Abby Ch. 24

"Can I get you something to drink?"

"No thank you, not at the moment. I am enjoying the tea very much, though. I have not had tea like this for years." Jack said he would see them later. Mr. Brasher turned to Abby.

"You seem to know a little more about your grandfather?"

"I have been talking to a couple of people who actually knew him. Sam Perry, who has farmed here for years, and Reg Purvess who was the signalman in the late fifties and early sixties." Mr. Brasher pursed his lips in thought.

"Do you think I could talk to them as well. I would be very interested in their reminiscences, particularly Mr. Purvess."

"That's no problem. Sam comes in here most evenings, and I am fairly certain that Reg will come over if we ask."

"Excellent! Now if you will excuse me, I shall go and unpack. Do you know what room I have been given?"

"One moment I will check." Abby went to look at the wall chart, and saw that Mary had written Mr. Brasher's name next to room three. The key was on the hook, so she brought it back.

"Here you are. Room three. Is there anything I can carry for you?"

"Thank you, Abby. I can manage. Shall I see you later?"

"Yes, I shall be here. Will you join me for dinner? About seven thirty."

"I will be delighted. I shall see you then."

Abby had worried that Mr. Brasher might find the facilities of the Combe Inn a little primitive for his taste. There was no need, as at dinner he complimented Mary on the room and the comfort of the bed.

"After that drive I felt in need of a little nap. I was lucky to wake when I did, else I should have been late for the meal." Later after dining he was effusive on the quality and flavour of the beef. "It reminds me greatly of the fare that I remember from my childhood." When Mary had left them with a proud beam on her face, he said to Abby. "That was truly delicious. Do you know where Mrs. Elvesly gets the beef."

"Everything is obtained locally. I am certain that the beef came from a farm within a mile or so."

"Interesting." He went quiet with his thoughts for a moment. "I hope the next meal is as good as that."

"I can assure you it will be." Abby affirmed. "I have had to be very strict with myself since I have been here. Everything is so different from London and the Supermarket stuff I lived on."

"Well if you enjoy flavours like that every day, I can understand your desire to come and live here." Mary brought coffee for them and asked Mr. Brasher if she could get him a Brandy or something.

"I am not a drinker, but I believe that a Brandy would be perfect to go with a perfect meal." Mary smiled and looked at Abby with her eyebrows raised.

"Could I have a Vodka and Tonic please, Mary?"

Behind the bar, Jack was having a panic when his wife informed him that a Brandy was required. "I can't give him that stuff we usually serve. Hang on, I have a bottle of Armagnac down in the Cellar. Hold the fort here and I'll go and fetch it.' After five minutes he returned with a very dusty bottle, which he rubbed over with a cloth, opened and poured a measure into the Balloon glass that Mary had washed and polished. She took their drinks to the table, where Mr. Brasher was regaling Abby with stories of the railway. Abby looked up and asked Mary if she would let Sam know when he came in that they would be delighted to have him join them. Mary nodded.

Mr. Brasher returned to his theme. "I am very interested in your plans for the station, not just because you will restore part of the Great Western Railway, but also for the idea of it having an educational function. I am all in favour of teaching new generations what the old railway was all about. However I assume that you realise this will be a serious investment."

Abby was already getting used to the costs involved. "Yes. I understand that."

He cleared his throat. "Well, Abby. I don't want to embarrass you, but I would be pleased to help, not just with information and historical facts, but financially as well." He stopped. Far from embarrassing Abby, he had done just that to himself. He twirled his Brandy, swishing the dark amber liquid around the Balloon. "I apologise. That was impertinent."

Abby shook her head. "No Mr. Brasher. Please don't apologise. I recognise that this is something very important to you, otherwise you would not have come down here in the first place. But I do realise the costs involved, and I am prepared to meet them."

"You are very generous to an old eccentric, Abby. But I would like to contribute, if I may. You see I have no family, so the Great Western has been my passion. I have made a Will making bequests to various organisations that foster the legacy of the Railway, so what you intend to do is very close to that ideal."

Abby knew she would refuse the offer, but how to do that without offending him. "Perhaps I can explain myself, Mr. Brasher. This was my grandfather's station. He was here for twenty-eight years. And having everything taken away from him, his wife who died, his daughter who went away, and finally the railway which was his life, he hung himself in the goods shed. James Comberford put it well when he said that I was doing this as a Tribute to my grandfather. I want to dedicate the restored station to him and the life that he led. I do thank you for your generous offer but I feel that I, his granddaughter, have to bear the burden." Mr. Brasher listened carefully, and recognised the anguish that was driving Abby. He understood that taking on the responsibility was a part of that Tribute.

"Very well, Abby. I do understand. I didn't know your grandfather had died that way. You have my deepest sympathy." He paused. "If you will not let me contribute financially, then you must understand that any other help I can give will be given without stint. I will be gratified if all the research that I have done can be of more assistance than just being published as a book. May I give some advice though? The Heritage people do have grants at their disposal for such schemes as this. They will be happy if you do not take advantage of them. I would beg you to get everything you can. Let us say it is one way in which today's society can salute the service your grandfather gave to

yesterday's society."

That appealed to Abby, and she smiled at the pleasant idea of getting something back for granddad. "I didn't realise that, Mr. Brasher. I will do that. I shall talk to Ms. Eaton about it."

Later when Sam had come in and been introduced to Mr. Brasher, Abby left the two men to chat, and joined James who was hovering at the bar, unsure if he would be intruding. Mary was quick to notice that they did not have the usual air of togetherness, and started to worry. She remembered the day they sat and chatted in the garden, and although they had laughed a lot, she instinctively knew that there was something keeping them apart. Now their attitude and body-language gave her more cause for concern. A phone call to Mavis was now an important matter, and as quickly as possible. She made the mistake of mentioning this to Sam when he left. His response was forceful, and designed to keep them away from the truth.

"Mary, you and Mavis have been scheming and gossiping for a long time, and don't think for one moment it has gone unnoticed. From little things that have been said I think that Abby is getting uncomfortable with it. So stop it now! I shall tell Mavis the same when I get home. Leave them alone." As he left the Combe Inn Sam was feeling a little pleased with himself. Knowing Mary, she would not want to upset Abby, so hopefully her prying would stop. He had also enjoyed chatting with Mr. Brasher, who had let slip his Christian name of Wilberforce. Although their backgrounds were so different, they had the memories of growing up in the thirties to share, and a wistful appreciation of times past. Brasher had questioned him closely about farming in the valley which surprised Sam. He had however answered the questions frankly. The facts seemed to give Brasher some food for thought.

To be continued