Abby Ch. 17

The smiles were interrupted by Sam. "You do your father an injustice, Mr. James. When the old gamekeeper retired, he never bothered to appoint another. Woody lived by poaching all the time, your father knew this, but never tried to put a stop to it."

"Yes." He agreed. "But he considered that Woody paid for the game in other ways."

Sam had to agree with that, and then changed the topic and addressed Abby. "Have you got those keys, Abby?"

Abby nodded. "Yes they are in my room. I'll go and fetch them."

James got to his feet as Abby left. "I'll get another round in."

Sam turned to Reg. "Abby reckons she has the keys to the station and the house. We are going to open them up tomorrow. Want to come along?"

There was no doubt in Reg's mind. "Yes, of course, but why?"

"Abby is going to live there."

James had returned with a tray of drinks, and on hearing Sam, added. "She wants to restore the station as it was when her granddad first came to Combe Lyney."

Reg was dumbstruck, and then a happy expression suffused his face. "That will be good. A Tregonney back at the station. Wherever he is, Thomas will finally have a smile on his face. Mind though, he wouldn't let anyone else see it." Abby returned and handed the two keys to Sam. Reg leaned across.

"Let me have a look." Sam showed him the keys. "Yes I would say those are the keys, I saw them often enough, Thomas always had them on a little chain loop attached to his belt." He addressed Abby. "Sam says you are going to live in the old house and restore the station. Your granddad would be very happy about that. Did you buy the land from Railtrack?" Abby shook her head, but James answered.

"No. The land always belonged to the estate, but no-one knew it. It was Abby who discovered that, so we have done a deal." Reg didn't enquire into the details, but went on to say.

"If there is anything you need to know, I hope you will ask me."

"That's very kind of you, Reg. I suspect I will need a lot of help as there doesn't seem to be many photographs of the station to work with. I have the ones that you took, but they don't show the station as it was in nineteen thirty-eight."

Reg laughed. "Oh it didn't change much at all. I have some more at home, which I took from the box. I'll sort them out, and let you have them."

Abby's smile said it all. "Have you any more with my granddad in them?"

"I think I have. He hated having his photo taken. When things were running down, we used to get enthusiasts coming around to take photos. Thomas would chase them off. Of course there were some official photos taken, Thomas couldn't do anything about that, so they should be in the archives somewhere, but I don't know where that could be."

James looked at Abby. "From what you have said about him, I reckon that your Mr. Brasher will know where they are, and how to get hold of them."

Abby agreed. "Yes I suspect he will."

Reg surprised Abby then. "Will you want any Permanent Way?"

"Permanent Way?"

"Yes. I know some of the old gangers, all retired now of course, but I was told about some rails that had been lifted, but never sold for scrap. Could be possible to get some. You will have to pay for them, but I could find out." Abby was delighted, the smile on her face saying it all. With rails the station would really be as her granddad knew it.

"That would be wonderful, could you, Reg? I would be ever so grateful."

"It shouldn't be a problem, I will ask next time I see the guys. They would probably be happy to come and lay them for you, give them something to do. Mind I doubt they will be able to do it the old way. They will need a small crane or a JCB now."

"The old way." Abby queried. "What was the old way?"

Reg laughed. "Sweat, muscle, and aching backs. They would place the sleepers, then fix the chairs, the sleepers were pre-drilled at the permanent way depot; and finally they would put the rails into the chairs and hammer in the keys. All by hand. Two men to lift a Sleeper and at least ten men to lift a rail." Abby was amazed; she had thought they would have some kind of mechanical assistance.

"Ten men to lift a rail?"

"Yes, at least ten. They had these grips, like huge pliers, that they would fix over the rail head, lift the rail together on the count, and heave it into position."

Abby was now worried. "No! I would love some rails, but I can't have these old men doing that, what if one were to hurt himself."

"Don't you worry about that, Abby. If they say they can do it, they will do it. Lessons and habits learned from a lifetime are not forgotten. I haven't worked a mechanical box for years, it was all buttons and small levers when I retired, but put me back in a box and I reckon it would take about twenty minutes to get all the old skills back. They will be the same but as I said they will need something to lift and carry the rails, don't think there will enough of them to do that now." Abby still had reservations but decided that she would wait and see what Reg could discover.

