The Stationmaster's farewell

Heygate. He could have asked his cleaner, Mrs Penhallurick, to feed the canary when he was away but he’d chosen Dorcas instead. That meant a great deal to her.

After turning the key over a few times, she replaced it under the carpet and went downstairs. Her mood might have been sombre but Peter was in high spirits, chirping away and hopping nimbly around his cage. From time to time, he’d stop and hold his head to one side as he peered out through the bars. In the short time he’d been in the house, he’d provided Maud Hope with endless amusement. Seated beside the table on which the cage stood, she looked up as her daughter entered the room.

‘How are you feeling now, Dorcas?’

‘I feel so sad and lonely. I’ll never see Mr Heygate again.’

Maud sighed. ‘None of us will.’

‘Going to work won’t be the same,’ said Dorcas. ‘It was such a pleasure to talk to him every day and I loved to peep through the window of the house to see Peter jumping about.’

‘That’s one thing you can still do,’ said Maud. ‘He’s a lovely companion. It’s such a big cage for a tiny bird like that. Your arm must have ached after you carried him all the way from the station.’

‘It was rather heavy.’

‘Will we be allowed to keep him?’

‘I don’t think anyone else would want Peter.’

‘What about Mr Heygate’s brother?’

‘He wasn’t really interested in pets, Mother. He used to keep a dog but he treated it so badly that it died. Mr Heygate told me about it. He was disgusted.’

‘And so he should be. Peter can stay as long as he wishes.’

‘Thank you.’

‘He knows that he’s among friends.’ She looked at her daughter’s anguished face. ‘Will you be able to go back to work tomorrow?’

‘I think I’ll have to,’ said Dorcas without enthusiasm. ‘They only found someone to take over from me for one day. Mrs Rossiter and I will be needed in the refreshment room. If we’re not there, Mr Woodford will want to know why.’

Lawrence Woodford didn’t stay away from the station any longer than necessary. As soon as the inquest was over, he hurried back there to resume his duties and to relieve the man who’d temporarily replaced him. Within minutes, he was strutting up and down the platform and exuding a sense of ownership. Exeter St David’s was now his.

Victor Leeming chose his moment. After checking the timetable, he waited until there was a sizeable gap before the arrival of the next train, then he called on Woodford in the stationmaster’s office.

‘I thought you spoke very well at the inquest, Mr Woodford,’ he began.

‘That’s good of you to say so, Sergeant.’

‘And I do admire the way you’ve kept this station running.’

‘Someone had to maintain the high standards set by Joel.’

‘Had you always yearned to be a stationmaster?’

‘Yes,’ replied Woodford. ‘It’s an ambition I’ve had for a long time. When the post here was advertised, I applied for it along with Joel Heygate but it was felt that I was too young at the time. The right decision was made,’ he conceded. ‘He was definitely the better man for the job and he proved it.’

Leeming was not persuaded that he was being entirely honest. Woodford was quick to praise the man whose job he’d taken over but he was not doing that job in the same spirit. Heygate, by all accounts, had won the respect and affection of the staff, whereas the new stationmaster — Leeming had watched him carefully — was much more dictatorial. He liked to exercise authority and he put people’s backs up in the process. Though he kept the station running efficiently, Woodford didn’t endear himself to those below him. Devastated by the death of a beloved stationmaster, they were visibly unhappy about the regime that had now been put into place.

‘Tell me about the owl,’ suggested Leeming.

‘What owl is that, Sergeant?’

‘The one you mentioned at the inquest.’

‘Oh, that,’ said Woodford, coming close to a sneer. ‘Joel was always getting distracted by one bird or another. He had a thing about them. When he found an injured pigeon on the platform here, he nursed it for weeks before it was able to fly again. Then there was that canary of his, of course.’

‘I want to hear about the owl.’

‘I can’t add anything to what I said earlier. He’d found it somewhere and sort of adopted it. I’m not sure that I would have bothered,’ he went on with a half-laugh. ‘I’ve got better things to do of an evening than go out in the cold looking for an owl.’

‘What were you doing that evening?’ asked Leeming, casually.

‘I worked late here then called in at a pub for a drink.’

‘Which pub would that be, Mr Woodford?’

The stationmaster became suspicious. ‘Why do you ask?’

‘I just wanted to know, that’s all. The inspector and I are staying at the Acland Tavern, where they brew their own beer. I can’t say that it’s to my taste. If you can recommend another pub, I’d be grateful.’

‘I always go to the Barnstaple Inn in Lower North Street.’

‘Do they serve a good pint?’

‘I like it and it’s convenient. I live only a short distance away.’

Leeming looked around. ‘You’ve got plenty of room here, I must say. My office at Scotland Yard is like a broom cupboard. This is much bigger and Mr Heygate obviously kept it very tidy.’

‘That was his way, Sergeant, and it’s mine as well.’

‘In due course, I daresay, you’ll take over the stationmaster’s house.’

‘There’s no guarantee of that,’ said Woodford. ‘The post will have to be advertised. I’ll apply for it, naturally, but there’s bound to be competition.’

‘But if you do get it — and I suspect you have an extremely good chance of doing so — then you’ll be here on the premises, so to speak. What would you do with your other house?’

‘Oh, we’d sell that. It’s what Joel did when he took on the job and it’s what my wife thinks we should do. Why pay for the overheads on one property when you can have another one rent-free? Joel made a tidy profit on his other house when he sold it,’ he recalled. ‘And he was never one to throw his money about. Most of it would have been salted away in a bank.’

Leeming’s ears pricked up. ‘So someone stands to inherit a fair amount?’

‘Yes,’ said Woodford, curling a lip. ‘Unfortunately, that someone will be Michael Heygate. If he was my brother,’ he went on rancorously, ‘I wouldn’t leave the bastard a single penny.’

As the train chugged south along the coastline, neither of them spared the scenic view a glance. Seated beside each other, Michael and Lavinia Heygate were far too preoccupied. She squeezed his arm in appreciation.

‘You were wonderful at the inquest, Michael.’

‘I enjoyed it,’ he said, smugly.

‘It was so different from the last time we were there.’

‘Yes, I actually felt sorry for Joel then. It was horrible for him to lose Marion and young Olivia in that accident. I thought it might draw me and him closer — but it didn’t. That inquest was gruelling.’

‘What about this one?’

He grinned. ‘I didn’t feel sorry for him at all.’

‘Neither did I,’ she said. ‘Everybody else was sitting there with sad faces and I was almost laughing inside. We’ve got what we want at last.’

‘Yes, Lavinia — we can pay off our debts and have some pleasure out of life again. It’s no more than we deserve,’ he said. ‘Joel should have helped us earlier. We have two children to support, whereas he was all alone. Yet he turned us down flat.’

She was harsh. ‘I’ll weep no tears for him.’

‘All we have to do is to wear the right face at the funeral.’

‘What about the memorial service Mr Quinnell talked about?’