be working on that train, so I’ll keep me eye on you. Where d’you say you want to get off?’
Lucy found her voice. ‘Brettell Lane.’
‘Brettell Lane. Live near the station, do ye?’
‘Not far. Bull Street. Just across the road.’
‘I’ll surprise you one day and pop in for a quick mug o’ tea, eh?’ he teased.
‘You’d be welcome.’
‘Her chap wouldn’t be very pleased though,’ Miriam wilfully interjected, and received an icy glare from Lucy for her trouble.
‘Oh, aye,’ he grinned. ‘Here, let me carry your bags and I’ll take you to a nice comfortable coach …’ He bid goodbye to the porter and turned back to Lucy. ‘Here, give us your bag, my flower …’
‘It’s all right,’ Lucy said. ‘I can manage, it’s no weight.’
‘No, I insist …’ He stood with his hands waiting to receive the two bags and Lucy handed them to him, blushing vividly again. ‘So what’s your name?’
‘Lucy Piddock. What’s yours?’
‘Everybody calls me Dickie. What tickets have you got, Lucy?’
‘These …’
‘Third class, eh? Well, I reckon we can do better than that for you. Here …’ He opened the door to a second class compartment and winked at Lucy roguishly, which caused her insides to churn. ‘We’ll install you in second class, eh? More comfortable, and more space to stretch your pretty legs. Nobody’ll be any the wiser, but if anybody should say anything refer ’em to Dickie Dempster. Here y’are, Lucy, my flower …’ He offered his hand and helped her up into the coach, then handed up her bags. ‘Have a comfortable journey and I’ll come and open your door for you to make sure you’m all right when we get to Brettell Lane.’
‘Thank you, Dickie,’ she said politely. ‘But are you sure we’ll be all right in second class?’
‘Trust me.’ He winked again, then turned to Miriam. ‘Now you, miss …’ He handed her up, closed the door and waved as he went on his way.
Lucy sat on the upholstered seat and put her head in her hands, unable to believe what had just happened. Her face had turned red when she looked up, wearing an expression of elation and astonishment, at Miriam. ‘Oh, I’ve gone all queer, Miriam. You know, I get the strangest feeling that he fancies me.’
‘Fancies you?’ Miriam scoffed. ‘I’ll say he fancies you. He never so much as looked at me. He didn’t offer to carry my bags, did he?’
‘Oh, I hope he asks to see me again when he opens our door at Brettell Lane.’
‘And if he does, what about Arthur?’
‘I ain’t married to Arthur – nor ever likely to be,’ Lucy protested. ‘I ain’t promised to Arthur.’
On the journey back Lucy was full of Dickie Dempster. She giggled and speculated wildly on what might happen when they arrived at Brettell Lane station.
‘If he don’t ask me out, should I ask him, do you think?’
‘I do not,’ Miriam answered emphatically. ‘Act like a lady, for Lord’s sake. Don’t get throwing yourself at nobody. It’s the road to ruin. What’s the matter with you? I’ve never seen you like this before. You’m like a bitch on heat. Your mother would be ashamed of you.’
‘But it’s fate that we met again, Miriam. Don’t you see?’
‘Twaddle! It’s nothing o’ the sort, Lucy. It’s a coincidence. Nothing more. The trouble wi’ you is that you’ve bin starved of a chap for too long. Get that Arthur up the churchyard and lie him down on one o’ them graves and make a man of him.’
‘Ooh no, not Arthur. Besides, the churchyard is the last place he’d want to go, seeing as how he spends half his life in churchyards already. Anyway, I’m not getting my bum all cold on the freezing slab of somebody’s grave. Not for Arthur … For Dickie I might though.’
‘Then take poor Arthur somewhere else. Over the fields by Hawbush Farm. Give him a good seeing to. And once he’s given you a good seeing to, you won’t look at e’er another chap again.’
‘And I was starting to take to Arthur as well,’ Lucy said dreamily. ‘Now I’m all unsettled again.’
‘Lucy, just forget this Dickie Dempster,’ Miriam chided. ‘Be satisfied with what you’ve got.’
As the train slowed to a stop at Brettell Lane Lucy waited with baited breath for Dickie to come along and open the door for them.
‘I ain’t waiting,’ Miriam exclaimed, deliberately teasing. ‘I’m opening the door meself.’
‘No, wait. Wait just a minute, Miriam.’
Miriam rolled her eyes.
‘Just a minute … Please …’
Dickie’s beaming, handsome face was soon framed in the window of the door. He opened it and stood aside, then offered his hand to help Lucy down.
Again she blushed to her roots, smiling self-consciously. ‘Thank you, Dickie.’
‘My pleasure, Lucy.’ He turned to Miriam to help her down next. ‘Happy to be of service. Thank you for using the Oxford, Worcester and Wolverhampton Railway,’ he added in an amusing parody of formality.
Reluctant to move, Lucy seemed stuck fast to the platform. ‘How often are you working on this train?’ she asked.
‘Well, nearly every day. The time depends on me shift.’
‘I’ll look out for you. I’ll wave if I see you.’
‘I’ll look out for you, Lucy.’
‘If I knew when you was coming through our station I could bring you a bottle of tea and something to eat, ready for when you stop.’
‘Oh, aye,’ he said doubtfully. ‘That’d be good, but it’d upset the station master. Do you work, Lucy?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then you’m most likely at work the same hours as me.’ He drew his watch from his fob and looked at it. ‘Look at the time,’ he said with a smile. ‘This train has got to be going else we’ll never get to Worcester. Like I say, I’ll keep me eye open for you.’ He winked again.
Lucy winked back saucily. ‘I’ll keep me eye open for you as well.’
He scanned the train for open doors then skipped back along the platform to his guard’s van. Lucy heard his whistle and, as the train began moving forwards she stopped to wave, disappointed that evidently nothing was going to come of this encounter after all.
‘Why did you let him know as I’ve got a chap, Miriam?’
