by Helen Watts
Kelly remembered something Ben had said on one of their first walks around the old quarry site. ‘I think my friend said that Wilmcote station opened around 1860. So that would be about right, wouldn’t it, for a small branch line?’
‘Definitely,’ agreed Mr Walker. ‘And your quarry would have been in its heyday around that time.’
Kelly sat down and rummaged in her school bag for her notebook. ‘So what do you think about these things we found, sir?’ she asked. ‘Could they date back to the 1850s?’
‘The mug, yes, that looks like it could easily be Victorian to me. And if you found it in the quarry it probably belonged to one of the masons. They would have needed a hot mug of tea or two to wet their whistles working in all that dust, and to warm them up during the winter, too. It would have been hard labour, you know, in those days. In fact, I remember reading something…hold on a minute.’ Kelly watched as her teacher went over to his bookshelf, traced along the various spines with his finger, and then pulled out a tatty, well-thumbed volume.
‘How the Industrial Revolution Changed the World,’ he read out. ‘Borrow this, if you like. It will be perfect for your project.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ said Kelly, pleased.
Mr Walker was flicking through the pages. ‘Yes. Here it is. I knew I had read this somewhere. It’s in a chapter talking about manual work. And it’s a limestone quarry, too, like the one in Wilmcote. Listen to this.’ He read: ‘The quarrymen brought tea, bread, cheese and fat bacon for their midday meal. The bacon would be fried on shovels at the kilns and the men would then pour the liquid fat into their mugs of tea.’
He looked up from the page. Kelly stared at him, mouth open.
‘It’s a great image, isn’t it?’ he said.
Kelly found herself unable to speak. A great image. Yes. A picture of Ben, sitting next to her on a log, dreaming of bacon cooking.
Mr Walker picked up the other piece of mangled metal. ‘This looks like an old trowel or small shovel.’ He held it to his nose and sniffed. ‘I wonder if anyone ever fried any bacon on this. What do you reckon, Kelly?’ He broke into such a broad, infectious smile that Kelly burst out laughing. She pushed the image of Ben to the back of her mind and picked up the two broken pieces of stone.
‘This stone is limestone, I know that,’ she said. ‘But I’d like to know a bit more about what it was used for and who Wilmcote quarry’s biggest customers were.’
‘Well, it was definitely a popular building material at the time. And I took the liberty of showing it to Mrs Arnold, the Head of Geography. She said it’s called lias stone.’
‘It’s lovely and smooth,’ said Kelly. ‘And it was a perfect diamond shape until it got broken.’
‘But look how it’s broken.’ Mr Walker took the two pieces from her and fitted them back together. ‘Look how cleanly it has split. That’s what made it especially good for paving and flooring, Mrs Arnold said. It splits so easily into sheets.’
‘My friend told me that they built parts of Ragley Hall from Wilmcote stone. I wonder if that’s what they used it for there, for the floors.’
‘Well that would be quite an important contract for the quarry to win,’ said Mr Walker, ‘but not as impressive as the thing I found out next. After I spoke to Mrs Arnold, I did a little bit of research myself and looked up your quarry at Wilmcote on the internet.’
‘And…?’
‘If I asked you to name one of the most famous buildings in the country, one which was really important in our history, what do you think you would say?’
Kelly thought for a minute, shaking her head and looking up to the ceiling for inspiration. ‘Gosh, I don’t know. Warwick Castle? That’s not far away. No, somewhere more important. Westminster Abbey? Buckingham Palace?’
‘You’re getting closer. And it was a palace, yes, but not one that a king or queen lived in.’
‘In London?’
‘Yes.’
Kelly was stumped. ‘I can’t think,’ she said, frustrated but enjoying the game.
Mr Walker leaned towards her and lowered his voice conspiratorially. ‘Well, did you know that the Houses of Parliament are also known as the Palace of Westminster?’
Kelly sat back in her chair, not knowing what to say.
