The Enginemen, Chapter 12/2

He remembered walking down long corridors and getting in the car, then suddenly they were at the pavement beside his home which looked just the same as usual from the outside. It was the inside that was changed, that worried him, the emptiness, the kitchen that had the void.

“Dad, I’ve got to go and fetch Maggie and Andy and Eva. I shan’t be long. I want you to lie down upstairs – I’ll be back inside half an hour.”

George nodded as if he acquiesced and Paul slammed the front door. George sat down in his favourite armchair and turned on the television and saw it was the nine o’clock news. It was still about the sensational by-election result, Macmillan was interviewed but George had not bothered to increase the volume, he neither heard nor cared what he did not hear. Then there was another interview, he did not recognise the face, perhaps it was the new MP, it really didn’t matter. He vaguely heard the weather forecast. Rain presaged an end to the frosts. It didn’t matter.

When Paul returned with Eva and his wife and son, he found his father asleep in the armchair. He turned off the television. His father did not stir. Eva, red-eyed, wanted to wake him and talk but Paul restrained her, saying “Let him be for the moment, he’s had a sedative and needs to have more sleep before we wake him.”

Eva burst into tears and Maggie took the girl in her arms. She whispered to Paul that the girl needed a sedative too and Paul searched the bathroom cabinet but could find nothing suitable.

“Eva,” Paul said quietly to the girl, “we’ve a lot of things that Maggie and I have to attend to now. Can you look after Andy for us?”

The girl stirred herself and picked up the toddler who had seemed confused by the sight of adults crying but brightened straight away when the girl cuddled him and started to stroke his teddy and play with his fingers. Maggie was busy in the kitchen getting them all some sort of breakfast – Andy was the only one to retain an appetite. Eva fed him, taking the occasional spoonful of cereal herself, then pushed her plate away and got engrossed for a few moments in encouraging him to clear his bowl uncovering the picture of the ‘cow jumping over the moon’ underneath his porridge.

Paul waited until his father woke up, got him to eat something and then said he’d go into town and contact an undertaker and start to deal with the necessary formalities. Maggie took Andy upstairs to try to get him to sleep in the cot his grandparents kept in the spare room for when he stayed with them leaving Eva alone with her father. Eva sat at the table staring at her half-finished breakfast, tears slowly rolling down her pallid face. George looked at her hunched back and pulled a chair up to her at the table, putting an arm round her shoulders. She let her head fall onto his arm and started crying again. George made no effort to stop her but let her sob, tears merging with the dust and dirt on his overalls for he’d still not changed from his driver’s work clothes.

When the tears had run their course, and she sat there silent, eyes half-closed, George summoned his voice with a supreme effort and said softly to her, “Eva, we have to look after each other now. I know we’ve had rows and your mother has been the one to try to make it up between us, but now we must care for each other on our own. I promise that I’ll support you. I love you, Eva. I do. I may not have been very good at telling you that in the past, but I do. We need each other now.”

“Oh Dad, what’s going to happen to us? How will I manage without Mum to help me?”

“I’ll help you, Eva. I may not be so good at it as Mum, but I promise, I will.”

“Are you still angry with me?”

“We need each other now, love. Your Mum showed me what I ought to do. She carried on loving and helping you despite her disappointment. I need to take her place and follow her example. The past is past. We cannot change it. We’ve a challenge now, both of us for the future. Let’s face it together for the sake of your Mum. It’s the least she would have wanted.”

Paul looked in and saw the two of them huddled together at the table when he returned from the undertaker. He sighed with relief. He went into the kitchen where Maggie was busy making some soup for their lunch.

“I think Dad and Eva are making up. At least that’s one good thing to come out of this. Goodness knows how she’ll make out after the baby’s born. You won’t be able to help much, you’ll have our baby to look after as well as Andy. Mum had been going to organise everything.”

“Don’t try to sort out everything now, Paul. We’re all still shaken by what has happened. There’ll be plenty of time to think things through later. Derek will be here this afternoon and we’d better think of who else we need to tell. What about your grandmother?”

