Page 44 of Christmas Spirits at Honeywell House (Ghosts of Rowan Vale #3)
It looked as if the Dickensian weekend would get off to a perfect start, with clear skies and a dusting of snow on the ground.
It had started falling early on Wednesday morning, and the boys had got very excited about it.
Even Ashton had decided it wouldn’t be beneath him to make a snowman after school.
Sadly for them, the snow didn’t stay around long enough, but on Friday afternoon, just as I collected the youngest two from school on their last day of term, we’d had more of the stuff, and although it stopped falling at some point during the night, it remained cold enough to prevent a thaw.
Jack was worried about me going out in it. ‘What if you slip? You could really hurt yourself or the little one. Maybe you’d be better off staying indoors.’
‘Don’t be daft,’ I said, laughing as I adjusted his cap. ‘I’m not going to miss this Dickensian weekend for anything. Besides, I have a date with a hot engine driver.’
Although Jack wasn’t usually on duty over the weekend, as the senior driver he’d been asked to take our celebrity guest, plus the reporter and photographer from The Cotswolds Courier on a journey between Much Melton and Harling’s Halt at eleven o’clock that Saturday morning.
He would be driving his favourite engine – yes, he actually had a favourite – The Lady Davenport .
He’d also agreed to take part in a promo shoot at the station, though he admitted he felt stupid about it.
He looked incredibly handsome in his Victorian train driver’s costume, and I’d already told him as much in the hallway, as I kissed him for the third time that morning.
‘You want to get a good look at Cain Carmichael, you mean,’ he said knowingly. ‘Not that I blame you. Not often we get a bona fide rock star in the village, is it?’
‘Pah! He’s way too old to interest me,’ I said. ‘Anyway, why would I look at some boring rock star when I have my very own rock star right here at home?’
‘It’s a very strange thing,’ he said thoughtfully, ‘but considering you’ve been telling me for ages that your hormones have retired, they’ve certainly had a new lease of life lately.’
‘I know! It’s a bit embarrassing,’ I admitted. ‘I can’t get enough of you.’
‘Well, I’m not complaining.’ He grinned and wrapped his arms around me. ‘This is the most fun we’ve had in months.’
‘Hmm. Thirty-seven weeks to be exact,’ I said wryly.
He laughed and hugged me. ‘I really want to stay but I’ve got to be at Much Melton. Are you really set on coming to the station, love? I won’t mind if you don’t want to. I’m worried about you walking in the snow.’
‘I wouldn’t miss it for the world,’ I told him, meaning it.
‘Just be careful.’ He called down the hallway to the kitchen, where the boys were eating their breakfasts at the table. ‘I’ll see you all later. Look after your mum for me, okay?’
‘Yeah, okay,’ Ash replied.
‘See you later, Dad,’ Declan called.
‘ I want to come with you!’
Jack rolled his eyes at Freddie’s plea and kissed me lightly on the lips. ‘Better go or I’ll be late, and we wouldn’t want that, would we? See you all around half eleven?’
‘We’ll be there.’
As soon as he’d left for work, I hurried into the kitchen and began chivvying the boys to finish their breakfasts and help me tidy up the place. Unsurprisingly, there were lots of groans, some jibes about child labour, and the inevitable threat to report me to social services.
‘For making you clear up your own mess? I’m hardly sending you up a chimney, am I?’ I said, rolling my eyes.
Ash laughed. ‘No, for making poor Freddie wear that costume!’
I scowled at him. ‘Don’t wind him up.’
‘I’m not winding him up! He looks stupid in it.’
‘He does not!’
‘I don’t want to wear a costume!’ Freddie wailed.
‘Now look what you’ve done.’ With some difficulty, I crouched down beside my youngest son, whose lower lip was wobbling dangerously. ‘You’re going to be just like your dad, aren’t you? Only the most important people are wearing costumes today.’
‘Only the daftest,’ Declan mumbled.
I stood up, aware that I was doing my back no favours.
‘And your dad’s going to be so proud when he sees you,’ I added firmly, my eyes flashing a warning at my two eldest. ‘He’ll be looking out for you at the station. You might even get your photo taken by the local newspaper. How amazing would that be?’
He eyed me thoughtfully. ‘My picture in the paper?’
I nodded. ‘Just like your dad.’
His face broke into a smile. ‘Okay.’
‘I can’t wait to see this,’ Ashton said. ‘It’s going to be hilarious.’