Mr Walker filled her stunned silence. He held up one of the pieces of limestone. ‘Could this be the perfect paving stone for the most important building in the world? Walked upon by dozens of prime ministers, secretaries of state, hundreds of MPs, and even kings and queens. Queen Victoria, Edward VII, King George V, our Queen today…’
‘Wow! It could!’ cried Kelly, interrupting his flow. ‘That would have been a pretty important contract!’
‘You’re right there,’ said Mr Walker, looking at his watch. ‘Look, we’ve run out of time, but I suggest you find out what building work was going on at the Houses of Parliament in the nineteenth century and how that might tally with Wilmcote history.’
‘I will,’ replied Kelly, hurriedly gathering up her things and placing the artefacts carefully back inside the canvas bag. ‘Thank you so much, sir. This is all so cool.’
Once again, Kelly found herself watching the clock all through her lessons, wishing the time away until lunch. Not thinking for one second about food, she raced down the hallway towards the LRC. She didn’t see Leanne coming out of the toilets and walking towards her until she was nearly on top of her.
‘Oh, it’s you!’ she said abruptly, ‘Sorry, I didn’t see you.’
‘Have you had your lunch yet?’ Leanne enquired, timidly. ‘Cos I was wondering if I could buy you a sandwich.’
‘Er, no. I’m skipping lunch today. I have something to do.’ Then, realising how unfriendly she must sound, she added, ‘But thanks for asking.’
Leanne touched Kelly’s arm to stop her moving off, clearly needing to say her piece. ‘Look, I just wanted to say I’m sorry. Charlotte was wrong to treat you like she did.’
Kelly pulled her arm away and tucked her hair behind her ear. ‘So why didn’t you stop her? Why didn’t you say anything?’
‘Sometimes I tried to. But I guess she bullied me, too, really. She made it pretty clear that I had to go along with it. She said that if I didn’t stick with her, she would tell everyone about my dad. He’s left my mum, you see.’
Kelly moved to the side of the corridor and beckoned Leanne to come closer. ‘Look, I’m really sorry, Leanne. That’s rough. But why did you let Charlotte hold that over you? Nearly everyone’s parents are splitting up these days. It’s not that unusual.’
‘It is, when your dad leaves your mum for a man.’
‘For a… Oh, I see!’ Kelly’s eyes widened as the penny dropped. ‘But Leanne, that’s not something to be ashamed of.’
‘Don’t you think so?’
‘Well, it’s different. And I happen to like different.’
Leanne grinned and looked down at her feet, before asking, ‘So, how about that lunch?’
‘Nah, sorry. I really do have something to do on the computer. But maybe tomorrow?’
Leanne’s face lit up. ‘You’re on.’
Chapter 20 – Christmas 1859
Sir Charles Barry spent the Christmas of 1859 at home with his family. The heavy snow had made the celebrations all the more magical for his children and Barry was determined not to dampen their spirits. But in truth, he had found it difficult to push his troubles to the back of his mind. So when his friend Sir Francis Throckmorton joined them for Boxing Day lunch, the conversation soon turned to less festive matters.
The cook, the housekeeper and the maid had been given the day off and sent home with a box of leftovers to share with their own families, so Sarah had laid out a cold buffet. While she was busy clearing it away, the two gentleman went to sit by the fire with a glass of malt whisky each.
‘So what’s troubling you, my friend?’ said Sir Francis, leaning forwards in his chair, as soon as Sarah had left the room. ‘You’re hardly bursting with Christmas
cheer.’
‘Where do I begin?’ replied Barry, raising in hands in exasperation. ‘The Westminster project is going to be the death of me. The Chambers may be finished and in use, but we still have a long way to go.’
‘How long do you think? Since your original estimate was, oh what was it, six years?’ Sir Francis smirked.
Barry glared at him. ‘Yes, and it will be twenty years this coming May. You don’t think I know that? And I shall soon be turning sixty-five. Good God, man, I shall go to my grave regretting the day I ever mentioned that six-year figure.’
‘I apologise, Sir Charles. I was jesting. I’m not apportioning any blame. I know you were pressured into providing an unrealistic date. On a project of this scale it’s almost impossible to foresee all the problems that might crop up.’