“Yes, but that’s not the most urgent. I’m not sure she’ll really take it in. We’d better tell the minister. He’s known Mum for years and he can advise Dad on some of the practical things. We’ll need to fix a funeral date. He’ll tell many of Mum’s friends at the chapel.”

The day seemed interminable, as if everything was moving in slow motion. Derek arrived ashen-faced and had a long chat with his brother. He greeted his father gently, but was obviously uncertain what to say and clasped him self-consciously and said nothing at all. Words were superfluous anyway. Then the minister arrived and after he’d expressed his shock and condolences, he was businesslike, practical and reassuring that he would take care of those things that families, at times of great distress, would forget or find too great a burden.

So days passed as if unreal. Philip Doig, the Shedmaster, rang to offer his condolences and told George to take compassionate leave until the funeral was over. Arthur Campion called with expressions of sympathy from his colleagues in the Union and there were a succession of visitors from the chapel offering support, though none knowing quite what explicit help they could give. George said the right things as if in his sleep. Everyone said how well he was bearing up. He left his grief until he was alone at night in the matrimonial double bed. Many times he’d been away at night on the footplate, but he could not remember the time when he’d been at home and Florrie had not lain beside him. The loneliness hit him at night and he slept only fitfully the first few nights. Then one night before the week was out Eva had come in crying and had thrown herself on his bed and buried her head in the blankets. George sat up and cradled her, smoothing her tangled hair and trying to comfort his distraught daughter. He got up and pulled his dressing gown on and sat beside her on the bed.

“I’m frightened,” she wailed. “What will become of me? How can I go on?”

George was wide awake now. Her panic scared him.

“I’ll be here for you,“ he answered softly, “I’ll see you’re alright.” He’d promised but had no idea how to fulfil the commitment he’d just made. He only knew that he’d have to follow through whatever it cost. Perhaps he’d even have to give up his job. In that moment he was ready to make any sacrifices, he’d need to count the cost in the cold light of day.

The church was packed for the funeral. Nearly everyone from the chapel was there because Florrie knew everyone and all knew and befriended her. All the family was there except George’s mother – she was too frail, and as he’d correctly supposed, she’d not really taken in the import of what George had told her. There were many from the depot come out of comradeship and respect for George although they could not have known his wife. Paul said something about his mother and the minister gave a heartfelt and sincere tribute as she had done so much for the church and many people there had known her for the whole of her 49 years and had been the beneficiaries of her unstinted care and helpfulness. It rained while they were at the cemetery, but the crowd followed to pay their last respects. Maggie had taken Andy home after the chapel memorial service, but Paul and Derek talked to the mourners, while George held Eva close to him covering her now obvious state with a raincoat loosely draped round the two of them. He’d suggested she might like to avoid the ordeal and stay at home but she’d insisted on coming, despite her nervousness of what people might say when they saw her bulging belly.

The family had had a conference after the funeral. Eva had now finished with school until the child was born and Maggie said that she could stay at their home whenever her father was at work. The situation after the baby was born was another issue and a problem no-one had yet solved, as Florrie had promised to look after the child while Eva went back to school to finish her education. George went into work the next day and discussed his situation with Philip Doig. His first reaction had been to say that he’d resign to look after Eva and her baby, but he’d not enough years yet in the pension fund to even contemplate that option seriously. He’d determined to resign from his Trade Union post, but the Shedmaster reminded him that his position there gave him certain flexibility over his working hours and that the company would be generous in allowing time off when it was essential.

