by John Parker
She next moved on to Harry’s wife, Florence Daniel, in Birmingham, but another problem arose when she found several entries of that name in the indexes for the likely years and no obvious way of knowing which was her ancestor. She felt that it would be more useful to use the remaining time by moving on to her paternal grandparents Tom Turner and Caroline Jane Loomes, hoping to find a Caroline who was born in Paddington. She was less certain of the dates for these, as she had only the guesses that Uncle Stan had made to go on and it was very many books later – arms tired, back sore and feeling hot and sticky – before she found the likely entries and completed the request forms. Sue handed these in with the fee (7/6d each) and after self-addressing an envelope, she was finished. She realised that there was the possibility that the people that she’d identified might not be her ancestors. There could be other Tom Turners, for example, born in Birmingham around the same time as her grandfather. There was no way of knowing from the indexes alone and so she would have to wait until the copies of the certificates arrived. As she made her way back to the tube, she checked the time and was surprised when she found how long it had taken just to complete these first few steps.
*
“This will take forever,” complained Dave, giving the test vessel a violent shake, for the umpteenth time.
“Dave. Dave. Let’s just leave it for a minute,” advised Gritty, stepping back and wiping his brow on the sleeve of his overall.
They had been struggling unsuccessfully for almost half an hour, the turbine hall was noisy, hot and humid, and they were both sweating profusely. The turbines either side of the one upon which they were working were operating and the floor throbbed with the vibrations created. There were plumes of steam emanating from vents here and there, adding to the humidity.
The situation was a tantalising one as, although it appeared that the test vessel would just fit into the space between the two large pipes, it simply refused to go into that position. Was it an optical illusion? The lugs welded to the sides didn’t help, but even so it seemed possible that it should fit.
Dave succumbed reluctantly to Gritty’s entreaty and they both went to the mess room for a drink and a well-earned break. Gritty, ever sensible, was right. A five minute rest and reflection was likely to be more beneficial than continuing the struggle.
They discussed progress, or rather the lack of it. It was not only the problem of getting the test vessel positioned, but the construction of the necessary steam piping was not progressing well either. The fitter and his mate had appeared periodically from their workshop with variously shaped sections and, as often as not, after shaking their heads they returned to their lair. Time was running out quickly, as Dave regularly reminded anyone who cared to listen. Gritty could sense how short Dave’s temper was becoming, with outright rage only just beneath the surface of his colleague’s sweaty, grimy, exterior. Although they had removed most of their clothing beneath their overalls, it still felt as though they were working in a tropical rain forest.
“Right, back to it. It’s almost two o’clock,” urged Dave, lifting himself stiffly from a stool.
A surprising sight greeted them when they returned to the waiting turbine, with half a dozen men cheerfully working away above and below the turbine floor level. The mate explained that all the necessary piping had been cut and shaped and Fred (his fitter) had persuaded some of his colleagues to help with the assembly and fixing. A bit of good news at last.
Dave felt under particular pressure as this was his first major job; the first real test of his management skills. He thought that he had performed well since joining the SSA and in that respect, had been appreciated by both his Section Head and his colleagues. That, however, had been the kind of work for which he had been trained and had practised for many years at Fisher’s Tubes. This was different. It was larger, in every sense, than laboratory based work. He was in charge and having to deal with practical men under on-site conditions. It was new to him, but was the kind of operation that he was expected to be competent to cope with. He had his test facility to get organised at Thornton Power Station when this investigation was completed, which, he assumed, would require similar qualities.
Well, at least things were now moving along, though he and Gritty had not made much progress themselves. Yet another half an hour, feeling physically drained, they had still not succeeded. The tempers of both men were fraying and, as Gritty gave the test vessel an unwelcome tug just as his colleague had his side positioned, Dave exploded in a torrent of expletives which the ever willing Gritty certainly did not deserve. Dave then proceeded to push – pull – shake and twist the vessel as violently as his waning strength and sweating palms would allow until his temper was assuaged. Gritty took up the struggle manfully, tugging and kicking, but with equal futility as his comrade. To the casual observer, this must have presented a comic scene reminiscent of Laurel and Hardy in the days of black and white films. They had to let it go. Their energy spent.