‘Exactly,’ agreed Barry, staring into the fire. ‘All this snow is a perfect example. It’s so cold that the mortar won’t dry, the water supplies are all frozen, and the delays we have had with deliveries are crippling us. The stone supply from Wilmcote dwindled to almost nothing in the approach to Christmas.’
Sir Francis swirled his glass, the golden whisky glowing warmly in the firelight. ‘But the bulk of the construction is now complete, which is marvellous, isn’t it?’
‘Certainly. Most of the work now is interior finishing. But that’s no easy task. I have my late friend Pugin to thank for that, with his sumptuous designs. Carvings, gilt work, panelling, furniture, even door knobs and spill trays—the standard of workmanship required is beyond anything I have seen before. It will be stunning, I can assure you of that, but I can’t allow the work to run a day over the twenty years mark and I must have the whole thing signed off by the State Opening of Parliament in November. If we are not finished by then, I may as well throw myself off the clock tower. My reputation will be in tatters.’
He rose sharply to his feet, unable to sit still any longer, and crossed the room to collect a crystal decanter from its silver tray on the intricately carved walnut sideboard. He was speaking more rapidly now, not waiting for Throckmorton to make comment.
‘Oh and we must not forget Prince Albert’s latest request—a mosaic in the central lobby. That will be time-consuming if we are to get it just right. And there are yards and yards of limestone paving slabs still to be laid.’
Barry reached up to his collar and slipped his fingers inside to try to loosen its grip. His face felt puffy and hot, and when he came closer to top up his tumbler with another generous shot of whisky, his pouring hand trembled.
‘Perhaps I can help relieve you of one of your worries,’ Throckmorton offered, gesturing to his host to retake his seat opposite him. ‘I know you are worrying about the supply of limestone from Wilmcote, so getting that new Stratford-upon-Avon railway line finished would be a huge weight off your shoulders, would it not?’
‘It would indeed,’ sighed Barry.
Throckmorton tapped his nose with his index finger. ‘Well, I have heard that the Stratford-upon-Avon Railway Company have approached Parliament about another branch line, south of the town. Perhaps I can convince them that if they can finish the Stratford-upon-Avon to Hatton branch by the end of September, then their other application might pass through Parliament more swiftly—perhaps even at a lower cost. That might put them on their toes and make them think it’s worth throwing more manpower at the problem.’
‘You would do that?’ asked Barry, hopefully.
‘For you, my friend, yes.’ He smiled and raised his glass at Barry.
‘I would be forever in your debt.’
Sir Francis chuckled. ‘Oh, I’m sure there will be something you can do for me in return.’
Barry wasn’t surprised. Sir Francis was his friend, but Barry was a desperate man, in dire financial straits, and Sir Francis had not reached his position of power without taking advantage of a few desperate men along the way.
Barry was about to respond when Sarah entered the room.
Seeing her, Sir Francis cleared his throat and said loudly, ‘Anyway, enough about Westminster. It’s Christmas.’
Sarah shot her husband a sharp look. ‘I knew if I left you two alone together for five minutes that you would be discussing business. You are quite right, Sir Francis. That’s enough about Westminster. My husband needs a rest from that matter.’
‘Sarah!’ Barry looked anxiously from his wife to his friend. ‘You will offend our guest.’
Barry sensed that his relationship with Sir Francis Throckmorton had just changed. He hoped that the MP was doing nothing more than helping him out, as a friend. But somehow, being beholden to a man so cut-throat in business matters was unsettling.
Chapter 21 – September 2012
Kelly was the first to get off the school bus when it pulled up at the village green, so excited was she about meeting up with Ben later that evening. She couldn’t wait to tell him everything she had found out, and especially the part about the Houses of Parliament.
While on the school computers that lunchtime, she had followed Mr Walker’s advice and done some more research. Sure enough, work on Sir Charles Barry’s new building was still ongoing in September 1860 when the Stratford-upon-Avon railway line opened. Kelly was certain that this was linked to Wilmcote quarry’s contract to supply stone.
‘Oh, why couldn’t Ben have met me off the bus?’ Kelly moaned to herself as she walked home up the lane. ‘I could have told him all this by now.’
