Like Father, Like Son

by Diane Allen

  ‘Aye, well, I thought I’d better come in good time. I didn’t know what the weather was going to do.’ Edmund pulled his collar up and stood under the dripping eaves of the waiting room.

  ‘I haven’t lit the fire in there yet, else I’d say go in and get warm. Once the Scotch express has gone through, I’ll put a match to it. It’s late, is the express, by five minutes, by my watch. Tom Moorby’s set the signal, so it’s on the way.’ Bunce looked at his watch again, agitated that his railway was not working on time. ‘Hey up, here’s your mate from Blue Bridge with his milk, coming down into the yard, and here comes the express.’ Bunce leaned over the platform and listened as he heard the distant rumble of the Scotch express coming out of Ais Gill summit, and he sighed a sigh of relief.

  ‘Morning, Edmund. It’s days like this that make you wonder why we bother with this milk. My old woman is complaining like hell at these early mornings; says I should get Tobias to bring it himself, then he’d soon back down with his ideals.’ Bob Brown pulled at his full cart of ten kits, downloading them next to Edmund as the fast-moving express whooshed past them, not stopping on its way over the border.

  Bunce walked up the platform, looking for the southbound train, and glanced up at the lit signal box for the next train to be pegged, in readiness for the milk to be loaded onto it.

  Edmund shivered and looked at Bob. ‘Nay, you can’t knock the lad; he knows when he’s being ripped off. That Bill Sunter’s making fools out of most folk, but not us. You got to give Tobias his due.’

  ‘Aye, but it’s not him freezing his bollocks off on this platform in the pitch-black, with a wife still nice and warm in bed and needing some attention.’ Bob grinned at Edmund and then wished he’d not said anything, as he looked at the stony-faced old man.

  ‘Aye, well, she’s not got much longer to wait – the train’s here. Look, I can see the lights of the carriage coming over Dandymire viaduct. We’ll soon be home, and then tha can get to your bed.’ Edmund stood by his kits and waited for the jolting train to pull up at the platform. He didn’t think much of Bob Brown; he was a bit common, with his talk of his private life. Like all the young, he’d no respect of age, so Edmund was glad the train had been on time.

  Edmund and Bob rolled their milk-kits onto the goods carriage with the help of the guard. It was a routine they did most mornings of the week. The guard expected them and knew where the milk was bound. They went through the same motions each morning. The carriage door slammed shut, Bunce blew his whistle, and the train made steam and shunted away from the platform into the slight glimmer of the dawn.

  ‘Right, let’s get away. See you again, no doubt.’ Edmund climbed up onto his cart and urged Clover into motion. All he wanted to do was get home out of the rain, then dry out in front of the fire at Paradise. His bones ached, and it was on mornings like this that he knew his age. Now the weather was cooler, the milk kept better, which was a blessing. Perhaps he should consider sending two-day old milk for delivery to Liverpool. The folk of Liverpool didn’t know any difference; they were just glad of a doorstop delivery from Evie every day. By the time she’d mixed it with her cow’s milk, it would taste no different, and it gave Polly the chance to skim off the cream the night before, to make into butter.

  Edmund thought about the way his sister lived, and her lifestyle, after marrying her husband Albert, a docker from Wallasey. Even though she’d brought up six children in the back streets of Liverpool, she’d not lost her roots in farming, keeping two cows in an outhouse and supplying the streets around her with milk. She was quite the businesswoman, grazing her cows on any green spaces that the establishments in Liverpool would allow her to use. She reminded him of Polly in a way; once she got something in her head, she wouldn’t let it be, until she’d sorted it to her liking. But on mornings like this, Edmund wondered if it was worth the hassle of delivering the milk and receiving the small payment that Evie sent him every month. Perhaps he should just keep the one cow for themselves. If December and January brought snow, then he’d think about it. As it was, at the moment all he wanted to do was get dry and have some breakfast.

  Polly stoked the fire and looked out of the small-paned kitchen window. It was just breaking light, but you could hardly tell. The surrounding fells blended in with the dark grey of the rain-sodden skies, and heavy clouds lay on the highest peaks, threatening to keep the rain there all day. She hated days like these, days when you couldn’t leave the house, and the grandfather clock in the corner of the kitchen reminded her of every dragging minute. She watched as her grandfather entered the yard, dismounting from the cart in his sodden oilskins, unharnessing Clover and then leading her into her stable. He’d get the horse dry before himself, which was always his way, knowing that without Clover in good health, nothing would be done.

