Ted awoke alone on the morning after the storm. Annie had crept out at some point in the night, when he was asleep. He got up and peeped into the spare room, where she lay sleeping. His own bed was far too narrow for two to sleep comfortably, he knew, but still, he’d have preferred her to stay with him, entangled in his arms. He smiled to himself at the memory of their lovemaking. Who’d have thought this could ever happen? Annie Galbraith and poor old Ted Morgan! And he was going to marry her. She’d agreed, hadn’t she? As soon as he knew where his future would be. There was still the problem of her father’s finances, but she’d said that perhaps her father’s and Clarke-Watson’s businesses could merge anyway, hadn’t she? Everyone would be happy in the end, and he and Annie most of all.
He dressed quickly and quietly and went downstairs to make tea. Should he bring her a cup in bed, or wait until she got up? Somehow it felt too intrusive, too intimate for him to go into her room while she slept. Why too intimate – after what they’d done – Ted couldn’t have said. But somehow it just didn’t seem quite proper.
He made a pot of tea, so there’d be plenty for her if she did come down soon. He took his own cup out onto the station platform and surveyed the line, up and down. The rain had ceased during the night, and the morning was bright and clear, with a freshness in the air. There were a few puddles on the trackbed, and the goods yard was a quagmire, but otherwise it looked to be business as usual here at Lynford. What of the other stations? He should go and make some telephone calls, he knew, but he didn’t want to break the spell and end their perfect isolation just yet. He glanced at his watch. There was well over an hour before the first train was due, assuming they were able to run on time today. Forty minutes before Fred would turn up for work. Time enough to make some breakfast and rouse Annie. But first – those telephone calls. His sense of duty dictated that he should do those first.
Lower Berecombe’s stationmaster reported that while there was still water on the trackbed, the rails were clear and the water was draining rapidly. There’d be no problem running the trains through there today. And the area manager confirmed they were expecting all trains to run to timetable.
One perfect night. That’s all they’d had, but who knew – perhaps Annie would want to stay with him again sometimes, before they married. Ted could still not quite imagine being married and having Annie with him for good. But it would happen, of that he had no doubt. He whistled to himself as he prepared a breakfast of bacon and eggs and called up the stairs to let Annie know when it was ready.
She came down a few minutes later, having dressed and roughly pinned her hair up in its usual style. She smiled at him, shyly he thought, as she sat down opposite him at his tiny table in the kitchen, where he’d laid the breakfast things.
He smiled back, blushing, and suddenly realising he had no idea how to talk to her today, on this morning after. Should he refer to what they’d done or ignore it? Ask her if she slept well? Ask her if she’d stay with him again?
‘Trains are to run on time today,’ he managed, at last.
‘That’s good,’ she said, concentrating on her food.
He had a sudden, awful thought. Was she regretting what they’d done? Was she wishing she’d braved the storm in her own room? Or even wishing she’d gone to stay at the Lynford Arms after all. The worry felt as though it would engulf him. He had to know that she was happy with him, that she’d still marry him.
‘Annie, is – is everything all right?’ He gazed at her, but she did not raise her eyes to his.
‘Yes, Ted. It is. There’s nothing wrong. I’m glad we … did what we did.’ And finally she looked up, just for a moment, and caught his eye.
The relief he felt was unbelievable, as though the weight of the universe had slid off his shoulders. He grinned. ‘So am I, Annie. So am I.’
*
Annie kept out of sight when Fred arrived for work. It wouldn’t do, she’d said, for him to guess she’d spent the night at the station. Ted set Fred to sweeping away the worst of the water that still lay across the goods yard, despite Fred’s grumbling about the task.
‘You’re pretty cheerful today, Mr Morgan. Thought you’d be miserable what with all those cancellations yesterday mucking up your precious railway.’
‘Couldn’t be helped, lad. There was nothing I could do about it, so why would it make me miserable? Now get on with your work. We’ve a train through in a few minutes.’ Ted went to set the signal, hand over the token, collect the morning papers from the train and exchange a few words with Bill. His usual routines restored, yet somehow today they felt different.
It was not the routines that were different. It was Ted himself, he realised.
When the 08.42 arrived, it felt odd for Annie not to alight from it. Instead, once the other passengers had gone, she came out of his parlour. ‘I’ll be on my way to work now. I’ll … speak to my father as soon as I can and tell him … what we decided.’
He grinned broadly. ‘Splendid! You have made me a very happy man, dear Annie. I will see you later, then,’ he said, longing to kiss her goodbye but wary of Fred’s beady eyes – the boy had come onto the platform to do a few chores.