Willing six o’clock to come faster than normal, she broke into a run and got back home in record time.
‘You’ve got home fast today,’ Mum said.
Kelly pecked her on the cheek and slipped past her straight into her bedroom.
‘I know. I ran,’ she called back. ‘I’m meeting Ben later, at six. I’ve got stuff to do before I go.’
Kelly began to change out of her school uniform, while her mum continued the conversation from the kitchen, where she was preparing some vegetables for dinner.
‘You’re spending a lot of time with that boy,’ she said. ‘Your dad and I are a bit concerned, to be honest. We haven’t even met him.’
‘He’s really nice, Mum. Very sensible.’ Kelly emphasised the word ‘sensible’, mimicking how Mum would say it.
‘Sensible or not, we don’t know him from Adam and we’re not too happy about you staying out so late on these school nights. It’s getting dark earlier and earlier.’
‘But I can’t meet Ben until six, after he’s had his supper. And it’s all arranged.’
‘Well, this will have to be the last time, Kelly.’ Mum’s voice took on a firm note. ‘After tonight you either see Ben straight after school or at the weekend. And I want you to promise me you will be home by seven tonight.’
‘I will,’ sang Kelly.
‘And if Ben’s so sensible, he won’t mind walking you home. Perhaps he can introduce himself to us at the same time.’ Kelly didn’t reply. ‘And Tyson goes with you, of course.’
‘Okay, okay,’ Kelly assured her, closing her bedroom door.
She leaned against the back of the door and sighed. She didn’t really mind Mum laying down the law. She got where she was coming from. In fact, Kelly was quite surprised that her parents hadn’t insisted on meeting Ben before. They didn’t usually like her mixing with anyone outside their own community. But perhaps her going to high school had softened them. They had seen that she hadn’t changed. She was still the same old Kel.
Satisfied that her mum wasn’t going to come in and continue the conversation, Kelly knelt down and pulled her treasure box out from under her bed. She lifted the lid and took out the boot. ‘Is it just me or does the leather look brighter?’ she mused. It felt softer, more supple, too.
‘I wonder who you belonged to,’ she whispered. Then she chuckled. She had had a good day finding things out so far. She had discovered all kinds of surprises. So who knew? Maybe she would trace the history of the old boot, too.
She found an old T-shirt and wrapped it a
round the boot before slipping it into her canvas bag. Then she grabbed her camera and notebook and popped them into the bag as well. She was all set.
By the time Kelly had eaten her tea and helped Mum to dry the dishes, she and Tyson were late leaving the site. She didn’t reach the canal until after six, even though they ran all the way. But to her relief, Kelly could see Ben waiting patiently on the bridge as she and Tyson approached. He was standing right on the apex of the small bridge, one foot either side of the narrow gap which ran down the middle of it, staring down through the crack into the olive-green water beneath.
‘They used to drop the towing line down here,’ he said without looking up. ‘When the boats were drawn by horses.’
‘Uh?’ Kelly grunted, trying to catch her breath. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Without this gap they would have had to make the bridge much wider to allow the towpath to continue under it. That was expensive. But if they left a gap in the top of the bridge like this, they could thread the tow line through it as they sailed under, and they didn’t have to unhitch the horse up on the towpath. Narrow bridge. Cheaper to build. Clever, hey?’
‘Ingenious,’ said Kelly, laughing. She was starting to regain her composure. ‘Look, sorry I’m a bit late.’
‘It’s fine,’ replied Ben, smiling. ‘I knew you were coming.’
‘Yeah but it means we’ve got less than an hour.’
‘Then you’d better take a look at this right away.’ Ben pulled a narrow, sepia-coloured envelope from his shirt pocket and waved it enticingly in front of Kelly’s face. ‘No, Tyson, it’s not for you,’ he added, as the excited little dog jumped up, convinced he was getting a treat. ‘This is for Kelly. A map of the quarry. Showing everything that was here in the 1850s, before the railway was built.’
‘Wow!’ exclaimed Kelly, taking the envelope from him and gently extracting the contents. ‘This looks a bit delicate.’
‘It is. It’s very old now.’
‘Where did you find it?’