The evening was drawing to a close now, and Abby couldn't wait until the morrow. Reg and Gladys were staying at the Inn, so the party broke up. Sam waited for his customary kiss on the cheek, which resulted in his usual broad smile and blush. Reg promised to be there at the station, but Gladys had decided that she would go to see her family.

"I will see you again, won't I?" entreated Abby, receiving assurances from Gladys that indeed she would.

Abby arrived at the station just after ten o' clock to find Sam, Harry and Reg there already. A few minutes later James rode up on Cassie. He greeted them and asked Harry. "Where are the dogs, Harry?"

"They are in the van. Thought it best to get the place opened first, else they would be difficult to control. They're excited enough as it is."

"Good idea." said James. "Well shall we give it a try?"

Sam gave the keys to Reg asking. "Which one is which?"

Reg gave them a cursory look. "That one is for the station," pointing to the slightly larger key, "and that one is for the house." Reg handed the keys to Harry, who was carrying a work bag. He put it down and produced a can of oil. He dripped some on the keys, and approached the station door.

He turned and looked at Reg. "Which door does it fit?"

Reg shook his head. "Doesn't matter, the key fits both locks."

Harry gave a grunt which could have signified approval of that system, and proceeded to give both locks two or three squirts of oil. "Let those soak for a bit, and we will try them. I will go and give the house lock a squirt as well, will help to ease it." He went off leaving the keys with Sam.

Reg held his hand out for them. "If I remember rightly, this door always gave a bit of trouble," pointing to the booking office door. "Thomas had a knack, let's see if it still works." He inserted the key and tried to move it, meeting some resistance at first, but gradually working the key round through ninety degrees. He then pulled the door towards him and twisted the key sharply. At first it didn't move, so he tugged on the door again when suddenly the key turned through to a complete three hundred and sixty degrees. He then relocked the door and went through the action again and again. With each attempt the key turned more easily as the oil worked its way into the tumblers, but the door needed to be pulled tightly outwards each time.

James was concerned. "If that needs to be done each time, it could be difficult for Abby. You might want to think about changing the locks."

Abby shook her head. "No I shall get the knack." She was determined that she would change as little as possible.

Harry now returned being dragged along by two very excited terriers. Obviously eager to be at whatever adventure awaited them. Abby laughed delightedly as they yipped and growled deep in their throats, the fur on their backs raised and their bodies quivering with excitement. Harry approached the door, trying with difficulty to restrain the dogs.

"The doors unlocked." Sam told him.

Harry was surprised. "Well that must have went easy then."

"Reg sorted it. He says there was a knack."

Harry snorted. "Damn railwayman. Always tells everyone there is a knack." He grinned at Reg, who grinned back. Harry asked Sam if he could open the door whilst he prepared to let the dogs loose. The handle turned and the door had to be pushed firmly against the wishes of the hinges which after close on thirty years of inactivity didn't want to yield. Reg lent his weight to Sam, and the door creaked open. Immediately Harry let the dogs free and with barks and growls they leapt through the opening. The barking withered away gradually and Harry looked at Sam shaking his head.

"Nothing in there."

Sam nodded. "I didn't think there would be." He agreed. "Not after all this time, that's if there had ever been any." James watched this exchange with interest. He bent down to where Harry had left his bag of tools.

"Harry, can I use this claw hammer, I can make a start on getting the boarding off the windows."

"Yes please, Mr. James. We may be able to see what we are doing inside then."

Abby was impatient to go inside, but Sam cautioned her to wait until the windows were unveiled. "If my memory serves me correct, it was always quite gloomy in there, best wait until the light is better." Harry had gathered his now unhappy terriers, and turned his attention to the other door. Reg explained that this was the waiting room. This time the key turned easily, and again the dogs leapt into the room with excited barks, but they had the same disappointing result. James, helped by Sam had now removed most of the boarding at the windows. Abby cautiously moved to examine the booking office. Reg entered first and beckoned Abby in. They kicked up years of dust from the floorboards which hung around like a mist twelve inches above the floor. The room was totally empty, bare walls once painted cream and brown, now streaked with dirt, There were a couple of what could have been Lamp-holders on the wall, but no sign of any pipe work. The back wall as they entered had a small glass window, with an opening, an inverted 'U', cut into it at the base where a small counter was fixed to the wall. To the left of that an open door invited further exploration.

