Stan looked down at the black and white dog with the bushy tail which was wagging furiously. “I’ve heard of Percy,” he said, “he is rather famous in the cat world, but I’m not here to make friends, as me and Mr Peabody are here on business but I would rather not say anymore, as it’s all rather top secret you know.” And with that Stan, who was a rather large cat with quite long fur narrowed his green eyes and curled himself into a perfect ball.
“Oh well yes, goodnight then,” said Bilko, even though it was only the afternoon; top secret, he thought, I must go and tell Percy and Reggie, the Sergeant cat who lived in the fairground and of course, Madame Frou-Frou, the Pekinese who thought he was marvellous whatever he did… Oh yes this was most exciting! Bilko felt very important having this bit of news to impart, he puffed out his chest and trotted out into the garden.
Blossom and Burt the donkeys were out in their paddock as it was a crisp sunny afternoon, there were also some customers enjoying the autumn sun. Why, there were Sonia and Ben from the caravan park with their children Mariella and Elliot, who were feeding apples to the donkeys and laughing and squealing with delight. Blossom who was a rather miserable creature saw Bilko trotting out looking very excited, “What’s up?” she brayed.
“Oh nothing that would interest you at all, everything is TOP SECRET and I’m just off to find Mr Percy so if you’ll excuse me.”
“No-one ever bothers to tell us anything,” said Blossom to Burt, “because they all think that we are just stupid old donkeys.”
Burt who was chewing a nice bit of apple answered, “I’m sure we will find out in the end, I’ve saved you the best bit of apple, my dear,” and Blossom just gave a big donkey sigh.
Mr Peabody was often seen out and about by the locals. “What is he doing,” they would ask and, “What is he up to, I wonder who he is?” Mr Peabody would get up early to have bacon and egg for his breakfast in the pub dining room and Stan would also join him to have bacon and egg on his own special plate on the floor. There was just one other couple staying at the pub as the season was now coming to an end and Mr Peabody would doff his hat and say good morning to them. He would then tickle Stan under his chin and thank Ella for the lovely breakfast. Ella and Ivor thought the gentleman was quite charming and seemed very interested in everything happening in Butterwick Sands. After his breakfast he would take a bracing walk all along the prom. He would pass the houses and sometimes on the wall of the end house, Isis, Miss Honeywell’s cat, would be sitting on the garden wall waiting for her to get up and get her breakfast. Mr Peabody would always stop and tickle her under the chin. He would walk past the little independent cinema house which only opened on Saturdays; the little cinema belonged to Neal and Nancy and sometimes he would see their big tom-cat Harry or ‘H’ as he was known, sitting in the little foyer. Mr Peabody would chuckle to himself, “Cats, cats, everywhere, just as I remember it!” He then would go into the newsagents and buy a newspaper and there, curled up on the counter, would be Bourneville; he was a pure black cat who belonged to the shop-owner, Mr Raj or Charlie as he liked to be called.
“Hello, good morning, sir, hope you’re enjoying your time here in Butterwick,” Charlie said.
“Oh yes,” Mr Peabody replied, “it’s really great to be back. I grew up around here you know, but it’s not as busy as it used to be, I hear.”
“Oh yes, that’s true sadly,” said Charlie, “since the caravan park closed its really quiet in the summer. We all just scrape by. It’s a shame really, the young people don’t stay as there is no work; my girl Nisha is lucky as she has a job here in the post office.”
“Well, you never know things might change, you know,” and he tapped the side of his nose. Mr Peabody stroked Bourneville who gave a little miaow. “Fine looking cat,” he said.
“Yes, thank you, he’s called Bourneville after the chocolate bar.”
Mr Peabody chuckled, “Ah the cats, in all of my travels, there is nowhere on Earth that has so many in one place.”
The newsagents also had a little post office at the back, which was where Nisha worked. Mr Peabody walked to a little stand in the corner where there were postcards of Butterwick and lots of postcards of all the cats of Butterwick taken by a local photographer and there was one of Bourneville! Mr Peabody picked that one up, “Ah and here is your Bourneville!” he said. He paid for his newspaper and the postcard, saying goodbye to Charlie and Bourneville and went out.
