After Ted heard of Annie’s engagement, things were not quite the same between them. She would still arrive in time for a chat, but their conversation was strained and forced. How did you talk to a woman you loved, a woman whom you knew was the only one for you, when she was engaged to someone else, someone she’d admitted she liked less than you? None of it made sense to Ted. Thank goodness, he thought, that Norah had written to make arrangements to visit at Easter, and that was not so very far off. He needed those long heart-to-heart chats that he could only have with his sister. Briefly, Annie had filled that role, but not now.
He could not help himself – he imagined now that everything he said to Annie might be repeated back to that Clarke-Watson chap, with his pinstriped suit and greased-back hair, and he’d laugh and sneer at the poor, simple stationmaster. Annie would try to defend Ted, but what could she say? The man was her fiancé. He was to be her husband.
Ted spent sleepless nights trying to work out a way around it. Should he go and speak to Annie’s father? Should he confront the man, tell him not to interfere in his daughter’s life, insist that Annie be allowed to choose who she wanted to marry herself? Annie had said there were ‘reasons’ her father was pushing her into a marriage with Clarke-Watson but hadn’t said what those reasons were, and Ted couldn’t begin to guess. But as he imagined himself, cap in hand, standing in front of Annie’s father trying to make him relent and let her be free to follow her heart, he knew he couldn’t do it. He’d stutter and stumble over his words. He’d make such a mess of it that her father would be all the more determined that Annie should marry the confident, obviously wealthy Clarke-Watson rather than the feeble, soon to be out of a job stationmaster that stood before him.
What else could Ted do? Talk to Clarke-Watson himself? Suggest that if he loved Annie, he’d release her from her obligations and let her marry whom she chose? Ted could almost hear the younger man’s laughter as he imagined himself saying these words.
No. There was no way out of it, that Ted could see, unless Annie herself stood up to her father. But surely she loved her father, and wanted only to make him happy. What about their happiness, hers and Ted’s? Did that not matter? The more he considered their situation, the more entangled in his thoughts he became. Life had seemed so much easier before he’d met Annie, but now he couldn’t imagine life without her.
At last it was the Thursday before Easter, and Norah and the children were due to arrive. Ted had made the bedrooms ready for them – this time the boys were going to take his room, top to tail in his single bed – while he slept downstairs. He’d cleaned the kitchen and parlour and had the station and platform looking spick and span. He’d even persuaded Fred to wash his hair and brush his uniform for once. ‘Can’t be giving a poor impression of our little railway, now can we, Fred?’ he’d said.
‘What’s the point?’ Fred had complained. ‘I’m out of a job soon. Who cares?’
‘You’re more likely to pick up another job quickly if people have seen you’ve done a good job here,’ Ted admonished. ‘So come on, for the last few months that we’re up and running, buck your ideas up.’
It must have worked, for Fred did smarten himself up and work a little harder – only, however, when there was someone other than just Ted to see him. Ted didn’t care. As long as the work was done. And he was pleased that for once he seemed to have found the right thing to say to encourage someone to do something they didn’t want to. It wasn’t a skill he normally excelled in.
Norah and the children arrived on the 16.45 from Michelhampton. Little Margot flung her arms around Ted’s legs. ‘Uncle Teddy! We’re here again and it’s not been a whole year! Mummy says we can go and feed the ducks. Will you come too? I’ll show you the witch’s ducking chair. It’s where they punished bad witches. They didn’t punish the good ones, Mummy said.’
‘Margot, that’s quite enough, let Uncle Teddy get a word in edgeways,’ laughed Norah, as she pulled the child away and took her place, squeezing Ted tightly to her. ‘You’ve had a tough old time since we were last here, you poor thing. You can tell me all about it this evening.’
Ted nodded, not quite meeting her eye, and ruffled Peter and Tom’s hair. ‘Hello, you two young scallywags.’
‘Can we set the signals again? Can we wave the flag when the train’s leaving? Can we drive the engine?’ they both squealed at once.
‘Perhaps, yes, and no,’ answered Ted. ‘In that order.’
‘Oh, but I want to drive the train!’ Tom said, sticking out his lower lip. ‘There’s a chap at school whose father is an engine driver. He’s been allowed to ride on the footplate.’
‘I’m not an engine driver. But I’ll speak to my friend Bill Perkins, who is.’
That seemed to satisfy the boys, who cheered and began dragging their suitcases into the station house.
