The next morning, I had to haul myself out of bed as I had to be at work by eight-thirty. I hadn’t slept a wink and now I felt like death warmed up. My whole world lay in splinters at my feet like broken glass. Edwin didn’t love me. The belief that he did had held my life together so that now it hung in tatters all around me. The dream had been dissipated like spray in the wind, leaving behind nothing but emptiness.
All the old doubts flooded into the void, filling my aching head until it was ready to explode. Who really was I? Why had my mother had an affair? What had she been like? Who was my real father, and was he alive or dead, killed in the war, perhaps? Why had Sidney suffered that freak fatal accident before he had told me more, as I had been sure he eventually would? Most of all, why had Ellen died before I had reached the magical age of eighteen? If I had been but three years older, I could have stayed in London living independently, and none of this would have happened. And I would still have had my dear friend Jeannie to make me laugh at every twist and turn. That night I vowed to write to her again, telling her everything and inviting myself to go and stay with her.
I washed and dressed with lightning speed. I was overseeing Dr Higgins’s ENT clinic and mustn’t be late. He always performed four operations beforehand, mainly tonsillectomies, and I would have to see to the paperwork for him.
My heart was too sickened for me to be able to eat anything, so I was just swallowing a coffee when Edwin stumbled into the kitchen in his pyjamas, bleary-eyed and yawning.
‘Morning, Lily. Great evening, wasn’t it?’
I nodded, unable to speak, pretending I had a mouthful of drink. And then Deborah wandered in looking as pretty as I had ever seen her, despite her years, and smiling serenely.
Edwin immediately came to life. ‘Hey, Mum, would it be all right if Sadie comes to tea tomorrow? She’s off duty and that only happens once a month on a Sunday.’
‘Of course, dear. You two looked as if you were getting friendly last night.’
That was it. I wanted to scream and my stomach rebelled. I made a dash upstairs to the toilet, but I wasn’t sick. I just felt a cloud of misery bearing down on me.
I made my first error in one of Dr Higgins’s postoperative reports. Despite our last waltz the night before, he yelled at me and I burst into tears. He mumbled something about blubbing children. A child. That was how everyone saw me. Especially Edwin. I was eighteen to his twenty-six, nearly twenty-seven, years. Sadie must be twenty-three or four, much more his age.
‘I think Ed’s a pig!’ Wendy scowled that afternoon.
I was lying on my bed pretending to read, but in truth the words were marching through my head without any meaning. I had wanted to be left alone and wished Wendy hadn’t come to plonk herself, uninvited, on my bed at my feet. I sat up, organising my face into a carefree expression.
‘You won’t say anything, will you, Wendy?’ I said, trying not to sound too desperate. ‘I don’t think anyone else realised how I felt about him.’
‘Felt?’ Wendy’s eyebrows shot up.
I shrugged as casually as I could. ‘Well, nothing was ever said between us. About love, I mean. And he’s obviously smitten with Sadie, and I wouldn’t want to spoil it for him by being silly about it. And Sadie’s very nice. And there’ll be plenty more fish in the sea for me. There was Ian’s friend, Rob, for a start. I rather liked him.’
‘Really? Oh, I’ll see if he’s still unattached, then.’ And with that, she jumped up quite satisfied, leaving me to drown in my own wretchedness.
‘Could I possibly borrow the car for a couple of hours after lunch, please?’ I asked William, trying to sound relaxed and contented the next day. ‘I’d like to visit Kate. I haven’t seen her for ages except in the shop.’
‘Yes, that’s fine,’ William smiled back. ‘Good to keep your hand in at the wheel. Just be careful if it’s at all icy.’
‘Don’t forget Sadie’s coming to tea, though, will you?’ Edwin put in, his eyes shining. ‘She said she likes you and wants to get to know you better, too.’
My heart shrivelled. ‘No, I won’t be very long,’ I lied, since it was my intention to stay away as long as possible.
As it happened, I wasn’t that long after all. Kate’s mum opened the door to me with her usual welcoming grin.
‘I’m afraid Kate’s not here. You know Pete’s been back from his National Service for a bit? Well, they’ve gotten pretty friendly, like.’ She paused to wink knowingly at me. ‘Don’t know where they’ve gone, I’m afraid.’
I felt my shoulders sag. ‘Oh, never mind. Tell her I’ve called.’
‘Of course, dear.’
I stood on the pavement, totally deflated, and glanced towards the jail. The prisoners were on the inside and I was on the outside, but I felt equally as trapped – in my own despair. Sally had gone back to university and the only other person I could talk to was Gloria. But when I knocked on her door, there was total silence.