“That was a nice gentleman,” Charlie said to Bourneville, “I wonder what he meant by, ‘Things might change’.” Bourneville didn’t know of course, he would have to ask Percy the pub cat as he knew everything. Mr Raj was quite intrigued by the stranger; he had lived in Butterwick for twenty years running the little newsagents and post office with his daughter, as he was a widower. He was well liked in the community and loved living in the town; it was sad to see all the shops struggling to make a living he decided to go and visit his friend Bloom when he closed up for the day and see if he knew anything about this stranger.
Mr Peabody carried on with his walk past ‘Big Al’s’ ice cream stall. Big Al was cleaning down his stall before closing it for the winter together with his cream coloured cat Whippy, who was drinking out of the bucket. Mr Peabody raised his hat as he walked by and continued past the old boathouse, where old Isaac the fisherman and his cat Horatio lived. He stopped to look at the model of Butterwick made by Mr Bloom, before entering the pier and arcade; it was now 10am and the arcade was just opening. Well, this was very different to back then, thought Bertie. The arcade was bright and welcoming with all the machines new and gleaming with lovely stuffed toys in the ‘claw’ machines. Where the ‘old booth’ used to be, there was now a bright counter with lots of prizes and fairy lights all around it. There was a new carpet and new ceiling lights, but strangest of all there were lots of cats wandering around of all shapes and sizes and breeds. They were lying on top of machines, walking around or being stroked by the arcade customers; this was strange because Bertie had been to school with old Brewster and one thing he knew was that Brewster hated cats! Bertie walked to the back of the arcade and he saw the little café, which was now called Bingo’s, with its blue tables and chairs and little blue and white checked cloths. Bertie went up to the counter where a cheerful looking girl with glasses was serving and nearby, a little boy was playing on the carpet with a red toy car. Mr Peabody took of his hat in greeting and said, “Can I have a tea please?”
Susan looked at the smartly dressed rotund gentleman. “Certainly,” she said, “sugar?”
“Yes please, three spoons,” he said and then enquired, “Does Mr Brewster still own this arcade?”
“Yes, he does. I’m his daughter,” and soon Bertie and Susan were chatting away over steaming mugs of tea. Susan told Bertie all about her dad, Mr Brewster, being rescued by the cats and how this led to Brewster changing his ways and renovating the arcade and even keeping a small room at the back of the arcade for Bingo the cat, Tina his lady cat and their kittens, “The other cats of Butterwick are also welcome now,” she added.
“Well I never!” chuckled Bertie, “Old Brewster changing his ways, after all these years.” Susan told Bertie that Brewster now had a house in Spain, where he spends six months of the year with his sister Aunt Amelia. “Well I never did,” chuckled Bertie, now very red in the face from all his chuckling, “Old Brewster spending his money.”
Archie was playing vroom, vroom with his car on the carpet and now he sat on Bertie’s knee playing with his car on the table. Susan laughed, “He just loves cars.”
“So he is called Archie after his granddad,” said Bertie, “Old Brewster was always teased at school about being called Archibald! He got into lots of fights I can tell you! Me and your father went to the primary school here in Butterwick. George the station master at Barrow and Mr Raymond of the hairdressers also went there and Amelia your aunt and would you believe it, our old schoolteacher Miss Parr is sti
ll alive, I met her the other day!” Susan invited Mr Peabody to have dinner with them at their house in Butterwick which he happily accepted and later he met Susan’s husband Darren; they all enjoyed a lovely dinner, with Archie sitting in his high chair next to Bertie, whom he had taken a real shine to.
As they tucked into the roast chicken, Susan asked Bertie, “What made you come back this way?”
