The Stationmaster’s Daughter. Kathleen McGurl
her side to look at the injury. It was superficial – just a scraping of the skin – but looked sore.
Outside, the train whistled. Bill must be impatient to be off. Ted glanced at his watch and realised he needed to change the signal and let the train leave, or it would be late. ‘Wait here. I’ll be back in a moment. And I’ll fetch something to bathe and dress the wound,’ he said.
Once the train was dispatched, he fetched first-aid items from his kitchen and returned to the waiting room. He bathed Annie’s wound with as much gentleness as he could muster, inwardly cursing his rough hands and lack of nursing experience. He covered it with a bandage. ‘There, Miss Galbraith. That should sort it.’
‘You are very kind, Mr Stationmaster. Oh, I cannot keep calling you that. You told me your name last week, but I confess I have forgotten it.’
‘E-Edward Morgan,’ he stammered. ‘But most people call me Ted.’
‘Then I shall, too, if you don’t mind,’ she replied. ‘I must ask you, though, how did you know my name?’
Ted felt himself redden. Why did his skin always let his nervousness show? ‘I – I heard someone say your name. I was in the bank, where you work …’
‘Ah, yes. I see. But now we are acquainted, please call me Annie.’ She smiled and touched his arm as she spoke.
Was it possible for his face to burn any more? ‘Y-yes. Thank you. I shall.’
‘I should get to work,’ Annie said, rolling down her blouse sleeve and buttoning the cuff. ‘Too bad about that tear. I have another blouse left in the office I can change into. But my coat! It’s new, and look, it’s ruined.’ Her voice cracked, as though she was fighting back tears.
Ted inspected the rip. It was close to the seam. ‘With careful mending that wouldn’t show too much, I dare say.’
‘I am terrible at sewing. I paid no attention to it in school.’
‘Miss Galbraith – Annie, I mean, I could mend it. I do all my own mending, My sister taught me. Perhaps if you borrow an overcoat from me for today – it won’t fit but will keep you warm – y-you could leave your lovely red coat here, and I could …’
‘But surely you won’t have time to do any sewing? You must be such a busy man.’
‘Th-there are gaps, between the trains. I will make the time. Leave it with me. It would be my pleasure.’
She smiled. ‘Very well, if you insist.’
He took the coat through to his parlour and collected his own overcoat for Annie to wear for the day. The thought of her arms slipped inside the sleeves where his arms had been, her perfume rubbing off onto the coat’s collar – he had to shake his head to stop those thoughts. He took it out and held it out for her to shrug on. It was far too long, the sleeves hanging past her hands, the coat so wide it would fit two of her.
‘How does it look?’ she asked, twirling round, a shy smile playing at the corners of her mouth.
‘Well, it will keep you warm at least,’ he replied, and she burst out laughing, a tinkling, rippling sound that went straight to his heart. If he could hear that laugh every day of his life, he’d be a happy man.
‘Thank you again, Ted. I shall be back here for the 17.21 as usual. And please don’t worry if you find you don’t have time to mend my coat.’ She picked up her bag, wound the scarf that had caused all the trouble around her neck, and went on her way, leaving Ted standing in the waiting room, with the stupidest grin on his still-blushing face.
*
Annie arrived back at the station a good ten minutes before the 17.21. Ted was busy doing some accounts in the ticket office, and looked up as she walked in. She was smiling as she greeted him – a smile that lit the room.
‘I’ve mended your coat,’ Ted said, blushing as he put down his books and came out from behind the counter, bringing her coat. He’d spent hours on it, on and off, all day. He’d had to undo the lining to sew up the tear from the inside, and then re-stitch the sleeve lining into place. He’d taken care to use the smallest possible stitches, working as neatly as he could, silently thanking Norah for teaching him to sew as a child (in return for which, he’d tried to teach her the names of all parts of a steam engine, but she had not been interested in learning them). He’d made a good job of the repair, he knew. His pernickety, perfectionist nature had made sure of that. So what if two or three times he’d lifted the coat to his face and tried to breathe in Annie’s scent from it? So what if he’d lovingly stroked the fabric? He’d done what he’d promised.
She took the coat from him and inspected the repair. ‘Oh, Ted. That’s marvellous! One would hardly realise it had been torn. I could never have managed to do that so neatly. It must have taken you ages. I insist on paying you for your time.’
‘I won’t hear of such a thing,’ Ted objected. ‘Let me help you on with it.’ She took his overcoat off and draped it across the ticket-office counter, while he held her coat ready for her to slip into.
‘Thank you.’ That smile, again.
‘How is your arm?’ he asked.
‘Much better. It’s only a scratch. I shall take the bandage off tonight. You’ve been very kind, Ted. I do appreciate it. Oh, here is the train, already!’
For the first time in his life, Ted felt disappointed to see a train pull into his station on time. Why couldn’t it have been late, just this once? And was that a little sigh of disappointment from Annie too? He went out onto the platform, watched over the two or three people alighting and offered his hand to Annie to help her climb aboard. She took it, and he relished the feel of her small, soft hand in his. ‘Why did you miss the train on Friday evening?’ The words were out of his mouth before he realised he was going to say them.
‘Friday? Oh, yes, Friday.’ She looked suddenly awkward, as though reluctant to answer his question. ‘A … well, a friend picked me up from the bank in his motorcar.’
The train whistled, and Ted had to step away, closing the carriage door. Bill was leaning out of the locomotive’s cab. ‘Second time today I’ve had to hurry you along, Ted! What’s going on?’
‘Just looking after our passengers,’ Ted replied, as he ran along the platform to the signal box. Looking after one passenger, at any rate. He pondered on the way Annie had said the word ‘friend’. An acquaintance or family friend? He felt insanely jealous of the unknown man. Whoever he was, he’d had the pleasure of Annie’s company for an entire evening. He wished he’d never asked her about Friday. If only he hadn’t. It would have been better to have remained in blissful ignorance.
Waking up with a hangover was already becoming a habit. Ken brought Tilly tea in bed again, and put it beside her without a word. But she could feel he disapproved of the amount she was drinking. Hell, she disapproved of it herself, in the mornings, when she was suffering from the fallout of the night before. But it helped her forget, and for now, forgetting was what she felt she needed to do.
She crawled out of bed around eleven o’clock. For the first time she thought it was as well she’d lost her job at the same time as losing Ian. How she’d have been able to carry on going to work in this state she didn’t know.
It had happened three months after her third and last miscarriage. Tilly knew something was up at work – there’d been talk for nearly a year about a restructuring. But the company would always need payroll administrators, so she’d assumed she was safe. It’d be just a reorganisation – combining a couple of departments, a manager leaving and not being replaced, something like that. It always was. She’d worked there for fifteen