Stay with Me Page 3

  ‘Was your meeting with Mr McVee satisfactory?’ asked Jennie when her husband came back into their hotel room.

  ‘Very. It should lead to a profitable transaction. It has certainly been worthwhile, waiting until that later train.’

  ‘Good. Then I’m pleased.’

  ‘I ordered some tea to be served in the lounge as I came up. We have time. Are you ready?’

  ‘Just get my coat.’ She went to the wardrobe, took out her outdoor coat and draped it over her arm.

  At that moment there was a knock on the door and in answer to John’s ‘Come in’ a page-boy appeared.

  ‘Your luggage, sir?’

  ‘There you are.’ He indicated the two suitcases.

  They followed the page-boy from the room. While they went to the lounge to enjoy their cup of tea, he installed their luggage in the cab that was waiting to take them round to the station. Twenty minutes later they were on their way. The horse was skittish but the cabby’s skill kept it under control.

  ‘I don’t like that wind,’ shuddered Jennie, disturbed by the howling sound as the wind chased along the street and around the buildings, whisking smoke from chimneys and sending paper scudding along the pavements.

  John and Jennie lost no time in getting to their carriage, relieved to be out of the Edinburgh gale.

  Jennie gave a sigh of relief as she sank back on the seat. ‘I’ll be glad when we get to Mary and Martin’s.’

  Scottish fervour swept everyone into a party spirit which Avril set on course with an opening sing-song. The small orchestra played, the dancing began, and once into its swing kept going. The floor was never empty. Chatter and laughter resounded throughout the house. The deteriorating weather outside was never given a thought until James approached Dr MacBride.

  ‘Sir, my parents . . .?’

  The doctor’s raised hand halted his question. ‘All taken care of, my boy. I am about to depart for the station myself.’

  ‘Would you like me to accompany you, sir?’

  ‘Wouldna dream of it. You must stay and continue to enjoy the party. I will see to your mother and father. No need at all for you to face the inclement weather. We’ll soon be joining you.’

  As the train, shaking from the force of the gale, rattled towards the bridge over the Tay. Jennie grasped her husband’s arm and looked at him in naked alarm. ‘We shouldn’t be jolting around like this. I don’t like it at all.’

  He patted her hand reassuringly. ‘Nothing’s going to happen, my love,’ he replied confidently. ‘It’s only the wind. Ignore it.’

  ‘That’s easier said than done.’ Her grip tightened when the wooden sides of the coach groaned in protest at a fresh onslaught.

  ‘We’re safe enough,’ he comforted her. ‘These trains are strong, built to withstand anything.’

  ‘I hope so. Oh, I wish we were there!’

  ‘We soon will be. And then we can enjoy the feast I’m sure Mary will have prepared for us.’ John tried to sound reassuring, having just glanced out of the window and distinguished, in the fading light, the waters of the Tay heaving towards the iron bridge ahead of them.

  ‘The horse is very restless, sir,’ said Dr MacBride’s coachman. ‘Doesnae like this wind. I’m afeared to take him out the neet, sir.’

  ‘Then I shall walk, Angus,’ replied Martin.

  ‘I’ll accompany you, sir. Tae help with the luggage. We can mebbe borrow a trolley.’

  ‘Good man! We’ll bring only what is necessary. The rest can wait at the station until tomorrow when you pick it up with the carriage.’

  ‘Very good, sir.’

  Buttoning their coats tightly and cramming their hats more securely on their heads, the two men set off. They matched each other stride for stride as they leaned into the fierce wind.

  The train rocked.

  ‘John!’

  ‘It’s all right, my dear.’

  The whirling air shrieked between the buildings. Martin’s lips tightened. This was no time to be out, but needs must. He had to see to the welfare of his sister and brother-in-law, could not let them fend for themselves in this. His steps faltered then. A splintering crash on the pavement a short way ahead brought both men to a sharp halt.

  ‘My God, sir! That could have killed us,’ gasped Angus, staring with alarm at the slate that lay shattered at their feet.

  ‘Aye, and there might be more,’ returned Martin. ‘Quick, man, cross the road!’

  They ran, eager to be clear from the danger.

  The train rumbled on, clinging precariously to the tracks.

  The band struck up the next tune. Joyous laughter rang around the room as couples chose their partners.

  The wind ripped at the waters of the Tay, tossing them into a maelstrom of foam-topped waves, the whiteness emphasising the yawning depths below.

  Forwards, backwards, swirl around. Pretty dresses sent waves of colour undulating round the room.

  John fished his watch from his waistcoat pocket. ‘Soon be at the bridge.’ Jennie did not respond except to grip her husband’s hand tighter. The carriage shook. He felt her tremble.

  The windows rattled. Lena cast an anxious glance at them and then at the clock on the mantelpiece. Six-fifteen. ‘They’ll soon be here,’ said James, knowing she was thinking of their parents.

  A sudden crack, the sound of tearing of timber . . . a huge branch, torn from a tree as if it was a matchstick, crashed into the road a few paces ahead of the two hurrying men. They leaped clear of it,

  ‘Not far,’ yelled Martin. ‘We’ll be safer in the station.’

