The Cats of Butterwick Sands

by Gabriella Thomas

  Mr McAllister seems to have disappeared from Butterwick and the gossip is that he ran away with a girl called Jenny, who used to sell donkey rides on the beach. The two donkeys, Blossom and Burt, were left without a home, but were taken in and looked after in the pub garden. Poor Mrs McAllister, well nobody knows what to say to her and if anyone happens to mention Mr McAllister, she bursts into tears and runs into the back of the shop.

  Mary is a very large lady who it seems, lives permanently in a green floral overall; she has unruly permed hair which she pins up in an unruly bun. She is constantly flustered and shouting at the children. There is Stuart junior, ten years old; Liam, eight; James, seven; Sarah, five; and the baby Charlie, who is now two. The family all live upstairs in a flat. “How does she fit them all in?” the locals ask, but the children seem happy and fortunately, they can run and play in the chip shop’s huge back garden which backs onto fields that stretch for miles into the distance. From 11am to 3pm and 5pm to 9pm, there is the smell of lovely fish and chips frying. When he is not at school and sometimes in the evening the eldest boy Stuart will help his mum coat the fresh fish caught that day in batter and help to fry the chips that have been kept in two buckets of water on the floor. Stuart loves to watch the fish and chips bubbling away and then come out a lovely golden brown and then he wraps them in paper after first sprinkling on salt and vinegar. “Best fish and chips on the coast,” everyone says, and Mary would beam with pride. “You are such a good boy, Stuart, helping your old mum,” but then she would be off chasing the children out of the shop into the back garden, shouting at the top of her voice.

  The children all seem to thrive on their fish and chip diet. A young girl from the village, Ruth, helps look after the children and she also loves fish and chips. It is chaotic and noisy and in amongst it all, is Hamish, who to find a bit of peace has made a ‘nest’ between two very large jars of pickled gherkins, high up on the big fridge. Once the children are in bed, he will jump down and take in the night air.

  At different times, he will be unlucky enough to be caught by one of the children; with five children trying to amuse themselves, it cannot be helped. The last time it happened it was with little Sarah, who tried to dress him up in a pink nightie and put him in her dolls pram! Hamish has had to learn to be fast and cunning. He does however enjoy a good fish and chip dinner and sometimes a tasty saveloy sausage. Of course his home is also the most popular place for the village cats. Every evening they will congregate outside the back door waiting for a bit of a fish supper at the end of the night. Hamish tolerates this intrusion as the cats will often bring him a bit of pilfered steak from the butchers or cheese from the supermarket as a nice change from fish.

  Hamish has a wonderful singing voice and is a member of the local cats’ choir, and when the fancy takes him and especially after he has slurped some beer from the beer bucket used for the batter, he will sing Scottish songs remembered from his kitten days. All the cats gather round to listen but all the humans hear is high-pitched mewling, “What a racket, it’s that chip shop cat again!” But the children however, know it is the cat music and they sleep very soundly indeed.

  5

  Lala And Milo

  Lala the cat lives in the old fairground with the other cats Milo, Tina and Finlay. Lala is a Persian and she knows it. She has a beautiful smoky coat with a silvery undercoat and lovely amber eyes. Her coat is not as shiny and well groomed as it used to be when she belonged to Lady Seraphina Melchington-Jones up at the ‘big’ house. The ‘big’ house was the old manor and was the biggest house in Fairmile. Lady Seraphina was the last surviving member of her family and had bought Lala from a reputable breeder as a kitten. As Lady Seraphina had no children of her own, she proceeded to spoil Lala quite disgracefully. Lala slept on a velvet cushion at the foot of her mistress’s bed and she only ate the best food and drank the best cream or full-fat milk every day. Lady Seraphina would brush and brush Lala’s fur until it shone.

  “There, my beautiful, precious baby,” she would coo to Lala, “what a princess and how lovely you look!” At times she would dress Lala in little outfits and when her lady friends came to tea they would all coo and twitter and say, “Who is the prettiest pussy in the world!” The result of all of this was that Lala thought that she was superior to every other cat in Fairmile, Butterwick and beyond!