“Bastard thing,” Gritty observed with feeling, offering a final puny kick. “It’s not helping having to hold it above floor level. When Alan designed it he imagined that the vessel would be supported by its pipe connections, but it would have been better to have had some feet welded to the bottom so that it could rest on the floor.”
Dave nodded. “It’s too late for that now,” he replied wearily, “they’re beginning to seal up the turbine. The steam is due to be on in less than three hours. It’s clear that we’re going to have to get those lugs cut off and then re-welded on after we’ve got it into position,” he added with evident resignation. Once the turbine was returned to the operations department it would be kept running for eighteen months unless something major occurred.
He felt sick; a wave of complete dejection passed through him. He had been so pleased to have been selected to represent the department upon this prestigious committee – his first chance to really impress. He felt that this had been an opportunity to take his place amongst the other well respected scientists, but now, when confronted with actually making his only real contribution to the investigation, he had failed. Joe and the scientists from the Slough labs were obtaining useful, probably vital, publishable results and what had he got? Nothing.
“Hang on a bloody minute,” exclaimed Gritty, jumping up from the impromptu seat he had made of a flange on the turbine casing. “We are being bloody stupid. It’s the bloody woods and trees thing. If we’re quick we can save the situation.”
He went on to point out the – blatantly obvious when you came to think of it – solution, at least for the time being. Their pressing problem was that the turbine had to start operation shortly, whilst their test didn’t. A day or two here or there didn’t matter to them. Lateral thinking maybe, but all they needed to do was to get a length of pipe welded into the LP steam line before the turbine went back into service. The pipe would have to be fitted with an isolation valve, which would be kept closed whilst the turbine was operating, until they had their own test vessel and Bunsen’s sampler attached. So the turbine could start up as planned and they could get their test rig assembled over the next day or so. It could be connected to their isolating valve whilst the turbine was running and when they were ready, they would open the valve to extract their steam and begin the experiment.
After a certain amount of rushing around, the pipe and isolating valve was fitted into the main steam line, just before they were ordered to return their permit (the last one out!) to the office. With sighs all around, the turbine was gradually brought into operation according to system plans.
Dave and Gritty left Winford, both of them keen to get home. The situation had been saved and, although they were pleased, the rigors of the past two days had taken their toll.
Their journey back into Wiltshire was made in good time and, after apologising for his show of temper, Dave dropped Gritty off. It was dark but Dave was surprised to find his house also in darkness. Not the welcome for which he had hoped. The house was empt
y and cold and he had only just turned the heating on when the door burst open.
“Daddy, will you tell Jo off, she’s been so mean to me?” whined Katy, throwing her school satchel on to a chair. She flopped onto the sofa pouting.
“Katy, I’ve only just got home myself. Where’s Jo and Mummy anyway? And get your satchel off there and take it to your room.”
“I’m here,” called Jo from the hallway. “We saw you drive past. We were at the Potters’ and don’t take any notice of old misery drawers there, she’s been a pest all day.”
“Not true, fat face.”
“Never mind that, where’s your mother?”
Jo told her father that Sue had gone up to London, which came as an unwelcome surprise, as he thought that her trip wasn’t planned for another week. He supposed that he would have to get his own tea. Jo said that they had been fed by Mrs Potter.
Dave was cold, the heating had been off all day. He felt irritable as he sorted through the fridge to find something to eat. A few minutes later Sue arrived. She was immediately accosted by Katy, who reiterated details of Jo’s meanness. Sue placated her daughter and greeted Dave pleasantly.
“Sorry I’m a bit late, but it was worth it.”
She was tired and achy but she had had a good day.
