Authors: Tania Anne Crosse
Ling stood mesmerized. It was magnificent, a thing of noise and power, and, in some strange way, of beauty. Close to, standing next to it on ground level, the size of the majestic beast was overwhelming. Her eye had caught the fascinating motion of the coupling rods that drove the wheels, the incandescent blaze in the open firebox as the fireman shovelled in more coal. And this wondrous sight was to be part of their daily lives from now on. People were cheering all about her, children tugging at her skirt and calling, ‘Miss! Miss!’ But she was staring rapturously after the train. Somehow that brief moment had opened up her heart. She loved Dartmoor, its wild uplands, its calm, wooded valleys with bubbling brooks and rivers, and she had never thought beyond her life at Foggintor, despite all she had studied in Mr Norrish’s books. But the railway had suddenly made the outside world seem
accessible
, and it had plunged her into a dreamlike reverie.
It was Fanny’s hand on her arm that snapped her back to reality. The younger girl’s face was flushed with elation, though she said nothing, her brain, as so often happened, unable to find the words she needed to express her emotions.
Ling grinned down at her. ‘Wasn’t that marvellous?’ she cried.
Fanny nodded, her fair curls bobbing around her head. Ling drew in a quivering breath, but, before she could release it, Barney pulled her against him. He was as excited as all the apprentices were, for young men would always be inspired by gleaming machines of such strength and magnitude, but he was the only one among them to have a sweetheart, and this public show of affection was a way of boasting about it. Ling knew that some of the adults would frown upon his action, but she allowed him to hold her for a moment, her mind lost elsewhere.
The crowd was slowly dispersing with much elbowing among the apprentices, and Ling pulled a disparaging grimace at them as she disengaged herself from Barney’s arm. The eldest of them, a quiet lad called Sam, gave her a sympathetic wink, and she took Fanny’s hand as they all walked back towards the hamlet, her mind already returning to the laundry. But, as she went to turn down between the square of cottages and the short row of similar dwellings opposite, she glanced back once more in the direction of the railway line.
‘The celebrations are going to be on Wednesday,’ Arthur announced, ‘and Mr Warren’s said we can have the day off!’
‘Oo, hear that, Fanny?’ Ling grabbed her sister’s hands and bounced up and down, almost bursting with anticipation. ‘What fun we’re going to have! They’ve had bunting up in Princetown for the last two weeks, just waiting for the word. There’s going to be a big party with fireworks and everything, isn’t there?’
‘There certainly is,’ her father said, grinning back at her. ‘’Twill be worth the waiting for! Apparently, after all the delays, the Board of Trade suddenly decided on Friday evening to certify the train for public use. It were all so sudden, the two committees in Princetown had no time to put all their festivity plans into action, so they’ve decided on Wednesday instead.’
‘Oh, I can’t wait! I don’t think I’ve ever seen fireworks, have I? It’ll be marvellous, Fanny! And there’s going to be sports and a band, to say nothing of the train itself and all the special people in their fine clothes. Oh, Mother, what a treat it’ll be!’
Ling let go of Fanny’s hands and danced her mother round the tiny room instead. Arthur watched, amusement curving his mouth upwards at the corners. There might be dignitaries in splendid attire travelling on the train, but not one of them would possibly be able to match the picture of passion and vivacity that was his elder daughter. With his comely wife, and Fanny, who was like a fairy, no man could ever be more proud of his family than Arthur Southcott was!
When Ling came round the corner on Wednesday morning, Barney was lounging against a boulder waiting for her, whistling to himself with his hands thrust into his pockets in what he evidently considered a manly fashion. Ling smiled to herself, her eyes shining as they took in his best suit and well-brushed hair, all to impress her, she knew. Just as he had struggled, albeit with little success, to improve his literacy to show her how much she meant to him. Not that there was any need. At nearly eighteen and with his apprenticeship nearly over, he was the only man for her. Only Sam Tippet came anywhere near him for looks. A nice lad was Sam, but so quiet and reserved that he could never touch her heart as Barney did.
‘Morning, Barney!’
‘You looks proper lovely,’ he greeted her.
‘Why, thank you, Barney. I’m really looking forward to the day, aren’t you? Where are the others?’
‘They’ve gone on ahead.’
