Stay With Me

Martin was uneasy. He reckoned the train should have arrived twenty minutes ago. He sought out a railway official who was already being pressed for news by other people.

‘None, sir! I’m sure everything is in order, though, or we would have heard. This storm’s bad. Could have caused a delay for any number of reasons.’

Martin knew how true that was. After all, he himself had witnessed trees uprooted and masonry torn down. Something could easily have caused a blockage on the line.

As the minutes passed unease mounted among the crowd at the station. Enquiries became more agitated, voices demanding news, urging something be done to ascertain it.

Harassed officials tried to quell the rumours, calling for everyone to keep calm, but then a fresh wave of anxiety swept through them when, a few minutes after seven, communication was lost between the signals cabins to either side of the bridge. Public demand for something to be done ran high. Pressure mounted on the railway officials. Disturbed by this latest setback and the lack of any concrete news, they decided an investigation should be made.

Martin did not like feeling so helpless. He was used to being in charge of situations, but here there was nothing he could do but wait. He saw some railwaymen huddle together in what appeared to be serious discussion, clearly agitated, shaking their heads and nodding violently. Then he saw one man, ignoring what appeared to be protests from the others, leave the group and stride off down the track towards the bridge.

Other people saw him go and soon speculation was running rife amongst the crowd. What exactly was Mr Roberts, superintendent of the locomotive department, doing?

With every step he took, the wind seemed to grow in ferocity. It was as if it was bent on preventing him finding out what had happened, even to the extent of hurling him into the murky depths of the Tay to stop him doing so. His determination to discover the truth quelled the fear rising in him as he inched his way forward, until finally he had to crawl on hands and knees.

‘Mama, Papa should have been back with Aunt Jennie and Uncle John by now,’ Avril said to her mother who had hidden her own concern about the delay thus far.

‘If they aren’t here in five minutes, we’ll make a start. Something must have held them up. I’m sure they won’t mind.’

Mr Roberts hunched his shoulders against the wind and gripped the rails even harder as he crawled along. If the train had had to stop on the bridge, as seemed likely by its non-appearance, he should be able to see it, even in the dark, but there was nothing. He advanced slowly. A few more yards . . . then he stopped and stared with horror at the scene before him: the entire centre-section of the bridge, where girders had formed a tunnel-like structure, had disappeared and all that remained were its supporting piers, rising finger-like from the river.

Terror gripped him, forcing disbelief from his mind, as he tried to grasp the only conclusion to be drawn from that missing section. Despair filled him. There was nothing left for him to do but to return with the devastating news: the train from Edinburgh and all its passengers must now lie deep on the muddy bed of the Tay.

With a heavy heart, he inched his way round and returned to the north side, wondering how on earth he could break such tragic news. By the time he’d reached solid ground he knew there was nothing for it but come straight out with the truth.

The crowd surged towards him when he reached the station. The questions they flung at him in their eagerness for news faltered as they sensed he had nothing good to tell them.

‘I couldnae see it. There wasn’t a sign of it on the south side. And if it’s no’ there,’ his voice faltered, ‘then I believe it now lies at the bottom of the river.’

The shock of this announcement sent minds reeling. For one moment there was a heavy silence broken only by the mocking cries of the wind. Then pandemonium broke out, with cries of disbelief and howls of agony as folk struggled to take in what this tragedy meant to them. Then shouts of vilification were hurled at all those concerned with the building of the bridge. Some railway officials tried to calm the situation while others struggled to decide what to do next.

The news brought a cold dread to Martin’s heart. He stood still for a moment, oblivious to what was happening around him. He felt drained of all energy, his legs leaden, his throat constricted. He wanted to cry out to heaven for allowing his dear sister to be taken when she had so much to live for, but felt a touch on his arm and stayed silent.

‘I’m sorry for your loss, sir.’ Angus’s voice was husky with emotion and tears streamed down his lined cheeks.

Martin nodded. ‘Thank you. You’re right. There is nothing we can do here.’ His sigh was one of despair. He had faced many things in his lifetime, taking heartbreaking news to so many families, but never anything to compare with this. He would bring home devastation to his beloved niece and nephew.

Mary had got the meal underway. Even though she was enjoying the laughter and conversation that eddied around the table, she had been half listening for the front door opening. Then the sound she wanted: they must be back! She hurried into the hall.

