Dave received a pleasant surprise when his section head brought him up to date with the latest developments in the Technical Committee’s West Winford investigations. Tony laid special emphasis on the decision to set up a new sub-committee in which he wanted Dave’s involvement. Recent evidence had shown that there was an environmental aspect to the LP turbine disc failure and so it was necessary to look into that side of things. In retrospect it seemed remiss that this was not considered earlier, when the other sub-committees were formed. This was going to be an important part of the investigation as all the evidence pointed to corrosion as being a significant factor.
“The sub-committee is to be chaired by an independent member from some unconnected body,” Tony continued. “There will be someone from the turbine manufacturer involved and, as you would expect, a representative from our own Central Research Labs, at Slough. As I mentioned, Sweety has put you forward to cover our interests. I share his confidence that you will hold our end up excellently.”
Dave returned to his office, full of enthusiasm for this new opportunity. He called on Mike Pearson, who had made a major contribution to the initial Winford failure investigation, particularly the mechanical aspects. As he anticipated, Mike agreed to share anything of interest with him. Mike then told Dave about a recent development. He explained that, as the LP turbine disc failure had not been due to any obvious shortcoming in the particular disc itself, worries about the condition of the other turbines at West Winford had been expressed by safety officers and the unions. After all, they had argued, the conditions under which LP turbine discs operate are very similar. These concerns had been increasing even before Sweety’s TV interview. Numbers 1 and 3 turbines were a particular worry as they had been in service for a similar period to the failed turbine. The other turbines, Numbers 4, 5 and 6, had accrued less service hours. In view of these concerns and the unacceptable consequences of another failure, including the risk that this posed for operating staff, an overspeed test was to be carried out on an apparently sound LP turbine rotor of the same design. This rotor had been held at the Winford site as a spare. Significantly, it had previously been in service in Number 1 turbine and had completed just over 30,000 hours of operation.
In addition, it had been decided that turbines Numbers 1 and 3 would be withdrawn from service until the results of this test were known. The spare rotor had been delivered to a turbine maker’s works in Runcorn which was equipped with a test rig capable of running such an overspeed test on a full size LP turbine rotor. That test had just been carried out.
*
Runcorn – a few hours earlier.
The noise was deafening as the steel turbine disc burst, flinging fragments from the spinning rotor; huge chunks of high energy shrapnel released, some burying themselves deeply into the concrete walls of the test pit.
Several seconds elapsed.
“Bloody hell, what a show. That’s just about wrecked the bloody test rig.”
“Yeah! Spectacular wasn’t it? Still below normal overspeed test level. They’ll never believe it.”
Despite their apparent nonchalance, it was clear that both technicians were deeply shocked. The relative ease and the catastrophic nature of the failure of this turbine disc was as spectacular as it was unexpected.
Fortunately, the automatic trip cut off the power.
*
“Any results yet?” asked Dave.
“I’ll say. One disc burst. It flew off the rotor in a similar way to how we imagine the disc from our Number 2 turbine did. Haven’t all the details yet but it was bad, and it happened before it reached the 10 per cent overspeed level. This has meant the cancellation of all overspeed tests. This disc will be examined and compared with our findings on the failed one.”
*
Sue was looking out through the sitting room window wondering if Pam had forgotten their arrangement. She had been up early, excited at the prospect of, if not exactly an adventure, at least a change from her customary weekday routine. She was about to turn away when an impressive car drew up outside. Pam gave a cheery wave as Sue joined her.
“Sorry. A bit late. A spot of blasted plumbing, I’m afraid. The old man disappeared at the crack of dawn leaving Yours Truly to sort out the bloody ball-cock, yet again – men!”
With this greeting Pam sped away at a rate that would have impressed Tony Richards, possibly even Stirling Moss. Sue assured her that she had only just got herself ready and anyway she assumed that they had no fixed agenda. Although Pam agreed that their time was their own, her driving suggested otherwise as she fiercely accelerated to beat the change from amber to red at the Corsham cross roads. Soon they were speeding down the hill past Brunel’s Box tunnel and shortly afterwards they were amongst the elegant Georgian buildings for which Bath was noted. Evidently Pam knew her way around the city, as she soon drew into a spacious car park.
“I suggest that we begin at the top of Milsom Street and make our way down towards the Abbey. I’ve arranged for us to have lunch at the Francis Hotel in Queen Square at one. Will that be OK?”
“Fine, I’m in your hands, it’s just so nice to be here on my first visit to Bath,” replied Sue, looking about her with great interest and anticipation. Pam was so unusual – quite a lark!
With Pam aggressively leading the way, Sue was transported down various streets and passages invading a number of stores and shops en route. At first Sue was overawed as Pam led her confidently into two exclusive establishments dealing in antique furniture. The staff at both, perhaps taking their cue from Sue, hovered in the background as Pam carried out a detailed examination of various items. She had an authoritative manner which the staff clearly recognised as they responded to her queries regarding provenance and cost.
“I may call back,” she announced as she guided Sue from the premises.
Then, to Sue’s relief, Pam’s mood changed. It seemed that her purpose had been served and now it became a more frivolous lady who swept Sue into the kind of stores with which she was more familiar. Their tour included shoe shops, gift shops, clothes shops and finally a hat shop where, at Pam’s prompting, Sue modelled a variety of the most improbable headgear. They both thoroughly enjoyed themselves as they giggled their way southwards.
Sue lost track of time and her bearings. Entering Queen Square, Pam ushered her along the south side where an imposing ornate Victorian canopy reached forward onto the pavement welcoming them, through the revolving doors and into the spacious interior of the Francis Hotel.