I went back to the car and sat inside for a few minutes, drumming my fingers on the steering wheel. I even felt tempted to drive out to Fencott Place. I hadn’t seen Daniel for months, not since we had met in the bank. Edwin sometimes went to see him, but I never went with him. But how would seeing Daniel help except to give me someone to vent my frustrations on? Even Daniel didn’t deserve that.
So I set off home and then, at the last minute, I turned off to the little car park by the track to Yellowmeade Farm and my old home at Foggintor. I wouldn’t risk the Rover’s suspension on the old stone setts of the original horse-drawn tramway, so I walked along the uneven way even though I wasn’t really wearing the right shoes for it. The wild Dartmoor wind pulled at my hair, whipping it across my face and in some ways driving away the demons. But then I remembered the happy time when Edwin and I had walked there together, and I wanted to cry again.
I felt even worse when I glanced along to where the cottages had stood. They had been totally demolished the previous summer. The stone had been used to face the buildings at the new television transmission station at the foot of the towering mast on North Hessary Tor just outside Princetown, which was due to start broadcasting in a few months’ time. All that remained of the cottages were the foundations of the walls, pathetic mounds that the grass was gradually reclaiming. Only the back wall of our block had been left to brave the elements, a sorry reminder of my time there with Sidney. So I hastily turned away and, knocking at the backdoor of Yellowmeade Farm, let myself in.
Barry Coleman, Nora and Mark were sitting at the kitchen table, unusually in sombre mood. But they looked up in unison as I came in.
‘Hello there, young maid,’ Barry smiled, his craggy face brightening. ‘Us ’asn’t seen you in a while.’
‘Is there anything wrong?’ I asked, the irony that they might have been asking me the very same question pricking my conscience.
‘Two of our sheep ’as bin killed over at Merrivale stone rows,’ Barry moaned. ‘And not by dogs or ort like that. But by ’uman ’and. Sacrificed and… Well, you doesn’t want to know the details.’
‘Oh, no!’ I was genuinely shocked and shuddered with revulsion as I recalled the horrific sight that had led to my first encounter with Daniel.
‘And us ’asn’t bin the first,’ Barry sighed. ‘If I catches they buggers, I’ll kill them.’
‘If I doesn’t get them first,’ Mark added, speaking quite forcibly for once. ‘What with that and all they dead rabbits from that myxo whatever it is. Must be putting the old warreners out of business. At least that don’t seem to affect our livestock, mind.’
I nodded. When I had come to live on the moor, I had been surprised to learn that there were still isolated rabbit farms where these cute wild animals were encouraged to breed in man-assisted warrens later to be culled for their meat and fur. I wasn’t sure I approved, but I supposed it was no different from any other sort of farming.
‘I’m really sorry about the sheep,’ I said instead. ‘Have you contacted the police?’
‘Oh, yes. Us ’as to for the insurance. Valuable ewes, they was, not young wethers that’ll go to slaughter afore too long. The insurance people wasn’t too ’appy ’bout it, neither.’
‘And the police?’
‘Making enquiries, but they needs to catch they devils red-’anded and with three hundred and sixty odd square miles of moor to patrol, it won’t be easy. Can’t watch every ancient site twenty-four hours a day, as one officer put it.’
That was exactly what Daniel had said, nearly a year ago now when we had met at Gloria’s. It wasn’t a particularly pleasant subject to discuss, but at least it gave me something else to think about. But the black depression gradually settled over me again as I drove home, knowing that Sadie and Edwin would be there together. I couldn’t help liking her, mind, as she chatted in an open and friendly way, totally oblivious to the fact that she was ripping my soul to shreds. Once or twice, Wendy caught my eye and threw a disgruntled glance at Edwin as if she should be the one who was so distraught.
I had decided that to show my feelings would simply be childish, and Edwin wouldn’t thank me for that. My only chance to win him back was to be pleasant and mature. This thing with Sadie might just be a flash in the pan, and if I could hold on, waiting in the wings, Edwin might turn to me for comfort if they broke up. I would be more than happy to step into the breach.
It didn’t happen. As the weeks passed, my only escape was to get up on the moor and wander alone for hours. William and Deborah weren’t at all happy about it and limited my use of the car as there was no other way of getting there with no suitable connections on Saturday afternoons and no trains at all on Sundays. There was time, though, after I finished work at Saturday lunchtime, to catch a train to Whitchurch Down, the village of Horrabridge with its access to Knowle Down, or to Yelverton and the popular open area of Roborough Down and the obsolete wartime airfield there. William and Deborah felt that these places were safer, but it wasn’t the same for me. They couldn’t understand my sudden need to roam and I couldn’t tell them the truth. But I did decide to buy myself a car so that I could go anywhere I pleased. I paid for my keep, of course, but had saved enough to purchase something fairly small. Before I did, however, something else happened that weighed heavily on my heart.
