Chapter 23
June 1987
The seasons had changed from the warm breeze of a summer’s afternoon to the cold chill of a bitter winter’s day. Somewhere in between, autumn came and went, bringing with it grey, overcast afternoons and chilly early mornings. Summer leaves turned orange before becoming crisp and brown and collecting in the gutters and drainpipes of quiet suburban streets. If it wasn’t for the masses of gum trees and eucalypts covering the hills surrounding Gosford, the town would have looked naked like the bare, deciduous trees encompassing the railway station.
For Simon, standing on the number one platform in the cool morning air beside his Poppy, the two tickets he clutched defiantly in his hand were like the last two leaves of autumn, clinging solely to the tree long after the other leaves had fallen. As life lurched from one season to the next, he refused to believe the sun had long since set on a summer’s day leaving his life barren like a winter’s oak.
Months earlier, he thought he had lost the train tickets that he’d strangely received that day at Sunday school. When his mother had tossed his Bible in the garbage, he thought that the tickets he had placed inside were gone along with it. However, she had first thrown the Bible at him from across the room, so hard that they had unknowingly fallen out from inside the front cover. Weeks later he had discovered them lying on the floor underneath his bed.
The shrill whistle of the approaching train pierced the still morning air. Plumes of billowing grey smoke appeared above the cutting as the sleek, green body of the steam locomotive swung into view. The streamlined pacific’s rhythmic chant slowed as the giant 38 class locomotive passed by Simon and his Poppy. The two stood in awe at the sight, smell and sound of the living steel beast as it hauled a set a creaking, brown wooden passenger carriages to a standstill at the head of the platform. A giant hiss of steam followed by an earth shattering long blast on the whistle and the whole city would have known that 3801 had arrived at Gosford station.
A crowd of enthusiasts and bemused onlookers immediately surged forward to the front of the train as the driver and fireman stepped down from the footplate and began to top the water of the tender from the ageing water tower that stood like a forlorn relic at the end of the station platform. Overhead the pedestrian footbridge was jammed from the audience that had formed to watch the proceedings from their vantage point. The carriage doors opened as some of the passengers riding onboard this special steam tour that had left Central station in Sydney just over an hour earlier stepped out onto the platform to stretch their legs. The train looked almost full to capacity, only a small handful of people stood as Poppy and Simon did now, tickets in hand trying to find which carriage they had to board.
“Can you see car eight?” Poppy asked Simon as he tried to read the numbers above the carriage doorways over the top of people’s heads as they bustled along the platform.
“There’s five!” Simon shouted excitedly at the carriage directly in front of them.
“And there’s six.” His Poppy said pointing to the next carriage further down the platform. The two of them slowly began to shuffle down the platform towards the rear of the train. The crowd only made it harder for them to make their way quickly towards their carriage. William’s frail body struggled to keep up with the youthful energy of his Grandson.
At the front of the train, the crew had just finished taking water and was back on the footplate of the locomotive, building up a good head of steam in preparation for departure. A short blast of the whistle had the passengers who were traveling to Newcastle scurrying back to their seats. The platform was a hive of activity, curious onlookers who had just ventured to the station to have a peek at arguably Australia’s most famous steam locomotive only added to the congestion.
Simon and his Poppy slowly made their way along car seven when a long blast from the locomotive signaled the driver wanted to get his train underway. Passengers hurried past them as they quickly returned to their carriages.
“C’mon Poppy.” Simon tried to hurry him along. “We don’t want to miss the train.”
William struggled to keep up. His heart was racing frantically to keep up with the slow pace his feet were making. Up ahead he could see the doorway to car eight.
“Platform one, 3801 steam special to Newcastle is about to depart. Stand clear please.” The station master’s voice rang clearly over the loudspeakers.
Simon reached the doorway of car eight and turned in panic to see his Poppy still half a carriage length away, face white with fright that he was going to miss the train.
“Poppy!” Simon screamed as he raced back towards his Grandfather. Poppy’s feet couldn’t move any faster, nervous perspiration pooled on his forehead which was flushed of all colour and his chest was heaving heavily from trying to keep up with his Grandson. “Can you make it Poppy, are you going to be alright?”
“I’m fine Simon,” he puffed heavily between words. “I’ll be right when I get onboard and sit down.” He continued to shuffle as fast as he could towards the doorway of the carriage when he felt Simon’s hand slip in his.
“Don’t worry Poppy, I’ll help you.” Simon said as he gently led his Grandfather by the hand. “I’m not going without you.”
A crooked smile broke out across William’s face as he looked across at his Grandson. He couldn’t help thinking just how tall he was growing as he stopped to catch his breath. Simon stopped with him and gently rubbed his back, despite there not being much an 11 year old boy could do in a situation like this, it melted his heart just the same. Even if they hadn’t boarded the train in time, that would have been the highlight of William’s day right there. Despite the kid’s circumstances right now in life, he had a beautiful heart, and no one could take that away from him.
“Hello sir, boarding the train today are we for the trip to Newcastle?” A gentle voice interrupted his thoughts as a hand softly rested on his shoulder.
William turned to see the smiling face of the station master standing beside him. He guessed him to be over 50 years old himself, a warm, round face staring out through his tiny spectacles underneath the brim of his round, blue hat. Around his neck dangled a shiny silver whistle and in his hand he held a green flag. In that moment one thing became absolutely certain, the train wasn’t about to leave until he said so.
Without another word being spoken, the station master helped William make his way slowly along the platform towards car eight. He held his arm steady as he stepped up inside the carriage and escorted the two of them to seats 30 and 31.
“Thank you.” William sighed as he gingerly slumped down into his seat, leaving Simon to take the seat beside the window. “Thank you so kindly sir.”
With a tip of his hat, the station master smiled warmly at the two of them seemingly satisfied that he was able to be of assistance before turning and hurrying back out of the carriage. Simon watched as he hopped back out onto the platform. With a quick check to the left and right of him, he gave a shrill blast of his whistle, and satisfied that everyone was on board, held his green flag high above his head. At the front of the train, the 38 class locomotive let rip with a deafening series of long whistles before the carriages lunged forward with an initial jolt as the couplers took up the slack along the length of the train. Inside, every seat in the carriage was occupied. Outside, the platform was still crowded with spectators as slowly but surely, the train began to creep forward along the length of the platform.
Simon could see them waving from his seat by the window, he could see the station master standing proudly in his blue uniform. He gave a wave as the carriage slowly crept past him and seeing Simon, the station master waved back. The train continued to build momentum as it accelerated away, and then Simon quickly recognised the figure of a man standing beside the station master. Apart from the fact that he was dressed in blue denim jeans and a cream corduroy jacket, there was no mistaking who it was. He had short black hair, thick eyebrows that extended above both eyes, the skin of his face was a
radiant olive complexion, dusted with dark, unshaven stubble from ear to ear. It was Peter, the man who had given him the train tickets all those months ago at Sunday school, standing there waving from the platform.