THE STATIONMASTER'S DAUGHTER

Chapter 5

I was still grieving for the loss of Jill so several weeks later, when two kittens became available, my parents got one each for Neil and me, hoping to take my mind off Jill. One was a tortoiseshell, a female we named Twinkletoes, (Twink for short) because she was such a dainty little kitten, who my brother chose, and I had the larger male kitten, which was all black and I named him Smutty. The kittens seemed to prefer my dad to us children, and would sit on his shoulders at breakfast time; the only time he would let them do that. At other mealtimes, they were placed firmly back on the floor. Breakfast time was their treat and they made the most of it.
 
Being kittens, they were so energetic, racing up and down the curtains, hiding behind the furniture, then pouncing out either at us, or an imaginary foe. One of their favourite occupations was struggling to climb up and down the stairs on their tiny legs. One day Neil and I were playing with them on the landing; next thing we knew Twink had squeezed between the banisters and fallen down into the hall. Our ceilings were ten feet high and taking into account the height between the ground floor ceiling and the landing floor, she must have fallen about twelve feet altogether. I was panic struck and yelled for Mum, who came rushing out of the kitchen and saw Twink staggering to her feet, looking a bit dazed and shaking herself. Mum picked her up as she asked what was going on. I quickly explained what had happened. Mum said Twink would be fine and that cats had nine lives, which of course had to be explained to me, and I thought to myself that Twink had definitely used up one of her nine lives that day.
 
Soon it was February, and half term, thank goodness. A break from the awful, hated Miss Jasper. It was the first chance I had at watching a goods train deliver some trucks into the railway siding. No one else was around that first day to play with, so I stood on my own at a safe distance taking in all the manoeuvring. Suddenly, I heard someone calling to me; it was the engine driver. I looked over to see him beckoning to me. I ran over and he shouted above the engine noise, 'Hello there, you're the boss's daughter aren't you?'
 
'Yes, my name's Shirley.'
 
'Would you like to have a ride on the engine?' he asked.
 
What a silly question. Of course I would.
 
'Oh yes please,' I replied.
 
The engine driver jumped down from the engine, picked me up - my legs were not long enough to reach the first step - passed me up to the waiting arms of the fireman, who swung me round and placed me in the cab. I could feel the sudden heat from the fire blasting away to create the steam that drove the engine. I sort of understood how it all worked after asking my dad loads of questions.
 
What a wonderful time I spent on the engine, shovelling coal into the gaping mouth of the fire, well, balancing a few lumps precariously on a shovel, which was far too heavy for me. We shunted trucks backwards and forwards until they were all in the right order. Full ones waiting to be emptied and empty ones waiting to be linked up to the engine and taken away. All too soon, it was time for the engine and the rest of the trucks to leave, so for my last treat the driver said I could pull the cable to sound the whistle. What fun that was. The driver then jumped down to the ground, the fireman picked me up again and passed me down to the driver, who placed me carefully back on the ground. I was told to go and stand a safe distance away until the goods train left. Both men watched me until I was in the station yard before moving off. I waved and waved until the train was out of sight, then crossed the railway line, and went and inspected the trucks left behind in the siding. They were trucks with roofs and their doors shut. I knew some of them held sacks of grain ready to be unloaded and placed in the store, but what was in the others? I would have to wait and see.
 
The following day my friends were back and we were hanging around the platform, when my dad came out of his office. We tried to make ourselves as inconspicuous as we could, all thinking that perhaps we were making too much noise, but instead he came up to us and said would we like to listen to something. Listen to what we all shouted, and he said listen for the next train coming from Tresmeer. We were always playing the game of who could hear a train first, or who could see the approaching smoke first, so we weren't too impressed until Dad told us to come to the end of the platform, step onto the track and put our ears to the railway line. We all stared at him as if he had gone mad.
 
'Go on,' he told us, 'bend down until your ears touch the line, and then wait and listen.' We all did as we were told and suddenly the line was vibrating and we could hear a low humming sound coming from the track. Suddenly we were all shouting at once that we could hear and feel something. It was the train coming, he told us, it was still a couple of miles away and it was several minutes before we saw the smoke and then heard the whistle of the approaching train. I have often wondered since, how many other kids had that experience. How lucky were we? Good old 'elf n safety was definitely not around in those days!
 
