A/n: Ah, my favourite chapter so far. Mainly because I get to write about some of my favourite places. Note that although the places I describe here are real, the name and quote are not – as far as I know anyway, since I made them up they shouldn't be real and it's pure coincidence if they are. It's also very exciting because the wonderful Skimble gets a whole chapter to himself because he's just awesome! Enjoy your trip to Scotland folks! Oh and I still don't own Cats, or Glasgow, or Burger King.
Chapter 8 - Glasgow's Miles Better
Skimbleshanks carried out his usual duties on the Northern Mail train, helping the passengers, catching the mice. He was anxious to get to Glasgow though, he had more pressing matters on his mind than the train that he spent so much time on. He was already standing at the door when the train finally pulled into Queen Street Station. He leaped on to the platform, mewed a quick goodbye to the train conductor and took off. He slipped under the ticket barriers, a new feature that had appeared since his last visit to Glasgow, and took in the familiar scents of the station. He could smell the coffee coming from the coffee shop, and the tantalising scents of burgers and fries from Burger King.
He made his way past the fast food restaurant, and slipped between the humans, out of the door and onto the street. He was on George Street, he remembered and he paused to look out over George's Square. The streets were bustling with people, all kinds of people walked past and around him, but no one payed the marmalade tom any notice. He crossed the road amidst a group of humans, and headed over to the Square. He paused to admire the beauty of it, especially the large building that he knew as the City Chambers. He was reminded of just how much he loved this city.
Skimbleshanks had always loved George's Square. It was right in the centre of everything, and looked amazing at Christmas time, with all the lights and decorations around it. He had often spent hours just sunbathing on the grass there, watching all the people going by and idly wondering where they were going and what they were doing. He admired the statue and often spent time looking at the War Memorial as well. It was September, he remembered, and he knew that in a couple of months time, that memorial would be covered in poppies. He had been there one Sunday, and lots of people had come and laid poppies there, and he had watched the proceedings. He had worked out that they were remembering those that had been killed in wars that had happened many years ago. He had marveled at how things like that had brought the people together, united in their remembrance. He understood it more today, than he had then.
His tribe had suffered under the ruthless paws of Macavity, but they'd become closer because of it. The Memorial had reminded him of this, which reminded him of what he had come here to do. He suddenly remembered the symbol, and with a gasp he remembered seeing it here, in this very square. He looked around hoping that something would jog his memory. He was sure that it was on one of the benches. There were several memorial benches around the square, for people to sit on. They all had little plaques on them, dedicating them to people who had died.
Skimbleshanks made his way over to the nearest bench, and jumped up onto it, so that he could look at the inscription on the small brass plaque. He didn't see anything noteworthy, so he moved along to the next one. When he reached the fourth bench, he still hadn't found it, but he was reluctant to approach the fifth bench as there were two humans sitting on it. He waited, and stared at them until they moved. They soon did, whether it was because of those glass-green eyes staring at them or they had to go anyway the marmalade tom couldn't be sure, but he took his chance anyway and smoothly jumped up onto the bench.
"Aha! I found it." he said loudly, then glanced around. No-one seemed to have heard the cat's excited cry, so he looked more closely at the small brass plaque. It was slightly tarnished, like it had been there for a while, but Skimbleshanks could still make out the symbol on it, which was exactly the same as the one that had been left in Macavity's den. He looked at the name inscribed on the bench, the date was unreadable but the name was easy to make out.
"R. F. Chattan" Skimbleshanks read out loud. The name stirred something in his memory. He remembered seeing that name somewhere else, somewhere not too far from here. It was in the city, he was certain, although in a place that didn't seem like part of a city. He remembered the smell of alcohol, he remembered trees, and he remembered the sound of a large, busy road close by. It hit him, The Necropolis. That's where he'd seen it before. He had often gone walking around the Necropolis, it was good for hunting as well. There was a wonderful view of the city from up there, at the top of the hill, and the sight of the Cathedral at night was breathtaking. He had always loved walking through it in the Autumn, when all the leaves turned golden and fell off the trees, decorating the graves and making the place feel warmer somehow.
Skimbleshanks slipped down from the bench, and made his way along George Street, heading towards the Cathedral and the old graveyard, skillfully dodging the cars and the people as he made his way along the streets. It took a while, he'd forgotten how long the walk was for a cat, but he soon saw the graveyard ahead of him. He slipped through the old gate, and made his way along one of the stony paths, looking around and admiring the place. He was also looking out for something that might give him a clue as to where he had seen that name before, since searching this entire place would take him a week, if he didn't sleep.
He reached the top of the hill, and looked out over that big road, which he remembered was called a motorway, and then he turned around and saw the brewery. He could smell the scent of beer and hops coming from it. He took a deep breath, and started looking around, walking between the gravestones, and climbing over some that had fallen. He glared with disgust at the ones that had been vandalised by kids, there was something wrong about defacing a headstone like that as far as Skimbleshanks was concerned.
As the marmalade tabby made his way around the graveyard, he spotted a headstone that made him pause. It was old looking, and was one of those tall column-shaped ones with a statue perched on top of it. He had thought that the statue was what the humans called an angel, at first, but as he walked closer, he realised it was very similar to the symbol that Tugger had shown him. He reached the front of the headstone, and climbed up to take a closer look at the inscription. He gasped out loud when he saw the name, it was the same one as the one on the bench. His eyes moved to the words inscribed underneath the name.
"The black cat watches, magic in his paws and fire in his eyes, feral as any wildcat, he laughs at the chaos he created." he read it aloud, several times, but he was not sure what to make of it. It was odd to find cats being mentioned on a human grave, never mind magic as well. Wildcats were mentioned as well, but Skimbleshanks had never met a wildcat before so he had no idea what that meant. It was strange, but the mention of magic might be something. He started to wonder if Mistoffelees' disappearance and Macavity's death were connected after all, and he knew he would remember these words. He wondered if Tugger would make any more sense out of them, but he would pass it on anyway. He sighed, and after one last look at the headstone, he decided to make his way back to Queen Street station, where he could think of some food, and a nice long sleep before leaving on the train the next evening. As he stood up, he spotted a stag in the distance at the top of the hill, it seemed to be watching him. It was quite a sight, standing tall and proud, a dark silhouette against the deep orange-pink of the evening sky. He watched as it turned away, he'd heard that there were deer living here, but he'd never seen them before.
Skimbleshanks made his way down the path, towards the gate he'd come through earlier. He would have to get back to the station soon, before they started worrying about him. Humans were terrible for worrying sometimes. He had almost reached the gate, when he caught the sound of gravel crunching behind him, over and above the sound of his own paws on the stony path. He paused and tensed, immediately whipping around. What he saw behind him was the biggest tomcat he'd ever seen in his life. A tall, heavily built and well muscled brown and black tabby, growling deeply at him. The tom had a wild look in his golden eyes, like nothing Skimbleshanks had ever seen before. Before he could do anything else, the tom had leaped at him, and the marmalade tabby had met the attack face on, with his sharp claws and glistening fangs bared, ready to fight back.