Abby Ch. 17

When Abby returned to her room, the first thing she did was to go through the wardrobe, looking for a suitable dress for tonight. Nothing too formal, this wasn't a Cocktail Bar, but nothing too casual. As she was doing this Mary knocked and came in when Abby called.

"I wondered if you would like to have a bath."

Abby jumped at the chance. "Oh yes, Mary, that would be lovely. What do you think of this?" Abby held up a frock. It was a dark blue, with a little white collar.

Mary looked unimpressed. "A little too business-like, don't you think?" Abby had to agree. Mary moved to the wardrobe and looked through with Abby. She pointed.

"Now that would look nice." Abby pulled the frock out, a Polka Dot button-through in lemon with white spots, a square top and thin straps over the shoulder. Abby held it against herself and looked in the mirror. Mary went on. "The lemon will show off your tanned shoulders." Abby looked more closely, indeed she had tanned quite well, she looked round at Mary and nodded her head.

"Yes, I think you are right."

James arrived, wearing immaculately pressed Chinos, pale blue shirt with the collar unbuttoned, and a Linen jacket, which he immediately discarded. He regarded Abby with a jaundiced eye. "I didn't think we were going to be formal?" The grin forecast one of his sardonic comments. "If this is casual do you put a Tiara on for just a slightly more important occasion?" He went on, "But I have to say that you look lovely."

Abby smiled with pleasure at the compliment. "Thank you kind sir, do I curtsy now?" James grinned. Then Abby went on the attack. "You don't appear to be too casual yourself."

James shrugged his shoulders and held his hands up before replying. "Well let's say I had a sneaky suspicion that you were going to be a little elastic in your idea of casual, so in honour of the occasion I even shaved again." This was said with a smile on his face, and Abby could do little except smile in return, but she did put her hand up to his cheek to check for the closeness of the shave. Was this what they meant about being hoist with your own petard? She sat down whilst James went to get their drinks. Of course James could not go to the bar without some banter from the early evening drinkers, many just in from the days labour, and still in their working clothes. Before he returned Mary had appeared at Abby's side asking if they would like the food served now. Abby thought about it and decided against.

"Could you leave it for a while, Mary? James is getting us some drinks and it would be nice to sit quietly and enjoy those for a while." Mary was only too pleased to do this. As far as she was concerned the more time that Abby and James spent together the better.

The food had come up to Mary's normal standard, superb, and James despite demolishing the pile of scones earlier managed to clear a large plate of Somerset Pork with a host of vegetables. They were sitting with coffee and chatting over the events of the day when their quiet chat was disturbed by an increase in noise from the bar. James had his back to the bar and turned round to see what had caused this. Abby looked up, and was curious to see a man staring at her. His face had a look of total surprise, almost of shock. He was medium height, pale-faced with a fringe of ruddy hair surrounding an otherwise completely bald head. James suddenly thought he recognised the man. "Good Lord, its Reg, isn't it? Reg, is that you?" The man stared at James for some time, and then with recognition clearing his face greeted James.

"Well Mr. James, it took me a bit to place you, last time I saw you was just before they closed the box, late sixty-five that was. You were nobbut a lad then." He approached their table, although speaking to James; his eyes never left Abby's face. James could understand his astonishment, and made an introduction.

"Abby, this is Reg Purvess. Reg, this is Abby Tregonney." This had a surprising effect, as Reg slumped into a chair open-mouthed in shock and then felt in his pocket producing a handkerchief, and proceeded to wipe his eyes. Abby put her hand on his arm, and said gently.

"I am Marion's daughter."

Reg made no reply for a moment, but eventually looked up, his eyes red-rimmed. "I don't understand, I can see the likeness, is Marion here? I can't believe it, I mean how did... No what I mean is." Reg stumbled over words, the tumult in his brain making his thoughts a complete nonsense.

James got up. His innate courtesy told him to leave a man alone when he was emotional. "I'll get you a drink, Reg, Bitter is it?" Reg nodded, and James walked away.

Reg suddenly turned round and called after him. "Thank you Mr. James."

Abby waited until Reg pulled himself together and smiled at him. "It's good to meet you, Mr. Purvess. I have heard a lot about you. You taught Mum to work the signals, didn't you?" Reg nodded.

