.
Is it the waiting room? she asked.
Yes! he said, suddenly hopeful.
Let me have the collar number.
Before boarding, he led the cat to the wall and left the whole box of pies beside him.
Wait here, he told the cat, stroking his head. My wife will come and find you.
For the first time in days, the cat was seen, fed, and spoken to kindly. He pressed his head against the mans hand and gave a soft meow.
Thats it, then. Wait for her. Dont go wandering off. Shell help you
The man had a busy day ahead. It was evening before he could phone his wife.
So? he asked. Did you find his owners? Did you feed him?
I spent all afternoon looking, she said. I found out from the collar number, thoughthe owner died. The family just dumped him at the station
He was silent.
Ill go back again in the morning, she said.
Im not worried, he tried to joke. I know youll help him.
I can hear you not worrying, she snapped. Youre not to get worked up, mind! You know your heart. Ill ring Charlotte and her husband, well go together.
He put the phone down and tried to reassure himself. Well? he muttered, Its not like there arent stray cats everywhere. You cant worry about them all But he couldnt shake the uneasy feeling. Somehow, the fate of this grey cat mattered a great deal.
He hardly slept that night. He dreamt of stroking the cats head, explaining something, while the cat gazed up and nodded
In the morning, his wife called: she, their daughter, and son-in-law had searched the entire station and asked the cleanersthe cat had vanished.
A strange sense of guilt crept over the man, inexplicable but persistent.
He rushed back onto a train home.
That evening, instead of going back to their house, he left his bags with a fellow passenger and went off searching.
What he dreaded most was either never finding the cat or finding him too late.
For the best part of an hour and a half he scoured the station, then started checking behind bins and peering under bushes.
Close to midnight, his wife joined him, muttering irritably about the whole ordeal.
By two in the morning, both exhausted, they slumped on a bench by the entrance and lit cigarettes.
My feet are killing me, she said.
Yeah. What shall we do next?
Well sit for a bit, then go again. Where did you leave the suitcases?
He slapped his forehead:
At the station next to some bloke. Hell be long gone now!
Wed better check theyre still there. If they havent been nicked, well put them in the car, then carry on looking.
They made their way through the waiting room. A police officer stopped them at their suitcases.
These yours? he asked.
They are, they chorused.
Why did you leave them unattended?
We were looking for a cat, they both replied.
A cat? the officer repeated, pointing a thumb at their luggage. You mean that one?
A big grey cat lay sprawled on the suitcase.
We were about to put your things in lost property, explained the officer. But your cats fierce. Hes been guarding them like a dog, wouldnt let anyone touch them.
He hasnt gone far, has he? he added, half smiling, Take your stuff and your cat. Weve got enough on our plate as it is.
The man gingerly approached the cat. As soon as the cat saw the face of the man who had fed and soothed him, he gave a delighted meow, stretching himself out in greeting.
The man sat down on the bench, ran his hand down the cats bony back, and let out a sigh of relief. His wife sat next to him.
Its always an adventure with you, she said, kissing him on the cheek. Right, grab your things and lets go.
He picked up the cases; she gathered up the thin, battered, but now very happy, grey cat. He meowed gleefully, nudged her chin, and purred like a motor while trying to lick her cheek.
She laughed, fending him off, but not really minding.
Once home, her first task was to wash him in warm water, dry him off with a fluffy towel, remove the old collar, and pour him a bowl of fragrant chicken broth.
That night, the cat silently crept into the bedroom and curled up beside her, gentle paws prodding to check if she was really there and not just a dream.
She placed her hand on his back and whispered, Sleep, love, sleep. Youre home now
The cat purred softly and fell asleep.
The man slept, too, dreaming that he and his wife were back at the station, searching for the cat all over again.
And the cat dreamt that all this time, hed really been searching for that one person.
Meanwhile, at the station, a small ginger kitten darted around, peering anxiously into the faces of passers-by and mewing pitifully. People turned away and hurried on.
No one had time to stop. There are too many cats and kittens in the world, they thought, you cant save or feed them all! So they picked up their pace.
Thats how it goesBut as the rush of early morning commuters faded to a lull, an old porter making his rounds paused at the ginger kittens side. He crouched down, voice rough but kind.
Oi, wheres your mum, eh? he murmured, letting the kitten sniff his knuckles. The kitten, trembling, but braver now, butted her head against his hand. He smiledjust a bitreaching into his pocket for the crust of his cheese sandwich.
Hungry, are you? Well, thenlets see what we can do.
In that moment, the hectic world around them softened. The ginger kitten gobbled her morsel and purred, already sensing promise. For just as one story drew to a closea rescue, a loving homeanother quietly unfurled, hope flickering stubborn as a station lamp through the restless dark. For, in every waiting room, new beginnings patiently await the kindness of strangersand perhaps, a puddle of sunlight, a gentle hand, and a journey home.
