THE STATIONMASTER'S DAUGHTER

Chapter 2

I woke with a start, it was morning, barely daybreak, where was I? Then I remembered, I was in my new bedroom. I leapt out of bed and rushed to the window, my feet freezing on the cold linoleum. As there were no curtains at the window, yet, I could see straight out. I hopped from one foot to another, trying to warm my feet as I stared wide-eyed at the view in front of me. My eyes took in the huge garden, the lawn covered in a white layer of frost, flowerbeds around the edge, a large vegetable garden, all surrounded by a hedge, then the road and then nothing but field upon field until finally my first glimpse of the sea, or the Atlantic Ocean, as Dad had told me, in the distance. Wow! What a view! It must have been a particularly clear morning, as I could just make out a small shape on the horizon. Was it a ship? I stood for ages, shivering, just gazing out until I heard Mum's voice calling me to put my slippers and dressing gown on and come downstairs for breakfast.
 
Breakfast was Quaker Oats with Golden Syrup drizzled over the top, my favourite. Usually there was a choice of either porridge, Shredded Wheat, or Cornflakes, but because of moving, our store cupboard was a bit bare. While I was eating, I suddenly remembered the bump on the horizon and asked Dad what it could be.
 
'Sounds like Lundy Island,' he said, 'I didn't realise it was visible from here. Aren't you lucky to be able to see so far.'
 
I knew then that I had definitely chosen the best bedroom.
 
I was just finishing breakfast when I heard a train whistle.
 
'There's a train coming,' I shouted as I jumped down from the table and rushed to the door. 'Sit down and finish your breakfast, I never said you could leave the table,' Mum yelled after me. I was never allowed to leave the table until everyone had finished eating and even then, I had to ask permission.
 
Ignoring Mum as I opened the door I heard Dad say, 'Let her go, just this once, it is the first train she will see arriving.'
 
I didn't hear if anything else was said, I was out of the back door and climbing on the gate, just as the train pulled into the station. It was the first train down to Padstow. Dad had told me the night before that the first train would be at eight-thirty. Both the engine driver and his mate, the fireman, waved to me. I waved back, a huge smile on my face. I looked into the coaches and could see several people in each, but it wasn't full, and being on the down platform I couldn't see who got off and who got on.
 
After a few minutes, the train pulled out of the station. I watched as the bridge disappeared for a few seconds, completely engulfed in smoke and steam. What a fun place that would be, I thought, to go and stand on the bridge as the train passed underneath. I decided to do that the first chance I got.
 
I decided to stay outside and explore the garden with Jill until it was time for the next train up to Exeter in an hour's time. Jill was a lovely little dog, a mongrel apparently, that is to say, a mixed breed, not that it meant very much to me. All I knew was that she had a black shiny coat, beautiful dark eyes and a short stubby tail that never stopped wagging. She was friendly, well behaved and I loved her. Mum and Dad had bought her for me when she was a puppy and she was my best friend.
 
Suddenly I could hear the train coming and rushed back to the gate. As the train came into the station, the engine driver leant out of his cab holding a large metal thing, which looked like a giant magnet, on his arm. I watched as the porter took it from him and gave him another one. I would have to ask Dad what that was all about, but in the meantime, I looked at the coaches, most of them with passengers inside. No one got off, but a couple of people got on. A few minutes' later, with a blast of whistle and huge billows of grey and black smoke and steam belching out, the train moved off. I waved again and this time the guard at the back of the train waved to me. Oh, this was fun; everyone was so friendly. I was going to love it here.
 
There would be no more trains for two hours so Dad gave us a conducted tour of the station. It all looked very clean and tidy with everywhere painted a chocolate and cream colour - Great Western colours. Firstly, there was the waiting room, a large room with benches around the walls. Directly opposite the door on to the platform, was a door out to the car park. On the left, a door led to the ladies' toilet and on the right was the ticket office, with a hatch through which to stand and speak to the booking clerk and purchase tickets and get information. This door took us firstly into the ticket office itself, and then beyond that was my dad's office. It was quite small, just big enough for a desk, a chair and some cupboards. Both of these rooms had frosted glass windows, so no one could see in from outside.
 
Back outside again, we walked to the end of the platform, climbed the steps and entered the signal box. We had already met Dave, the first signalman, but this one was Stuart, who showed us all the levers for the signals and the points; then he showed us the bell, which he would ring to let the next station know the train had left, or which would ring to tell our station that a train was on its way. What an exciting place, I was determined to come here again.
 
After leaving the signal box, we carried on round into the shunting yard, crossed the tracks and found ourselves outside a large grain store. We entered and met the two men who worked there; the boss, Mr Lewis and his assistant, Mr Beer. There was a lot of respect for your elders in those days and I never called them by their Christian names, it was always Mr. this or Mr. that, including Mr Bolt, only the other porter, the two signalmen and Dad's assistant insisted I call them by their Christian names.
 
All we could see from the doorway were piles of sacks, stacked from floor to almost ceiling height. The warmth and the aroma given off from the sacks hit us as we stepped nearer. It was wonderful. Could I come here to play? I asked and told that of course I could, as long as one of the men was there to keep an eye on me.
 
I can still conjure up the warmth and the smell after all these years. It was always a wonderful place to visit, especially in the depths of winter. There was a down side to this place, I discovered, but more of this in another chapter!
 
What a choice of places to play! I was so lucky. The only place I was told not to go into was the signal box, Dad said that it could get him and the signalman into trouble if we did. However, kids being kids, as soon as Dad went to visit one of his other stations, either Dave or Stuart would let me go up into the signal box.
 
I soon realised that I would not see many trains. Eight passenger trains a day in the winter, four down and four up and ten a day in the summer, but they were interspersed with goods trains. Some of which rattled and clanked straight through, and others stopping to drop off and pick up trucks from the sidings. Dad explained that in the summer there would also be extra passenger trains* carrying holidaymakers down to Padstow.
 
I watched the first goods train trundling through the station about an hour later. It didn't stop; nothing for us then. There were many trucks, all different, some closed in, and others open on the top. I thought it would be fun to count the trucks on the next goods train.
 
Back in the station house, for the first couple of days we also helped Mum unpack boxes and sort out the furniture, spreading it sparsely through the rooms. The house in Cirencester was a small two up, two down with too much furniture crammed in; now we didn't have enough to fill this house. We would have to buy some more.
 
The station staff all seemed very welcoming, especially to Neil and me, as there had been no children living in the station house for quite some years. All the staff called my dad 'boss' right from the word go. They had a lot of respect for him, but I always found it funny. There were two signalmen, who worked in shifts, two porters and a ticket office lad called Edwin, about eighteen who was learning the job and would help Dad in the ticket office. Edwin was a lot of fun, especially when Dad wasn't around, I liked him a lot.
 
The following day, Dad started work. He looked so smart in his navy uniform, with white shirt and stiff, white starched collar and tie in railway colours. His cap was the best of all, it was big, with a shiny peak and worn slightly tipped to one side. To use a modern description, he would look 'cool'!