No Wings to Fly (27 page)

‘No. No, not at all.’

‘Splendid. You’ll need to find a room somewhere nearby, but that shouldn’t be too difficult. Miss Trimble had no trouble finding lodgings, and was very well suited. She was with a Mrs Thorne, in Ashway Lane,’ she gestured with a wave of her small hand, ‘which is just up round the corner on the way to the station. Mrs Thorne is a widow lady – of humble means, but a gracious and pleasant soul, and keeps a very clean house, I understand. Certainly Miss Trimble was very happy and comfortable there, I know, and I should think it very likely that her room is still vacant. There wouldn’t be many calls for lodgings in a little place like this. Do you think you might like to enquire?’

‘Oh, yes, indeed, ma’am,’ Lily replied. ‘That could be just the thing. I’ll go now, on my way back to the station.’

‘Excellent. I’ll give you directions.’ Mrs Acland pressed her hands together. ‘That’s splendid – and now we must discuss your salary and conditions.’

Lily was soon ready to set off from the house. With all the necessary business arrangements settled with her new employer, she took her leave of her and made her way back along the lane. Thankfully the rain was holding off, though the clouds remained threatening. Reaching the end, she
turned to the left and walked along for fifty yards until she came to Ashway Lane, a narrow, stony little road branching off to the right. Roseberry Cottage was the first dwelling in a row of three, and she turned in at its gate, made her way up the short path to the front door, and rapped on it with the iron knocker. It was opened after a few moments by a short, slim woman in her late fifties, wearing a plain apron over her dark brown dress, and a lace cap on her grey hair. Lily introduced herself and said that she had come to enquire whether there might be a vacant room to rent, for she was looking for lodgings while she taught the Acland children at Yew Tree House.

Mrs Thorne beamed at her. There was indeed a room, she said, the very room vacated by the Aclands’ former governess, Miss Trimble. Miss Clair could see it now, if she wished. Lily replied that she would very much like to, and a moment later Mrs Thorne was stepping aside and inviting her to enter.

The room Lily was shown into was up one flight of stairs. Smelling very faintly of beeswax and lavender, it was not large, and its ceiling was low, but the window looked out onto a small vegetable garden at the rear, with the sweeping plains of Wiltshire beyond, along the cloud-hung skyline. The room was pleasantly furnished, and Lily saw that it would offer all she required. She turned to the woman who stood watching her, and saw a little anxiety in her face, a look of hope that the room would do. It would do indeed, Lily was sure. She smiled at Mrs Thorne, and said yes, she liked the room very much, and if the terms were agreeable she would like to take it.

Mrs Thorne returned Lily’s smile with relief, barely hiding her eagerness to have a paying guest in the house once more. Miss Trimble, she said, paid one-and-nine a week, with all washing done, and breakfast and supper found. Would that be acceptable? Lily at once said yes. It
was then arranged that she would move into the room in a fortnight, on Sunday, December the first, ready to begin her teaching of the Acland girls the following day. All was settled.

Back downstairs in the kitchen, Mrs Thorne asked Lily if she would like to stay for some tea. Lily was grateful for the offer, and thanked her, but said that she must set off back for Sherrell.

She left the cottage a few minutes later with her sense of accomplishment and satisfaction riding high. She had found employment and she had found a lodging. The future was looking brighter.

The clouds remained threatening as Lily set off to catch her train, but the rain held off. Arriving at the station, she went onto the platform and saw on the board that a train for Sherrell was due in twenty minutes.

There was a ladies’ waiting room near the ticket office, and she went in and took a seat near the door. There were two other women in the place who sat together beneath the window. Lily took a seat opposite, keeping an eye on the dusty-faced old clock. When the time came she gathered up her bag and umbrella, touched at her hat, and left the room.

She had to wait only a further minute or two before the train drew in and she chose a window seat facing forward. There were three other passengers in the carriage, a middle-aged couple and an elderly woman, obviously travelling together.

Once settled in, she thought back on her meeting with Mrs Acland. It was so splendid that everything had gone so well. She had not dared to hope for such a positive outcome, but it had all come to fruition.

