by Nancy Carson
She needed to ponder her love for Dickie Dempster, and his love for her. She adored him with all her heart and soul, but she could not help wondering lately if his love matched hers in intensity and commitment. Oh, he loved her in his own rough and ready way; he made love to her good and hard, with an ardour that made her toes curl. He was tender and affectionate afterwards, not like some of the men she’d heard about from her friends at work. Lately, though, he had not been so attentive when they were in company, and she wondered whether he was tiring of her.
Her faith in his love for her was under pressure. Was he the marrying kind after all? She had given him complete access to her body, willingly, and was amply rewarded with breathtaking pleasure in return. She considered what might have happened if she had withheld her favours, whether it would have spiced up his interest if she’d kept him dangling on the promise of what might be. But she could not have withheld herself, for she wanted him as much as he wanted her, and what was the sense in denying yourself that which you wanted and needed more than anything else in the world?
It irked her that she knew plenty about his brothers and sisters, his mother and his father, but she’d met none of them yet. From what he’d told her she didn’t really know what to make of the situation; whether he was too ashamed of them to allow her to meet them and be put off; whether they were too rough even for her, whose father was but an ironworker? On the other hand, she did not know either whether he might be ashamed of her, whether she was too lowly, the same mere ironworker’s daughter, to grace the home of his family, if only for a fleeting visit. He’d never given her any such inkling on either count and she was confused. On the face of it, he and she seemed to be of equal standing when it came to class, an ideal match as far as that was concerned. Perhaps it was because he knew that if he took her all the way to Wednesfield Heath where he lived near Wolverhampton, he’d only have to accompany her all the way back to the station. It was unsettling, being kept apart from his family, and it was gnawing at her. It had been worrying her all the more these last few weeks; she had become mightily sensitive about it, although she had mentioned not a word to him, or to anybody else for that matter. But the time would come when she must, for her own peace of mind. Soon she would have to talk to him very seriously.
Irreligious as she was, she offered a little prayer to her Maker, fervently seeking His help in securing this man Dickie Dempster, the love of her life. And so earnest, so poignant was her prayer, that she felt tears prickle her eyes, then trickle down her cheeks.
‘What are you crying for, our Lucy?’ Jane whispered.
At once Lucy opened her eyes. ‘Oh, I didn’t hear you come, our Jane. How long have you been sitting beside me?’
‘Only just. I wondered where you’d got to. I’ve been looking everywhere for you. You’m weeping, our Luce. What’s up?’
She sighed, a deep shuddering sigh. ‘I was just thinking, praying that Dickie loves me as much as I love him, if you want to know the truth.’
‘Have you got any doubts? You must have doubts if you’ve asked yourself the question.’
‘Yes, I’ve got doubts …’ She wept silently out of respect for the quiet ambience of the crypt. Her face was an icon of anxiety, and she withdrew a rag from the pocket of her skirt to wipe her eyes.
‘I reckon you’m just being a bit over-sensitive, our Luce,’ Jane whispered. ‘I reckon it’s that time o’ the month, eh?’
‘Oh … maybe …’ A fresh flood of tears streamed over the soft curves of her cheeks. ‘I need to know whether he loves me enough to want to marry me.’
‘So soon?’
Lucy nodded. ‘I’m pregnant, our Jane.’ Tears welled in her eyes again and she tried to stem them by wiping them on her sleeve. ‘That’s why I need to know if he’ll marry me.’
‘Oh, Lord … Have you told him yet?’
‘No.’
‘Don’t you think you should? And soon?’
‘Yes … I’ll have to tell him soon.’ She sniffed and wiped her eyes again.
‘Tell him tonight.’
Lucy shook her head resolutely. ‘No, I don’t think so, Jane … Not tonight. I don’t want to spoil his day out to Worcester. I’ll talk to him Wednesday night. We’ll be on our own. I’d rather be on our own when I talk to him.’
Jane nodded her understanding. ‘Dry your tears, eh? Don’t let him see as you’ve been a-crying, else he’ll wonder what’s up.’