‘Er, not today.’ She stared down at the platform. ‘I’ve … a lift home today.’ She wiggled her fingers at him as a wave and was gone before he could say anything more. Her lift – was it with Bertram? He assumed so, as she’d never mentioned lifts home with anyone else. Would she take the opportunity to tell him the engagement was off? It would not be an easy conversation for her. But the sooner the better. Bertram, as well as Annie’s father, needed to be told of the change of plan. So that as soon as he, Ted, had a new job lined up and his future secured, he could marry Annie and they would be together forever.
*
Write a diary, Norah had advised. Till today, he hadn’t bothered much, just occasional jottings. But now he felt it might help to write a bit more. He had a lot churning around in his head that he needed to make sense of. It wouldn’t hurt to try writing it down. He picked up the exercise book he’d begun using as a diary, and in the gaps between trains during the day he sat down behind the ticket-office counter and began to write.
He covered several pages detailing how he’d come to be where he was – how he’d got the job here in Lynford, how he’d worked hard to make this the best-run station in the whole of Southern Railway, how he’d employed Fred Wilson but despaired of ever making a decent porter out of him. And then he read back through what he’d written and tore the pages out in disgust. ‘Boring. Irrelevant. These are not the problems I am facing,’ he muttered, as he smoothed the next blank page ready to start again.
Begin with a list. Problem one: the railway is closing and I shall lose my job. Problem two: I love Annie. She loves me back. But I need a solid job before she will accept me as her husband. He sat back and read the lines again. Yes, that was a clear and concise summary of his worries. Solution: Write to Mr Hornsby and ask for a new job to start as soon as possible. An obvious solution. The sooner he had a new position, the better. Even one that started before the closure of the line. Norah had advised him to write, but it was yet another thing he had not yet done. Now was the time. He closed the notebook, found some Michelhampton and Coombe Regis Railway headed notepaper, and wrote the letter. It took a few attempts until he was happy with the wording, and he had to break off once or twice to see to his duties, but by four o’clock the letter was written.
Leaving Fred briefly in charge, he ran down to the post office, past the National Provincial Bank where Annie would be sitting at her desk filling in ledgers, and sent the letter. There. A step towards the solution.
At five o’clock he stood outside the front of the station, gazing up the lane towards the village centre. He could not see the bank’s entrance, but he could see an Austin Seven motorcar parked opposite it, a man in a suit and a trilby leaning against it, smoking a cigarette. Bertram. With luck, Ted thought, the fellow would be getting some bad news that evening. He felt a pang of guilt at wishing misfortune on someone else, but it would be the right thing in the end. Annie didn’t love Bertram. She loved Ted.
At five past five, Annie appeared, kissed Bertram on the cheek and got into the passenger seat. She was laughing, but was there a tenseness about her? Ted felt a wave of jealousy rise up through him. But perhaps she had to act as though everything was normal, for now, until she judged it was the right moment to break off her engagement. Give her time, he told himself. He trusted her.
Then when she’d spoken to Bertram, she’d speak to her father. Maybe she would already have Bertram’s agreement to go ahead with the business merger without the marriage.
He ducked back inside the station before the car came past.
That evening, he wrote more in his diary. He wrote in detail of the night of the storm – was it really only the previous night? – and of what happened between them. It didn’t help. It just made him want her more. Maybe tomorrow she’d tell him she’d broken things off with Bertram. He hoped her hand would be free of its ring again.
*
Ted kept his diary up over the next few days, rapidly filling the pages, but had very little chance to talk to Annie, as she seemed to rush through the station with no time to spare both morning and evening.
He had a reply to his letter to Mr Hornsby, saying that of course his name would be put forward should any stationmaster vacancies arise, but at the moment there were none. In any case Ted was expected to stay at Lynford until the closure of the line. After that he would be sent details of any vacancies within the railway company, and if he was prepared to move anywhere, there would probably be a job as a porter for him.
It was not the news he’d wanted, but he wrote it all down in his diary to try to get his thoughts into order.
One day, about a week after the fateful storm, Annie missed the 17.21 train, but turned up at the station ten minutes later. ‘I stayed a little bit later at the bank on purpose, she said. I’ll take the next train home. I can spend a little time with you, if you’re free?’
Ted felt as though the sun and moon had risen together. ‘Of course I am free, for you. I’ll make us some tea. Please, go through to the parlour.’ As she went through, Ted noticed Fred Wilson on the platform, frowning as he watched Annie enter Ted’s private rooms.