It was announced that the little moorland train that had played such an important and happy part in my life was to close. Why was it, I despaired, that fate seemed to be bringing the past back to haunt me, reviving all the soul-searching that had torn me apart? My thoughts kept returning to the box up in the loft. Gloria had said I would know instinctively when the time was right, but I was still hesitating, so perhaps I should wait a little longer.
The news about the closure drew hundreds of people to travel on the line that last week. If only they had used it more regularly it would never have closed. Instead of the engine and one carriage that the service had been reduced to even in my time, three coaches had been required for each trip. I couldn’t go until Saturday afternoon, the very last day. The third of March 1956. I would always remember it.
The Princetown Railway had meant little to the rest of the family. Only Edwin shared my sense of bereavement as he had used it frequently to get to Fencott Place, particularly during the war when William had only been allowed sufficient petrol to visit his outlying patients. Sadie was on duty and so Edwin and I were to ride on the train together for the very last time, but at the last minute, he was called to an emergency. So I set out alone.
When I arrived at Yelverton Station, all was chaos. I had never in all the time I had used the moorland train, seen it like this. There were even policemen controlling the queues. Many of the people milling around me were in jovial mood, perhaps never having ridden on the line before and so enjoying a day out. But others stood quietly, their expressions fixed. People to whom, like me, the Princetown train had been a life-saver. Not only had it taken me to work and back each day, but through it I had made the new friends who had rebuilt my existence. The moor would still be there in all its beauty, but the railway had been the link between man and his struggle to survive on this savage wilderness. It was like burying a friend and I felt bereft.
I couldn’t believe my eyes. Six carriages were waiting at the platform, needing two of the sturdy engines to pull them up the steep, twisting incline. I was lucky enough to claim a seat by the window, and I wouldn’t give it up for anything. I was saying goodbye to part of my life. I had said so many goodbyes in the last few years. Even my letter to Jeannie had been returned with not known at this address scrawled on it. So she had moved away and was lost to me for ever.
Morose thought jangled in my head as the engines strained uphill with their heavy burden. We stopped at Burrator Halt high above the dark sheen of the reservoir, but nobody got off to walk around this glorious man-made lake, one of the many jewels in Dartmoor’s granite setting, as I had often done. We wound on, high on the embankment, through the dark woods and crossing the main road, came out onto the magnificent open moor. So many landmarks passed my tear-misted vision, and when we slowed to navigate the sharp bend around King Tor and the ruins of Foggintor came into view, my heart finally broke. Everything I held so dear was falling apart. Gone. Lost. Once again, I was forlorn and alone in a big empty world.
I kept my head turned firmly to the window so that my fellow passengers wouldn’t see the tears rolling down my cheeks. And then shortly before we came into the station, the train bore me past a solitary figure standing erect and respectful as if at a funeral, with a black and white collie sitting obediently at his feet. He was near enough for me to see the set expression on his face.
I was shocked as we came into Princetown Station. Already the buildings wore a derelict look, windows boarded up and most of the equipment removed. I got off, not knowing quite what I would do next. Kate, who would now have to travel to work on the extended bus service that was, ironically, to replace the train, would be at work, and besides, just now, I felt I wanted to deal with my grief alone.
‘Dreadful, isn’t it? The end of an era.’
I was outside the station now. Daniel had evidently walked up briskly, Trojan at his heels. I felt embarrassed rather than annoyed as I was sure it must be obvious I had been crying. But he shook his head sadly.
‘You know, I can’t help thinking that if I’d used the train more often instead of the jeep, I could have saved it.’
I looked up at him, surprised. His voice had trembled slightly. So we shared this sense of deep loss.
‘I don’t think one person would have made that much difference,’ I answered gently.
He lowered his eyes. ‘All the same,’ he muttered, and then looked up at me with a half smile. ‘It’s good to see you again, though. Do you fancy afternoon tea – or coffee,’ he corrected himself, ‘at the café?’
I blinked at him, considering for a moment. A familiar face, even one I was uncertain about, was perhaps just what I needed.
‘Why not?’ I replied.
I had a job to keep up with his long stride. He tied Trojan up outside and we entered the café which had never done such brisk business. We were shown to a small table tucked away in a corner. The atmosphere was hot and steamy, and my cheeks flushed to the realisation that I had actually accepted Daniel’s invitation.
‘You know, the train was our lifeline during the war,’ he said when we had ordered. ‘With no petrol, everyone relied on it. It brought in the provisions we all survived on. I mean, it still does, but then it was the only way. For me as a boy, it was magical. Oh, and the coal! Seeing if I could creep up and steal a lump without being caught.’