  Polly put the kettle on the fire to boil and turned a warming pair of socks, some trousers and a shirt on the fire-guard, in readiness for her grandfather to put on. He was a stubborn one. He’d rather get sodden most mornings than make his life easier and have his milk picked up by one of Bill Sunter’s men. On a day like this, she’d like to be working in the dairy rather than watching time with her grandfather, but she daren’t raise the subject.

  ‘Christ, lass, it’s wet, it’s not fit for a dog out this morning.’ Edmund slung his sodden cloth cap on the floor and shook himself out of his dripping oilskins.

  ‘There’s a change of clothes over the fire-guard, and I’ve some porridge in the pot. Go and get changed, and I’ll put your breakfast on the table.’ Polly picked up the soaking clothes and hung them up in the back porch to drip.

  ‘I’ve been thinking, lass. In the New Year I might not bother with milking any more, apart from keeping a cow for milk for the house. If you were a lad, it would be different; you could take it some mornings. But as things stand, it isn’t worth it.’ Edmund picked the warm, fresh-smelling clothes up from the fire-guard and walked towards the stairs.

  ‘I could take it up to the station. Why do you think I couldn’t? I’m strong enough – happen not at the moment, with being ill last month, but give me another week or two and I’ll be right.’ Even though Polly didn’t agree with her stubborn grandfather, she wasn’t going to see him defeated.

  ‘Nay, you can’t. It’s a man’s job, and you are nobbut a slip of a lass. And I’m a stubborn old bugger, who should know better than to be trailing in the dark with two kits of milk to be delivered to our Evie. It was all right when I was younger, but I’m old, and it’s time I realized it.’ Edmund put his hand on the banister and climbed the stairs. All his life he’d brought Polly up to be as strong in her ways as any man, but she was built like a woman now, and heaving heavy milk-kits was not woman’s work. Evie had three lads to help her; he hadn’t any. Life was a bugger, there was no two ways about it.

  The grey, wet days of November gave way to the frost and snow of December. The dale glistened and shone in a crystal covering of winter’s white blanket. The skies were clear blue through the day and freezing cold through the night, with stars and moon that shone like diamonds in the sky. Christmas was beckoning, and with it in Polly’s heart came both sadness and joy. Christmas was about family, and this year the main family member was missing. Her grandmother had always made sure that the plum pudding was made, the cake was baked and everyone had a present. However, it wasn’t just about the gifts of Christmas; it was her love that would be missing, and Polly knew that, as she took her first batch of mince pies out of the fireside oven.

  Along with the heartache were sudden flurries of excitement as she thought about the Boxing Day Ball and her promise to Tobias. Christmas Day couldn’t get over fast enough, she thought, as she placed her mince pies out to cool. She longed to see Tobias and to be swept around the dance floor of Hawes market hall, with her grandfather’s blessing. Tomorrow morning it would be Christmas Eve, and her grandfather had promised to take her into Hawes after he had delivered the milk at the junction, to enable her to buy Christmas
presents and to have dinner with Matt and his grandmother at Gayle. The thought of having an hour or two to shop in Hawes compensated for having to have lunch at what she now called her ‘new grandmother’s home’. She’d only met the woman twice and had taken an instant disliking to her, as she was sharp with her words and very offhand when it came to sparing any feelings for her new granddaughter, Polly. Matt had barely been seen since the winter months had crept in. He was too busy at the dairy, and the weather had added to his excuses for not coming to see his grandfather and Polly. Polly had passed the long nights of November knitting him some gloves and embroidering a pair of handkerchiefs for their grandmother, which were now wrapped and waiting for delivery in the morning.

  ‘They smell good, lass.’ Edmund entered the kitchen with the goose that he’d just necked, plucked and cleaned, ready for their Christmas dinner. ‘There’s plenty of meat on her, our Polly, she’ll make us a good dinner.’ Edmund lifted the dead bird up to show her, before taking it through to the pantry to hang from one of the bacon hooks.