Lucy forced a smile. ‘I know … But we’ve got another half hour yet before we’m due to meet them. I’ll be all right by then … I feel better already for having talked to you, our Jane.’ She rose from the pew and put her rag back in her pocket. ‘Come on, let’s see what else there is to see. Shall I hold Emily for you? Give your arms a rest?’ She held her hands outstretched to receive the child and forced a smile. ‘I’ve got to get used to holding a baby.’
The train home was due to leave Worcester at quarter past six that evening and they arrived at Shrub Hill station just before six, in plenty of time to make sure they could get a seat in a decent carriage. With the hundreds of people milling about, all with the same intention, it was pandemonium.
Dickie scanned over the heads of the throng to look at the train, and turned to the other three. ‘I’ll try and find out what’s going on.’ He left them and made his way towards the guards’ van, where he saw his workmate Fred Cooke.
There were two guards’ vans and Fred was in the end one, accompanied by others who seemed in a festive mood, joking among themselves and laughing. Dickie approached them.
‘What’s going on, Fred?’
‘The powers that be have decided to split the train into two,’ Fred told him, and drew on his pipe. ‘This is the first part and it’s due to leave here at quarter past six. The second will leave about ten minutes after.’
Dickie glanced round at the other men, strangers, who were evidently set to ride in the van with the guard. One of them came out of the gloom of the interior and spoke to Fred.
‘I ain’t going back with you, mate.’
‘Why not?’ Fred asked.
‘I stood up all the way over here and I ain’t standing up all the way back. I’ll get a seat on the next train.’
‘You’ll have to give me a guinea.’
The stranger did not know whether Fred Cooke was joking or not. ‘A guinea?’ he queried. ‘You’ll be lucky. On the other hand it might be worth it just to get a seat.’ He wandered off and was lost among the folk milling about on the platform.
‘So how many carriages are there to this train?’ Dickie asked, resuming his conversation.
‘Twenty-eight, with the guards’ vans. I imagine we’ll have to stick on another engine at Stourbridge for the climb up to Round Oak and Dudley.’
‘So what engine are you starting with?’
‘The big one – to pull twenty-eight coaches, mate,’ Fred replied with a grin.
One or two of his companions laughed, and it was obvious to Dickie that they had been drinking.
‘What about the second train?’
‘It’ll have fewer coaches, so it’ll use the smaller engine.’
‘You having a party in there or summat?’ Dickie at once displayed some interest. He could see a row of stone jars lining the floor.
‘They’ve got some jars of beer.’ He nodded towards the men. ‘If you want to join the party you can put in a shilling and drink till it all runs dry. When we get t’Ampton we intend to call in a tavern for a few more. Then I’ll be able to have a drink at last.’
‘But I’m in company,’ Dickie said regretfully.
‘Bring ’em along. The more the merrier. Any women among ’em?’
Dickie guffawed with bravado. ‘Yes, two. And one’s mine. The other’s got a babby in her arms, and an ’usband with only one leg. He ain’t gunna be able to stand up all the way in a guards’ van, specially if he’s sunk a few.’
‘So he’s already legless,’ Fred quipped and guffawed at his own
joke. ‘Listen, tell ’em you’ll meet ’em at the station at the other end and come on your own.’
The thought of all that beer was very appealing. ‘I might just do that, Fred. Give me a couple of minutes and I’ll be back.’ He pointed his forefinger at Fred. ‘Don’t leave without me.’
Dickie made his way back to Lucy and the others, shoving his way through the crowds who were jostling each other in turn as they tried to board the train.
‘It’s a damned pity that I went to check what’s going on,’ he said, his face a portrait of disappointment and regret. ‘They’ve split the train into two. The first one …’ He wagged his thumb over his shoulder in its direction. ‘… is long – twenty-eight carriages – and they’ve had to put on an extra van. They want me to work on it. That means I’ll have to see it right through to Wolverhampton. I’m ever so sorry, my flower, but they’m short o’ men.’
‘Oh, Dickie.’ Lucy sighed with frustration.
He shrugged as if he had no choice in the matter. ‘Can’t be helped, Luce … Now I reckon this train is gunna get very crowded with everybody anxious to get home, so if I was you, specially with the bab, I’d get on the second train. It leaves ten minutes after this.’