After that excitement, we decided to go around to the goods yard to see if any of the trucks were empty. A couple were, so we scrambled up inside one of them and created some new games. Then we discovered a guards van, which we had all missed in our race to get to the trucks. It must have been dropped off the day before and I had missed it then too. Now, this was fun, the guard's van was like a small house on wheels. On one side, there was a small range for heating and a kettle on top to boil hot water. On the other side a bench seat and a small table on which stood a tin mug and a plate. In one small cupboard, there was a packet of tea and a tin of biscuits. We all stared at the biscuits, ginger ones, and my favourite, especially dunked in a cup of tea! Should we? Would the guard notice some of his biscuits were gone? We decided that it wouldn't be just the one guard that used this van, it would be whoever was working the day they picked up the trucks, so no-one would know who ate them. That decided we helped ourselves to one each, then carefully put the tin back exactly as we found it. We all decided that being a guard would be one of the best jobs ever, riding around in your own little house, kept warm by the fire and drinking cups of tea. Only having to go outside if the goods train was stopping. We played in the guards van for the rest of the afternoon until we heard one of the mums shouting. It was the end of our playtime, and another lovely day. See you tomorrow, was the shout as we all parted company.
 
Although I enjoyed being outside playing with friends, I also enjoyed the solitude of wet days, when my pals didn't come round and I could spend time on my own in my bedroom. It was such a lovely big room and I enjoyed many hours there, playing with my dolls. One of the first jobs my dad did was build me a small wooden sofa, which stood under the window and mum made me a padded seat to fit on it and there I would kneel and stare out of the window at the sea in the distance. I had a large tin trunk that had held my grandmother's belongings when she came back from South Africa, which stood at the bottom of my bed, where I kept my dolls when I wasn't playing with them and a large collection of jigsaw puzzles. Every Christmas and Birthday, the present at the top of my list would be a jigsaw puzzle, bigger and bigger ones, with more and more pieces as I got older. I had a large piece of hardboard on which to put the latest puzzle and when it wasn't in use, it would fit neatly under my bed. If I was bored and had no new jigsaw to make, then I would turn it over to the blank side and complete it that way. Only with the smaller ones though and ones with distinctive pieces, I wasn't that clever!
 
As I think I have already mentioned, we were about five miles inland as the crow flies from Boscastle. Every so often, a thick fog would blow in off the Atlantic. The first time I witnessed this spectacle, I was totally mesmerised. The sea suddenly disappeared, where had it gone? In its place was a thick white fog or low cloud and as I continued to watch, it crept slowly across the fields, hedges and trees swallowed up. Nearer and nearer it came until first the farm buildings disappeared, then the cottages at the bottom of the hill, then the road, and finally the garden as it wrapped itself around the house and station. Finally, I couldn't see anything at all. I ran downstairs and stood outside. Everywhere was silent. No birds singing. I could hear a train coming, but couldn't see it until the fog started to swirl under the railway bridge and then the engine appeared, looming out of the smoke and fog.
 
This became a regular occurrence and would sometimes last for several days, then as suddenly as it came, it would crawl back across the fields and over the sea. I don't know what I expected when it lifted, but everything was still the same, nothing had changed. The scariest times with the fog were when we had to walk to and from school in it. Unable to see the road properly in front of us, we would take a lot longer to cover the journey. We would hold hands, just so that one of us wouldn't get lost, or eaten up by the fog we would say, half jokingly, well, you never knew what was lurking in the fog did you?
 
Friday nights were always my favourite night. We would sit around the table in the kitchen, where the heat from the Rayburn kept us warm, and a Tilley lamp perched on a small stool in the middle of the table provided the light. The fire in the sitting room was only lit on special occasions. Tea would be finished, Neil was in bed, I was allowed to stay up and listen to Friday Night's Music Night on the radio. I loved that programme and it introduced me to some of the most popular classical music. For example, Peer Gynt Suite by Grieg, Jupiter from the Planet Suites by Holst, Clair de Lune by Debussy and one of my all time favourites - Canon by Pachelbel - I want this played at my funeral!
 
Another item I remember was the shipping forecasts at lunchtimes; Faeroes, Fisher, German Bight, Bay of Biscay, I remember them all. We would listen out for the gale warnings. The gales were pretty fierce, we lived in quite an exposed place. The first gale we experienced, I couldn't get around the side of the house, the wind was so fierce. After that Mum would keep me indoors when it was really bad, she was afraid I would be blown over and injured.
 
In the summer months we would listen to the cricket commentaries - a lunchtime must for my dad - very boring, but he enjoyed it. We always ate our dinner at lunchtime. Mum kept up this habit even years later when I started work and neither my dad or I could get home at lunchtime. She would cook a dinner for Neil and herself, who came home from school, and then my dad and I would get warmed up dinners when we got home from work in the evening. She refused point blank to ever cook a meal in the evening. The only concession would be when we had visitors and they wanted a meal when they got back from wherever they had been all day. However, I digress again!