“We tried to take your belongings to Lost Property,” the officer remarked. “But… your cat is quite the little warrior. Wouldn’t let us near them. Please collect your things—and your cat. We’ve got enough on our plates as it is…”

We tried to take your things to Lost Property, remarked the officer. But your cat is quite the scrapper. Wouldnt let us near them. Best you fetch your belongings and your cat yourself. Weve plenty else to do without all this…

Every railway station has a waiting room. Some are spacious and bright, others small and rather stuffy. Some offer soft armchairs, others only hard benches. Each one has its quirks, but all are united by the inevitable business of waiting.

Nearly everyone who travels by train has, at some point, arrived far too earlyafraid to be lateonly to while away those slow minutes, silently cursing their own over-cautiousness. Luggage piling up at their feet, time dragging, people preoccupied with their own thoughts.

So it was on that particular day in the old waiting room. People avoided catching each others eyes. Someone flicked through the days newspaper; another buried herself in a well-thumbed novel; most stared into their phones, hiding from the world. A few nibbled sandwiches hastily packed at home. It was to these that he approached…

The waiting room sat on the ground floor, with its own door straight from the street. Perhaps it was the scent of food drifting from the bags and lunchboxes that drew him in.

He was a large, ragged grey tomcat, with a battered collar around his neck and a telephone number dangling from it.

People shooed him away. Mothers with children reacted especially sharply:

Off with you! Dirty beast. Youll get my child all mucky and crawling!

The cat gave a heavy sigh and slunk away. He didnt really beg. He would simply sit himself down nearby and look, just look and look…

He was terribly hungry. But he didn’t know how to ask.

Only a few days before, hed been brought here. His master had died quite suddenly, and the relatives decided to sell the house. One of them had found a solutionhe bundled the cat into a carrier, brought him to the station, and left him with a brusque, No one here will let you starve, before disappearing into the crowd.

But how was he supposed to ask? What could he do to make people understand that he was hungry? The poor animal hadnt a clue.

So hed just quietly sit close by, looking up into peoples faces, nose filled with the delicious smells that made his head spin.

But to the weary passengersalready irritable from waiting on their trainthe last thing anyone wanted was to bother with a stray cat. They just longed for the train to come and to be rid of the waiting room, like shaking off a bad dream…

That day, a man arrived at the station well ahead of time. It was to be a brief business tripovernight on the train, work at the office, then straight home again. Over forty minutes still before departure. Bored, he surveyed the people around him, and noticed the cat just as a mother snapped at it and threatened with a raised hand.

The cat, used to such things, padded away and sat a little distance off.

The man noticed the collar and guessed the animal was lost, wandered clear of home, and that someone somewhere was likely anxious. He rummaged in his satchel and pulled out home-made meat patties, lovingly packed by his wife. Popped open the lid, let the mouth-watering aroma fill the air, and smacked his lips in appreciation:

Thats the ticket he said, glancing at the cat. Here, puss, puss. Come here, lad. Ive something for you.

The cat shifted uncertainly from paw to paw. Hed been kicked before and wasnt eager for a repeat.

Come on, dont be shy urged the man gently. Im not going to hurt you.

Eventually, the cat approached, cautious, but hopeful. The man placed a patty on a bit of newspaper. The cat gave a quiet mew and began to eat, daintily, not losing a single crumb.

Youre clearly someones pet, arent you? said the man.

He checked the number on the collar and dialled, but was met only with the dull sound of disconnection.

He cursed under his breath. The train would be leaving in twenty minutes, and now he was in quite the bind.

What am I meant to do now? he muttered, looking round.

Overwhelmed, he rang his wife, quickly relaying what had happened:

What do I do? Hes clearly a house cat. Telephones out of service. Been roaming the station, desperate, but everyones chased him away.

Its always you, came his wifes voice. Always getting tangled up in some palaver. Why this cat?

You dont see, he replied, everyone chases him off, and he cant even ask for help.

I see, she said. Waiting room, yes?

Exactly! he said, brightening. Ill give you the stations number.

Before stepping out to the platform, he led the cat over near the wall and left him the whole box of meat patties.

Stay here, he told him, stroking his head. My wife will come for you.

The cat looked up at himthe only soul in days to feed him, pet him, and speak gently. He nudged the mans hand and gave a tiny, hopeful mew.

Thats right, old fellow. Sit tight. Shell help you… promise.

The next day was hectic for the man, and only by evening did he manage to ring his wife.

So? he asked Have you found his people? Given him anything to eat?