He bit his lip but could not hold back the tears that flowed then. She was by his side in a moment, taking into her arms a man from whom all strength had gone. She held him tight and gently patted his shoulder. She let him cry for a few moments before asking. ‘What is it, my dear?’

He still clung to her, wanting to grasp at any comfort he could. ‘The bridge collapsed.’ His words came in a whisper. ‘The train went down with it.’

A shudder ran through Mary. ‘Oh, no!’ She clutched at her husband. She needed to be strong for herself, but even more for him. She had lost a dear sister-in-law, but he had lost the sister to whom he was devoted. And James and Pauline had lost their mother and father . . . The laughter and gaiety coming from the dining-room pierced her heart.

She gripped his arms to stop him. Looking up into his face and reading the anguish there, she said, quietly but firmly, ‘No, Martin, I’ll do it.’

She held him for a moment longer, then released her hold and walked to the dining-room door. She paused, automatically smoothed her dress, took three paces into the room and stopped.

All eyes turned towards her, expecting to see the new arrivals follow. The chatter subsided into an uneasy silence as everyone sensed that something momentous had happened. Where were Mr and Mrs Carnforth? Why had such a serious aura entered the room with Mrs MacBride?

Mary gripped her hands together in front of her. ‘James, Lena,’ she said quietly, but with authority, and turned back into the hall.

Lena felt a chill sweep over her. She glanced anxiously at her brother and saw a troubled expression cloud his face. They both rose from their chairs and left a room that had fallen into an uneasy hush.

‘I’m afraid I have some bad news for you. There has been a tragic accident. The bridge collapsed and took the train with it.’ Mary regretted she had to be so blunt but could find no other way of imparting this devastating news.

There was a moment of absolute silence filled with disbelief, and then a low moan came from Lena. ‘No!’ She looked at James and saw he had gone deadly white, his face expressionless, as if the impact of the words had not reached him yet.

Mary stepped forward and took Lena into her arms. Tears were streaming down their faces. Lena was racked by heaving sobs of utter despair. Though Mary too felt utterly distraught she knew she had to be strong for her niece. Martin had lost a very dear sister and could not disguise his distress as he opened his arms to James. Male protocol fell away; the men embraced each other and did not stifle their tears.

Mary finally eased Lena from her but still held her hand as she said, ‘I must tell the others.’ She glanced at the two men and they came to support Lena. ‘Take her to the drawing-room,’ she said.

Mary dabbed the tears from her eyes, rubbed her cheeks and drew herself up. She knew she must not weaken. Strength would be needed in the days to come. She should show it now. She opened the door to the dining-room. A charged silence met her. Questioning eyes were on her as she went to stand at the head of the table.

‘It was terrible news I had to tell Pauline and James,’ she explained. ‘The railway bridge has collapsed and taken the Edinburgh train with it. There can be no survivors.’

This was the signal for Mary to take charge. ‘It would be best if you all leave. Avril, Fiona, Robbie, see your friends out and then come to the drawing-room. Alistair, Olivia, you go there now, see if you can be of any assistance. ’

Everyone did their best to help. Olivia, wanting and needing to be with James, was in a turmoil of emotion, trying to come to terms with the realisation that she would never again see the two people she’d regarded as her second mother and father. The shock made Alistair long to be with Lena; she would need him, and he wanted to be needed in such a crisis. His face was deathly white as he took his sister’s hand and they hurried from the room, while the three young MacBrides ushered the rest of the guests from the dining-room, promising to pass on their expressions of sympathy.

Olivia and Alistair were unable to speak when they first entered the drawing-room but both James and Lena knew from their expressions and embraces that they, too, were suffering at this dreadful news.

When Mary came into the room she brought with her a sense of calm for which everyone was thankful. ‘There is much to be thought about but we will wait for the children to join us,’ she announced.

‘A good idea,’ she agreed, knowing that giving people something to do, even if it was only holding a glass, could help ease the moment.

Martin went to the decanter and James and Robbie joined him. Alistair started to move too but Lena’s grip on his hand tightened. He squeezed her hand reassuringly. She mustered a wan smile of thanks. His heart cried out to her; he wanted to kiss away the dampness in her eyes.

Once everyone was seated, Mary said, ‘We have to decide what to do now. The four of you,’ she glanced across to her nephew and niece and their friends from Whitby, ‘can stay as long as you wish.’ She glanced toward her husband for his approval.