She was so caught up in her thoughts that she was not immediately aware of the train departing. Only when her
gaze from the window met the sweeping view of the November landscape did she come out of her reverie.

The fields and woodlands trundled by, punctuated here and there with hamlets, villages and small market towns. After a while the train halted briefly at Church Cresson, and again further along at Stretton, where the three other passengers alighted, leaving her alone in the carriage as the train called at Pippinly, and moved on then towards Hanborough. There a short woman in a dark, plum-coloured coat climbed aboard. As she moved to a seat in the far corner she nodded at Lily, and murmured a little greeting, which Lily returned.

The train rattled on its way, and after a while drew into Corster. Lily sat looking out onto the bustling platform as the passengers came and went to the accompanying sounds of the opening and slamming of the carriage doors. Turning her head to her right, her casual glance was drawn to the window on the other side of the compartment, beyond which a train was just pulling into the adjacent platform, heading in the opposite direction. Idly she watched as it slowed, while some of its passengers rose from their seats, collecting up their belongings, preparing to depart. She turned her head away, and as she did so she heard the sudden flurry of raindrops pattering against the window, and then from the other corner the woman’s voice, saying with a sigh, ‘Ah, here comes the rain. You could bet the dratted stuff wouldn’t hold off for long.’

Lily turned to her, gave a nod, and murmured, ‘Yes, indeed.’

And then froze in her seat.

In glancing at the woman, Lily’s gaze had also taken in the train on the adjacent, downline track. It had now come to a complete halt, and stood so close that its near carriage window was no more than three feet beyond the window of the compartment in which she sat. From her seat in the
corner, she gazed, riveted, into the other compartment, where the passengers chatted to each other or sat reading their newspapers and books. Lily’s rapt attention, however, was fixed on one particular man.

Without realising it, she rose from her seat, her taut body leaning towards the far window. Her mouth open, she lifted a hand to her lips, as if to stifle a cry. Then, almost in the same moment, the man turned his head and looked through into the compartment in which she stood. Their eyes met, and in a second the man’s widened, and his mouth opened and she could see her name,
Lily
, on his lips.

‘
Joel
. . .’ She whispered his name without being aware that she was uttering a sound. She watched as he rose up from his seat. He was so close and yet so completely inaccessible. From behind her, out on the platform, a whistle blew. In just a few moments, she knew, her path and Joel’s would diverge, and there was nothing she could do to prevent it. She was helpless, standing there looking at him across the carriage, and through the two grimy windows. A few moments more and he would be gone.

He was trying to speak to her, but she could make out nothing from the movement of his lips, and no sound penetrated the two panes of glass and the distance between. Then suddenly the carriage gave a lurch, and she staggered slightly before recovering her balance. As the train began to move off, leaving the other train behind, she saw Joel lift his newspaper and turn its face to the window. In the same moment his right hand came up, moving in a sharp gesture. But how the gesture ended she did not see, for in another second he was gone out of her sight.

As she stood there the rest of the train was left behind and vanished from her view, and then all she saw beyond the rain-lashed window was the collection of smoky railway buildings, and the houses that nestled close by.

‘Excuse me – are you all right, miss?’

The voice came from the woman sitting in the corner seat by the far window, and Lily turned to her, seeing her slightly bemused expression, a little frown of concern on her round, good natured face. Lily’s eyes widened as she began to come back to the reality of the moment. ‘I – I beg your pardon . . .?’

‘I asked if you were all right . . .’

‘What? Oh, yes. Yes – thank you.’ Lily half turned and lowered herself once more into her seat. From her bag she took a handkerchief and touched at her forehead and cheeks. Her flesh felt hot, and she could feel herself gasping as her breast rose and fell sharply. She took a few deep, steady breaths and tried to gather herself, but her gloved hands were trembling as she returned her handkerchief to her reticule, and she could feel the faint dampness of perspiration again upon her brow.

Joel. He had been there. Just a few feet away, separated from her by the shortest distance and two rain-streaked, soot-stained windows. Now beyond the glass, the fields, hedges, farmyards and common sights of rural Wiltshire passed by. Seeing it all glide before her, she was only aware that with every yard she travelled, the train was taking her further and further away from him.