Normally I would have been horrified, but Daniel had bowed his head sheepishly in a suppressed smile and I couldn’t help but see the amusing side of it.
‘And did you? Get caught?’
‘Oh, every time,’ he admitted buoyantly. ‘Except once. And then I got caught putting it back. Still got a clip round the ear. But it was all only a game.’ The smile slid from his face. ‘And tomorrow it’ll all be gone.’
‘Coffee for you, madam, and tea for you, sir?’
‘Yes, thank you,’ we answered in chorus, and we both smiled as our eyes met.
‘So how’s the job going? Still liking it?’ Daniel resumed when the young girl moved away.
‘Yes, very much.’ I didn’t know what to say after that. My job meant the hospital, and the hospital meant Edwin and Sadie. I didn’t want to talk about it, so I was pleased when I thought of a way to change the subject. ‘Trojan’s come on well.’
Daniel’s eyes lit up. ‘Yes, he’s a good dog. Never chases after sheep at all, but he will try to herd them if I don’t stop him first.’
‘Talking of sheep,’ I told him as I sipped at the hot liquid, ‘my friends at Yellowmeade Farm had a couple of sheep killed in a ritualistic sort of way a few weeks ago. They were so upset.’
‘Well, you would be. It’s horrible what’s been happening. I saw a chap trying to drag a sheep away a while ago. I don’t know if he was anything to do with it. Maybe he was sheep rustling or perhaps it was all totally innocent, but he ran off pretty quickly when I shouted at him.’
‘Well, that sounds a bit suspicious, doesn’t it? And you didn’t recognise him at all?’ I felt deeply involved, the incident with Barry and his family bringing it even closer, and I’d have loved to see the culprit get caught. But Daniel shook his head.
‘No, unfortunately. He was too far off for me to see him clearly, and there was no point in running after him. I’d never have caught him up at that distance.’
‘Pity.’
We both fell silent for a few minutes as we finished our drinks and then Daniel looked at me questioningly. ‘Are you going back on the train?’
I gave a ponderous sigh. ‘Yes, I am. But I don’t want to wait for the last one. That would just be too sad. I want to watch it steam out of Yelverton just once more and imagine it puffing its way across the moor for ever.’
Daniel gave a wry smile. ‘Yes. I know exactly what you mean. But I’ll walk back to the station with you if you don’t mind. I want to watch it leaving one more time, too. And then Trojan and I had better walk home before it gets too dark to see. I didn’t expect to be so long, so I didn’t bring a torch and it doesn’t look like there’ll be any moon this evening.’
He paid the bill and we walked slowly back through the centre of Princetown. As we approached the station, the next train coasted in and passengers spilt out of the carriages. We had to push our way onto the platform and I was glad of Daniel’s assistance. As we jostled past one of the engines, Mr Gough was standing on the running board, wistfully surveying the scene.
‘Hello, Lily!’ he called when he saw me. ‘Haven’t seen you in a while.’
‘No, but I had to come. A sad day. What are you going to do now?’
‘Been given a job working out of Laira Junction, so we’ve got to find a new house there. Twenty-one years I’ve worked this line. I’ll miss it.’
‘We all will.’
‘That’s a fact.’ Mr Gough bounced his head up and down, and then frowned intently at Daniel. ‘I seem to recognise your young man here.’
My eyes opened wide at the idea of Daniel being my young man, but before I could put Mr Gough right, Daniel said half under his breath, ‘Try bloody little tyke.’
Mr Gough’s face was a picture of surprise. ‘My God! Young Danny! Naughtiest little monkey I ever had the pleasure of coming across!’ he grinned. ‘Haven’t seen you in years. Where’ve you been?’
Daniel shrugged carelessly. ‘Here and there. I’ve been back on the moor for some time, though, but I’m afraid I’ve never used the train. Wish I had now.’
‘Oh, well, life moves on. And I’ve got to get this train moving in a minute. Take care of yourselves, both of you.’
‘And good luck to you, too, Mr Gough!’ I managed to croak. ‘And thanks for everything!’
Daniel ushered me along the platform and saw me into a carriage. I managed to get another seat by the window and sat looking down at Daniel through the glass, wondering at how unruffled Trojan seemed to be by all the noise and the crowds.
The train lurched gently and we began to move down the track. I waved back at Daniel as we chugged out of the station, and soon he was lost in the gathering dusk. My very last ride on the moorland railway that meant so much to me, and I watched the dramatic scenery melt into the gloom. It really was the end of another chapter in my life, and I felt the lump rising in my throat again. Mr Gough, the fireman, the gangers and the station staff, I would never see them again. And my hopes, my belief in the idyllic future I had envisaged for myself with Edwin, were fading into the twilight.