THE NEW AGE OF STEAM (2346 words)(30/01/2009)

THE NEW AGE OF STEAM (2346 words)(30/01/2009)

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I had a new job! The only down side was that I had to relocate. I quite liked where I was at the moment, but it wasn't as if I couldn't come back. The way things were these days, people were constantly on the move.

New job or not, the boiler still had to be lit. I climbed out of my living carriage, past my storage carriage, then the tender and finally stepped up onto the footplate of my little 0-4-0 tank engine.

'Morning old girl!’ I greeted her cheerfully as I pulled wood from the tender and began to stock the fire.

An hour later and we set off. I'd been ready to go for a while, and had already had my tea and breakfast, but I still needed the signal to go. The rail yard in Bristol was massive and congested, but I was more worried about Crewe. Since my job was in Inverness it would be doubtful if I would manage to get there today and I might well be forced to overnight in some temporary yard along the line, or even worse, spent the night out on the open rails, a target for petrol heads and other degenerates.

I waved to my neighbours as I chugged slowly past,

'Relocating Mr Frobisher?’ Mrs Bartholomew called to me.

'Yes indeed Madam, I am off to Bony Scotland to start a new job!'

'Good luck to you then Mr Frobisher!’ she waved back from the footplate of her family 2-6-2, 'I'll see you down the line!'

I had similar exchanges with several people until I left through the open chain link fences of the Bristol Rail yard and out onto the open lines.

The countryside was now a procession of fields and forests. Fields to hold the cattle the fed us and forests of fast growing pine that fed our engines.

I opened her up as I got out onto the main line and let her get up to a sprightly 25 mph.

The lines were busy though, as ever, and I soon had to slow down. There were plenty of engines on the line, ranging from single person tanks like mine to the massive 4-8-4's of the stately communal express trains. Some were little better than slums on wheels but others were sleek and powerful, home’s of the elite.

I longed to get a bigger engine, but as a single male, by the laws of our country under God and the benevolent rule of President Haversham I was entitled to only a tank and two carriages.

If I was to marry I could upgrade to a 2-6-0 and have my wife hook her carriages onto mine.

I smiled to myself at the thought of marriage. If this new job worked out then why not? I turned to watch the scenery roll slowly past. Along side I could see the overgrown line of an old motorway. Every so often there would a hump in the greenery where a hated old automobile lay rusting.

'Horrible things!’ I said happily and chugged onwards.

I knew the signal men in Crewe well and waved at them as I passed, I had been through here enough times after all.

'Going north again Mr Frobisher?’ asked Mr Pontefract.

'I certainly am!’ I called back.

'I'll see you down the line then!’ he replied with a merry wave.

Making good time I passed through York around six in the evening. I was glad to get past here before nightfall as this was untamed petrol head territory. The government did what they could but up here there was less law and the would sometimes drive right up to the line and rev their horrid engines at the passing trains in a most alarming manner and were a constant nuisance to the line checkers.

They were not as bad as the environmentalists, but after the Crash of 45 they had become less mobile and as a consequence much easier to hunt and exterminate. It boggled my mind that some people could not see the rightness of steam. Wood fuel powered steam was the future!

I rolled into the Inverness yard at midnight, tired but happy.

The next day I was shunted into a side yard where my new job was to be and hopped from my carriage into the carriage of what was to be my new office. They were a firm of solicitors that dealt with disputes over land reform and primarily with the claiming of land for new branch lines.

'Come on in, Mr Frobisher', said the man who was to be my new boss, a Mr Deveer.

I shook his hand and said my hellos. We discussed at great length what my new duties were to be, but to be honest I sometimes find my job very dull so I can't imagine what others must think.

I won't got into detail then, but I was a little shocked when he said,

'As you know, our offices are situated here in the Inverness yard, but I'm afraid there is a bit of a waiting list here as it is full up. You don't mind doing a bit of a commute for a small while do you?'

'Ah...'

'Don't worry! It would be in a residential compound not far from here, not far at all. I know it’s annoying to have to fire up the boiler every day, but needs must when the devil drives!'

'It’s not walking distance?'

'Good god no man! Does anyone walk anywhere these days when you have the ease and convenience of steam travel?'

'No I suppose not.’ I replied, knowing that I did enjoy the odd heretical walk from time to time even if it was just around the yard.

'I must warn you though.’ continued Mr Deveer, 'Don't travel the line between here and the residential yard late at night. The Black Isle is home to a tribe of quite vicious petrol heads. I'm lead to believe they have a link to the St Fergus Clan.

I shuddered. The infamous St Fergus Clan ran secret pipelines out to the North Sea from which they gathered the last of the world’s oil. They were a band of murderers and even cannibals or so it was said.

'I'd forgotten how wild it can be up here sir.’ I managed to reply.

'That's the spirit!’ said Mr Deveer, slapping me on the back as I left.

That night I slept somewhat fitfully. The residential yard was a lot smaller than I had hoped and indeed than I was used to. It was home to at least ten other trains, but I was sure only one of them was in use.

I lit a fire in my living carriage and had my diner in there, something I rarely do, preferring to eat on the foot plate if the weather is fine.

A noise outside made me look up in terror. Had that been the sound of a combustion engine revving?

A few moments later there was a knock on the door and I nearly jumped out of my skin. I opened the security grill and looked down on the head of a red headed young girl carrying a basket.

Smiling I opened the door,

'Hello there madam', I said in greeting.

'Hello there', she said in a pleasant Scottish brogue, 'I'm Miss MacInnery, I hope you don't mind but I thought I might bring you some scones, by way of a greeting to the yard.'