Whatever he and Declan thought, to me Freddie looked adorable as Oliver Twist, though from the way he protested as I helped him dress an hour later, you’d have thought I was making him wear his costume as some sort of punishment.
He’d quite forgotten about the newspaper business thank to his brothers howling with laughter and repeatedly asking him if he wanted more. My poor little boy had no idea what they were talking about.
‘The part was tailor-made for him,’ Jack had said, as we were deciding what costume to hire for him. ‘The little boy who asks for more food? If anyone’s going to play that character, it’s Freddie.’
And who could deny it?
‘If you two say one more word I won’t let you come to the station with me,’ I warned the older boys. ‘I’m disgusted with you both. How can you be so mean to him?’
At least they had the grace to look ashamed.
‘Sorry, Freddie,’ Declan said grudgingly.
‘You look great, Freddie,’ Ash told him, nudging him gently. ‘That reporter’s going to love you.’
We took a slow, careful walk to All Souls, where we waited with a few other villagers who’d decided to visit the station.
My back was aching badly, so it was a relief that the little Leyland bus came trundling along within ten minutes, and soon we were heading out of the village and along Cotswolds lanes towards Harling’s Halt.
I gazed out of the window and thought how stunning the landscape looked. The newly ploughed fields seemed dark and velvety, the ridges between the furrows dusted with white, powdery snow, while others were softened with shoots of winter green poking through their wintry blanket.
The bare branches of the trees were silhouetted against the brilliant blue of a clear winter sky, and I wondered, not for the first time, how this season could be so overlooked.
Everyone raved about the lushness of a Cotswold spring, the golden glory of summer, and the stunning amber and russet of autumn, but in my opinion, there was a stark beauty about the countryside on winter days like this one that was quite unmatched.
It occurred to me that I’d love to paint the landscape like this, and the sudden stirring of longing surprised me. Maybe I should think about buying some new art materials after all.
I winced slightly as my stomach tightened. Braxton Hicks! I’d had a few of those contractions this morning, which I knew was quite common at this stage of pregnancy. I just hoped they eased off as I didn’t want to be uncomfortable, today of all days.
We trundled into the car park at Harling’s Halt, just as the first flakes of snow began to fall.
‘Mummy, look!’ Freddie shrieked, pressing his nose against the window. ‘It’s snowing again!’
Good job I’d made him wear his coat, although it was a shame to hide his cute costume. I wondered about all the visitors to Rowan Vale, and if they’d all be forced to cover up under heavy coats and scarves.
We made our way through the car park towards the station. Already I could hear music drifting over the speakers. The usual First World War songs had been replaced by brass band versions of traditional Christmas carols.
The sound was drowned suddenly by a long, shrill whistle from The Lady Davenport , and Declan and Ashton exchanged delighted grins. ‘Dad!’
We could hear the engine puffing into the station, and I gripped Freddie’s hand even tighter, knowing how impulsive he could be and how excited he’d be to see his father driving the train.
As we arrived on the platform, I could see the usual soldiers and their “sweethearts” standing in groups and posing for the tourists.
The women had long, warm coats over their dresses, their cheeks pink from the cold.
I knew they’d be glad when their shift was done, and they could nip into The Victory Tearooms for a nice hot cup of tea while their replacements took over for a while.
Even in there, though, they were expected to stay in character. If they wanted to take a real break, they were able to escape to the staff room in the main station building, where they could relax away from the curious and fascinated gaze of visitors.
The engine slowly ground to a halt, and great puffs of steam shot from the funnel.
‘Chuff-chuff,’ said Freddie, laughing. ‘It’s just like Thomas the Tank Engine .’
Doors opened and a crowd of people stepped onto the platform.
Most of them were dressed in modern winter clothing, but a surprising number wore Victorian costumes.
I felt a pang for my beautiful dress that I’d never got to wear.
Maybe, if Callie thought the event was a success, she’d do something similar next year, and I’d get to wear something a bit more glamorous than leggings, ankle boots, a huge jumper and a big, winter coat.
To my surprise, Callie, Immi and Brodie got off the train – all wearing Dickensian costumes – along with Max and Shona who were not. Immi looked very pretty, dressed, so Callie had told me, as poor Little Nell.
‘Immi!’ Declan shouted, making Ashton scowl.
They all looked round and there was a lot of waving and smiling as they spotted us.
Before we had a chance to say anything, though, the crowds began to cheer as Cain Carmichael himself stepped onto the platform, along with a gorgeous man, a rather beautiful and elegant woman, a boy of around Freddie’s age, and a little girl aged about four.