Abby Ch. 25

They strolled casually over towards the shed, passing the station house on the way. Sam and Harry had fenced off a large area, installed a five bar gate, and gravelled the enclosed area.

Abby was impressed. "That looks good Sam, thank you very much."

Sam nodded. "Does look a bit better. We cleared away right up to the Well, and where the Septic tank was, so George will have no trouble getting to them." Harry and he had quite enjoyed doing this work as a change from their normal occupation, easily finding loads of gravel at the Quarry. Sam was pleased despite the growing feeling in his mind that Abby would never actually live there.

As they approached the goods shed, James had moved ahead, and used a big claw hammer to ease the wooden battens away from the small door. Sam was standing next to Abby watching this, and could feel her tremble. As the last batten came off, he suggested to James that he, Sam, should get in first, and whispered to him. "Look to Abby." James looked across, and could see the concern on Abby's face. He went to her and put his arm around her shoulder as Sam pushed the door inwards. She looked up at him and, moved a little closer. Sam entered. He was mainly concerned that the rope that Thomas had used, had been removed, he seemed to remember that it had, but wanted to make sure. It had gone. Either rotted away or been taken down by the Police. He emerged. "Phew! It pongs a bit in there. Dead Pigeons all over the place. Come in, Abby, if you think you can stand the smell." Abby hung back a bit, and James removed his arm around her shoulders and took her hand instead.

"I'll be with you, don't worry." Reluctantly she moved towards the small door, as Sam smiled at her and vanished into the interior once again. As they ducked to go through, James caught a whiff of the interior, and quickly dragged a handkerchief from his pocket.

"Here, hold this to your nose. The smell is disgusting." Abby gladly accepted the handkerchief, and ducked through the door.

Whatever emotions she was expecting, vanished with the smell that assaulted her nostrils, even through the handkerchief. Sam was leading the way, kicking the carcasses of dead pigeons away making a path. The live pigeons up in the rafters looked down and ruffled and flapped wings at the intrusion, their soft cries echoing thought the large shed. The rails were still in place, mortared into the concrete floor. Light filtered weakly through the high windows, dirty with droppings and dust. Yet there was enough to see at the far end, a railway van, waiting at the platform to be loaded or unloaded. Abby could not believe that after all these years it would still be there. She looked to James in bewilderment, but he seemed just as surprised.

Sam was also regarding the van. "Well I don't know at all. It was here before." He carefully skirted around that time as it was when Thomas's body was discovered. "But I would have thought they would have taken it away when they cleared everything else." He approached the Van, the side doors were open, and quickly turned to Abby.

"Don't get too close. It has been used by feral Cats, and a couple of them have died in there." Abby summoned her courage.

"Sam. Where did you find granddad?"

He looked at her not really wanting to add to her emotions, but realised that it was pointless not to answer. He pointed to a rafter. "He was there."

Abby nodded and moved to where Sam had indicated. It was an eerie, uncomfortable feeling as she stood for a moment on the spot where her grandfather had last stood on this earth. She looked up. The only sign was a small piece of rope wrapped around the rafter. She was still holding James' hand, and she felt his grip tighten slightly, reminding her she was not alone, she returned the pressure and looked up to him with a wan smile on her face.

"I'm Ok, James, really." He nodded.

A cough from the door got their attention and broke the moment. "Is it alright if I come in?"

Abby was happy to break the emotion. "Of course Mr. Brasher, do." If he was affected by the smell he didn't show it, his eyes lit up as he too saw the Van.

"Good Lord! A ten ton Box-Van." He followed the cleared path and joined them.

"What do you think it is doing here?" Asked Abby.

"Oh they left dozens of these all over the place. It was a case of the left hand not knowing what the right hand was doing. In the hurry to lift the rails they marooned lots of trucks and other rolling stock in places like this. If BR ever discovered the loss, it would still cost too much to get it taken away by road, so they just wrote them off." Abby stood with James, taking comfort in his closeness. Sam had wandered off and was now looking at the large doors. After a while he leaned his weight on the one leaf, and it moved a few inches.