  Unfortunately for Lala, Lady Seraphina became ill and died. She had been living alone in the house with just one servant ‘Finch’ for the last ten years. Now Finch didn’t like cats but he kept that to himself. When Lady Seraphina’s will was read, it said that the manor house and any monies would all go to Lala and that Finch could go on living in the house to look after her in the manner she was accustomed to, but sadly for Lala, Finch was a rogue. On the very next day after the funeral, he picked up Lala from her velvet cushion by the scuff of the neck and unceremoniously threw her into the garden. “Well, pussy cat princess, the good times are now over,” he chuckled. He then locked the back door, locking poor Lala out in the cold. Poor Lala felt very alone and upset, she had lost her dear mistress, she was cold and hungry, she did not know how to fend for herself, and she sat under a tree and cried and cried for two days. Her coat became matted and wet but she just kept on crying, “Oh dear, oh dear what shall I do? What will become of me? Oh my, oh dear.” Of course, this sounded like just a high-pitched miaowing to humans and now and again, a window would open at the back of the house and some rather nasty things would be shouted out by Finch before the window would be banged shut again. It was in these sad circumstances, that two tom-cats came to Lala’s rescue.

  Milo and Finlay are two cats from the old fairground in Butterwick Sands. Every week they loved coming on a jaunt to Fairmile as there were different sights and smells for them to enjoy and Fairmile was a much bigger place than Butterwick. There were more shops, cafes and takeaways, which meant more opportunity for food. They liked looking at the different shops and meeting up with some of the ‘town cats’. Sometimes they would meet a town cat who objected to Finlay and Milo being on ‘his turf’ and so a skirmish would ensue, usually in the manor house garden where all the town cats and visitor cats tended to meet at the end of the day. But once the fight was over everyone would be friends and it usually ended with an invite to the town cat to visit them at the fairground in Butterwick. There was one gang of cats however, ‘Gripper’ and his gang who must be avoided at all costs as they will never become friendly with other cats. Milo and Finlay were always very careful to avoid Gripper and his cronies.

  Finlay enjoyed these jaunts but always said he couldn’t live in Fairmile. “I prefer the old fairground, nice clean air up there,” he said.

  Milo who is a much younger cat loved the noise and bustle, “It’s so exciting here,” he said.

  Once they had even sneaked into the cinema and watched a matinee – some romantic drama where a young lady was crying all the time – but half way through Finlay said to Milo, “Why, that’s old Ern from the station! He told me he had acted in a film but I didn’t believe him! Look, Milo!” But Milo had found half a hotdog under a seat and didn’t hear him.

  Finlay is a short-haired silver tabby with unusual markings, little black dots are spread throughout his fur, whereas Milo is also short-haired only he has a marmalade coat, very sturdy legs and large paws. Finlay, Milo and Tina, live in the fairground after being abandoned by their owners. Tina, who is a rather sensitive, small black cat, would shake her head and say, “Why did our humans want us and then not want us anymore?”

  The other cats could not answer her but Milo would kindly say, “Well never mind, we are your family now.” Tina thought that Milo was the best cat in the world.

  So, after their jaunt the two cats would always end up at the manor house and before meeting with the town cats, they would play in the huge back garden stalking birds and digging holes in the pristine flowerbeds trying not to be seen by the ancient gardener, who woul
d shout and put a hose on them if he did happen to see them. To Finlay and Milo it was all great fun. Sometimes at one of the windows they would see a rather beautiful feline with amber eyes looking down at them with utter distain.

  “Wow look at her,” Milo would say. “Isn’t she pretty?”

  “Stuck up,” Finlay would say, “thinks she’s better than us, ignore her,” but Milo couldn’t, as he thought she was the most beautiful cat he had ever seen.

  So on that memorable day Finlay and Milo had come to the end of their day in town and had arrived at the manor house, they slowly crept round to the back of the house ready to start some digging, when they heard a plaintive mewling. “Oh dear, oh dear what shall I do, what will become of me? Oh dear who will brush my coat?” Because Lala is so vain and rather silly she was more worried about her coat than where her next meal would come from. She was now feeling extremely hungry but she did not know how to hunt or fend for herself. Milo and Finlay walked up to the tree.

