by John Parker
Sue did her best to contain her immediate reaction, which was excitement at the prospect. She would relish the challenge which the job offered. It was with a considerable effort of will that she resisted enthusiastic acceptance there and then. She needed to discuss it with Dave in private. She thanked Peter and assured him that she would let him know within a few days.
“Fine. Oh! Another thing is this programme from my trip to the Archway art gallery, which I mentioned. On looking through it, after I got home, I saw it contained a brief piece about your possible ancestral artist, Henry Potten. I knew you would be interested, especially as an example of one of his paintings was included.”
“How marvellous. Thank you so much.”
Pam arrived and asked Sue and Dave to stay on afterwards, which they did and as the other guests drifted away, Pam and Charles took them around the newly completed rooms, proudly displaying their achievements. It seems that modesty had prevented Peter from explaining his role in the project, as advisor upon the numerous paintings hung in the various rooms and hallways. Yet another of the talents of this unusual man.
*
Moscow – Norvokosky Power Station.
November. Peak demand. The usual noise and bustle of activity in the turbine hall. Six machines operating at full load. The floor vibrating in tune with the mechanical workhorses shimmering in the steamy heat haze – powering the socialist revolution.
In addition to the mechanics and turbine operators busy with their statuary duties, there was the inevitable army of cleaners and supernumeraries around all six turbines, applying themselves haphazardly, so it appeared, to a variety of trivial tasks with little direction or enthusiasm.
The operator of Number 3 turbine sat before the instrument control panel smoking his pipe contentedly.
“Dimitrov!”
He was startled by the voice raised above the background noise. It was the Deputy Station Manager.
“Why hasn’t the overspeed test on Number 3 turbine been carried out?”
“Sasha asked us to wait. He’s gone to check with the Senior Operations Engineer to see if these tests should be suspended. He has information that it was overspeed stresses alone that were responsible for the British turbine failure last year.”
“Damn him. Alexander Borisovitch has no right. Get the test started this instant.” The operator and two junior assistants did as they were ordered.
*
Leaving the Senior Operations Engineer to consult with the Station Manager, Sasha returned to find the turbine test already underway. The rev counter was up to 3,200 and rising. He was annoyed that the operator hadn’t waited, it would have only been a short delay… then the noise… the tell-tale change in pitch… out of balance…
“Bozhi Moy! The bloody steam leaks are worse than ever.”
Immediately Sasha realised that the operator hadn’t cleared the area around the turbine as he’d instructed. He could just make out a group of cleaners in the mist. Were they mad or just plain stupid?… The turbine was vibrating… increasing violence… his warning shouts were futile.
His men stood transfixed, helpless, as Sasha raced along the side of the turbine towards the LP cylinder – shouting… screaming… until lost in the fog of steam.
*
“Hi! Gritty?”
“That you Ian? I thought you’d be trekking along Hadrian’s Wall by now.”
“I’m just off, but I wanted a word with Dave before he left work.”
“He’s off for a few days – back after the holiday. What’s the problem?”
“I forgot to let him have last week’s batch of journal references. There was one in particular he would want to see. They’re on my bench. Would you let him have them?”
“Sure, I’ll see to it. Have a good Christmas.”
“Thanks Gritty. Same to you.”
Gritty went into the corrosion lab to make his final checks on the experiments that were to be kept running over the holiday. Amongst them were Dave’s stress corrosion tests on some newer turbine disc alloys.
“Hey, get your arse in gear, beers are waiting to be drunk,” Geoff called from the doorway.
“Be with you in a tick,” said Gritty. He went to Ian’s bench and scooped up the reference cards. Ian had developed an efficient system for Dave, which allowed him to check relevant references to corrosion related matters, from selected journals. Gritty took the cards with him and left them in the centre of Dave’s desk. As he slipped on his jacket, he read from the top card:
USA Power Nov 1970
New Heat Exchanger Tube Material for Sea Water Cooled Power Stations.