Reg was just as inquisitive as Abby. "Thirty years." He lapsed into silence. "Thirty years. I can't believe it." He suddenly realised that he should be explaining things to Abby. "That was your granddads office, also the ticket office. I don't know why the door is open, Thomas would never have left it like that. Regulations demanded that it was closed at all times. I suppose that the BR gang left it that way when they cleared the place. Do you want to go in?" This was a largely superfluous question as Abby was already heading towards the office. After all the excitement of coming here to open the station, she was now completely silent as she absorbed the atmosphere, a strange melancholy descended on her, as she touched the walls and the doors that her granddad would have touched every day, where he had been so much at home, in his element. The room was so gloomy and ordinary.

She entered her granddads' office. All that remained was an ancient desk, sagging at one side and held against the wall by an angled iron. There was a counter fixed to the wall where the ticket window was. The counter had an indent where the issuing porter would stand. Reg's voice came to her through her sadness.

"There was an Edmundson machine just to the right of the ticket window, you put the ticket in the slot and it automatically dated the ticket. Your grandfather worked at the desk. He had a very old Typewriter. It took him hours to type letters. There was always new promotional rates being introduced, and he had to write to anyone who could possibly be interested to inform them. It was ridiculous really. Those customers that did use the railway had no other choice, and there was no point in writing to the others because they had long ago made other arrangements. Your granddad never gave up though, he would be here until nine or ten in the evening still typing. Marion would even bring his evening meal in. When it got dark he would light the Kerosene Lamp, not that it helped much. They never gave much of a light."

Abby was close to tears. She thought she had shed them all, but the picture being painted, of this lonely old man, sitting here late into the evening, typing letters that would probably be consigned to the rubbish the moment they were received, tore at her heart. She turned to Reg. "Why? Why did he do all this when he knew it was a waste of time?"

All Reg could say in answer was. "That was his job. It was part and parcel of his employment, and he would carry it out no matter how long it took, no matter that it wouldn't do any good. His pride would not let him do any less, he saw it as his duty." The explanation mollified Abby to an extent. She could remember herself in the early days in the City, working away for hours at her supposed investments, so perhaps this gene of integrity had been bequeathed to her.

They walked out and looked in the waiting room. Again, the same bare floor with cream and brown walls. To the back of the room was another, smaller room, with a dingy cubicle leading off. Reg explained that this was the ladies waiting room and toilet. Abby was uncertain that she would have liked to use that under any circumstances. The only item of furniture was the long seat, originally painted grey, but now dappled with worn away paint and dirt. Abby asked Reg why this seat would have been left when all the other furniture had gone.

"I suspect that the size of this would have put the men from BR off. The rumour was that it came in pieces and was assembled in the room. I can't see how they would get it through the door otherwise." James joined them to say that he was going down to get the boards off the house windows.

"Sam and Harry are down there trying to unlock the door, but it is giving them a lot more trouble than these two."

Reg grinned. "I had better come down and give it the magic touch then." James went off and Abby and Reg followed at a more leisurely pace chatting generally about how the station was worked. Reg was impressed with Abby's knowledge.

"Have you been talking to someone?" Abby looked pleased with herself.

"I met this lovely old gentleman called Mr. Brasher, who is writing a history of the Great Western Railway. I asked him about this line, and he recited all the details off by heart. He even had granddads name down as one of the stationmasters. He said about the lamps, and how granddad would have started by filling, trimming and replacing the lamps. He said that was a job for the latest recruit. Called him a Lad-Porter." Reg was astounded.

"That's right, they did. Well I never, and he's got all this stuff for a book?"

"Yes. But I don't know if it's ever going to be published. He has been working on it for twenty-five years, and still says there is a lot to do." They were interrupted by a shout from James.

To be continued