They heard his shout of surprise. "Damn me, they were never locked!" Abby and James hurried over to join him, and with James adding extra weight, they managed to push the door open sufficiently to reveal a gap that a person could walk through. "It's still stuck a bit, but with a bit of releasing oil on the runners I reckon that Harry and me will be able to get these open all the way. We can get rid of all these dead birds, and disinfect thoroughly. Got to be careful with pigeons, they carry a bug that will lay you low."

Abby disagreed. "No Sam. I'll get some specialist cleaners in."

Sam laughed. "What do you think farmers are, if not Jack of all Trades? If you have spent your life cleaning out cow sheds, and barns, you have all the stuff you need for this little job. Don't you worry, Abby. We can manage this."

James was nodding in agreement. "Sam's right, Abby. He and Harry have all the right equipment and disinfectants. I'll come down and lend a hand."

Mr. Brasher had joined them now. "I would like to come back when it has been done, if that's alright with you, Abby? I would like to explore further, but I am afraid the smell in here is making me feel sick."

Abby, concerned, took him through the gap that Sam and James had opened saying "I could do with some fresh air myself."

After taking a few moments to fill his lungs with air, Mr. Brasher turned to Abby. "I shall write to you, giving you all the details of how the good sheds operated. I wouldn't say it was complicated, but to an outsider it could be confusing at first sight."

One thing was bothering Abby. "What will we do with that van?"

Mr. Brasher didn't have to think about that at all. "Keep it. A little bit of carpentry, and a coat of paint, and I would think it would be ideal as an exhibit in your plans for the station. I can let you have photos of how they were lettered. Do remember that it was goods that were the most important factor in building the railway in the first place. Educating visitors in that aspect is vital."

"Won't British Railways want it back?"

"Bless you no. They don't use trucks like that now, in fact if you want any more the only source could be preserved railways. Many were bought for pennies, but the enthusiasts cannot afford to restore them. So they are still there, sitting on a siding and rotting."

"Do you think any would consider selling to me?"

"I am sorry to say, Abby, but I doubt it. For them it is a question of 'one day' they will be able to do the work. That day may eventually come, but I suspect in many cases there will be little left to preserve."

Sam and James had tried to close the door, but it adamantly refused to move. Rather than spring the bolts holding the roller track they left it. "Won't matter too much, Sam, at least it will let some air in." James remarked.

Sam nodded an agreement. "I'll be down here as soon as I can. Harry will like the challenge of the doors anyway. If we can get up to the rafters and clear all the nests, it may discourage the birds." They followed Abby and Mr. Brasher over to the station forecourt. Mr. Brasher seemed to have a lot on his mind, and turning to Sam asked if he would allow him some conversation tonight at the Combe Inn.

"No problem. I shall be in about nine o' clock."

Abby tackled Mr. Brasher that evening. She had noticed that he seemed concerned about something.

"Am I taking on too much?" She asked.

"Oh, no, Abby. If I seem distracted it's my concern. To be honest I have been having serious thoughts about my book."

"In what way?"

"Well, I have been writing for quite some time, taking great care to get all my facts right, trying not to omit the smallest detail. Yet I have just been reminded that I have forgotten to include the most important part. It makes nonsense of all I have been trying to do."

"I don't understand, Mr. Brasher. You seem to have everything at your fingertips, and if not there, in your files. I cannot think of anything you have missed." He had a wan smile on his face as he turned to her and said.

"I have missed out the people, Abby. The people. The railway was run by people to serve people. Just chatting with Sam and it came to me that this little branch, so insignificant to bureaucracy, was anything but insignificant to these farmers. It would not be too farfetched to say that the railway timetable was their timetable as well, and the services the railway offered influenced what they produced. I have to write a whole new chapter now to cover this topic, possibly using Combe Lyney as an example. Indeed I now realise that it is so important that I may re-write my foreword, to explain this."

"But Mr. Brasher, surely you have done that. You were able to get out the details of my grandfather so easily."

"No, no, Abby. That was just the pure facts. Just a few words with Sam, and talking to you, and your grandfather became a real person, not an item on the service record. I have to get closer, and tell about these people as they were, human."

"Well in that case you really must talk to Reg Purvess."

"Now he was the Signalman, wasn't he?"

"Yes, and he knew my grandfather quite well."

"In that case it is doubly important that I come down here again."

To be continued