Chapter 59

Abby had expected a third degree cross examination upon arrival back at the Combe Inn. But all Mary asked was.

"Did you enjoy your few days away; the sea air must have been nice." Alerting Abby to the fact that James must have told at least one person where she was. In the bar that evening she saw Sam, who surreptitiously winked. Abby discreetly nodded, acknowledging his part in the conspiracy. She then gave her attention to Mr. Brasher who had arrived that day.

She and Mr. Brasher went to the station the day before the blessing. The building was pristine, looking just as it should, not new, but as an old building which had been cared for. He had stood on the track bed, now devoid of weeds, with Sleepers and ballast taking their place, just looking, saying nothing, his face revealing his feelings. He nodded his head.

"This Abby is how a station should look. Great Western, through and through." They had discussed the informative signs and pictorials that would go into the station. He had obtained official and unofficial photographs and had these blown up and printed on board. From the cavernous boot of the Rolls Royce he now produced them. One of George Walker's men carried them into the station. Covered by transparent acrylic sheet they would last for years. They went round the station deciding where the hoardings should go, for each one he produced a printed explanation of what the photo showed and what work the men were doing. They too had been enlarged and sealed under an acrylic coat. George Walker came over to see what they were doing, and immediately called the man back.

"Mark these up and drill and plug. We'll get these up straight away, Miss Abby." He turned back to his workman. "Use mirror screws, and don't over tighten. If you crack the acrylic I shall have your guts for garters!" He had a smile on his face as the man hurried off. "Best to warn them of their fate before they do it wrong." Mr. Brasher had kept the best until last. He produced the photo of Thomas Tregonney standing on his platform, which he had also had blown up. Then the chronology of Thomas's career in the service of the Great Western Railway.

"In his office, I believe, Abby. Would be the best place?" Abby nodded too full of emotion for words. Each hoarding was left against the wall it would be fixed to. Mr. Walker promising that they would be affixed properly or he would know the reason why.

As Abby and Mr. Brasher left the station building he apologised that the hoardings for the Goods Shed were not ready. The Printer, though, had promised that he would deliver within three days.

"I shall stay until then, Abby. I would like to make sure the placement is correct and to your satisfaction."

"My satisfaction?" Abby queried. "I will be happy with whatever you suggest. After all, you are the expert." Mr. Brasher acknowledged her compliment with a little smile. Abby raised the subject of payment for all this work.

"Please don't mention it, Abby it was little enough, and my pleasure in contributing a little to this work is more than sufficient thanks."

They were leaving through the wicket gate when Abby noticed the old sign, the one that had been broken and thrown amongst the weeds on the track. It was now whole and affixed to the diagonally slatted fence. She looked at Mr. Brasher.

"Did you organise this?" He shook his head.

"No, Abby. Nothing to do with me." Abby returned to the office building and found Mr. Walker, who was standing over his workman making sure he understood what was required of him.

"Mr. Walker. The old sign about tickets. Did you get it repaired?"

"Yes. Miss Abby. Ms. Eaton noticed it and told me that it had to be repaired and fixed as you see it. Evidently it was shown in one of the old photographs, so she included it in her specification. I found the bits and had them welded then repainted." He looked worried. "Why? Is there a problem?"

"No problem at all. I was surprised, that's all."

Now that she was seeing her project coming to completion, she was grateful for James' good advice. Restoring the station was an emotional step for her, but she recognised that having a purpose for the station was just as, if not more important. Everything she had learned from Sam and particularly Mr. Brasher had indicated that this building, delightful as it was, was a tool designed to do a job. Granddad was merely the operator of the tool.

The re-dedication had been set for eleven-thirty. It was one of those spring days when the sun shone but with little warmth, the saving grace was no wind to chill. Even so it was wise to wrap up a little. Abby arrived just after James, and was astonished to see the station approach full with cars, mainly Land Rovers, the standard mode of transport in the valley. She recognised most. Mary and Jack, Sam, of course and his family, Harry, Nat and Susan Gaunton, Abe Stone, Sheila and their two children, Joe and Naomi. Then of course the elegant Rolls Royce announced the presence of Mr. Brasher. She noted a Lexus and had to wonder who owned that. James had waited for her by the wicket gate and his eyes asked for the answer to his proposal.

"Later, James." She told him. She was prepared for a good turnout but when they got on the platform she was surprised at the numbers. Seeing Sir Richard and Lady Margaret, answered the question of the Lexus, then the sight of a small squad in Khaki standing on the gravel on the track bed surprised her. She turned to James and in a flinty voice asked.

"What is the Army doing here?"

"Oh, I believe they are going off with the Reverend Hopkins to another function. I said it would be fine if they stopped here, swelling the numbers a bit." Abby face told him she wasn't too sure whether to believe him of not.

James led Abby along the platform towards the newly glazed porch where the Reverend Hopkins waited, dressed in a white Surplice, bible in hand. Abby had to welcome many of the gathering, stopping and having a few words with most as they made their way. Abby was surprised when after the greetings were done, James started the proceedings.

"Sir Richard, Lady Margaret, Reverend Hopkins, Ladies and Gentlemen. No one was more surprised than I when Miss Tregonney asked to take over this station and house. To all intents and purposes the buildings were almost derelict, yet Miss Tregonney saw in them far more than a cursory examination would reveal. She saw something that no one else would ever see, no matter how hard they looked. She saw her Family." He paused to let that sink in. "That's an important concept, Family. All of us here take for granted our mothers, fathers, siblings. They are there. We laugh with them, we quarrel with them, fall out with them, yet we can always return to the loving familiarity of the family embrace, for comfort and for support. We can trace our families back through three, four or more generations, that knowledge grounds us, we know who we are." He paused again. "Miss Tregonney had none of those experiences, so this station where her grandfather worked, the house where he lived with her grandmother and where her mother grew up, assumed an importance that many of us could not understand. I think now we do understand. Re-building the past is a way of finding ourselves, and I believe that Miss Tregonney has done that. At the same time Miss Tregonney has found something else, friends as well as a family. Abby now belongs here, she is one of us." He turned to Abby. "Abby. You came here and offered friendship and courtesy to all of us and have become an essential part of this village and the valley, we want you to stay; you are part of us now, part of this little community. If you ever go away, you will leave a vacuum here that nothing will ever fill." He smiled, and looked at the Reverend, who cleared his throat and began the blessing of the station.

He started by making reference to the peculiar relationship that the clergy seemed to have with the steam railway, which bought a smile to their faces. "Many see the Church in the same light as the steam railway. Dinosaurs that have little reference to modern life. Indeed the Great Western Railway, known often by just its initials was humorously referred to as God's Wonderful Railway, and disparagingly as the Great Way Round. I think that if God had indeed designed a railway, it would have been the Great Western he used as a prototype. There was much similarity between the Church and the railway, both gave service to a community, the one spiritual, the other practical. We could see this station as the equivalent of the church, always open to serve those who had need of our help and succour. From this place some would set out to pursue fame, fortune or a new life. Others left to do service for their country. Yet the station was here to welcome them back, and many would have seen Thomas Tregonney, sending them on their journey and facilitating their return. In the midst of so much turmoil, Thomas Tregonney and his station were beacons of stability, much as we hope the Church could be seen. We will give thanks for his life, the service he gave us, and bless this building as a symbol of all he did."