“Well I have been lucky enough to have made a lot of money over the years,” he said, “I’m in plastics and very lucrative it’s been for me too, I can tell you, so now, well I want to give something back. I was very happy here when I was a young lad, I have plans… it will all come out soon,” he added, tapping the side of his nose. “It will all come out very soon.” Susan and Darren did not ask any more and Bertie left by inviting the family to come out for a good dinner with him at the Old Sea Dog. He thought to himself that it would be nice to buy that rather splendid little red pedal car in old Bloom’s shop for little Archie, who could get in and drive it. Yes, he thought as he left the arcade and made his way back to his rooms at the pub, the evening air was now a little bit chilly, and he drew his collar up higher round his neck.Yes, tomorrow, he would go to old Bloom’s and buy the car for Archie. He laughed to himself; he had not felt this happy for a long, long time. His dear wife had died a few years ago and his only son lived in America, Bertie lived in London but soon he would be coming home… home to Butterwick.
A week later on a rather cold and misty autumn day Mr Peabody left Stan snuggling by the pub’s log fire which had now been lit due to the colder weather. Stan was sitting at one end of the hearth on the mat and Percy was at the other end; the two cats completely ignoring each other and both curled up and sleeping. Bilko could not understand how Percy could let this impostor sit wherever he liked in the pub. “It’s like he owns the place,” he said one day to Percy.
“Really, Bilko, you are rather dense old chap that is just the point, Mr Peabody owning the place, now be a good fellow and stop fretting.” This sent Bilko into a frenzy. Own it! Was he going to buy the pub? Oh dear, what about his beloved Ivor and Ella, this was indeed terrible news what would become of them. Ivor and Ella loved the pub, they had made it really special, oh dear, thought Bilko, I must go and tell Madame Frou-Frou, and Sergeant Reggie of course, and Horatio and Salt and of course Trevor the Alsatian at the petrol station. Percy had watched Bilko running off, out of the corner of his eye and knew that soon all the dogs and cats of Butterwick would know that Mr Peabody wanted to buy the pub; of course however, Percy also knew this was not true but he was letting things take their own course. Percy stretched out an elegant leg and proceeded to groom himself.
So on this day, Mr Peabody made his way along the prom to the bottom of the cliff path, next to Bloom’s. He chuckled when he remembered how old Bloom had been so pleased to see him after so many years; Bloom had even left Otis in charge and they had gone upstairs to share a rather good old malt whiskey. On the way they stopped in the back room to say hello to Hester, who was in her usual place on the high shelf in the back room. In the gloom Bertie had been able to make out a pair of amber eyes on a very, very old pussy cat who was sitting upright and looking for the entire world like an old stuffed toy. Bertie and Bloom had talked about the old days when he was a boy and he used to come in the shop for ‘penny chews’ which Bloom’s father kept on his counter for the Butterwick children. Every day Bertie would call in after school for his sweet treat. “It’s thanks to you I have none of my teeth left!” chuckled Bertie. He was also pleased to know that dear old George was still the station master at Barrow station, although Bloom was a good friend, Bertie did not tell him the real reason he had come to Butterwick. All in good time, he thought. On the way out after his visit, he had bought the red pedal car for Archie. Oh how happy the little boy would be! He had also learnt from Susan that Brewster would be coming back next week from Spain and was looking forward to meeting up again with this new improved Brewster, who now, as everyone knows, loves cats!
Old Bloom was putting a large wooden head with feathers on top out on the pavement. “Red Indian,” shouted Bloom to Bertie.
Bertie did not enquire any further and started up the cliff path and he was a little breathless when he got to the top. He made his way to the far end of the caravan park and could see a fire burning outside one of the two end caravans. An old woman wrapped in a shawl was stirring something in a big black pot which was sitting on the open fire and on the steps of the caravan he saw a sleek black cat with a blue and red kerchief round its neck with another cat curled up on the roof. He noted a big barn situated past the caravan in the far corner and he could see a horse grazing nearby; and he could hear a cockerel crowing. The other caravan was just a few yards away and there Bertie could see a small terrier dog lying underneath the caravan steps; he could also hear children’s laughter coming from inside the caravan. He started walking toward the old lady and immediately the little dog started yapping and barking and running up and down. Old Mags looked up from the pot. “Quiet Bowler, shush. Quiet will ya!”
The door of the other caravan opened and a slim, dark-haired lady looked out with two little children peeking out behind her. Sonia ran down the steps got hold of Bowler by the collar. “Quiet boy, we have a visitor. Hello there can we help you?” Malachi had now trotted up to see what was happening as well.
