There really was a cat called Trinity. I haven’t invented him, though I have changed him a bit. For a start, “he” was a “she”. She really did have her kittens in someone else’s house and very nearly lost them to the vet’s needle. She lived (sort of) at the end of Trinity Terrace. There is a store house there where the Trinity House men looked after the buoyage on the river. Most of them also volunteered to crew the lifeboat for the RNLI. I don’t know if Trinity, or any other cat, ever went on the lifeboat, but this is only a story, after all. It all happened a long time ago and I wonder if anyone else remembers Trinity Cat.
Just to make sure she is not forgotten, 10 percent of the cover price from every sale of this book will go to the RNLI.
Sylvia Murphy was born in Palestine in 1937, to British parents. In 1939 the family returned to England, where Sylvia grew up and attended school during the WW II years. She was interested in writing from an early age, and continues to write fiction, non-fiction and poetry.