“Ah! Pamela, my dear, there you are,” greeted a middle-aged man, rising from a well upholstered leather chair. He gave Pam a welcoming hug. “And not alone I see.”
“Ever perceptive. This is my friend and newly adopted clothing model, Sue.”
“Charmed Sue, I’m Charles and I too have a friend,” he said, moving aside as the other man rose. “Peter, this is Pamela and her friend Sue.”
Peter smiled and shook hands. He was younger than Charles, maybe forty. They all settled in at a table.
“Drink ladies?” Charles asked as a waiter approached.
“I’ll say,” enthused Pam lighting a cigarette, “G & T.”
“Just a lemonade and lime for me please,” said Sue.
Over their light lunch, they chatted. Initially Pam led the conversation as she explained that her companion was a recent escapee from the land of the dark satanic mills. She added that, despite this, it was a pleasure to find that they had much in common, in particular a need to make contact with the strange alien life forms away from the village. Sue was surprised as she felt no awkwardness with these unusual people in such unfamiliar surroundings and she happily joined with Pam in relating the fun day that they were having.
Whilst awaiting coffee, Pam and Charles became more earnest as they talked together and this left Sue and Peter to concentrate on each other.
“May I say that you both seem to be enjoying your day out,” began Peter.
“It’s just so nice to be away from home,” said Sue, a little too eagerly she thought, retrospectively. She hurriedly explained that perhaps that sounded awful. What she meant was that she was finding life in the country, well, not what she had expected.
“Ah! In tinsel trappings,” murmured Peter.
“Pardon me?”
“George Crabbe. It’s from a poem. It contrasts the difference between real country life and the perception that many people have, who’ve not experienced it.”
“I’m afraid I’m not very well up on poetry,” confessed Sue.
“And what of books?”
“I seem to have fallen out of the habit, though I did begin an English Literature course, but, you know, family life?”
“Well, not really,” replied Peter, “I plough my own lonely furrow. Which authors appeal to you?”
“Several, though I wouldn’t say that I was well read. Trollope and Dickens, of course, but before our move down here I was just making a start on Virginia Woolf and George Eliot. I wanted to read them partly because they were women who didn’t conform.”
“Did you get around to Middlemarch?”
“No. I understand that it is a real classic.”
“Indeed it is and another reason why you should read it is that you would meet women of contrasts therein,” explained Peter.
Sue thought that she would do as he suggested, after all she had plenty of time on her hands these days. Pam broke into their conversation to say that she and Charles had to go off on some minor business for an hour and asked if Sue would like to go with them. If however, she preferred more shopping they could meet up later. Sue was rather taken aback by this and before she had made any reply Peter invited her to spend the time with him. He had something which may be of interest to her in mind. Sue was annoyed that she could not cover her confusion. She had found Peter’s company interesting and agreeable but she nevertheless surprised herself by accepting his invitation.
“Back here at four then,” said Charles.
Sue explained that, as this was her first visit to Bath, she would need to rely upon Peter’s navigation. He agreed as he led her down Barton Street, stopping briefly to point out the Theatre Royal, where Ibsen’s ‘Peer Gynt’ was being staged. From that point on Sue lost track of their movements, though she recalled passing the soot-blackened front of the Mineral Water Hospital and then the Abbey. Later they stopped outside an elegant Georgian house set behind ornate railings. Peter ushered Sue towards the imposing doorway and rang the bell. He pushed the door open in response to a buzzer.
“Ah! Welcome Doctor Fenner, and how are you this fine December day?”
This greeting was addressed to Peter by a short, distinguished looking man. Sue was surprised to find herself, not in an exclusive bank as it first appeared, but in a book shop, although shop was perhaps too common a word. There was a wealth of mahogany – desks, bookshelves, tables and chairs. The bookshelves were mostly glass-fronted and contained an enviable collection of expensively bound books. An array of leather bindings in brown and red, most with gold-leaf lettering.
“Hello, Mr Croft. Perhaps something classical for my friend here to begin with. What about Dickens?”
“The very thing sir. Come young lady and examine this edition of Bleak House,” smiled Mr Croft, carefully removing a volume from a cabinet and handing it to Sue.
“How lovely,” she exclaimed, carefully turning the pages.
“Just twelve pounds for that one; a real beauty, you’ll agree Doctor?”
“Don’t settle for that, Sue, he’ll let it go for a tenner to a friend,” said Peter with a smile. He had a nice smile.
Sue almost dropped the book with shock. After they had had their amusement, Mr Croft returned it to its place. He told Sue that he and Peter had to attend to some brief business. Would she like a coffee, or she could just look around. In response to her hesitation, he explained that there was a large selection of less expensive books downstairs and she was welcome to browse. Such a contrast. A cellar with more rudimentary shelving, but still an amazing collection, ranging from cheap page turners to many first editions. The prices, Sue noted, were more moderate. She found several copies of Middlemarch, the price reflecting the particular book’s condition. She selected one of middle quality which was reasonably priced.
Her return to the upper room was well timed as it coincided with Peter concluding his business with Mr Croft. Sue’s faith in Peter’s navigation proved to have been justified as they met up with the others as arranged. She thought Bath a lovely city, this fleeting glimpse had whetted her appetite for a more leisurely tour in the future. They made their farewells, and then, despite the onset of darkness, a repeat of the morning’s journey as far as recklessness level and speed were concerned, only the direction was reversed.
Sue breezed into her house, tired but exhilarated, and flopped into an arm chair. She could hear the girls upstairs – who was making all that racket? It sounded as though Jo and Katy were not alone. She was looking forward to their evening meal together as it would be a nice change to be the one to have something to chat about other than domestic matters.