The next station on the line was Killetshaw. Lily sat hunched over in her seat as the train pulled into the station then a few minutes later pulled out. Fate had determined
that she and Joel should not meet again; it was fate that had played so capriciously, placing him there under her gaze, so close and yet so far, and then sending her on her way once more. A short while ago she had felt so positive. She had had a successful interview with Mrs Acland, and at last had seen a future before her – and then, out of the blue, Joel had come back into her life. He had come back and then as swiftly gone again.

‘I couldn’t help but see what happened . . .’

Hearing the woman’s voice, Lily turned to her.

‘What an extraordinary thing,’ the woman said, ‘to catch sight of your friend like that.’

‘Yes.’ Lily nodded.

‘I felt so sorry for you both – not being able to make contact, not being able to talk to one another, yet being so close.’

Lily, distracted, nodded again. She wanted only to be alone with her thoughts, but the woman was not to be stopped. ‘Well, when you next meet,’ she said with a smile, ‘you’ll have something to laugh about.’

‘No,’ Lily said, unable to stop herself, ‘we shan’t be meeting again. I don’t know where he was going.’

The woman frowned. ‘But – he was going to Hanborough, surely.’

‘Hanborough?’ Lily was at once alert. ‘What makes you say that?’

‘Oh, but – but I thought that’s what he was telling you . . .’ She shrugged. ‘Wasn’t it?’

‘Telling me?’ Lily’s tone was almost breathless. ‘I don’t know. I couldn’t make it out – what he was trying to say. I didn’t understand.’

The train had begun to slow, preparing to pull into the next station. The rhythm on the tracks was subtly changing.

‘Oh,’ said the woman, ‘maybe you couldn’t see – not from over there – but I could see from my seat here, just as
we drew away. He was pointing at the banner of his paper, the
The Hanborough Gazette
. He was pointing at the name – Hanborough. You couldn’t see that?’

‘No. I couldn’t.’

Lily straightened in her seat, and then rose to her feet. The train was pulling in alongside a station platform. She must get back, back to Hanborough. ‘Where are we?’ she said distractedly, and looking from the window saw that they had arrived at Hardy Chennell. She picked up her bag and umbrella. ‘I must get off.’ She turned to the woman. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘Thank you – so much.’

‘You’re getting a train back to Hanborough now, are you?’ the woman asked.

‘Yes.’

‘Well, you won’t have too long to wait.’

Lily clutched the carriage door-handle and pushed. ‘Goodbye,’ she said to the woman, and with the woman’s cheery farewell, stepped down onto the platform. The rain had stopped now. Closing the door behind her, she stood for a moment getting her bearings, then turned and headed off along the platform towards the narrow bridge that spanned the line.

Not many passengers had alighted at the stop, and they had soon left. In less than a minute Lily found herself alone. Within seconds she reached the stairs leading up to the bridge, and started up. As she did so the train on which she had arrived began to move, the smoke billowing and clouding the air. As she crossed the bridge the train passed beneath and chugged its way along the track. At the same time she saw that a train, the train she wanted, was approaching from the opposite direction.

It was slowing already, the smoke belching up from its stack as it came nearer. She quickened her step, clutching at her skirts with one hand, her umbrella and bag held in the other, while the train passed directly beneath her.

Now it was coming to a stop, and as she reached the top of the steps she heard the sound of its doors beginning to open and close. She hurried down.

Reaching the foot of the steps she started forward, while the guard, ten yards away, and with his back to her, raised his whistle to his lips.

‘Wait – please . . . !’

At the sound of her voice, he turned as she came across the boards, and lowered his whistle and acknowledged her with a nod that was half impatience, half good will, then stepped to the train and opened the nearest door.

Another few seconds and Lily, gasping out her thanks, was in the carriage, and the guard was slamming the door behind her. Even as she settled into a seat, the whistle was sounding. Moments later and the train was moving away.

Lily hardly took in the other occupants of the compartment, but sat with her hands clasping her bag and umbrella. Beyond the window on her left the fields and woodland moved more quickly by as the train gathered speed. Her heart pounded.