‘Well, they’re noisy! Are these your nephews, Ted?’ He had not noticed Annie arriving for her train. She was standing just on the platform edge, smiling.
Norah stepped forward to shake Annie’s hand. ‘Yes, I’m Ted’s sister, Norah, and those young men are my offspring. And this is Margot. You must be Annie. I’ve heard quite a bit about you.’ Ted noticed a slight coldness in his sister’s voice. It was not the usual warm tone she used when meeting someone for the first time. But then, she knew how hurt Ted was about Annie, and of course, his sister always took his side.
‘And I’ve heard a lot about you, too. Lovely to meet you, Norah. Ted’s a great friend.’
Ted found himself blushing, though why, he couldn’t say. Norah meeting Annie – it was like two worlds colliding. Two parts of his life that hitherto had been kept separate; although the women were right, he’d spoken to each of them about the other. But for some reason, he’d never actually thought they’d meet. And now they were sitting on a bench on the platform, Margot on Norah’s lap, chatting like old friends. He watched as Annie threw back her head and laughed at something Norah had said. Wouldn’t it have been wonderful if he could have given Norah a sister-in-law? She’d often said she’d always wished she had one. But that would never happen now.
‘Norah, I’ll put the kettle on just as soon as the 17.21’s been and gone. Can’t trust it to Fred, I’m afraid. He’s getting better, but still not up to dispatching a train on time. He’s better off working in the goods yard.’
‘That’s all right. I’m in no hurry. You do what you need to do. We’re all right here, aren’t we, Annie? Now then, Ted said you were engaged. May I see your ring?’
Annie glanced at Ted before removing her glove and held out her hand tentatively towards Norah. ‘Of course, here it is.’
Ted could not stand it any longer. He moved out of earshot, to the other end of the platform. There, in the distance, a puff of steam showed the train was on time and would be here in just a few minutes. Then it would take Annie away, and he’d be free to make tea for Norah and wrap himself in her wise, comforting words.
*
Once the last train of the day had been dispatched, the children were in bed, and the washing-up from supper completed, Norah flopped herself down on Ted’s little sofa by the fireplace in the parlour.
‘I’ll make you some tea, shall I?’ he asked, but she shook her head.
‘No thanks, I’m not in need of tea. Just a rest, and to put my feet up.’
He pushed a footstool nearer so she could do just that.
‘Are you very tired from your journey?’ He sat down in his favourite armchair, on the other side of the fireplace. It was a chilly April evening and he’d got a good coal fire blazing in the grate.
‘Not very. It’s just that … well, I’ve some news for you.’ She smiled. ‘How do you feel about having yet another niece or nephew? I’m pregnant again. This one’s due in September.’
‘Oh! Um, congratulations!’ It’s what he’d said when she’d told him about her previous babies, but he thought she’d said three was enough.
‘Yes, it is congratulations, Teddy. We decided we wanted another. I’m hoping for a little girl to keep Margot company – the two boys do leave her out of things you know, but we’ll be just as happy with another boy. Just think, when I bring the new baby to visit you, you’ll be in some new place.’
He didn’t want to think about that. This station house was what he associated with Norah’s children. It was the only place he’d ever seen them.
‘Oh, Teddy. Don’t be sad. I’m sorry, perhaps I shouldn’t have said that.’ Norah reached across to him and placed a hand on his knee. ‘Things will work out, you know they will. Now then, shall we talk about that first?’
He could only nod. His worries about the future felt at that moment like a tidal wave, about to engulf him. He realised too, that with a baby due in September, Norah would not be able to be on hand to help him then. He’d half-hoped she would offer to come and stay on her own, and help him settle in a new job and a new home. She had done just that when he first moved into the Lynford station house.
‘First thing to do, is write to Southern Railway. Write to your area manager, what’s his name?’
‘Mr Hornsby.’
‘Yes, Mr Hornsby. Write to him and ask if there are any stationmaster jobs available elsewhere in the area. Remind him you have fifteen years’ experience. Would you be willing to work as a porter, or assistant stationmaster in a larger station, perhaps?’
Ted considered this. He’d been so proud to be promoted to stationmaster, and had assumed he’d stay at Lynford for all his working life. ‘Not porter. That seems too lowly. But assistant stationmaster, I suppose so, yes.’ Working for someone else. Doing as he was told, the way he tried to get Fred to do as he was told. It would be difficult. He was used to being his own boss.
