Everyone at Sandy Cove Beach knew Noodle. He was the marmalade cat with the little red cap, and he was there every single day — rain, shine, or seagulls.
The cap had washed up on the shore one morning, sitting on the sand as neat as you please, as if the sea had left it out especially for him. Noodle tried it on. It fit perfectly. And from that day on, Noodle and his red cap were never apart — although the wind certainly tried. Every day, at least once, a gust would snatch the cap right off his head, and Noodle would have to chase it down the beach, past the sandcastles, over the towels, scuse me, pardon me, coming through — until he pounced on it and wore it home in triumph.
One morning, Noodle was patrolling the rock pools (this was his job; he had given it to himself) when he heard a tiny, panicky voice coming from the shallows.
"Help! Help! I'm all tangled!"
It was a little crab, wrapped up in a piece of old fishing net, waving her claws in every direction at once.
"Hold still," said Noodle, which is difficult advice for a crab. Very carefully, with one sharp claw — snip, snip, snip — he cut through the net until the little crab popped free.
"Oh, thank you!" she said, straightening herself up. Then she looked at him properly. "I say. That's a very fine cap."
"It is," agreed Noodle. "The sea gave it to me."
"That explains it," said the crab. "The sea has excellent taste." And she saluted him with one claw and scuttled sideways into the waves.
Noodle was feeling rather pleased with himself when the wind — which had been waiting for exactly this moment — whipped the cap off his head and sent it cartwheeling down the beach. It bounced off a sandcastle. It leapfrogged a picnic. And it landed, plop, right in front of a group of children.
A girl picked it up. "A tiny red cap?" she said. Then she saw a marmalade cat skidding to a halt in front of her, looking hopeful. "Oh! It's yours."
She set it on his head, and that was that: Noodle had new friends. He spent the whole golden afternoon with them — supervising the sandcastle (he sat on it, which is the same thing), inspecting their seashells, and pouncing on the beach ball whenever it came near. The children laughed until they got hiccups.
When the sky turned pink and orange, and the picnic blankets were folded away, the children waved goodbye. "Same time tomorrow, Noodle!"
Noodle trotted home along the shoreline, his cap tipped at a jaunty angle, his shadow stretching long across the sand. Behind him, out in the shallows, a little crab waved goodnight.
And that's how it went at Sandy Cove, every day: a rescue here, a game there, a chase after his runaway cap — and every evening, home to bed while the sea whooshed softly in the distance, like the whole beach was saying nighty night, Noodle.