‘On with your work, lad,’ Ted told him, but he felt the telltale blush rise up through his cheeks. Did it matter if Fred knew he was courting Annie? He hurried through to his kitchen to make the tea and returned to the parlour to find Annie sitting on the sofa, her shoes kicked off and feet curled under her as she had done on that night a week ago. His heart swelled to see her there, looking so much at home.
She had a notebook in her hand, and with a start, he realised it was his diary, that he’d left out after writing the last entry. She smiled and waved it at him. ‘This is so sweet, Ted. You’re writing all about me!’
‘Er, that’s to … to help me … to help me m-make sense of things,’ he replied. He’d only ever spoken to Norah about his diaries. How could he explain the need for them to anyone else? But if Annie was to be his wife, she needed to understand him fully.
‘Yes, I can see that. And I imagine it helps a lot to set it all down. I write in a journal too, sometimes. What a shame there’s no other stationmaster’s job available at present. Maybe something will come up.’
So she’d read the latest entry. Ted had to know where he stood with her. He dropped to one knee in front of her. ‘Annie, will you m-marry me? Whether or not a stationmaster job comes up, I’ll find a way to keep you, I p-promise I will. Annie, p-please make me the h-happiest man in the world, and say yes?’
She cocked her head on one side, smiled and reached out a hand to stroke his face. ‘Oh Ted, you are the sweetest, most adorable man I have ever met. I would love to be your wife. But I can’t say yes just yet. I’m afraid.’
His heart sank. ‘Because I have no job offer yet?’
She bit her lip. ‘Partly that. Ted, I spoke to my father. I asked if perhaps I did not need to marry Bertram to allow the businesses to merge. But he … became angry. Told me I was letting him down. That he’d be ruined without that merger. That the merger depended on goodwill between our families, and that if I broke off the engagement that would damage his relationship with Bertram. That … I was no daughter of his if I felt I could do that to him.’
‘So that means …’
‘I’m still engaged, for the moment.’ She held out her hand to show him that the ring still sparkled on her finger. ‘Father forbade me to say anything to Bertram. And until Father comes up with some other plan to save his business I daren’t, in case Bertram calls off the merger and Father is made bankrupt. I’m so sorry, Ted.’
He nodded. ‘I understand. I wish I was a rich man who could buy your father’s business.’
‘And I wish I didn’t care as much about my father’s fortunes. If I was more heartless, it’d all be a lot easier. Perhaps when you get a job and I know you’ll be able to support the both of us, maybe then I’ll feel more able to walk away from Father. Now, come and sit beside me.’ She shuffled along to make space for him, and he sat down, relishing the chance to be near her again. ‘Don’t worry, dearest Ted.’ She leaned over and kissed him, gently on the lips. ‘It will all work out, you’ll see. As soon as you have a job lined up, I promise I’ll talk to Father again. By then maybe he’ll have found some other way to pay off his debts.’
‘I-I hope so,’ was all Ted could say. He wanted to take her in his arms, kiss her, suggest that they run away together and let her father and Bertram simply deal with it. But she was right – they needed to take things slowly and do things in the right way, causing the least damage. All he could do was focus on finding a new job, and trust Annie to deal with freeing herself from her obligations.
Annie nodded at the diary that she’d balanced on the arm of the sofa. ‘You should put that away somewhere safe. It wouldn’t do for the wrong person to find it and read it.’
Ted followed her gaze to the parlour window, where Fred could be seen, still portering crates up and down the platform, every now and again glancing through the window at them. She was right. He would hate for someone like Fred to see the diary. The boy was not supposed to come into Ted’s private rooms, although he sometimes came in to make himself some tea or to put his feet up during his lunch break, if it was raining outside.
‘You need a good hiding place,’ she said, looking about the room.
Ted nodded. ‘I know just the place.’ He stood up, went through to the ticket office where some wooden panelling separated the office from his parlour. One panel was loose and could be shuffled sideways behind the next one. There was a narrow gap behind the panelling, just big enough to hide the book.
Annie had followed him through, and watched as he hid the diary. ‘Perfect. Just make sure no one else ever sees you put it in or take it out. Just you and I know it’s there.’ She caught hold of him and gave him a kiss – on the lips, but just a quick one, not the long lingering ones of the previous week. Ted longed to wrap his arms around her and pull her close, breathe in her scent, feel her softness pressed against him … But he was still on duty. He could not spend much longer with her today. That kiss, that little peck, would have to be enough for now. The next train to Michelhampton was due in ten minutes anyway.