I spent the whole evening looking for him… she answered. But I did find out from the number: his master passed away, and the family just brought him here and dumped him…

He was silent.

Ill head back again in the morning, she added.

Dont fret, he said. I know youll help him.

I can hear just how little youre worrying, she snapped in reply. Mind your heart! Ill find your cat. Ill call our Alice and her husbandtheyll come with me.

He hung up, trying to steady himself. So what, he reasoned, there are plenty of cats in the street. You cant worry over every one… But the unease wouldnt leave him. This grey toms fate suddenly seemed so important.

That night, he slept poorly. In dreams, he stroked the cats head, explaining something; the cat nodding as if he understood…

In the morning, his wife reported in: theyd searched up and down the station, spoken to the porterseven the cleanersbut the cat had vanished.

A strange guilt crept over the man that he couldnt quite shake.

He set off hastily for home…

That evening, back in his own city, he skipped going home, left his bags with a fellow passenger, and struck out for the station, determined to search for the cat.

All he feared was to find him too lateor not at all.

For ninety minutes he scoured the station, then began peering around bins and poking into the bushes outside.

As midnight approached, his wife joined him, muttering complaints about everything and nothing.

By two in the morning, utterly knackered, they slumped on a bench by the entrance and lit cigarettes.

My feet are throbbing, she mumbled.

Right. Whats our plan?

Lets take a breather, then another go. Whered you leave the bags?

He clutched his head.

At the station… beside a chap. But he must have gone by now!

Well, lets get the bags first. If theyre still there, well put them in the car and come back for another look.

They trudged through the hall. By their luggage, a police patrol stopped them.

These yours? asked the officer.

They are, both answered at once.

And whyd you leave them unattended?

We were looking for a cat, both replied, equally in unison.

Which cat? The officer looked surprised, then nodded towards the bags. This one?

There, on top of the suitcase, lay the great grey tomcat.

We were about to take your things to Lost Property, the officer explained, but your cat is something else. Went at us like a dog, wouldnt let anyone near.

So he wasnt lost after all. Just gone a little way off. Collect your bags and your cat, please. Were busy enough as it is.

The man approached slowly. The cat, seeing the one soul who had given him kindness and food (and told him to wait), gave a delighted meow and stretched his whole body toward him.

The man sat on the bench, stroked his back, and breathed out in relief. His wife sat down beside him.

Nothing you do is ever normal, she said, kissing his left cheek. Always getting into these muddles Come on, get your things.

The man took up his suitcase and holdall; she gathered the big, bony, filthy cat into her arms. He meowed happily, butted her with his head, purred loudly, and attempted to lick her cheek in gratitude.

She laughed, gently fending off his enthusiasm.

At home, she immediately bathed him in warm water, rubbed him dry with a thick towel, took off the old collar, and filled a dish with fragrant chicken broth.

That night, the cat crept into the bedroom, curling up beside her. He gently prodded her with his paws, as though checkingmaking sure she wouldnt vanish.

She placed her hand softly on his back and whispered:

Sleep now, my dear, sleep. Youre home…

The cat purred contentedly and slept.

The man slept too, dreaming that he and his wife were once more searching the station for the cat.

And the cat dreamt that, all this time, hed been searching for them.

Meanwhile, back at the station, a tiny ginger kitten was creeping around, looking anxiously up at passers-by, mewing plaintively. People hurried on, turning away.

No time to stop. After all, there are so many cats and kittens in the world. One cant save or feed them all! So they thought, quickening their steps.

And so it goesYet just as the kitten was about to slink away into the shadows, a little girl with a blue ribbon in her hair paused by the vending machines. Glancing down, she caught sight of the trembling ginger scrap. Their eyes meta wide, uncertain gaze met one of pure, wordless hope.

“Hello,” she whispered, kneeling. “Are you lost too?”

The kitten crept forward, inch by inch, heart pounding. The girl looked about, then gently extended her hands. A seconds hesitationthen the kitten pressed its fragile body into her warm palms. The girls father, arms filled with travel bags, frowned and protested:

We cantMasha, were late!

But the girl only smileda secret, glowing smile.

Just a minute, Papa. He needs me.

And for a moment, in the gray precincts of the waiting room, something bright and improbable bloomed. Because even in all the bustle and hurry and hardened hearts, sometimes kindness finds a way in. Sometimes, when you stop and look, theres a friend waiting to be found.

Somewhere far above the tracks and rumbling trains, the summer moon watcheda little puzzled, a little pleasedand the world, just for an instant, felt softer than before.