‘But it means I shan’t see you again tonight …’
‘I’ll see you Wednesday as usual, eh, Lucy?’ He smiled brightly to ease her disappointment. ‘Meet me off the train Wednesday, as usual.’
With reluctance she nodded but rolled her eyes, peeved that he should have to work when she needed the reassurance of his arm around her, his kisses to allay her doubts, before he went home.
‘I’d better go then, so’s we can get rolling. See you Wednesday.’ He gave her a kiss on the cheek.
Resignedly Lucy watched him go, and waved her fingers as he turned to leave her.
By the time the second train arrived at Brettell Lane it was almost dark. Lucy, carrying the baby again, left the station unhurriedly with Jane and Moses. They stopped to talk at the junction with the Delph before Lucy crossed the road to go home.
‘Well, it’s been a grand day and no two ways,’ Moses declared, entirely satisfied with his outing, ‘but I confess I’m buggered now, with all that walking and larking about on the river.’
‘You shouldn’t have been larking about on the river, you daft bugger,’ Jane admonished. ‘I’m surprised as you was potty enough to even get in a boat. What if you’d have fell in the water?’
Moses grinned. ‘I’d have got wet.’
‘And you’d have got no sympathy from me.’
The engine that had hauled them from Worcester wheezed and hacked bronchially in the cutting below as it took on the challenge of the incline to Round Oak.
‘But you’d been drinking as well. That made it all the more dangerous. Why are men so stupid, Luce?’
Lucy shrugged disconsolately.
Moses said, ‘I can handle me beer, wench … Now I’m clammed to death, so let’s get home so’s I can get a bit of fittle inside me.’
‘Oh, and just what d’you fancy?’ Jane asked.
‘A bit o’ cheese and some onion will do me.’
‘I hope we’ve got some onion, that’s all I can say.’ Jane rolled her eyes in mock irritation and Lucy smiled at their affable banter. To enjoy such an easy relationship with the man you loved and be able to sleep with him all night long, without having to get up to go home … Oh, she longed to be in the same situation with Dickie.
‘Mother will have an onion, I’m certain,’ Lucy said. ‘Come and take one of ours.’
‘No, I’ve got some onions, our Lucy.’ Jane smiled brightly. ‘I was just plaguing him.’
Suddenly, the peace was shattered by an almighty crash that made the ground beneath their feet shudder. Never had they heard such a horrendous assortment of sounds orchestrated into one simultaneous eruption. It was like several tons of iron bars being dropped into a monstrous iron bucket from an appreciable height, combined with the splitting of a thousand oaks and the sibilant smashing of a thousand window panes. The terrifying noise resounded ominously through the still evening air of Silver End, and sent shudders up Lucy’s spine.
‘What the devil was that?’ she shrieked with apprehension.
‘Sounds like the furnace at the glassworks exploding,’ Moses suggested. ‘It came from that direction.’
‘I’m off to find out what it was.’ She handed the baby back to Jane. ‘Are you coming, Moses? It might even have been the train.’
‘Yes, I’ll come.’ He turned to his wife. ‘Go and stop with your mother a bit and I’ll come back for you later.’
Jane said she would.
Lucy and Moses crossed Brettell Lane together. ‘I never heard a bang like that before in all me life,’ Moses remarked. ‘All the guns in the Crimea never sounded like that. I hope to God nobody’s hurt.’
At the bridge over the railway Lucy ran down the side of the cutting and waited while Moses slid down on his backside. There was a bend in the track and they couldn’t have seen around it even if it had been still light. Then as they started to make their way round it, Lucy could see the guards’ van of the second train.
It was stationary.
Further on she saw a lamp being swung as somebody, probably the guard, made his way to the front of the train.
‘Hurry up, Moses,’ Lucy called apprehensively. ‘Something’s happened to the train.’
‘You go on,’ he called to her. ‘I can’t go any faster. I need a steam driven crutch to get me along quicker than this. I’ll see if I can invent one.’