  “Why, it’s that stuck up posh puss from the house,” said Finlay.

  “Go away,” said Lala and she started wailing again.

  Finlay was angry. “Right then, come on, Milo, let’s go.”

  But Milo, who had been standing there with his mouth open, said, “No, Finlay, we cannot leave her like this.” He turned to Lala and asked, “What’s the matter, madam?” Through lots of wailing and lots of “oh dear me’s”, they finally got her story and that’s how Lala had no choice but to follow Milo and Finlay back to the fairground. She complained all the way that she couldn’t possibly walk any further and that she was dying of hunger. When they reached Butterwick, Milo went to the back of Hamish’s fish and chip shop and bagged a lovely tail-end of cod, which he brought across to Lala carefully in his mouth, where she was waiting with Finlay across the road. He dropped the cod at her feet.

  “What’s that?” Lala asked. “Am I expected to eat it off the ground?” But she gobbled it up in a second.

  “Ungrateful beast,” muttered Finlay and walked off up to the fairground.

  Milo said, “Sorry, ma’am, would you like some more, I can get some on some paper if you like? I’m Milo by the way.”

  “Well Milo, you are a gentleman unlike your friend, who is very rude.” She became very coy, giggly and charming as, after all this was a tom-cat and she felt he might look after her; OK, he was rather scruffy and not very refined, but what else could she do? Her eyes filled with tears thinking about her poor mistress, but she was from pedigree stock and had to maintain her dignity. “Yes,” she said, “I would like some more fish, even if it isn’t like the delicious grilled Dover sole my dear mistress used to feed me.” So Milo and Lala went back across to the fish shop and ate some leftover hake and chips ON PAPER and Milo thought that he was in heaven: here he was with a real lady cat! So pretty, those eyes! That giggle! That wiggle when she walked!

  The other cats all gathered and watched entranced as Lala held court, in between dainty mouthfuls and told anyone that would listen about her dear departed mistress and the life of luxury that she used to lead. The other cats did not know what to make of this bedraggled long-furred creature who spoke with a posh miaow. Together Milo and Lala went on to the fairground, where Finlay was still muttering to himself and telling Tina that, “Milo’s lost his head to that silly animal.”

  Milo had indeed lost his head. He gave up his cosy sleeping place inside one of the cars in the old ghost train to Lala. It was indoors and quite warm, the tarpaulin over the car giving it extra protection when it was cold. All in all, it was a prime place to sleep if you did not mind the darkness, the plastic skeletons dangling from the ceiling, the big plastic spiders and an old ‘scary noises’ machine. Sometimes, when the wind blows through the fairground and into the ghost train, the machine will start up on its own and eerie laughter and music will sound; but cats are not afraid of such things as humans are and although they may look up for a moment, they merely turn over and go back to sleep.

  Lala felt she had every right to have the best bed in the whole fairground and would lie in the car grooming herself all day, just stopping to eat the tit-bits that Milo would bring to her, so she wouldn’t get too exhausted. “He’s lost his head,” Finlay would say to anyone who would listen. Lala loved to ‘hold court’ and tell any cat who came to visit how she was treated like a princess in the ‘big house’. All the cats however, gradually grew tired of her boasting and stopped visiting; all except Tina who, although rather jealous of Lala, loved to hear her stories about her past pampered life, as she was a rather plain little cat who had not been treated well at all. Of course Milo never tires of hearing Lala’s stories either, because Milo has found his one true love.

  6

  Woody

  One lovely spring day the fairground cats were all outside enjoying the sun; the air was crisp and clear and all around, flowers and shrubs were bursting into life. Nests were being made and small baby creatures were being born. The cats had appeared from their sleeping places: Finlay was sprawled on the awning of an old ‘lucky dip’ stall, Tina was lying on the ground grooming her tail and Milo was lying on the roof of an old burger van. Suddenly out of the ghost train Lala emerged and began tiptoeing gracefully along the front of the train with her head held high and swaying from side to side. She walked past the cats without looking at them at all.