So life went on. George went back to work. Eva spent the day with Maggie helping to look after Andy and sometimes Paul let her do a bit of clerical work at the garage, sending out bills and doing some simple invoicing. She came home when George was on early or normal day shift and they cooked the evening meal together, laughing over the way they muddled through, the mistakes they made and the burnt pastry they pretended to eat. Then they would be silent and Eva would cry silent tears and George would feel his eyes well up but he tried not to let her see. George went with her to the maternity clinic. Maggie had offered to take her, but George changed his turn to make sure he was free. That meant another driver had 5034 while he had one from the pool. It didn’t bother him now. He no longer took sandwiches but bought lunch in the canteen when he could, made do with snacks bought at station buffets when that was impracticable. He lost nearly a stone in the month following Florrie’s death, while Eva was putting on weight rapidly as she neared her time.

At the beginning of May Philip Doig saw George one day and asked him to step inside the office a moment. After enquiring how he was coping and being reassured, he mentioned that 5034 must by now be clocking up the mileage and if George wanted, he could be allocated another engine.

“5056 is just ex works, she’s always been a good’un, so I’m told. Do you want her instead?”

“I don’t mind. 5034’s alright but if 5056 is just out of shops I’ll take her. I’ll check with Wyn but I don’t know anything against the engine.”

He later confirmed the exchange with the running foreman and 5034 was put back into the pool. Wyn seemed pleased. The fresh engine steamed like a dream, was exceptionally economical on coal which eased his fireman’s task and rode like a Pullman coach. He looked her up and down when they’d backed onto the early morning Worcester at Paddington station and wiped his rag over the gleaming nameplate “Earl of Powis” with the inscription underneath denoting this was a member of the ‘Castle’ class. I don’t know who the hell the earl was, he thought to himself, but he didn’t really care. His engine was efficient enough; the name didn’t matter.

Later that day when he was booking off, he bumped into James Peplow who was just signing on. He hadn’t seen him for some time and thought he ought to enquire how things were going although he hoped that he’d not have to hear complaints about the attitude of his fellow drivers still. George thought he looked unwell, gaunt even, but the man seemed unusually talkative. He soon found out why. He seemed to be seething below his surface demeanour.

“The boss wanted me to change my engine. I don’t know why, she’s still strong, and I don’t mind if she can be a bit rough on some track.”

“I think he was just giving you the choice. I wouldn’t have thought he’d have forced you. He gave me the chance to change and I’ve got 5056 now, she’s much better than 5034.”

“I told him in no uncertain terms that I wasn’t changing. He wanted me to take 7029. I’m sticking with 5008.”

“What does your fireman think?”

“I haven’t asked him. He’ll do what I say. There’s no problem with 5008, she steams well enough.”

“Isn’t she a bit rough sometimes? She must have done at least 60,000 miles since she was out of the Works.”

“I told you, I don’t mind.”

George sensed that the man was getting argumentative and he was too tired to bother – it was the man’s concern, not his. It would only become his concern if Jim Plunkett made a complaint and the young man seemed to have accepted the inevitable and put up with Peplow’s moods and idiosyncrasies. He looked at 5008 while Peplow climbed into the cab. He had to agree it looked smart enough, in fact it positively glistened under the driver’s loving care.

Eva’s baby could come any time now. She was spending more time at Maggie’s house so that there was always someone there if her waters broke and contractions began, ready to call the ambulance to get her to the maternity hospital. In any case the girl had worries about the physical process of giving birth, she was scared of the pain and whether she’d cope and Maggie was of more support to her on this than George could ever be. George started going round to his son’s house for the evening meal when he was free at that time and towards the end of the month, a week later than the date Eva’d been given, George came home to find only a note from Maggie to say both had gone to the hospital and Paul would put him in the picture. He phoned his son at the garage who said that Eva had gone in at midday and that the midwife had predicted that the baby would be born around midnight. Maggie was staying with her – the midwife had given permission in view of Eva’s youth and Maggie’s experience – and would ring as soon as there was any news. Paul had fetched Andy from home before the ambulance left and had taken him back to the garage with a few toys to keep him happy, until it was time for his tea when they’d both come back.