High Purity Titanium Installed in Condenser at
Corpus Christi Power Plant Texas.
Gritty could see that Dave would be interested in that item, in connection with his Thornton seawater trials. He joined his colleagues for their Christmas booze-up. On almost any other day Gritty would have looked through all the reference cards out of interest. Although only a scientific assistant, he was keen to keep on top of things and during his time at SSD, had proved himself a valuable member of the team. Had it been any other day, he would have noted and taken in the particular significance of the next card reference:
EDF Review Dec 1970
LP Turbine Disc Failure – Second in November.
The sudden failure of a turbine disc at Xanlu Power Station in China, with serious casualties, has been reported. No details are available. This news is of some concern following so soon after the unconfirmed reports of a similar catastrophic break up of an LP turbine disc in the USSR earlier this month. It is only just over a year ago that the first failure of this kind occurred at the West Winford Power Station in the UK.
Full details of these recent failures are awaited.
Certainly Dave would have wished to have seen this earlier.
*
Earlier in the month, Dave’s pulse had quickened when he received a phone call from Pauline. He asked how the bad news had been received at HQ. She maintained a business-like manner – perhaps there were other people in the office – and replied that, as he could imagine, an internal investigation was underway to find the source of the press leak. The reason for her call was to let Dave know that it had been considered necessary to have a final wind-up meeting of the Corrosion Sub-Committee before the year’s end. This was required by precedent, as an established committee could not be allowed to be disbanded without an orderly closure, even in the present circumstances.
Accordingly, a week before Christmas, Dave had to make a trip to London for this final meeting. He suggested that Sue and the girls should join him and have a shopping trip and overnight stay. The evening of this announcement saw the female Harrisons busy with their final preparations. As they were spending the holiday in Birmingham in a few days’ time, they were aware that time was short. The girls were making Christmas present lists for their cousins and school friends. Sue was going through the information on her Potten family history, and the discovery of Potten’s Mill had intriguing possibilities.
“Which of you two is mine?” she pleaded looking at the two birth certificates for the umpteenth time. She really hoped that it was the granddaughter of the famous artist, Henry, and was encouraged, when she had looked through his details in the pamphlet Peter had given her. It included one of his pictures which, although reduced in size, clearly showed that he had a great eye for fine detail which, she thought, Jo’s Hunstanton holiday efforts resembled. Sue felt that her Caroline had been a thoughtful, intelligent lady, who, of course, had helped so much with her dedicated recording of her family. She thought that her foresight should be rewarded and this would, in a small way, be appropriate. If her Caroline Potten was the granddaughter of Henry, it would provide her with details of her own ancestors back into the seventeenth century, which would be an added bonus.
She had a road atlas, showing the south east, open in order to roughly place the area of Potten’s Mill (too small to be marked at this scale
) in relation to London. Hmm! She mused. It was not exactly conveniently placed, but Dave had been so much more his old self since his returning from his USSR trip, so:
“Do you think that we would have time to make a small detour on our trip? It’s only just in Kent,” Sue asked, with an encouraging smile. It has to be said that Dave’s agreement owed as much to his hazy knowledge of geography, as it did to Sue’s persuasive manner. Sue’s plan was to visit Potten’s Mill and possibly the surrounding area, during their London trip.
They started early, as Dave was due to be at Walton House by eleven o’clock. He had been delighted that Sue had arranged for them to park their car at Pam’s London address. This was convenient for The Bonnington as well as Walton House. The journey was enlivened, with a pleasant bubble of chatter, as plans were finalised.
After parking, it was off to St. Paul’s for Dave, with his female accomplices, rather predictably, heading for Oxford Street. Before taking leave of them, he gave directions to The Bonnington. He would join them there, after collecting their overnight bags from the car, en route.