‘It’d only be for a while, until a stationmaster job came up again. So, as there are, what, five stations on this line that will close which means five stationmasters looking for other places, I’d suggest you get ahead of the others and write the letter soon. You’re the longest serving, aren’t you? Which means you will have a better chance than any of the others. And once that letter’s in the post you’ll feel that you’ve taken a big step forward.’
‘Very well. I shall write it soon.’
‘Well done, Teddy.’ Norah stared into the fire for a while, picked up the poker and stirred the coals before she spoke again. ‘Annie seems … nice.’
‘She is. She was. But she’s en-engaged to that … that man.’ Ted could not make himself say Bertram Clarke-Watson’s ridiculous name. Why couldn’t he have a straightforward, no-nonsense name, like … like Ted Morgan.
‘You thought she might have had you, if you’d asked, didn’t you?’ Norah’s voice was gentle, kind, soothing, and sympathetic.
To his shame, Ted felt tears pricking at the corners of his eyes as he nodded. He was a grown man of 40, yet he wanted to lay his head on his big sister’s shoulder and cry his eyes out. Have her wrap her arms around him, pat his back and say there, there, and then go out and make it all better. But how could she? The only thing that would make this better would be if Annie broke off her engagement, Watson-Clarke or whoever he was moved far away, and Annie came back to him. How could Norah make all that happen?
‘Teddy, dearest. I fear Annie is in a very difficult situation. She told me – she confided in me, to an extent. Her father wants her to marry this other chap. She prefers you, but she doesn’t want to go against her father. Perhaps he has some money problems, I’d guess, though she didn’t say for certain. Sometimes, people marry for duty, not for love.’
‘But that seems so wrong!’ Ted’s understanding had always been that marriage was about love. Your job, that was about duty, but your personal life was your own, surely?
‘I know, Teddy. But if she wants to please her father, there’s nothing you can do. Maybe you’ll find—’
‘No! Don’t tell me I’ll find someone else. She’s the one. The only one. All these years I never found anyone, and then Annie comes along and she’s p-perfect, and she’s all I want and I’d do anything for her, and she’s engaged to someone else. Even though she told me she liked me better than him!’ Ted had jumped to his feet and was pacing back and forth in the little parlour as he spoke.
‘Oh, Teddy. Did she really say that?’ Norah shook her head. Ted was not sure if it was in sadness or disapproval.
‘She said she could tell I liked people to be open and honest. And I do! So she was open and honest with me, and told me that.’
‘And was she open and honest when she told you she’d got engaged?’ Norah asked, gently.
Ted remembered how he’d seen Annie’s ring only when she took her gloves off to eat the sticky bun he’d made her. How she’d blushed and tried to hide it. Not open and honest then, no. But she was Annie. She’d not wanted to hurt him. That’s why she’d hidden it. He opened and closed his mouth a few times but felt unable to put all that into words. Even to Norah.
Norah stood and caught Ted as he paced, stopping him, wrapping her arms around him. ‘Ted, listen. It might help you to keep a diary. Like you did when you were little, remember? Write down how you feel, what worries you, and what you can do to make things better. Remember doing that?’
He did. When things were at their worst during his school days, Norah had suggested a diary. An external mind, she’d said. As you write it down, it’ll help everything make sense, and help you understand what’s important.
He nodded, and she smiled. ‘Remember, Ted. The closure of this railway will not be the end of anything, it’ll be the beginning of a new chapter in your life. One where you will make new friends and find new things to interest you. I firmly believe when you look back, in a few years’ time, you’ll see it as the best thing that ever happened to you.’
Ted shook his head and, as he did so, a tear fell.
‘I know it’s impossible to see it like that now, Teddy. But you need to … ride the storm. Hold fast to who you are. You’ll come out the other side a better, happier man. I’ll do all I can to help. Come, sit down again.’
She’d spoken comforting words, used a soothing tone, but for once, Norah had not been able to comfort or soothe him. He felt just as much in turmoil as he had since discovering Annie’s engagement. But he nodded, sat down, and tried to hide his feelings, the way he knew other people did, when there was nothing to be gained from showing them.
*
The boys had been making themselves ‘useful’ that morning – offering to carry luggage for passengers, helping Fred in the goods yard, and Ted smiled to see how Fred enjoyed having someone around who was younger than him that he could boss about. It was after the 12.45 train to Coombe Regis had passed through, when Norah was inside making them all some lunch, that Tom came running along the platform to Ted.
‘Uncle Teddy, Uncle Teddy! I just saw a sheep on the tracks. It ran along that way.’ The boy pointed in the direction of Michelhampton.