  They reached it with relief and found some other people too had braved the raw night to meet the Edinburgh train.

  A violin string, caught accidentally by the musician’s bow, sent a screeching sound around the drawing-room.

  The wind howled through the station like a demented banshee, wanting to awe and intimidate with its display of power.

  ‘Enjoying yourself, James?’ Olivia asked as his hand took hers for the waltz.

  ‘Now that I’m with the best dancer in the room,’ came the flattering reply.

  ‘You exaggerate.’ Olivia blushed but thrilled with pride at his compliment.

  ‘Not long now,’ said John reassuringly, close to his wife’s ear, hoping to calm the tension he could feel when she huddled closer to him.

  The train rumbled on to the bridge. He glanced out of the window and took comfort from the sight of those solid black girders.

  Mary eased a curtain back a little and looked out into the darkness. Nothing to see. The window frame rattled. She hoped her husband was all right, and was thankful he was not alone.She glanced back into the room, pleased that the young folk still seemed oblivious to the ferocious storm outside.

  Lena slipped as she whirled in to the dance with Alistair. Always sure on her feet, she had never done so before and was thankful now that he was there to support her. As he grasped her more tightly her face came close to his and she felt his lips touch hers, driving away any fear.

  The train lurched. Another jerk as if something had impeded its progress. It lurched again. Rocked. Tilted.

  ‘John!’ screamed Jennie as she tumbled against him, her eyes widening with fear. They were both thrown sideways.

  ‘John!’

  He grasped her. Pulled her close. He heard timber tear, metal screech. The carriage toppled. They were falling, falling. He held her tight. ‘I love you, Jennie, always have, and always will . . . wherever we are.’

  His lips met hers and they stayed locked together as they fell, fell, fell, and icy waters rushed in to claim them.

  Chapter Three

  Martin was uneasy. He reckoned the train should have arrived twenty minutes ago. He sought out a railway official who was already being pressed for news by other people.

  ‘Have you any word of the train?’ he asked, his features creased with concern.

  ‘None, sir! I’m sure everything is in order, though, or we would have heard.
This storm’s bad. Could have caused a delay for any number of reasons.’

  Martin knew how true that was. After all, he himself had witnessed trees uprooted and masonry torn down. Something could easily have caused a blockage on the line.

  ‘We are awaiting news from the south side of the river. I’ll let you all know as soon as we hear.’

  As the minutes passed unease mounted among the crowd at the station. Enquiries became more agitated, voices demanding news, urging something be done to ascertain it.

  ‘What’s that?’ The query came from near the station entrance.

  ‘No!’

  ‘Did you hear that?’

  ‘The bridge has collapsed!’

  ‘It can’t have!’

  ‘Who told you?’

  ‘Came from someone outside.’

  ‘How do they know?’

  ‘It’s a rumour! Must be. The bridge is strong, not long built.’

  ‘Stand anything.’

  ‘Shouldn’t spread alarm . . . we’ve relations on that train.’

  Calls and comments were flowing fast. No one knew what to believe.

  Harassed officials tried to quell the rumours, calling for everyone to keep calm, but then a fresh wave of anxiety swept through them when, a few minutes after seven, communication was lost between the signals cabins to either side of the bridge. Public demand for something to be done ran high. Pressure mounted on the railway officials. Disturbed by this latest setback and the lack of any concrete news, they decided an investigation should be made.

  Martin did not like feeling so helpless. He was used to being in charge of situations, but here there was nothing he could do but wait. He saw some railwaymen huddle together in what appeared to be serious discussion, clearly agitated, shaking their heads and nodding violently. Then he saw one man, ignoring what appeared to be protests from the others, leave the group and stride off down the track towards the bridge.

  Other people saw him go and soon speculation was running rife amongst the crowd. What exactly was Mr Roberts, superintendent of the locomotive department, doing?

  Roberts disappeared into the gloom, hoping he would soon be able to confound the spreading rumours.

  With every step he took, the wind seemed to grow in ferocity. It was as if it was bent on preventing him finding out what had happened, even to the extent of hurling him into the murky depths of the Tay to stop him doing so. His determination to discover the truth quelled the fear rising in him as he inched his way forward, until finally he had to crawl on hands and knees.

  ‘Mama, Papa should have been back with Aunt Jennie and Uncle John by now,’ Avril said to her mother who had hidden her own concern about the delay thus far.

  ‘I know, my love.’ Though worry plagued her mind, Mary tried to sound reassuring.

  ‘Everyone’s getting hungry.’

  ‘If they aren’t here in five minutes, we’ll make a start. Something must have held them up. I’m sure they won’t mind.’

  Mr Roberts hunched his shoulders against the wind and gripped the rails even harder as he crawled along. If the train had had to stop on the bridge, as seemed likely by its non-appearance, he should be able to see it, even in the dark, but there was nothing. He advanced slowly. A few more yards . . . then he stopped and stared with horror at the scene before him: the entire centre-section of the bridge, where girders had formed a tunnel-like structure, had disappeared and all that remained were its supporting piers, rising finger-like from the river.