‘Oh.’ Ling’s face fell, and she glanced over her shoulder as her family came up behind her.
‘You two’d better catch ’em up then,’ Arthur said with a wink. ‘You young folk should be together on a day such as this.’
Ling drew in an expectant breath and her eyes met Barney’s. ‘Come on then!’ she goaded him. Taking his hand in one of hers, she picked up the hem of her skirt with her other – showing more than a little ankle – and began to run. Barney was jolted forward, his cap flying from his head so that he had to break away to retrieve it. As he returned to Ling, hand outstretched in sure anticipation of holding hers again, she dodged neatly out of his reach and, laughing merrily, launched herself along the track in a froth of petticoat and flying feet. When he finally caught her, they danced about each other, panting and gasping, before hurrying on again and disappearing from view.
Mary Southcott was smiling at their backs, but then her face clouded with doubt. ‘Are you sure ’tis a good idea, they two going off together?’
‘To join their friends? What harm can she come to? Besides, she’s a good head on her shoulders. And, Mary, she be growing up. There comes a time when you has to accept that. Now then, let’s hurry along, or we’ll be missing half the fun!’
By the time they caught up with the group of jocund youngsters, Barney was sweating uncomfortably, his dark hair stuck to his forehead, even though it wasn’t a particularly warm day, the sky being grey and overcast. Ling, though, still looked as fresh as a daisy, even if her face shone with exhilaration and her hat was somewhat awry on her head. Barney’s chest swelled with contentment as he contemplated her. She looked quite stunning, her tall, willowy figure clad in its serviceable Sunday best and her mane of springing copper curls already escaping from beneath her straw hat. There was no other maid to match Ling in either looks or personality, and she was his. Barney Mayhew’s. And the sooner he got a ring on her finger, the better.
‘You two have bin a long time getting yere! Stopped off behind a boulder for a few minutes, eh, did we? ’Tis all it takes, I’ve yeard tell!’
Ling’s eyes narrowed in disgust. Her altercation with Harry Spence two weeks ago was still fresh in her mind. No one liked the uncouth youth, who was unfortunately part of everyone’s daily company, and for two pins Ling would have liked to knee him again where it hurt most. But there were other ways to skin a cat!
‘Little boys shouldn’t joke about something they know nothing about,’ she scorned and, so saying, she sprang forward with a gleeful cry. Before he had a chance to stop her, she pulled Harry’s cap down over his eyes. Blinded for an instant as he struggled to remove it, she spun him round, disorientating him further. He stumbled on to his knees, and when he finally released himself from the blindfold he was met by a chorus of hooting laughter.
‘Well done, Ling!’ Sam Tippet chortled. ‘’Twill keep ’en quiet for a bit.’
‘Met your match, eh, Harry?’ someone else jeered cheerfully, and Barney’s eyes flashed. It was all very well everyone congratulating Ling, which, of course, filled him with pride, but just so long as they didn’t start coveting
her
into the bargain! But Ling took his hand, her head thrown back in glorious triumph as she skipped along beside him. The incident, in her mind, was already forgotten, as she at last felt she had got even with Harry Spence.
Her eyes crinkled at the corners as she smiled at Barney and he held her hand even more tightly. He was looking forward immensely to the day ahead – a
whole day
and the evening, too, with fireworks and a dance. Then they would walk home in the dark of the August evening. What could be more romantic? Perhaps he would even get a more passionate kiss than her usual peck on the cheek!
The views across the moor as they followed alongside the new railway seemed to Ling even more breathtaking than ever, the particular quality of the light that day lending a dramatic blue tinge to the spectacular landscape. It was always changing, Dartmoor, as if it were alive, and that was what Ling loved about it. Green and welcoming in the sunshine with banks of vibrant, yellow gorse and purple heather; sprinkled white with winter snow; lashed with driving rain from a granite sky; or enveloped in swirling, mysterious fog that could descend in minutes, even in the middle of summer – Ling loved all of Dartmoor’s faces. But today the weather was still and set, with the sort of cloud that might produce a brief shower. Ling crossed her fingers that it would remain dry, and they began to hurry a little as no one wanted to miss the arrival of the train.