'Of course!’ I said happily, 'Come in. I have some homemade jam that will go well with them!'

We talked for a while. She worked as a shepherdess in the surrounding hills, herding sheep in the protected pens along a nearby branch line.

'You must think it odd.’ she said meekly, 'That I do a job that takes me away from my train for so long each day.'

'Not at all!’ I said, 'I must confess I like to step down from the plate from time to time and stretch my legs.'

She smiled at that.

'Tell me', I continued to hide my pleasure at her smile, 'Are we the only ones in this yard?'

'That's correct Mr Frobisher, the other trains are not in use, all locked up waiting for people that need them.'

'I see. And are you not frightened of the petrol heads out in the hills when you go to work?'

She seemed momentarily tongue tied but said, ‘No no, people tend to exaggerated how bad things are out of the yards and off the lines. They fear the unknown I suppose.’

She left shortly afterwards.

The days rolled into weeks that rolled into months. My job paid well but was immensely boring. Even after months they still could not find me a place in the main yard, but in truth I did not mind as I was forming a strong bond with Miss MacInnery, or so I liked to think. She would never leave this yard as it was the closest to her work, but others came and went.

One day I arrived back from work, gently chugging into the yard to see that her train was not in its usual position. This in itself was not so odd as sometimes she stayed late if there was a sick sheep or it was lambing season. But I grew concerned when she still hadn't returned after tea. As the evening wore on to bedtime I resolved to take a quick tour up the line to see where she was.

There were only two exits from this yard, one that lead to Inverness and one that lead into the mountains. I chugged up to the gates of the later and called to the signal man to open up.

'Are ye sure you want to be venturing up into mountains at this time of night Mr F?’ said the old signalman.

'What about Miss MacInnery, she’s still out there isn't she?'

'Well right enough I suppose.’ he grumbled and finally opened the gates.

I steamed off into the mountains and the sun began to set. As I crossed an old iron bridge I saw, in the distance a man stood on the back of a jeep watching me. As I caught his eye he raised a spear and held it in the air then pointed directly towards my train.

I gulped, but resolved to continue on my way.

The line never seemed to end, and I had to turn on all the lamps to light up the rails before me. Around each turn on the mountain line I hoped to see her little red tank engine sat patiently in a siding as she was out somewhere tending her flocks, but no.

I grew more anxious and checked my pocket watch. Unbelievably it was already two o’clock in the morning. I reached a point where the line split, but could see no signal box. I cursed to myself. I could either continue on my way, or stop and switch the line by myself.

I was too scared to stop so simply steamed on and the switch turned out to be selected to turn left, so powerless to do otherwise that was the direction I headed in.

More bad luck was to follow. The line ended here in a siding. I would have to reverse the tank and head back again. I came to a halt, but was startled by the clear sound of revving combustion engines not far away.

Suddenly a half dozen sets of automobile headlights were switched on and the darkness was illuminated.

'Step down from your engine!' called a man from his jeep.

It was no use, my engine took minutes even to get up to ten miles an hour, they would be able to easily catch me, even assuming they hadn't blocked the line behind me.

I picked up a shovel and looked out from the cab. Stepping into the light of the headlamps I could see a tall red headed man holding a crooked looking spear.

'You've picked the wrong place for a midnight drive, laddie! Don’t you know you are in St Fergus clan territory?’ said the man.

'Leave me be!’ I replied brandishing my shovel as the steam hissed out of my tank. I was loosing pressure. I was also terrified. The St Fergus Clan, could they really be cannibals? Was I to be eaten?

'What are you doing out here?’ the man asked.

'I'm looking for someone.'

'Who?'

'Miss MacInnery', I said, not seeing a reason to hide my intentions, 'She is a shepherdess.'

The man looked behind him into the darkness and beckoned someone forward.

Miss MacInnery stepped cautiously into the lit area between the automobile and my tank engine.

'Miss MacInnery!’ I exclaimed, 'Have these scoundrels harmed you?'

She smiled in embarrassment and said, 'Why would they, when they are my own family?'

I was so flabbergasted I was rendered speechless.

'Don't worry Mr Frobisher.', she said, 'My brother won't harm ye. Go home, I will speak to you tomorrow.'

I was so full of terror when I returned to the Residential Yard that I had to call in sick to work. Once I had sent the telegram from the signal box I returned to my living carriage and locked the door.

I must have fallen asleep because when there was a knock at the window I leapt awake. Looking out I could see Miss MacInnery’s engine in the yard and her looking up at me anxiously.

I opened the door and let her in.

'You haven't called the authorities have you?’ she asked.

'No no, I haven't’ I replied with a nervous shrug.

'That's good. I was sorry to scare you. It was a Clan gathering, I didn't think you would come looking for me. It really was very sweet of you.'

'I...’ was all I could manage.

'Do you think it odd that some of my family are petrol heads?'

'Well.', I said noncommittally.

'Believe me', she said, 'It’s more common up here than you might think.'

'I suppose it must be.’ I replied, 'But aren't they savages?'

'Well, a bit, but I still love them.'

We sat down and had some tea.

'Tell me Mr Frobisher, could you love someone who's from a petrol head family?'

'It would depend who it was, Miss MacInnery.', I replied leaning nervously forward.

She leaned closer still, 'You can call me Penelope if you like.'

We kissed and the angels sang.

'I have a family confession I must make as well my dear', I whispered when our lips finally parted.

'What's that?'

'My name wasn't always Frobisher. My father changed it after the Crash and the New Age of Steam.'

'Really? What was it before?'

'Beeching!'