The evening after Mr Hornsby’s visit, when Annie arrived for the 17.21, Ted felt too shell-shocked to talk to her. He needed time alone to process what he’d heard, to make sense of the fact that his world was changing and that he’d need to find a new job, a new home. A new life. He wanted to talk to Norah – she’d be able to advise him, help him. She always had, ever since he was a boy, struggling to get along with his peers in school, not understanding quite how the world operated. It was always Norah who’d explained things to him, slowly and carefully. Not the academic work – he found that easy enough. But how to deal with people, bullies, teachers, boys who simply wanted to be his friend. And how to cope with change – moving to a new classroom, a new teacher, handling the house move that had happened when he was 10 years old. Norah too had helped him get his first job on the railway, and advised him to apply for the stationmaster’s job, fifteen years ago. She could help him work out a way forward now.
But Norah lived far away, and she had no telephone at home. Ted had not had a chance yet to sit down and write a letter to her, or even work out what to put in such a letter. It would take him a while.
And meanwhile, it filled his head. The railway’s going to close. The railway’s going to close. Like a mantra, going round and round, leaving no room for other thoughts.
So when Annie arrived, smiled her world-beating smile and said a cheery ‘good evening Ted!’ to him, he just looked away. He turned his back on her, walked along the platform, away from her.
‘Ted? What’s wrong? What have I …’ he heard her call after him, but then the 17.21 arrived and drowned out her voice. He kept his eyes averted from her, dealt with the signal, stayed away from the cab (Mr Hornsby had instructed him and Fred to say nothing of the closure to any other railway employees until the following day, when they would all have had the chance to hear the news first-hand) and was relieved when it was time to wave his flag and send the train on its way.
He would find a way to apologise to Annie another time, when he felt ready to explain to her about the closure. If he’d tried to say anything today, he’d have feared breaking down and sobbing, and that was hardly the done thing for a man of his standing.
*
The next morning, after a night spent tossing and turning, wondering what his future would hold, he’d come to a set of decisions. One: he’d write to Norah that evening, telling her his news, inviting her to come to visit for one last time, perhaps in the summer holidays bringing the children, or perhaps on her own sooner than that if she could manage it. He’d also ask her to telephone him at the station at her earliest convenience. Two: he’d apologise to Annie as soon as she arrived on the 08.42. Three: there was still a railway to be run, his regular chores to do, and he was damned if he’d let standards slip over the final eight months or so. Four: he’d find out what Bill Perkins was planning to do after the railway closed. Perhaps that would give him some ideas of a way forward.
When Annie alighted from the train that morning, he was waiting on the platform for her. He took a pace towards her, but she stepped around him, holding her head high, a look of confusion in her eyes. ‘Annie, wait, please. I’d like a word with you, as soon as this train has left,’ he said as she passed.
‘Oh, today you want to talk to me.’
‘Annie, I’m sorry. I need to explain. I was upset …’
‘Because the King died?’
‘No, not that, well, that’s sad but … wait a moment, please.’ Bill was leaning out of his cab, pointing to his watch. The train had arrived a couple of minutes late and he clearly wanted to make up time.
Ted checked the platform, passed over the token, jogged along to the signal box, set the signal to Go and waved his flag. The train left, Bill waving cheerily out of the cab as he passed. Well, there was someone who didn’t seem too perturbed about the news.
Annie was nowhere to be seen. Ted’s shoulders slumped as he walked back to the ticket office, but then he brightened as he realised she was inside, waiting for him.
‘What’s upset you, Ted?’ she said, patting a space on the bench where she was sitting.
He joined her and took a deep breath before answering. ‘The railway’s going to close. In September. It’s not public knowledge yet, so I’m probably not supposed to have said anything.’
‘Oh no. That’s awful. You’ll need to find another job.’
‘And you’ll need another way to get to the bank.’
‘Well, I might not be working in Lynford by then,’ she said, with a grimace. Ted was not sure what she meant. Perhaps she’d been offered a job in another branch of the National Provincial Bank. Perhaps she’d been promoted.
‘We won’t see each other anymore.’ The words were out before he could stop them.
She took his hand in hers. The contact was unexpected – it was the first time they had touched since Christmas Eve. ‘Please don’t say that. We’ll keep in touch, no matter what happens. Besides, September is a long way off yet. Who knows what might happen between now and then? And you’ll have no problem finding another job. A good man like you, you’ll be snapped up in no time.’
He barely listened to her words. His focus was all on her touch, the warmth of her fingers, the nearness of her leg beside his, on the bench. All too soon it ended. She let go, stood up, shuffled her bag strap higher on her shoulder. ‘Well, I must go. I mustn’t be late.’ She smiled, blew him a kiss, and then she was gone.