  ‘I’m glad to see the back of that goose. She did nothing but make a noise around the farmyard, even when you were feeding her, the ungrateful bird. I’m sure she knew she was only here for our Christmas dinner.’ Polly spooned another tablespoon of mincemeat into an uncooked pastry case and then wiped her hands, before putting the pastry tops on.

  Edmund leaned over the kitchen table and pinched a hot mince pie from the cooked pile, juggling it in his hands as he realized they had just come out of the oven.

  ‘Bloody hell, I nearly burned my hands.’ Edmund sat in his favourite chair and blew on the hot pastry, before placing it in his mouth.

  ‘If you’d have asked, I would have put one on a plate for you and made a drink of tea, instead of you pinching it from my pile.’ Polly laughed at her grandfather acting like a small boy.

  ‘They are always better if they’re pinched. But aye, make me a cup of tea, and then I’ll go and milk the cows and filter it into the kits, ready for the morning. Are you all right going that early? It just saves me coming back down Garsdale to pick you up.’

  ‘It’s early, but it will be all right. I’ve quite a bit of shopping to do in Hawes, and I want to call in at the dairy and wish Miss Swaine a happy Christmas. She was always all right with me.’ Polly put the next batch of pies in the oven, while her grandfather pulled a face at her, not happy that she was going to the dairy. ‘It’s all right – I’ll not talk to Bill Sunter, but I would like to know how Maggie is. She’s only got a few more months and the baby will be born.’ Polly reached for the kettle and pulled it onto the fire.

  ‘It’ll be a shock for her, having to look after something of her own. It’ll be the first time she’ll have had to do that. She should have behaved herself at the dance last summer.’ Edmund watched Polly as she passed him his cup of tea. ‘It’ll be the Boxing Day Ball before you know it. Is your frock ready? Let’s just hope there’s no snow over Christmas, or a certain fella’s going to be disappointed.’ Edmund took a long sip from his tea and noticed a flush come to Polly’s cheeks.

  ‘You don’t have to tell me to behave myself, Grandfather, if that’s what you are getting at. I don’t want to end up like Maggie – not yet anyway.’

  ‘Aye, well, your grandmother would have wanted me to say it, so I’m just doing my duty. As long as that Tobias behaves himself.’

  ‘He will, he’s a gentleman.’

  ‘That I’ve yet to discover, our Pol. Time will tell, no doubt.’

  It was pitch-black and freezing when Polly and Edmund climbed up onto the cart, after locking the door of Paradise and backing up the fire, in readiness for their return. There was nothing worse than returning frozen from the biting winter winds, to a cold house. The two lit storm lanterns swayed with the motion of the cart as they made their way up the Dales road to Hawes Junction, throwing ghost-like shadows along the hedges.

  ‘I doubt it smells like rain, Polly, and it’s so bloody cold it could even be sleet.’ Edmund pulled the thick horse-blanket around their knees as they climbed the hill up to the station. ‘I hope old Bunce has lit that fire in the waiting room this morning. I don’t fancy standing out on the platform for long.’

  ‘I don’t know how you do this, week in, week out. You are right: after Christmas, tell Aunty Evie you are giving up sending her milk. We’ll manage without the money. I’ll get a part-time job.’ Even though Polly had four layers of clothes on, she was frozen to the bone and could barely talk, for fear that her teeth would chatter.

  ‘We’ll see. Get Christmas over and then we are into a new year. Bloody hell, Bob Brown’s here before me this morning. Who would have thought it, on Christmas Eve? At least he’ll have tomorrow off.’ Edmund urged Clover next to the horse and cart from Blue Bridge, jumped down from the cart and started to unload the kits. ‘Get yourself into the waiting room. The fire’s lit, the smoke’s clouding down from the chimney, so Bunce must have just recently put a match to it. Bob’s unloaded his kits, so he must be in there getting warm.’ Edmund watched Polly as she slowly climbed down from the cart and entered the double-fronted doors of the waiting room with its welcoming gas lights.