Peter was close behind. ‘The next train’ll catch it on its cow-catcher, won’t it? It doesn’t matter if an animal’s on the tracks. I told him but he won’t listen.’
‘Does it hurt the poor sheep if it’s tossed aside by the cow-catcher, Uncle Teddy?’
‘Well, yes, if the train’s travelling at speed.’
Tom’s lower lip began to tremble, while his brother scoffed. ‘You’re such a baby, Tom. It’s only a sheep. There are loads of them around here, look.’ He gestured to the fields around the station, dotted all about with white blobs, most of whom had smaller, lamb-sized blobs nearby.
At that moment Norah came out of the station house. ‘Lunch is ready. Come on, boys, inside and wash your hands.’
‘I’ll be in shortly,’ Ted said. ‘I need to go and find an animal that’s got onto the track.’
Tom smiled happily at this while Peter scowled. ‘Can we come and help?’ asked Peter.
‘No, you go and have your lunch. I can’t have children on the railway tracks.’ Ted earned himself another scowl from Peter, but the boys did as they were told.
Ted walked off the end of the platform where it sloped down the short distance to the trackbed, and walked along. There was no train due in either direction for over an hour. Plenty of time to find this sheep, return it to its field, and get back in time for lunch.
He soon spotted where the sheep must have got onto the track – a broken section of fence between the line and the Pullens’ farm. He’d send Fred to tell Mr Pullen to repair it. Or maybe he’d just come up here and do it himself; that was usually the quickest way of getting something done. The sheep was a hundred yards ahead of him, scampering along the line, darting from one side to the other as it looked for a means of escape. In the field, a lamb was bleating plaintively, following the progress of the sheep along the other side of the fence.
‘Stupid thing,’ Ted muttered. ‘Just stand still and I’ll get you back to your baby.’ But the sheep seemed to want to find its own way home, by way of Michelhampton. Ted sighed. They were in the cutting now. Around the next bend was the tunnel. If it went in there it’d be even more spooked. Maybe, with luck, it would stop near the entrance and let him catch it.
But it went inside the tunnel. As he approached, he could see the poor creature, cowering halfway along. He crept closer, whispering in what he hoped was a soothing tone, and thankfully the animal stayed put. As Ted reached for it, he tripped – a few loose bricks from the tunnel wall were strewn beside the line. Something else that needed attention. It wouldn’t be safe to leave that. He grabbed hold of the animal who struggled briefly, but then let herself be dragged out the way she’d come. The sheep had not yet been shorn so Ted could get a good hold of its fleece.
‘Come on, let’s be having ewe,’ he said, smiling at his own joke. Once outside the tunnel and beyond the cutting he gripped the sheep under its forelegs and hauled it up and over the fence, where it immediately scampered off to rejoin its lamb.
Ted jogged back to the station, made his apologies to Norah and fetched a paraffin lamp. He went back to the tunnel to inspect the fallen masonry. It wasn’t as bad as he’d feared. He pushed the bricks aside with his foot, made sure no more were loose. He’d tell Annie all about this little adventure when she arrived for her evening train.
And then he remembered again – Annie was engaged. Annie’s future was with that Watson-Clarke chap, whatever his name was. There was no hope for her and Ted, and perhaps it would be better if he just let her go. If somehow he could just forget all about her. It would feel like tearing out a part of his soul, but if it was better for her that he did so, then it’s what he must do.
He sat down, on one of the rails. He could lie down here, across the track, in the dark, and wait for the 13.50 to Michelhampton to come through. Fred would handle the signals. They’d wonder where he was, but they wouldn’t let the train be late. It would puff through here at full speed, over his body, and then it would all be over. No more worries about a new job. No more upsets over Annie.
But no. It’d be Bill driving the train. And Norah who’d have to deal with the aftermath of his death. It wasn’t fair. He couldn’t do it to them. Besides, the train would probably derail if it hit something as large as a man, and then it’d be late to its destination.
He hauled himself to his feet, picking up a pointed stone from the trackbed. Crossing to the opposite tunnel wall, he used it to carve Annie’s name across two bricks. Annie Galbraith.
Under it, on the next line of bricks, he carved the words, I will love you forever. T.M.
There. It was in writing now. It was real and unchanging, and no matter what Norah advised, he knew Annie was the only one for him, now and for always. Somehow, this cheered him a little. He knew his own mind. He knew what he wanted, even if he couldn’t have it.