“There’s no trains coming back through yet. They’ve had to divert them all to Maidbridge,” explained Perky. “They’ll have the whole lot shipshape again by tomorrow morning, first thing.” There was no sign of the wreckage from the plane and new track had been laid too. “You’ve got to have the railways running in wartime, see.”
“I suppose so,” agreed Edie, remembering the Dark Demon speeding through the night with its cargo of weapons. The station was always busy with farmers too, loading essential supplies of food on to the trains so that people as far away as London, Liverpool or Leeds could have bacon, eggs, fresh milk and veg.
“Hitler would love to bring the railways to a standstill,” said Perky. “Without trains the whole bloomin’ country would grind to a halt.”
Edie giggled. She knew he was making a serious point but he was starting to sound like the old men from the village who sat smoking their pipes and drinking pints of beer on the towpath outside the Rose and Crown. They were always predicting what would “bring the whole bloomin’ country to a halt”.
“If you’re going to be like that, I reckon we can go home,” said Perky.
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t laughing at you. Not really,” said Edie.
But Perky was already charging back up the meadow. “Come on! They should be ready for you by now.”
“Ready for what?” shouted Edie. But Perky had bolted like a hare.
By the time Edie reached Three Chimneys, it was clear that something was afoot. She couldn’t help smiling as Greta was poking her nose out of the kitchen door and giggling.
“Go away,” she said. “We don’t want you yet.”
“Reckon I brought you back a little early,” said Perky, looking sheepish and ducking inside.
“Go for a walk in the garden or something,” said Gus, and the kitchen door was shut firmly in Edie’s face.
As she wandered around the back of the house, she had a very odd feeling – a little out of sorts, yet excited all at the same time. She knew now, without a doubt, that whatever they were up to was for her benefit. But she still couldn’t help feeling a little lonely and left out. She was just thinking how nice it would be to be allowed to help with the preparations for her own birthday, when Uncle Peter waved to her from his workshop in the stable yard.
“Poor Edie, are you an outcast?” he asked, pulling up a stool for her beside his tool bench.
“I’m afraid so.” She smiled and felt better already. She loved coming into the stable workshop with its smell of copper polish and old leather. It was like an Aladdin’s cave of long-forgotten treasure from the railways. The gentle tick of mended station clocks hummed in the air. In the corner beneath the hayrack where the horses used to eat, a pot-bellied stove from a platform waiting room was lying with its clawed feet in the air like a sleepy dragon.
Edie wondered if Uncle Peter knew about the abandoned dining car on the siding by the tunnel. She would have loved to tell him about it so he could restore it to its former glory – perhaps they could work on it together. But she knew the boys would never forgive her if she gave away the location of their HQ.
Instead, she picked up a pretty railway lantern that was sitting in the middle of the bench. It was about the size of the battered old kettle they boiled on the kitchen range to make tea, but it was much shinier. The brightly burnished copper had been rubbed and polished until it shone like gold. It reminded Edie of a miniature lighthouse with a little door to kindle the lamp and glass windows all around.
She was just turning the lantern over in her hands to admire it, when she saw a luggage label tied to the handle:
To Edie – Happy Birthday.
Much love, Uncle Peter.
“Oh!” Edie blushed. She felt her cheeks burning brighter than the polished copper. “Is it really for me?”
“If you’d like it,” said Uncle Peter. “I thought it might make a change from a postal order. Something a bit more personal, now we’ve got to know each other properly at long last.”
“It’s beautiful,” gasped Edie. “Thank you.” She flung her arms around his neck. “I love it.”
“I’m glad.” Uncle Peter paused and looked down at his shoes for a moment. “You see … I thought it might be useful. I know you’ve been woken by my foolish fears in the night.”
“No… ” Edie blustered. “Not at all.”
But Uncle Peter carried on, his good eye looking her straight in the face for a moment. “I’ve heard you bumping around downstairs.”
“Only because I’m a clumsy oaf,” said Edie. “I could trip over my own bare feet in an empty room, honest I could.”
Uncle Peter smiled. “You are very kind. But I’m truly sorry about all the fuss and nonsense.” He was looking at his shoes again and Edie wanted desperately to tell him there was nothing at all to be ashamed of, but she couldn’t quite find the words.
“Trench terrors, I call them,” he said. “Just old war demons coming back to haunt me in the dark.”
“It must be horrible,” said Edie. There was no point pretending any more that she had not heard his awful haunted cries.
“There are good days and bad days,” said Uncle Peter. “It’s just this beastly war – this new one – it brings it all back.” A shadow fell over his face. Then he shook his head and picked up the lantern. “No more of that. Not today,” he said brightly. “This is a lamp of hope.”
“Yes,” whispered Edie. “It is.”
“You never know,” said Uncle Peter with a smile, “it might just stop you falling down the stairs in the blackout, should anything happen to wake you up again.”
“Perfect!” cried Edie.
“But it is only for using inside the house with the blackout curtains drawn.