*
This final sub-committee meeting, which consisted mainly of a review of recent developments, was less formal than hitherto. Even so, Pauline was her usual efficient self and showed no especial reaction towards Dave. Joe reported that the cracks in his laboratory specimens were continuing to grow in a linear fashion. The others all accepted that the discovery of severe cracking at the Welsh Petroleum Corporation’s Newport site, plus Dave’s crack initiation results, had overshadowed everything. They were happy to support Dave’s request to publish. He was grateful, but sorry that this was the worst possible outcome for the Authority or, indeed, the whole of the electrical supply industry.
As far as Dave’s results were concerned, he was interested to learn that the senior managers within the SSA had readily latched onto these, in an attempt to refute any suggestion of a cover up, citing the fact that a summary of the results of their investigations was already with the publishers. They were also keen to point out that their refurbishment programme was well underway and they would be shortly in a position to provide cover for the other UK utilities, when they began their more extensive refurbishments. This surely was the very ethos of the SSA and vindicated its existence.
Dave gave more details regarding his crack initiation studies, aided by his daughter, which highlighted the importance of certain ‘active’ sulphide inclusions, always present within the structure of commercial steel. These appeared to be the likely sites of crack initiation. He considered that this provided the complete explanation for the cracking of these LP turbine steels in high purity hot water. He flushed, as he added that his detailed paper was now ready to submit to Corrosion Review.
Appropriately, it was Henry who concluded the business of the sub-committee. He said that the occasion could not be allowed to pass without formally acknowledging the admirable contributions made by its participants. He believed that the successful outcome was due to their enthusiastic efforts and the teamwork displayed. He went on to summarise the particular contributions from each technical member and concluded by drawing attention to Pauline’s role. He was full of admiration for the manner in which, in her own quiet way, she ‘had run the whole show’. Although this comment formally wound up the business of the West Winford Corrosion Sub-Committee, it was Dorinda who had the final word as, on behalf of them all, she thanked Henry for his calm guidance, especially through the odd patches of heavy weather. They all enjoyed themselves as they chatted amiably over a festive lunch.
Dave took the opportunity to have a word with Pauline. She surprised him with her news, that she had given in her notice and would be leaving the SSA at the end of the year. She brushed away Dave’s regret that she thought this necessary, by explaining that it had been planned for some time. She was looking forward to her new challenge, which was to run the administrative side of her aunt’s business, in Italy. Dave wished her well.
James Collingwood caught up with Dave in the Gents on his way out, and surprised him by saying that he had a message for him.
“It’s from a chap called Razumov.”
Dave was surprised and asked how James had come across him.
“Last week we had a USSR delegation visit, about a dozen, including their ‘minders’. Razumov was one of the delegates. He asked if I would pass on his best regards. You met him on your Moscow trip, I understand?”
“Yes, very nice chap. Is he well?”
“Fine as far as I could tell. It was a bit odd though. He mentioned a fellow called Sasha, any idea?”
“Yes, he worked at the power station we visited,” replied Dave rather noncommittally. “What did he have to say?”
“Well that was the odd thing really, he became very serious and he asked me to pass on a message to you, but before he could say more, one of the ‘minders’ closed in on us and he clammed up. What a bloody country, eh?”
As he had been speaking, James had been changing into tatty jeans, sweat shirt and trainers, which he had removed from a rucksack. The transformation was amazing, the bespectacled, swotty looking, scientist metamorphosing into a hillbilly hobo in less than a couple of minutes.
“Well, you obviously have the rest of the day off. Doing anything interesting?” asked Dave.
“Sure am. Pauline and I have plans.” He swung his bag onto his shoulder and turned back, as he reached the door. “There’s a whole lot more to that young lady than you could ever imagine,” he added and with a wink, was gone.
Dave smiled to himself, somewhat ruefully – modern girls, eh?
He wondered what message Ivan had wished to pass on regarding Sasha. Perhaps he would learn something when Jo and Katy next heard from their new Russian pen friends.