  She was glad to feel the heat of the blazing fire as soon as she was inside the small room. It was painted in whitewash, with a large oak table in the middle of the room and claret-coloured benches for waiting passengers to sit on. Standing next to a guarded fire, in the centre of the northern wall, stood the person she understood to be Bob Brown. He was warming himself with outstretched hands, rubbing them to get the circulation back into them, with his back to Polly. Polly coughed to acknowledge her presence and to make him aware that she’d like to share some of the warmth. The figure turned, and in that moment Polly’s heart missed a beat. In front of her stood Tobias Middleton, wrapped in a thick overcoat, looking as frozen as she was.

  ‘Polly, what are you doing here at this time of day?’ Tobias moved away from the fire and held out his hand. ‘Come stand here and warm yourself – it’s perishing out there.’

  Polly took his hand and lowered her eyes, not daring to look into his face. She knew her cheeks were blue with cold, and she shivered as he urged her to stand next to the fire.

  ‘My grandfather’s catching the train with our milk, and then we’re going on to Hawes for some Christmas shopping.’

  ‘But you are frozen, Polly. Here, let me warm your hands in mine.’ Tobias held Polly’s hands in his and looked into her blue eyes with care and concern.

  She relished the moment. Tobias’s words were nearly as warm as the fire’s flames, and she smiled at him as she let him rub her hands hard to help her regain some feeling in them. That was until the handle of the waiting-room door lifted from the outside, announcing Edmund’s entrance.

  ‘What’s thou doing here, lad? It’s usually Bob I see in a morning.’ Edmund stepped in to the waiting room just as a goods engine shunted slowly past on its way to Carlisle. He walked over and joined the couple, lifting his jacket up and warming his backside next to the fire.

  ‘I’ve given him the morning off. I thought he’d appreciate it, with having three children and it being Christmas Eve.’ Tobias distanced himself from Polly and looked at the old man warming himself.

  ‘Well, that’s good of you. I hope he appreciates it? I’m sure our Polly does, by the look on her face.’ Edmund grinned at a blushing Polly. ‘Where’s old Bunce, and what was that goods engine that just went through? There’s never usually anything on that line at this time of the morning. They keep it clear for the express. Unless it’s been through already? But I can’t see that happening, because it’s not quite six.’

  ‘Can’t help you with either, I’m afraid. I take it Bunce is the stationmaster? I think he’s across in his office. I lit the fire because I was bloody frozen. No wonder Bob Brown curses me under his breath – it won’t be his favourite job of the day. Now I know what a miserable job it is.’

  ‘Whisht, lad, is that the express comin
g? I bloody hope not, because that goods engine won’t have cleared the Dandymire viaduct yet. If the points haven’t been switched, they are right on top of one another.’ Edmund’s ears pricked up as he heard the familiar noise of the express making its way up the line.

  ‘The signalman will know what he’s doing, surely?’ Tobias was unconcerned as Edmund made for the door and the express flew past, with all its carriage windows alight with the glow of the gas lights for the early-morning travellers. Edmund snatched at the door handle and walked out onto the platform and watched as the last carriage vanished into the darkness.

  ‘Bloody hell – oh my God! What’s Dawson doing in the signal box? They are both on the same line!’ Bunce, the stationmaster, yelled across the track at Edmund and looked up at the signal box. ‘Come on: quick, we’ve got to catch up with it. There’s going to be a disaster.’

  No sooner had Bunce shouted out the words than there was a screech of brakes, and the sound of metal tearing and bending on metal, from down the line, followed by screams and the shouts of people fighting for their lives. Sparks lit up the sky as the first carriage of the second train lifted up into the air like a screaming monster.

  Tobias and Polly hurried to Edmund’s side and then, along with Bunce, they ran down the side of the platform and onto the track bed, guided by the still-burning lights of the express.

  ‘Mr Bunce, Mr Bunce, I’ve wrecked the Scotch express.’ Dawson, the signalman, called down from his lit signal box, shocked by the dire consequences of his lapse in concentration.

  Bunce ran past the bottom of the signal box and shouted up to Dawson, who was obviously in shock. ‘Block the line, lad. Stop any other trains and send for help. You’ve done enough bad work tonight. At least you can stop it from getting any worse.’

  Tobias and Polly ran ahead, with Edmund stopping to catch his breath alongside the portly Bunce.

  ‘Polly, you should prepare yourself for the worst. There could be folk dead in the wreckage, or people with dismembered limbs.’ Tobias reached the first carriage with Polly not far behind him.