Abby Ch. 32

"That would be most kind of you. I have been growing a few vegetables just beyond the site of the old signal box. There is a small surplus. I would be pleased in turn, if you would accept some. I don't seem to have the knack with Onions though Reg grew some beauties. Potatoes and Carrots do well, though, and Cabbage."

"Have you ever tried wild Garlic?" Asked Woody, "not as strong as the cultivated Garlic, but a very acceptable substitute for Onion."

Thomas had no idea what Garlic tasted like. His simple life style and budget had never run to what he would have described as Exotic foods. "Does it grow round here?" He asked somewhat surprised.

"Oh yes. I'll drop some by for you with the rabbit."

Thomas nodded and then a gave an almost invisible smile. "I'll put some vegetables by for you."

Woody did smile. "That is most uncommonly kind of you Mr. Tregonney."

Over the next few weeks Woody would drop by from time to time. Bringing wood to add to the pile, rabbits, and wild garlic. Thomas even if he didn't see Woody; and few did see Woody unless he wanted to be seen; would leave out a string bag containing a few vegetables. The truth was that his vegetable garden did not produce enough for a surplus, but Thomas could not accept gifts from Woody without returning the favour. Their relationship could not be called friendship. Thomas did not understand that concept, and Woody had for years maintained an anonymity that suited him, and prevented questions. He burned to disclose to Thomas the facts of Marion's disappearance, but had to remain silent. At the moments when he may have said something he forced himself to think of his past broken word, and that gave him the strength to keep the promise that Marion had begged of him.

It had been a habit in the past for Thomas, to walk down to the Combe Inn two or three times a week. Here he would take a simple Lunch; usually some bread and cheese; and a pint of Mild. Now his budget would not allow too many visits, but those few visits he did make were more relaxing as there were no longer any station porters to worry about. He would not accept the offer of a refill from any, knowing that he could not afford to return the courtesy, yet managed some conversation with Sam Perry and particularly Alfred Carter whose daughter had married Reg Purvess. He had always thought of Reg Purvess with respect, and was pleased to learn of him from Alfred's gossip. The times when he would see Woody, or felt he could afford a drink at the Combe became oases of small pleasure to him, interrupting as they did the idleness of his days, because the service was becoming even more sparse as the year wore on. Idleness was something that he had rarely experienced and he could not enjoy such times, feeling guilty that he was not occupied. There was a constant worry that one day someone from British Rail would arrive to demand that he quit the Station House. He didn't know what he would do then as he had absolutely nowhere to go. If he had realised that B.R. now classified Combe Lyney station as an un-staffed Halt he would have been easier in his mind. But such was the inefficient bureaucracy of the nationalised railway that no one had thought to place a sign on the station advising that detail.

It came as a terrible shock when he returned from the Combe Inn one day and found that in his absence a notice had been posted on the board at the front of the station announcing the closure of the line in that October. He had been expecting something to happen, even the most unlearned man would realise that the line could not exist with so little patronage, yet he felt bitterness that they could throw away his life's work so contemptuously. Angrily he tore the poster down, scrunching it into a little ball and tossing it away. Anger was not an emotion that came to Thomas easily. Later, when he calmed down, he found the poster in the bushes where it had landed from his wild throw, and having straightened is as best he could, pinned it back up. Now his fate was decided. They would take up the rails, and level the site, including the house. Thomas was in complete despair that evening and for many days to come. He would have nowhere to live, and the pension was insufficient to rent even a simple cottage or room. The extent of his despair was demonstrated by his not meeting trains as punctiliously as he once did. The Guards, Metcalfe and Bird were surprised but could not investigate, as any such enquiry would lead to the discovery of Thomas's unauthorised occupation of the house.

Thus the line that had served the valley and the occupations of those who served the line gradually drew to their close.

To be continued