"Yes, she was quick, got to know the bells in next to no time. Please Miss, where is your mum? I would love to see her again."

Abby could see no way in which she could let him down lightly. "I am sorry, Mr. Purvess. Mum is dead; she died about sixteen years ago." Sorrow is something that everyone expresses from time to time. For some it is genuine, for others something that is expected of them but not touching their emotions. Abby saw immediately that Reg's sorrow was genuine. The handkerchief was produced again, and no one could fake the grief that Reg was suffering. James arrived with the drinks. He also brought with him a lady who was introduced to Abby as Gladys, Reg's wife. He had briefed her when getting the drinks and she put her arm round her husband's shoulder.

She looked at Abby and gave a wan smile. "He liked your mum, and has worried for years about what happened to her, this is a bit of a shaker for him." Abby nodded, and when Reg had again gathered himself, she asked him if he was alright. Reg nodded.

Rather than having Reg ask question after question Abby felt she should explain. "When Mum left here, she was expecting me. We lived in London, but she never talked about when and where she had grown up. Only once or twice did she mention Combe Lyney. I was working when she died and it didn't really cross my mind to try and find this place until earlier this year. I came down here not knowing whether I had any family here or anything. With Sam's help I have been able to discover a lot, who my grandfather was, and how my mum grew up." Reg listened with rapt attention.

"But you are still Tregonney?"

"Yes mum never married."

Reg absorbed this with a disturbed look on his face. "Do you know who your father was?"

"I have no idea. I have talked with Sam and Mavis, and they have no idea either. I had a silly thought that you may know, but now I don't think you do."

"No I don't." This was said with some anger, "but if I did I would have done for him after letting Marion down like that."

Abby smiled at Reg. "That's good of you to say, but really it is all academic now. I have known all these years that I was illegitimate; not having a father has never been a problem. Mum was all the parent I needed."

Reg nodded. "Yes Marion would have been, always thorough, must have got that from her Dad."

It was at that point that Sam, who had only just arrived at the Combe Inn, came in all flustered. "Reg, you're here! I am sorry but I got held up." He addressed Abby. "Sorry Love, I meant to meet Reg before and explain everything to him."

Reg stood up and shook Sam's hand. "It's good to see you Sam, after all these years. You don't look a day over sixty, but I know you must be at least one hundred." He smiled, as did Sam.

"Well then, show some respect for your elders, Lad. I'll have a pint whilst you're at the bar." He leaned down to give Abby a kiss on the cheek, and turned to Gladys.

"Well, Gladys Carter as was, how are you? Sorry day for us when you went off with this fellow. The prettiest girl in the village, gone just like that." He clicked his fingers. Gladys stood up and gave Sam a hug."

"It's good to see you again Mr. Perry. How is Roger these days? Are you working him just as hard as you used to?"

Sam shrugged his shoulders. "I have handed the farm over to him now, so he pushes himself rather than me pushing him. You know he married Valerie Williams, don't you?"

"No, I didn't, but I am not surprised. She always had her eye on Roger, none of us others could get a look in." Reg came back with drinks at that moment.

"Hey, hey, what's this? What's this about you and Roger?" He was smiling.

"That's just the point." Gladys laughed as she explained. "Roger was spoken for long before he even knew it, Valerie wasn't going to let any other girl get anywhere near him." Abby was fascinated; this was the gossip of a time when her mother was around. Mum would have probably known all these people and about their attachments and intrigues.

Sam having seated himself nudged Reg. "You are going to have to talk to Abby, about her grandfather. The girl is very keen to know all about him." Abby nodded with her eyes gleaming.

"Would you mind Mr. Purvess?"

"Not at all, but there is one condition though." Abby asked the condition. "That you stop calling me Mr. Purvess. It's Reg ok?"

Abby turned to James. "See! It doesn't have to be Mr. Mrs. or Miss always." James just waved his hand in resignation. Abby addressed Reg. "And I am Abby. Reg, what can you tell me about my grandfather? Sam has told me so much, but even he says he didn't know him well."