Ted looked at his hand, the one she’d held, and tried to remember what she’d said. They were friends. They’d stay in touch, no matter what. He hoped with all his heart that was true.
*
From that day on, Ted noticed that Annie began regularly arriving at the station a little earlier each evening. Almost every day now she arrived at ten past five, or even earlier. As a result, they had time to sit on a station bench and chat for a few minutes before the train came, if there was no one wanting to buy a ticket. Ted looked forward to these few minutes. Sometimes she’d even hold his hand as they sat together. Once, when no one was looking, she’d kissed his cheek just as she had on Christmas Eve. He’d wanted to kiss her back, on the lips, but was afraid of how she might react, let alone what would happen if Fred Wilson appeared at the end of the platform and saw them.
He’d written to Norah, telling her he had important news and urging her to telephone him at the station one evening, whenever she was able to. She had no telephone in her home, but he knew she had a neighbour who did, and there was a public telephone nearby. He was desperate to hear her calming voice, her wise words advising him on how to deal with this crisis.
But meanwhile, while he waited to hear from Norah, it was Annie he’d turned to. Annie who’d listened to his worries that he might never find another job, that he’d be homeless and poor and friendless. Annie who’d soothed him, and told him she’d never let that happen, and that he’d have his pick of jobs as soon as he started hunting for one, and anyway, most likely Southern Railway would find him another post at a station on another line. There was plenty of time, she said, and no doubt they’d be in touch with offers of appointments for him over the summer.
And then she’d had to calm him down as he fretted and worried about how he’d cope with living in a new place, managing a new station where he knew no one and would have to learn a whole new timetable.
‘Ted, you are too hard on yourself. Yes, it’ll be a challenge, but you can do it. You can do anything, you know, if you put your mind to it. We all feel a little nervous about the idea of things changing, and some feel it more than others. I think, Ted, you are one of those people. But please try not to worry. You’re a good, kind, hard-working, intelligent man and once you’ve got yourself settled in a new situation you’ll be just as happy as you have been here.’
Only, he thought, if she was nearby too. Only if he could see her every day. But he’d kept quiet, smiled at her, accepted her kindly pat on the shoulder and agreed with her that the closure of the railway could be seen as an opportunity for him to move on to something bigger. Even though inside he was in torment, his mind a scrambled mess, with his routines and life’s structures crumbling about him.
It was a Thursday evening, the end of a sunny day in February and still light as he and Annie sat awaiting the 17.21. The kind of day when spring feels just around the corner. When it’s warm enough to sit outside, and the seasons ahead feel full of promise. The kind of day when Ted could begin to believe that the end of this summer would not be the end of life as he knew it. Just a change, and who knew, it could be a change for the better. He looked sideways at Annie and wondered. Would she, could he … was it possible they might have a future together, somehow? Was there something he could say, some way of asking her if she possibly saw him as anything more than a friend? How did one start such a conversation? He had no idea, but knew he must try. He must find a way.
There were still ten minutes to go before the 17.21 was due, and no other passengers. There was time enough to talk. But just as he plucked up the courage to do so, the door to the station banged open and a man, dressed in a pinstripe suit with a mustard-coloured tie and trilby hat, came striding onto the platform. Annie leapt to her feet at once, as the stranger approached her.
‘Bertram! Oh! I didn’t think we were meeting until tomorrow! Have I got it wrong?’ She was patting her hair and smoothing her skirt, and seemed altogether flustered by the man’s arrival.
The man put his hands on her shoulders and kissed her. She did not kiss him back, and Ted thought he saw her flinch slightly.
‘Anne, my dearest, no, you haven’t got it wrong at all. I thought I’d surprise you. I was able to leave the office early today and there’s a new restaurant opened in Michelhampton, and I thought we should try it out. What do you say?’
‘But …’ She frowned and glanced at Ted, biting her lip. ‘I’m in my work clothes. I need to change.’
‘You look perfectly lovely as you are. I have the car outside – we can drive directly there. No need to wait for the train. Shall we?’ The man began to walk back through the station building but Annie pulled back. She turned to Ted with an apologetic expression.
‘Oh! But just a moment. Bertram, this is Ted Morgan. He’s the stationmaster here and he’s become a great friend of mine. Ted, this is Bertram Clarke-Watson.’
Bertram stuck out his hand. ‘Pleased to meet you, Ted.’
Ted felt flustered and anxious. This was the man he’d been so jealous of, the friend with the motorcar, and now polite convention dictated he must shake hands with him although it was the last thing he wanted to do. He put out his hand but misjudged the distance and ended up sliding his hand up along Bertram’s forearm. ‘Hello, Ted, um, I mean, hello, Mr Watson, Clarke. Nice to see you. Meet you, I mean.’ He felt the familiar blush rise up his face as he spoke.