  Terror gripped him, forcing disbelief from his mind, as he tried to grasp the only conclusion to be drawn from that missing section. Despair filled him. There was nothing left for him to do but to return with the devastating news: the train from Edinburgh and all its passengers must now lie deep on the muddy bed of the Tay.

  With a heavy heart, he inched his way round and returned to the north side, wondering how on earth he could break such tragic news. By the time he’d reached solid ground he knew there was nothing for it but come straight out with the truth.

  The crowd surged towards him when he reached the station. The questions they flung at him in their eagerness for news faltered as they sensed he had nothing good to tell them.

  ‘The centre portion of the bridge has gone.’ The words seemed to stick in Roberts’s throat.

  The disbelief that ran through the crowd was palpable.

  ‘What - collapsed?

  ‘Can’t be!’

  ‘It was built to withstand anything . . .’

  ‘What about the train?’

  The putting of that question silenced all others. Everyone strained to hear the reply.

  ‘I couldnae see it. There wasn’t a sign of it on the south side. And if it’s no’ there,’ his voice faltered, ‘then I believe it now lies at the bottom of the river.’

  The shock of this announcement sent minds reeling. For one moment there was a heavy silence broken only by the mocking cries of the wind. Then pandemonium broke out, with cries of disbelief and howls of agony as folk struggled to take in what this tragedy meant to them. Then shouts of vilification were hurled at all those concerned with the building of the bridge. Some railway officials tried to calm the situation while others struggled to decide what to do next.

  The news brought a cold dread to Martin’s heart. He stood still for a moment, oblivious to what was happening around him. He felt drained of all energy, his legs leaden, his throat constricted. He wanted to cry out to heaven for allowing his dear sister to be taken when she had so much to live for, but felt a touch on his arm and stayed silent.

  ‘Sir,’ said Angus tentatively.

  Martin started.

  ‘I think we should go home, sir.’

  He nodded.

  ‘I’m sorry for your loss, sir.’ Angus’s voice was husky with emotion and tears streamed down his lined cheeks.

  Martin nodded. ‘Thank you. You’re right. There is nothing we can do here.’ His sigh was one of despair. He had faced many things in his lifetime, taking heartbreaking news to so many families, but never anything to compare with this. He would bring home devastation to his beloved niece and nephew.

  Mary had got the meal underway. Even though she was enjoying the laughter and conversation that eddied around the table, she had been half listening for the front door opening. Then the sound she wanted: they must be back! She hurried into the hall.

  Her smile vanished when she saw that her husband was alone, and his face . . . ‘What is it, Martin?’

  He bit his lip but could not hold back the tears that flowed then. She was by his side in a moment, taking into her arms a man from whom all strength had gone. She held him tight and gently patted his shoulder. She let him cry for a few moments before asking. ‘What is it, my dear?’

  He still clung to her, wanting to grasp at any comfort he could. ‘The bridge collapsed.’ His words came in a whisper. ‘The train went down with it.’

  A shudder ran through Mary. ‘Oh, no!’ She clutched at her husband. She needed to be strong for herself, but even more for him. She had lost a dear sister-in-law, but he had lost the sister to whom he was devoted. And James and Pauline had lost their mother and father . . . The laughter and gaiety coming from the dining-room pierced her heart.

  ‘I must tell . . . ’ Martin’s voice faltered as he eased himself away from her.

  She gripped his arms to stop him. Looking up into his face and reading the anguish there, she said, quietly but firmly, ‘No, Martin, I’ll do it.’

  She held him for a moment longer, then released her hold and walked to the dining-room door. She paused, automatically smoothed her dress, took three paces into the room and stopped.

  All eyes turned towards her, expecting to see the new arrivals follow. The chatter subsided into an uneasy silence as everyone sensed that something momentous had happened. Where were Mr and Mrs Carnforth? Why had such a serious aura entered the room with Mrs MacBride?

  Mary gripped her hands together in front of her. ‘James,
Lena,’ she said quietly, but with authority, and turned back into the hall.

  Lena felt a chill sweep over her. She glanced anxiously at her brother and saw a troubled expression cloud his face. They both rose from their chairs and left a room that had fallen into an uneasy hush.

  ‘What is it, Aunt?’ asked James tentatively as the door closed behind them.

  ‘Where are Mama and Papa?’ queried Lena, her voice strained.

  ‘I’m afraid I have some bad news for you. There has been a tragic accident. The bridge collapsed and took the train with it.’ Mary regretted she had to be so blunt but could find no other way of imparting this devastating news.

  There was a moment of absolute silence filled with disbelief, and then a low moan came from Lena. ‘No!’ She looked at James and saw he had gone deadly white, his face expressionless, as if the impact of the words had not reached him yet.

  Mary stepped forward and took Lena into her arms. Tears were streaming down their faces. Lena was racked by heaving sobs of utter despair. Though Mary too felt utterly distraught she knew she had to be strong for her niece. Martin had lost a very dear sister and could not disguise his distress as he opened his arms to James. Male protocol fell away; the men embraced each other and did not stifle their tears.