Reg thought for a while. "Well I should start off by saying that I respected your granddad! He was a railwayman, thorough, diligent and always ready to give someone a helping hand. Mind you, because of his manner some people didn't think it was help, more like criticism. He certainly helped me a lot."

Abby looked at Sam. "That doesn't sound like the man you described?"

Sam shook his head. "I said that I didn't know your granddad that well. I would only see him for about ten minutes, twice a day."

"Don't get me wrong Miss Abby." Reg interrupted. "Thomas was like that. All stiff and formal. He was economic with words, I think the expression is, and unless you got to know him well, he came across as brusque. He wasn't really; he just didn't know how else it could be done. When he joined the GWR, it was run very much like the Army. Everyone was addressed by their surname if they were junior to you in rank; Mister if they were colleagues and Sir if they were senior. Passengers were always Sir or Madam, even the young ones. Orders were given, and obedience was expected, the discipline was very strict, you obeyed. If not there were plenty of men who wanted your job. If you were admonished by your superior, you stood and took it, and then said 'Thank you Sir'. No arguing with them either. That was how Thomas learned, and it was a lesson for his lifetime." He took a sip of his drink. "But he was a good man. He would never let anyone down, and he stood up for those who needed help."

Abby was warmed by this description of her granddad; it would appear that he had virtues hidden until now. "Please go on."

Reg nodded. "One of the reasons that I liked him, was because of the help he gave me and my family. My dad was on the railway, and he was killed in an accident at South Molton. If you were related to an employee of the GWR, you got preference over others who didn't have a family connection. But BR didn't bother with that, and when I applied for a job, they were going to offer me a position in Lancashire. Thomas had known my father and wrote a letter that changed their minds, and instead they offered me work in this Division. I first worked in a box as a Booking Boy, learning the ropes, but mainly recording all the trains, and the passing times. Later I did the signals course, and Thomas asked for me to come to Combe Lyney, knowing that the man there was about to retire. As the cottage went with the job, that was important. Me, and my mum were living in rented rooms in Dulverton. So I got the job, and Mum had a proper home to live in. That was your grandfather for you. He never said anything to anyone about it, and never reminded us of his help."

Abby was so happy to hear this, it showed a human side to her granddad that hadn't been discovered before. "I know you were a good friend of mum. How did that happen?"

Reg thought for a second or two. "Well it was after the death of your grandma. Marion was left very much to her own devices. Your granddad would leave the house at five thirty every morning, and wouldn't be back before about nine in the evening. Your mum would do all the cleaning and washing at the weekends, but during the school holidays even that couldn't fill all her time, so she was hanging about doing nothing with no-one to talk to. To tell the truth I was angry with your granddad, because he was so involved with his job that he took for granted that Marion would do all his washing for him, and cook a meal for him, but she was only ten years old! A child! It wasn't right. He was only a hundred yards away, but he could have been in China for all the contact he had with her."

After all these years his anger was still obvious. "One day I asked Marion into the box, gave her a cuppa, and we talked whilst I was working the levers. After some time she started to write up the register for me. Well to cut a long story short she learnt everything about working the box, and even got the knack of pulling off the up Home."

Abby couldn't let this go without asking. "Why was that so difficult?"

"That was the furthest movable signal." Reg told her. "The distant signals were fixed you see. But the up Home was away at the other end of the platform, so you had the weight of the board, plus all the cable run to move. Not easy for a grown man, but Marion would pull it slightly to take off the catch, brace her foot on the frame, get all her weight behind the lever and suddenly surprise it, and off it came. It always made me laugh to see it; there was this little slip of a girl, heaving away at this lever which was almost as tall as she was. Of course her father caught her at it one day, I was surprised that he didn't cotton on earlier. He signed the register every day and didn't even recognise his own daughter's handwriting! Anyway he put a stop to it, well so he thought, but your mum would still come, but knew how to make herself scarce when it looked as if he would visit the box. Thomas even helped with that. His habit was to call at the box before my half-shift finished and sign the register. Of course with your granddad it was as regular as clockwork, always ten o' clock on the dot. The railway worked with a timetable and so did Thomas. Everyone knew it, so he never caught her again." Abby had learnt from Mr. Brasher's notes what a half-shift was, and about the stationmaster signing the Train Register. But she also knew that an unauthorised person in the Signal box was a serious offence.