Bertram grinned, as though amused by Ted’s gaucheness. ‘Well, Ted. Nice station you have here. Sorry we can’t stay to chat. Anne, shall we?’
‘Ted, I’ll see you in the morning. Bye, now.’ Annie gave him one last desperate glance, and then let Bertram pull her back through the station building. The 17.21 was just approaching. No matter how he felt, no matter that it seemed as though all his hopes and dreams now lay in tatters around his feet, Ted had duties to attend to.
*
Once the train was safely dispatched, Ted sat down heavily on the station bench to compose himself. So that was Annie’s ‘friend’. A little shorter than Ted, and certainly younger – he looked about 30, closer to Annie’s own age. Smart. A bit flash, Norah would describe him. Confident. Good looking, he supposed, but he was no judge.
Perfect for Annie, no doubt.
So why did he feel a rush of rage towards the man? Why did he feel like he wanted to pick a fight with him, punch him, hurt him? If he was perfect for Annie, and Ted wanted only the best for her, then surely he should feel pleased that she’d met someone she obviously liked a lot, and who clearly liked her? Those times she’d kissed Ted’s cheek and held his hand – that was just her natural affectionate nature. He had obviously read too much into it. She’d probably kissed this Bertram, too. Properly, on the lips. The way Ted could only dream of.
Ted had never been good at understanding what people really meant by their actions. He’d been stupid to think he might have a chance with her. Of course she wouldn’t want a lowly stationmaster who was soon to lose his job. This Bertram looked as though he had money – money that would enable him to support a wife.
Ted needed to talk it through with someone. If only Norah would telephone him and help him make sense of it all.
*
Norah telephoned him that evening. It was just as well, as Ted couldn’t settle to anything. After closing the station he’d made himself some dinner, been unable to eat it so had thrown it out, sat down to read the newspaper, couldn’t concentrate so tore the paper up and put it on the fire, sat down again, stood, paced around his parlour, made himself tea then let it go cold …
So he was pleased when the telephone rang in the ticket office, and he had something definite and concrete to do in answering it. He was even more pleased to find it was Norah.
‘Teddy, how are you? I got your letter. What’s happened?’
‘Norah, thank you for telephoning. I don’t know where to start.’ Should he tell her first about the railway, or about Annie’s sweetheart? The second calamity had eclipsed the first, in his head. But he knew that the railway problem was the one that other people would think was more important. He should start there.
‘Start at the beginning, Teddy. I’m on Mrs Lovegood’s telephone so I’ve plenty of time.’
‘It’s Annie. She’s got herself a young man.’ The words came out in a rush. Even though he’d intended telling Norah first about the railway. ‘What will I do if she marries him? She’ll stop working, I’ll never see her again. I’ll never see her anyway when the railway closes. I’ll have no job and nowhere to live.’
‘Woah, Teddy. Slow down. The railway closing?’
‘In September.’ He told her the news Mr Hornsby had brought. ‘Everything will change, Norah.’
‘And Annie? The young lady you like?’
‘She’s stepping out with a fellow called Bertram Watson-Clarke. His initials are like a toilet. I suppose it might have been Clarke-Watson. I didn’t really listen to his name.’
‘Oh Teddy, I’m sorry to hear that. From your letter it sounded like you and she had become good friends.’
‘I thought we had. I thought she liked me.’
‘But still, being friends does not mean she can’t have boyfriends. And even if she marries this chap, she may still be able to be friends with you.’
‘How will I ever see her, if she’s married and the railway is closed?’
Norah sighed. ‘I don’t know, Teddy. We can’t see the future. But even though we don’t know what will happen, it doesn’t mean we need to worry about it. Things have a habit of working out for the best, if you let them. There’s plenty of time before the railway closes if it’s not happening until September. And who knows? Annie might not keep seeing this chap. Even if she does, in the meantime you’ll still see her on her way to and from work. Enjoy what you have now, and don’t fret about what you might or might not have in the future.’
‘All right. I’ll try.’
‘And, Teddy, I thought I might bring the children to visit you again when they’re off school at Easter, if that’s all right?’
He brightened up at the thought. Easter was only a couple of months away. ‘I’d like that.’
‘Well I must be going now. Remember, everything will be all right in the end. If it’s not all right, it’s not the end.’
He smiled. ‘I’ll remember that. Thank you.’
‘Do you feel calmer now?’
‘Yes. Thanks, Norah.’
‘Off you go then. Cup of tea and then an early night. I bet you’ve not been sleeping.’
‘Not really, no. Bye, then.’
‘I’ll write about the arrangements for Easter. Bye, Teddy.’