George rang the foreman and asked him to cover his next day’s turn but midnight came and the phone hadn’t rung. Paul and his father sat together drinking beer, the evening’s TV programmes finished and they looked at each other. Andy stirred and cried out and Paul went to him. The crying continued. Andy wanted his mum. Paul gave Andy a drink and some more food and after a further quarter of an hour’s grizzling he eventually went back to sleep again.

“Do you want to stay the night here? You can use the spare room”, said Paul.

George tossed and turned and didn’t sleep. He missed his wife more than ever at this moment. She would have taken charge. He was leaving so much to his daughter-in-law now, things he thought it was a parent’s duty to do in lieu of a husband. He lay for what seemed like hours and only fell into a light sleep around 3 o’clock. The phone rang shrilly at six exactly and George and Paul bumped into one another in the hallway as they rushed to take the call. It was Maggie, as they had expected. The baby, a girl, had been born at one o’clock, but Maggie had assumed they’d be asleep and hadn’t wanted to disturb them. Eva was alright now. She’d had a hard time and was exhausted now but was relieved it was over. The baby was fine, weighed just over seven pounds.

George had a quick coffee, dressed and drove straight to the hospital to allow Maggie to return to look after Andy as soon as he awoke. He was allowed to go to his daughter’s bedside but she was asleep. He sat there looking at his daughter, his little girl, now a mother. It would be her sixteenth birthday in just two weeks’ time. He shook his head in disbelief. A few weeks ago he would have been filled with shame and anger. Now he just felt relief that mother and baby were through this ordeal and were healthy as far as he could tell. The day nurse came in to check on Eva, saw she was still asleep and brought George a cup of tea. She was clearly curious, wanted to ask the circumstances in which so young a girl had got herself pregnant, why there was no sign of a father. But she kept her curiosity in bounds at least when talking with the man that she’d been told was the girl’s father.

The nurse woke Eva after half an hour and brought the baby for Eva to feed. She pumped up the pillows behind the girl and began to unbutton her nightdress to bring the child to the breast. George was embarrassed and muttered apologies and stood up.

“You can go down to the day room if you wish, although you can stay if you want. I understand Eva will be living at home with you and her mother’s dead. I want you to ensure that Eva does her best to keep breast feeding the child, it’s better for both of them.”

George saw that his daughter was shy as well and he decided to withdraw. He paced the day room, flicking through the magazines there but nothing caught his interest. Eventually the nurse stuck her head round the doorway.

“You can go back now. You can stay for another quarter of an hour then I want you out of the way before the doctor does his rounds. Visiting time is from six o’clock this evening for a couple of hours, but only one visitor at a time is allowed. Eva’s got the baby now.”

George went back and Eva was sitting up in bed cradling the child in her arms. She was smiling now, she looked angelic there. She’d been tidied up, her hair had been brushed and there was colour back in her cheeks. Years seemed to have fallen away, she looked like his tomboy thirteen year old again.

She grinned at him and held out the small bundle. “Would you like to hold her?”

He took the child gently in his arms and remembered when he’d cradled Eva like this for the first time while Florrie watched him fondly. He felt tears coming, then choked them back. He didn’t want to spoil this moment. He looked at the tiny face, the child’s blue eyes staring at his, her wispy blond hair like his daughter’s had been. He felt like a proud father, then remembered this was a second grandchild, his first granddaughter. He brought the baby to his face and kissed her gently.

“She’s lovely, Eva!” was all he said as he handed her back. Then he bent over and kissed Eva on the forehead. “We’ll find a way, my love, don’t worry. We’ll look after her. Do you have a name for her?”

“Do you think we should call her after Mum?”

“Florence is old fashioned now. You can’t call her that. You can give her that as a second name if you want, but think of a name that the child will be proud of.”

“Then I’ll call her Anita. She can be Anita Florence. She can be proud that she’s got Mum’s name as well.

He turned to go. When he got to the door he looked back and saw the two of them and knew how much he loved them despite everything that had happened. He smiled. Anita Florence had gone back to sleep. Eva looked at him and gave him a golden grin.