Chapter 8
‘Is this a joke or a bad dream?’ asked Tim to no one in particular, the tone in his voice reflecting his incredulity. One step forward, two steps back, which seemed to be his life pattern at the moment.
The guard walked to the end of the carriage, took from a hook a heavy greatcoat and a hat with ear flaps and put them on.
‘I’ll find out what’s going on. No need for anyone to panic,’ he said then, heading out of the door into the dancing snowflakes.
The travellers watched him through the windows, trudging forward to the head of the train.
‘I hope it doesn’t suddenly set off without him,’ said Roo.
‘Fat chance,’ grumbled Tim.
Only minutes passed but it felt like an age. No one could do anything but wait; it didn’t look good.
Tim huffed. ‘Should have stayed in the bloody waiting room.’
‘Hindsight is a wonderful thing,’ Frank almost said, but kept quiet because it wouldn’t have helped really.
‘He’s back,’ said Roo, finally seeing movement outside.
Sure enough, the guard, accompanied by a second figure, came into view jogging towards their carriage.
They boarded, snow heavy on their hats and shoulders and it was indicative of the temperature inside the carriage that it took its time melting from them.
The guard addressed them. ‘I’m sorry about this, everyone, but we’ve encountered a problem.’
‘You don’t say,’ Tim commented, with heavy sarcasm.
‘What sort of problem?’ asked Vincent.
‘It’s the braking system and we can’t go anywhere with that seized up. It means you’ll have to sit tight for a while. Myself and Leonard – the driver here – will have to walk on to the station and get the engineer. Don’t worry, it’s not far.’
‘Eskford?’ Frank drew the obvious conclusion.
‘No, St Hilda, immediately after Eskford. He’s waiting there for us to pick him up. About ten minutes’ walk—’
‘More like twenty, Albert,’ Leonard the driver disputed.
‘Aye, maybe that’s more like it,’ agreed Albert the guard. ‘Twenty minutes then, as the crow flies.’ He waved his hand in the general direction of St Hilda and looked as if he was shaking hands with an invisible man.
‘What – you don’t have a way of communicating with the station other than by walking to it?’ Jane queried. ‘Not even a radio?’
‘Well… radios and… this sort of snow…’ Albert began an explanation about moisture and signal unreliability but abandoned it. His pained expression did all the answering for him without him needing to go on.
‘Technology, eh?’ said Frank, once again looking at his phone screen, but no amount of tapping at it was going to magic up some bars of signal.
‘Anyone got a network that’s operating?’ Vincent asked, replicating the same actions on his huge foldable phone.
‘Nope,’ said Tim, seemingly speaking for everyone.
‘It won’t take us long, I’m sure. It’s a brand new train, you see—’
‘It’s a more modern system than I’m used to,’ butted in Leonard. ‘That’s why we’re carrying a dedicated engineer. Mr Ingleton insisted, in case of…’—his voice withered—‘emergencies.’
‘Except he’s not on yet.’ Grace found she couldn’t stop the snidey comment.
‘No,’ replied Albert, contritely. ‘But please, just stay put and wait. It’ll be sorted.
It’s most likely down to the weather, he’ll know what it is as soon as he sees it.
He’s an expert.’ He reached into his deep coat pockets and pulled out a big, leather glove from each side.
‘The sooner we get there, the sooner we get back with him.’
He gave them a semblance of a smile, meant to be encouraging as he slipped on those gloves.
Leonard the driver switched on the bulky torch he had in his hand and together they got off and started walking across the snow and the train passengers watched them until they disappeared into the wintery darkness, the light of the torch swallowed up by it also.
Inside the carriage no one said anything for a few minutes. Then Tim’s voice broke the silence.
‘What next, I wonder? Plague of frogs?’
‘I dread to think,’ said Vincent. It seemed to be growing colder by the second and ‘next’ was probably them all freezing to death. The chill was finding its way through even the thickest of their coats.
A full half-hour passed very slowly. Then Jane asked anyone who might care to answer,
‘Do you think I would be allowed to use the toilet when the train is standing? I’m not sure you’re supposed to but I don’t fancy going outside.’
She was answered by a chorus of variations of: ‘Sod what’s allowed’ and ‘If you need to go, you must.’ She stood up and stumbled.
Roo got up quickly to aid her, escorting her down to the bottom of the carriage where the loo was.
‘I’m sorry, I stupidly didn’t eat before I set off.
’ Clifford would have been furious at her for that.
We don’t expect vehicles to run on empty, so why would we expect people to?
Sometimes it was as if he was next to her speaking the words in her ear, but that was because they had spent so much time together over the years and she was still acclimatising to not having him around, looking out for her, so her silly imagination was filling in the gaps.
‘This is ridiculous,’ said Grace, shaking from cold. ‘We’ll either freeze or starve to death at this rate.’
Without saying anything, Frank rose from his seat and headed to the back door.
‘Where are you going? Not out there, Frank,’ his wife said.
‘Well… I’m going to see if there is any way we can get on the main part of the train.
’ Never mind rich Americans wanting their toy to be pristine when they got on it at Glasgow, this was a needs-must situation and not only for toilets.
Or Mr Dwight J. Ingleton’s maiden trip was going to be blighted by a death on his hands.
‘I’ll come with you,’ said Vincent, pulling his woolly hat out of his pocket. His mum had knitted it for him years ago and it was still going strong. Everything she put her hand to was built to last, including her son.
The two men braced themselves against the blizzard and wondered if the guard and driver had got to their destination yet because the conditions were treacherous.
How could they even see where they were going in this, and torchlight wouldn’t have made much – if any – difference.
The first door of the Yorkshire Belle’s rear carriage was locked, so they pushed on to the next door – also locked.
But the door of the next carriage was mercifully unlocked.
They stepped inside and entered another world: the floor with its thick custom-patterned carpet, the wood-panelled walls, the gleaming brass door handles, the exquisite cut-glass light fittings; an inimitable smell of newness greeting them.
Even this small vestibule was twenty times grander than the carriage they’d come from.
‘Wow,’ said Vincent.
‘Jesus,’ Frank echoed the sentiment if not the exact word.
How the other half lived indeed. But the opulence took second place to the joyous light and warmth.
They opened the door into the main saloon part of the car and gasped like kids as they found themselves in a bar area, with claret and ivory curtains at the windows, co-ordinating upholstered chairs and bench seats, and tables polished to a high shine.
In the far corner was the bar itself, crafted from mid-brown wood, with burr walnut inlay.
Crystal glasses sparkled on their shelves, bottles stood shoulder to shoulder ready to serve.
Frank looked at Vincent.
‘I could do with a drink after today,’ he said.
‘I think we should get everyone in here and avail ourselves of something from behind that fancy-dancing counter. Purely for medicinal purposes, of course,’ said Vincent with a cheeky grin.
‘That sounds like a plan,’ replied Frank.