  “Well, well, Princess Lala is walking!” said Finlay.

  Tina stopped grooming and looked over at Lala saying, “She is looking rather fat, in fact.” She said, looking again, “She looks like she is carrying kittens!”

  Finlay stared. “I think you are right, Tina. Well I never, look Milo,” but Milo had jumped down from the van and had gone running after Lala.

  And so it was that a few weeks later, nestled in the ghost train car, Lala lies looking very serene… look closely and you will see, curled up in between her paws, four beautiful little kittens. Two are a silvery grey with amber eyes, just like their mother and two are a mixture of silvery grey and marmalade with big paws. Lala gently licks each kitten and looks over at Milo sitting on the tarpaulin beside her. Milo looks back at Lala and down at his kittens and gives a contented sigh. “Yes, Finlay, was right there was no place like home,” he purred. Lala relished being a mother and was extremely proud of her litter. She would groom them constantly, sing to them in her high-pitched soprano miaow and tell them they would all grow up to be clever little kittens and one day all live in grand houses. Of course Milo knew that the kittens would most probably never leave the fairground or live in grand houses but that made him feel happy as they would all be together. He was a proud daddy, spending every day foraging for his little family and even Finlay had to admit that Milo had really grown up. Sadly however, their weekly trips to Fairmile had come to an end, as Milo did not like leaving Lala for long and so Finlay would go over with ‘Sergeant’ Reggie from the caravan park instead.

  The four kittens thrived, two little boys and two little girls. The biggest kitten was Clarence and he looked the most like Milo with very big paws. Next was Woody, he was a bit smaller and was a mixture of Milo and Lala’s colours – he was the most curious and mischievous. Then came Martha, who was mainly silver grey with a little orange bib, she was calm and quiet, never straying far from the ghost train car. Finally, there was little Lilibet, who had the longest fur, amber eyes and looked the most like her mother, Lala. She was delicate, fragile and very silly and so was Lala’s favourite, but she dearly loved them all.

  One warm spring day Milo had gone looking for food as usual. He would usually stop first at the two caravans on the park, where the old lady and the two children lived. They were all very kind to the cats; you just had to ignore that silly yapping dog! Milo and Lala had once brought the kittens one by one to show the humans, the children squealed with delight, “Want kitty, Mama,” said Mariella.

  “Sorry, Elzy, it’s not a good idea,” said Sonia
gently, “not with Bowler and Kiya around.” Ben, Sonia and the children gently stroked the kittens and played with them.

  “My, that’s a fine-looking little family you have there and what a lovely looking puss you are,” said old Mags, stroking Lala, who puffed herself up with pride. She was now looking more like her old self, her fur was now healthy and far less matted and her eyes shone and sparkled. Milo thought he would burst with pride.

  Fergus, old Mags’ cat, was sitting on the front doorstep of the caravan and couldn’t understand what all the fuss was about. Kittens are born every day, he thought. Why, he himself had fathered hundreds of kittens in his time. Being a gypsy cat he had travelled far and wide and had met many lovely lady cats. Sometimes some of his many children and grandchildren would come to visit, there were some in Barrow-on-Sea, one being Ernie the station cat, a few others in Fairmile and quite a few down in the village. Yes, there were probably a lot more, but these days he just wanted peace and quiet, a good dinner, and a comfortable bed. Malachi the horse also came to have a look, but he just said, “Hurrumph,” swished his tail and walked off. Kiya, the children’s cat, had for some reason decided to curl up in a watering can close by. She popped his head up looked at the scene and said, “I’m not really bothered,” and popped his head back down again. The chickens came over and flapped and squawked, they always gave the cats around the place a wide berth just in case, but Rhona and the other lady hens are very curious and want to know everything.

  “Oh look, Mabel, small cat babies, reminds me when I had my chicks,” squawked Rhona, the Rhode Island Red flapping her wings and making little jumps.

  “Too old for that now,” said Daphne rather unkindly.