He left Walton House in a buoyant mood, despite regretting that their work had finished. It really did appear that he’d done the right thing as far as alerting people to the dangers of stress corrosion in these vulnerable turbines. Very soon, he felt that this warning would be acted upon by even the most backward operators.
He arrived at the hotel to find that the others had just returned. Sue explained that they had decided upon a trip to a cinema in Shaftesbury Avenue, to see ‘The Railway Children’, which they had enjoyed.
“So you’ve started without me,” bemoaned Dave. “Well, no matter, we’ve another treat shortly.”
“What Daddy? What Daddy? Tell us, go on,” came the girls’ chorus. But this only elicited a response of “Wait and see.”
The evening surprise was a meal at the Italian restaurant. It was a fun evening, Jo and Katy deriving great pleasure from competing to see which of them could suck up the longest piece of spaghetti. Sue and Dave shared a litre of house wine and so their spirits were high in every sense. Fortunately, the hotel was not far and all four of them rather drifted away from the posse of waiters who waved them off.
Sue and Dave took the opportunity of some practice in anticipation of a third honeymoon in the near future.
24
Dave left the girls to gather up their belongings whilst he collected the car. It was an early start from Bloomsbury over Tower Bridge and on to Greenwich. They stopped briefly to stretch their legs in the park, which was lovely in the weak winter sunshine. Sue was anxious to get over to Sedley, in time to have a good look around before dark. Accordingly, they didn’t stop for lunch, but bought sandwiches to eat on their journey.
From Greenwich they drove to Bromley and southwards down the A21 towards Hastings. Just over the Kent border, they arrived at the picturesque village of Sedley. Sue had a copy of the diagram she had made, which located Potten’s Mill. She matched it, as best she could, with their freshly purchased OS map. Surprisingly quickly, they found the small junction with a lane leading to the mill, but it was unsuitable for cars. “So it’s trekking time,” said Dave. Jo and Katy pleaded tiredness and stayed in the car whilst their parents, wrapped up in their coats, set off on foot. They found the small strea
m and in amongst the tangled undergrowth was a ruin that presumably had been the mill. Three partial walls remained, the fourth having tumbled completely. There seemed nothing of interest inside the walled area but, as they were leaving, Dave drew Sue’s attention to the top of the archway which he assumed had been the main entrance to the building. The keystone was still in place at the top of the arch and it had an inscription. Although not clear, it seemed to be initials, beneath which was a date. It looked like HP with the date 1775.
“It could be P for Potten,” suggested Sue hopefully.
“Quite possible, given the mill’s name.”
“It would be wonderful if I could prove it was my ancestor,” Sue added with enthusiasm.
“Well, we best get going, if you want to check the churchyard out. I don’t like the look of those grey clouds coming in from the west.”
Back in the car, Sue reported their discovery and she was surprised at her daughters’ keen attention and eager offer to help her look at gravestones – a spooky adventure. St. Anne’s church was not far, being in the centre of the village. Sue had been so optimistic that this would be the burial place for many of her Potten ancestors. Consequently, it was an anti-climax, when a thorough search of the churchyard failed to reveal any. She tried to hide her natural disappointment, as it had been such a lovely family trip.
“Only just finished in time. I reckon there’s snow in the offing and it’s getting pretty dark,” warned Dave, looking upwards at the encroaching black clouds.
They drove away and, almost immediately, came to another village which, Sue was surprised to find, was called Sedley St. Peter. Another Sedley! She thought quickly. Would the 1851 census enumerator have been specific in recording which Sedley after all? Sedley St. Anne or Sedley St. Peter? Indeed, it appeared that this was the larger village. She just had to know. They had come all this way. The others could understand the situation and agreed that they should at least stop for a quick check through the churchyard here. Their natural instincts would have been to get home quickly, but the feeling of togetherness, of family harmony, seemed to have affected them all. If they all helped they might just beat the worst of the weather. The snow had started to fall, but only lightly.