She asked Reg why he allowed it.

"As I said I took pity on her, yes it wasn't right for her to be in the box, but on a branch like this rules became a little elastic. The only one in authority was your granddad, and if he didn't know, then there was nothing to worry about. Apart from that Marion was a lively girl with a great sense of humour, don't know where she got it from as Thomas certainly had none at all, well none that he showed. The drivers and guards liked her too, and I know for a fact that she had frequent footplate rides down to the Junction and back. She came back with coal dust all over her face and a great big smile lighting up her dirty face. She would drop off when the engine stopped to give up the token, your granddad couldn't see because she was on the blindside as he looked from the platform. She hid behind the Box until the train was in the station, and then dashed across to the house and washed her face, coming out as demure as anything with a face that looked like butter wouldn't melt." Reg laughed heartily at the memory. Abby giggled delightedly as well. She could remember her mother's sense of humour, and her capacity for hard work, obviously learned when she accepted the domestic chores for her father.

James had sat there listening, and nodding his head from time to time. Reg's comments awakening memories. He leaned towards Abby.

"Do you remember me telling you that Marion had the run of the place? Well there you have the proof."

Abby smiled. "I suppose you are trying to tell me that I have to believe everything you say?"

James grinned. "Well almost everything."

Sam had watched this little exchange with a warm feeling, the growing closeness between Abby and James delighted him, but he kept his feelings to himself. This was not a mad passion that would extinguish as quickly as it flared, here were two people who were coming to understand each other, to like each other, and would probably be most surprised when they found that friendship had become Love.

Reg seemed as if he wanted to say something, but stopped. Abby looked at him with a question on her face. He looked at James with a slightly humorous expression and decided to say what he had started. "I was going to say that for all his strict rules, Thomas was not above accepting some bounty from time to time."

Abby was puzzled. "Bounty?"

"Yes. The ganger was very good at providing rabbits, pheasants, a trout now and again, and mushrooms. We all had a share, including Thomas, although he didn't know where they came from. They were just left on his doorstep."

James knew where they came from. "Poaching!" He declared. "Poaching on my land."

Reg grinned. "Well the ganger always said that they were taken from railway land."

James was smiling now. "How do you think a trout could be taken from railway land?" He asked. "Unless the fish managed to jump out of the river onto a bridge."

Reg shrugged his shoulders. "We didn't think to ask." He grinned back at James who acted outraged, but couldn't keep up the pretence, and returned the grin.

"Mushrooms," James commented. "I can understand. Rabbits did have their burrows in the embankments. Pheasants now, he would have to be lucky to catch them on railway land."

"Well, Mr. James you know how stupid pheasants are. I am told he would put down some bread crumbs and seeds, then sit there quietly until the silly pheasant came along to eat them. Quick whack on the head and the pheasant's in the bag, or so I understand."

James laughed. Then went on to say. "Well it's a good job then that the railway isn't there now; otherwise I would know where to look if I were losing pheasants on a regular basis."

There was one question that bothered Abby. "Surely the ganger wouldn't take a fishing rod with him?" Sam, James and Reg smiled in unison.

Sam answered her. "No, he would tickle them."

Abby looked long at Sam, trying to decide whether he was kidding her or not. "Tickle them?" Sam nodded. Abby looked confused so he went on to explain.

"There are parts of the river where the trout will sort of hover, in eddies and suchlike. If you are very slow and gentle, you can get your hand into the water and underneath them, and then gently stroke their bellies. It seems to hypnotise the trout. Once you have lulled them you can quickly scoop them out and onto the bank. There you have it. Trout for dinner." Abby looked from one to the other and saw that none were smiling, just nodding.

She appealed to Gladys. "Are they having me on?"

Gladys shook her head. "No, Abby. It's quite well known how to do it, especially amongst those who want to take the fish without the owner's permission."

James cleared his throat. "And that was without my father's permission. He took a dim view of poaching, always complaining that the Courts didn't treat the case severely enough. But then he couldn't understand why deportation for life was not still an available sentence."