The moorland peace was interrupted by the cacophony of voices raised in good humour, and the general clamour muffled the rhythmical drumming of the horse’s hooves until it was almost upon the larking youngsters. Ling’s attention was drawn to the animal as it overtook them, leaving a safe, wide berth. It was unusual to witness anyone riding at breakneck speed on the moor and this horse was so striking: white but with a few small grey rings on its rump and a grey mane and tail. Ling hardly noticed the rider, but her eyes sparkled in appreciation of the beautiful steed.
Barney saw the wonderment on her face and scowled. ‘Bloody idjit,’ he barked irritably. ‘Could’ve knocked someone over.’
‘Hardly.’ Ling blinked at him. ‘He was keeping well away.’
‘Huh! Racing the train, more like.’
‘Talking of which, look, everyone!’ Ling shouted as she turned round. ‘Look! The train! It’s coming!’
Sure enough, in the distance behind them, a trail of grey smoke was all that distinguished the locomotive from the camouflaging background of the moor. A moment’s hush fell over the awestruck faces, broken almost instantly by excited whoops of joy.
‘Come on! Come on! We won’t get there in time!’
Dozens of feet broke into a run. Older people or those with small children would have to content themselves with watching as the train passed by. But the youngsters’ strong legs bore them forward at a good pace until they rushed into the station, which was already crowded as so many people wanted to be on the platform to witness the train’s arrival.
Barney muscled his way through, hauling Ling along behind him with an inescapable grip on her wrist. He wanted to prove himself the man of the group, and that he could care for Ling better than anyone else. Besides, he had spied the distinctive dapple grey horse tethered outside the station, and his nose had wrinkled with disdain as he had pushed past the well-dressed rider he’d instantly recognized. Ling had not seemed to have noticed the stranger, and Barney was determined it should remain that way. So he shouldered himself forward, much to the annoyance of those who had deliberately arrived in plenty of time. Ling cast apologetic glances in every direction as it wasn’t her fault she was being propelled to the front of the crowd. But she had to admit to a thrill of elation at the uninterrupted view down the single track and way beyond the signal box.
And there she was, the gleaming, green engine pulling two resplendent coaches. No more than a wisp of smoke was wafting from her chimney as she sauntered along the flat. The driver had closed the regulator so that the train would coast into the station, and he pulled the whistle-cord three times in salutation. A resounding cheer rose from the waiting crowd, adults clapped and children jumped up and down. Passengers in the crowded carriages waved their handkerchiefs out of the windows, including the elegant Mrs Warrington. Ling had heard that the respected and generous lady was a major shareholder in the Princetown Railway Company, even though the Great Western Railway was, in fact, to run the line and held the controlling interest in it.
The whole spectacle was a sight to behold, and Ling felt bound in her own world. The engine, massive now as it rolled into the station, was almost magical, like some mythical, fiery dragon. Ling stared, captivated, as it drew nearer, almost unaware of the milling throng about her, which, unwittingly, was surging forward.
Harry Spence, who had taken advantage of Barney’s elbowing his way to the front, had followed in his wake. Jostled by the crowd, he saw it all as one huge joke and dug Barney in the ribs, throwing him off-balance. Barney staggered sideways against Ling, and, being so tall and slender, it knocked her clean off her feet.
It all happened so quickly, Ling didn’t have the chance to scream as she tumbled over the edge of the platform. She felt herself falling through the air, and then she knew she had landed, quite winded, on to something hard. The wooden sleepers of the track. A tearing pain raked her ankle, but, though she knew it was there, the agony did not register in her brain. Her body was so stunned that all she could do was stare in appalled, frozen horror as the gigantic, monstrous train trundled relentlessly towards her, its colossal wheels and mighty engine towering above her. She could even feel the sizzling heat as it bore down towards her, but every last muscle was locked in paralysis. The last she saw before she passed out was Barney’s petrified gaze from the platform as his terror-struck eyes bulged from his ashen face.
She was floating on a cloud, lulled, protected. Seeing nothing, feeling nothing. No fear. Voices, sounds, reached her from somewhere far, far away. Someone screamed. A woman, she thought.
‘Whoa!’ she caught the stationmaster’s cry above the throaty rumble of the mighty engine as it coasted into the station. ‘There be someone fallen on the line!’
Oh, yes, that was
her
, wasn’t it? But it didn’t matter. It didn’t mean anything. She was swaying gently in a different world. A different universe.