‘Quite right, my dear,’ replied Martin, reading the signs that she was relieving him of taking charge. ‘Alistair, how will that sit with Dr Jollif?’

‘Sir, I’m sure he will understand, I will write to him tomorrow, explaining the situation.’ He glanced at Lena. ‘I’ll stay as long as I can be of help.’

‘There is the business to run so I can’t be away too long. But as you know, Ralph Bell is a competent manager, well trained by . . . father. I’ll write to him. He needn’t take any major decisions. That will be up to me now.’

The firmness behind his final words registered on Lena’s mind, but her thoughts were in too much of an upheaval for her to comment on it.

‘I hope Lena and I can return together, and I’m sure we would welcome the support and strength of Alistair and Olivia upon our homecoming.’

‘Then it is settled,’ Mary said with relief. Her eyes turned to her own children. ‘You must do all you can to help your cousins through the trying days ahead.’

She decided it was best to keep everyone’s minds occupied, so said, ‘Now, we must think about clothes. You men are easily dealt with - dark suits.’

‘You will need mourning dresses, Lena. If you are to follow etiquette, which I think you should, that will mean black crêpe for six months, then you can change to silk for three months followed by half-mourning when you can wear greys or mauves. We have a Family Mourning Warehouse in Dundee so I suggest we pay a visit tomorrow.’

‘Three to six months in black silk, nothing ornate, the only adornment a piece of jet. Olivia is no relation so is not bound by the same etiquette.’

‘That is very kind of you,’ said Martin, a lump in his throat. He straightened his shoulders and took a grip on his feelings. ‘James, Pauline, it is understandable that you will want to return to Whitby. You have your friends and there is the business to run. You are old enough, and competent enough, to make your own decisions, but I want you to understand that your aunt and I will be ready with our advice and support, should you require them.’

‘That is most kind of you, Uncle. And you, Aunt,’ said James. ‘I know I speak for Lena also in expressing my thanks.’

‘You have nothing to thank us for,’ said Martin with a dismissive gesture. ‘Stay until you feel ready to face Whitby again.’

Gloom hung over Dundee. Few people saw any reason to celebrate the coming of the New Year. Enquiries were started. Rumours about the cause of the collapse circulated, and fingers were pointed. But none of this helped to ease the gloom in the MacBride household.

James and Lena could not yet grasp the reality of the situation, their minds too numbed by tragedy. It was difficult for them to accept what had happened. They still expected their parents, so full of good health and energy, to walk in at any moment. Their uncle, aunt and cousins tried to ease the situation for them, though they too were hard hit by the disaster. Life could never be the same for any of them and each of them knew they would have to find their own way forward. Her best course came to Pauline four days into the New Year.

Dr MacBride had been called out to an emergency, telling Mary not to wait lunch for him as he did not know what time he would be back. The rest of the family had finished their luncheon when Lena caught everyone unawares by saying in a firm voice, ‘Aunt, will you take me to the river?’

‘That river is my mother and father’s grave. If they had been buried in a churchyard I would have visited them, so I must go to the river instead.’ She glanced at James, saw agreement in his eyes, and knew he had been thinking the same but had held back the suggestion for fear of upsetting her.

Mary recognised that she should not raise any further objection; this was something Lena had to do. ‘Of course I’ll take you. Angus can drive us there.’

Alistair and Olivia accompanied them but, not wanting to intrude on family grief, stood to one side and paid their own respects to the two people they’d held in high esteem.

Lena stood between her brother and aunt, staring into the waters of the Tay. They had wrapped up well against the chill in the air, but it was a different kind of chill that gripped Lena then. It came from within her and there was little she could do to combat it as she gazed at the water, bereft today of the power it had held while it pounded the bridge. Her parents lay lifeless beneath its quiet flow. She would never see them again. Silent tears trickled down her cheeks.

James fought his tears, as he knew his father would have wanted him to. He needed to be strong for his sister and for what faced them when they returned to Whitby. And that had to be soon. His hand sought Lena’s and each found solace in the other’s touch.

Mary saw the gesture and knew they would cope together with what lay ahead. She was not surprised when, on the journey back to the house, James told her, ‘I think we ought to return to Whitby soon. There will be much to see to there and it is our home.’