Lucy ran as fast as she could. Frightened passengers were leaning out of the windows trying to glean what had happened. Some even asked her what was wrong. She could see steam rising from the engine ahead of her and hear the incessant hiss of its boiler, growing louder the closer she got. But, in front of the engine, there were many more coaches where there should have been none at all … and those that were closest to the engine were like matchwood – smashed to smithereens …
Her heart was in her mouth. She ran on in a blind panic as fast as she could, impeded by the track bed’s gravel that crunched as it yielded beneath her boots, slowing her down. She was unaware even that she was crying out, only conscious that it might be the earlier train from Worcester they had run into. Pray God it was not so …
Mayhem had broken out. Lucy let out a cry of disbelief when she saw the mangled mass of twisted metal and wood that was once a pair of guards’ vans and a passenger coach. If these were the rear coaches of the first excursion train … She could hear clamours for help and groaning from within the mess, voices tortured with pain and fear.
Dickie …
It was a Sunday School outing …
All those children …
The engine driver of the second train was one of the men standing and watching, evidently transfixed and perplexed, seemingly oblivious and too stupefied to understand fully what was going on.
‘What happened?’ Lucy enquired.
‘Get back in the train, miss,’ he replied mechanically. ‘Everything’s under control.’
‘Under control?’ she shrieked. ‘There are folk hurt, look … Listen, you can hear them … There might be little children there, dying. Why aren’t you helping to pull them out?’
The man with the lamp was peering about in a panic, using its meagre illumination, looking here and there for injured people, apparently counting them. Others joined, some from the forward train, some from the neighbourhood perhaps, who had heard the crash and rushed to the scene. She noticed another man in guard’s uniform, hobbling about as if hurt. She ran to him.
‘What happened?’
‘I ain’t sure,’ he answered, dazed.
‘Have you seen Mr Dempster?’
‘He was in the guards’ van with me, but I jumped out before the up-coming train hit us. I don’t know if he did.’
As she wandered about, feeling utterly helpless, Lucy found herself standing in the darkness along
side another man who was bending over something or somebody. Her heart was thumping fast, her head seemed to be spinning with fear and apprehension as the realisation of what this all meant came to roost. Dickie must be here somewhere. He just had to be. Where was he? She prayed swiftly and silently that he was not hurt. She prayed he had jumped out also.
‘Is there somebody under all that wood and glass?’ she asked the man who was leaning over, earnestly attending to something.
‘Yes,’ he replied, and his voice was agonisingly familiar. ‘When the guard shone the lamp on him I recognised him straight off.’
She looked in disbelief at the man who had spoken. So far, he had not looked up, but she did not need to see his face; she knew at once who he was. Then, as if he recognised her voice too, he turned to face her with equal astonishment.
‘Lucy!’
‘Arthur!
‘Lucy, thank God you’ve come to help. I know this poor chap.’ He spoke quietly, his voice full of sadness. ‘I’ve got to help him. Do you remember when I fell asleep on the train from Kidderminster and ended up in a siding at Wolverhampton?’
Lucy felt her legs go weak, knowing very well what was coming next, as if she had been through all this before in a dream.
‘This is the chap who looked after me, Lucy. I told you about him, remember? Dempster, his name was. Dickie Dempster. He seemed a decent sort … The least I can do now is to help him … Lucy …’
Arthur’s words … She’d heard him utter them before. Was she reliving something that had already happened, or had she dreamed all this? She fainted in a heap on the gravel.
‘Lucy, are you all right?… Lucy?’
More and more people were milling around, some in a daze of bewilderment, some desperate to help, a confused mix of passengers and onlookers. Then Arthur saw a man rushing towards him on a crutch.
‘Moses!’ he yelled over the raucous hiss of the engine.
Moses was peering around with anxious curiosity.
‘Moses … Lucy has just fainted. See if you can bring her round while I tend to this chap here.’ Another man was meandering about aimlessly. ‘You, sir … Can you and a couple of others go to the inns on Brettell Lane and Church Street and get help as quick as you can. And see if you can get some boards or something to carry the poor injured back to comfort and safety. Some of ’em might be dying.’