Bertie lifted his hat. “Good morning,” he said, “I’m sorry to disturb you but I wondered if I could have a word?”
“What about?” said old Mags rather sharply, as she was suspicious of strangers. “Eh, you’re that chap whose been sniffing about the place for weeks, staying at the Old Sea Dog.”
“Yes that’s right,” answered Bertie, “do you mind if I talk with you all?” Sonia took a couple of fold up chairs from under the caravan and asked Bertie to sit down, much to Mags’ annoyance.
Kiya, who was on the caravan roof curled up, stretched herself and looked down saying, “Who’s that man? But, to be honest, I’m not really bothered,” but she was listening anyway.
Malachi said, “Hurrumph, strange men coming up here without so much as a by as you leave, to gawp at us.” Of course this just sounded like a horse whinnying to Bertie.
“Fine horse,” said Bertie. Malachi swished his tail and walked off. Fergus got up and stretched himself. He had lived through many things and like his friend Percy, he knew when something was going on, so he also padded down to listen. Mariella and Elliot looked shyly at the stranger and sat on their mums lap on one of the chairs.
“Can we offer you some tea?” asked Sonia.
Bowler, who had now stopped yapping because he knew if he didn’t stop he would be locked in the caravan, curled up under one of the chairs.
“No thank you,” replied Bertie, “I had breakfast not long ago, please let me tell you why I’m here. My name is Bertie Peabody, please call me Bertie. I grew up here in Butterwick and went to the primary school; I had such a happy childhood here. I left the area after going to the comprehensive school in Fairmile and went to London and was lucky enough to make my fortune, but I never forgot Butterwick. The place, the people, but most of all the cats, they have been here for as long as anyone can remember, but no-one knows why they come here. So now I am a very rich man and I would like to give something back to this place. Basically, I would like to re-open the fairground and caravan park and make it like it used to be when I was a boy, busy and full of life and make sure that Butterwick will thrive again.” Bertie looked at old Mags and Sonia who were listening intently, “And of course I would make sure that your homes are safe.”
“And how would you do that, pray?” said Mags. “How can we have a fairground next to us, what about our animals? the noise… the people – oh I’ve heard enough!”
“Please wait, please hear me out,” said Bertie, “this part of the park will be fenced off and I will build more wooden huts next to your barn for all the cats
and any other animals. Remember the caravan park and fairground will only be open in the summer months, the rest of the time it will just belong to you, but I think it is worth having just a few months of some intrusion just to revive this lovely old place and make sure it survives for our children and our children’s children. I also know that sometimes you are bothered up here by school kids from Fairmile, coming over lighting fires and leaving mess, you will be more protected with new fencing.”
“Here, here,” crowed a clucking voice, one of the chickens, Mabel, had also come up to listen and this set off all the other chickens. The hens had sometimes been bothered by school kids from Fairmile coming onto the site and throwing stones or making lots of noise and on those days none of the hens could lay a single egg. “Yes,” they all clucked, “we need to feel more safe.”
Caesar the rooster was running as fast as his little legs could carry him, “Ladies, ladies, come back, you mustn’t leave our barn area – it’s not safe!”
“Ignore him,” said Hilary and all the hens fluffed out their feathers and sat down to listen.
“There is another thing,” said Bertie, “there are big developers interested in buying this land, but they want to buy it to build houses and from what I hear, if the council do not get a better offer they are ready to sell to these developers and I do not know if they will make any provision for your caravans. I can personally assure you that you will both have legal binding contracts that will ensure that you can stay here for as long as you want to and your animals of course.”
Sonia and Mags looked at each other in horror. “Well that puts a different light on it,” said Mags, “you know what these big firms are like, and they’ll take everything from under our feet. Well I think we’ll have to go with you Mr Peabody so we will!”
“I think we should have some time to think about it,” said Sonia, “I need to talk to Ben about it all.”
The chickens clucked in unison, “Yes, you must think it over dear,” they clucked, “talk it over with Ben.”
The Cats of Butterwick Sands Page 11