“How did your work go love?” she enquired, putting her arm around Dave’s waist as he sawed away at a loaf. Dave muttered a response. Despite his best efforts, his irritability surfaced and he complained that he hadn’t known that she was going to London, adding, rather unnecessarily, that the house had been freezing when he got in. Sue, noted his manner, but decided to maintain her bright mood.
“Never mind love, we’re all home now and it’s warming up already. I’ll make us a hot drink shortly, after I’ve had a quick shower. You can’t imagine how hard I’ve worked today.”
Rather stiffly Dave replied that his day had been quite hard too.
“Well, you can relax now and put your feet up,” she persisted.
This didn’t ease her husband’s ill humour, which was not improved when the hostility between the girls, who had been sitting on the sofa making faces at each other, escalated into a pinching competition, with accompanying verbal abuse.
“Will you two just clear out?” shouted their father above their cries.
The girls obeyed, though a pushing-pulling match, beginning in the doorway, persisted up the stairs until the slamming of two doors signalled the end, for the present at least.
“It seems from your mood that your work didn’t go so well,” Sue observed.
“Things were just very hard for a couple of days, that’s all,” Dave grumbled, “and then to find you out with your friends…”
“What? Just what’s that supposed to mean?” Sue was deviating from her soothing mode. “You knew that I was going up to London sometime. It just happens that the day was brought forward, that’s all.”
“Well, not to a very convenient time.”
“Convenient for whom? For Christ’s sake, Dave, I’ve been stuck in this house, more or less continuously, for weeks and then when I get the rare chance to go out and do something other than baking bloody tarts with the WI, it doesn’t suit your convenience – well bloody tough luck.” Having made her point, Sue went to the doorway with the intention of taking her shower, but before she got through, she decided that Dave required a further insight into her thoughts.
“Do you fit any of your jaunts around me? I know that you are keen to make progress at work and I support you in that, but it seems that you’d rush off and do any fiddling, piddling, job you liked, without giving a second thought to how convenient, as you call it, it is to me, and that even includes bloody skittles too.” Having got those thoughts off her chest, Sue went for a tearful shower.
Dave was surprised by the suddenness and ferocity of his wife’s fusillade. He felt aggrieved and it was the reference to skittles that stung most. It was a few days later before the Harrison household returned to something like normality, though a suggestion of residual resentment still lingered.
12
The return to a more harmonious household was greatly assisted by the coincidence of two, seemingly unrelated, incidents. Though unrelated, each played their part in lifting the spirits of both man and wife. Unsurprisingly, it was positive developments in both the Winford investigation and the Turner family history quest that were responsible.
It was with eager anticipation that Dave and Gritty travelled to Winford to start up the test rig. Initially, they partially opened the inlet valves a small amount, so that the flow of steam, from the turbine into the vessel, was low. This allowed all the components to warm up slowly. The pipework sections groaned as they expanded and adjusted to the rise in temperature. Later, they opened the valves fully and the steam flowed unhindered from the LP turbine pipework and through the test vessel. They noted the temperature and pressure. Dave had decided to delay installing samples until the system had been ‘steam cleaned’ for a few days. Leaving Winford, both Gritty and Dave experienced a mixture of pleasure and relief.
Meanwhile, thanks to the combined efforts of the General Registry Office and the postal service, Sue received her eagerly anticipated certificates from Somerset House. She cleared away the remnants from breakfast to make table room for her studies. She checked her certificates:
Harry Boughton b. 27/4/1878 Father Thomas (Maltster), Mother Martha (formerly Eccles). Born Aston.
Caroline Jane Loomes b. 17/4/1872 Father James Henry (Servant), Mother Caroline (formerly Potten). Born Paddington.
Tom Turner b. 18/4/1873 Father George (Tin Plate Worker), Mother Emma (formerly Perkins). Born Birmingham.
“Yes!” she gasped. It all seemed to fit in with what she knew. Thomas’ job tallied with her information and Caroline Jane’s birthplace was confirmed as Paddington. Her mother’s name was Potten. The certificate for her grandfather Turner was also almost certainly the correct one. She had covered many years during her search through the indexes and although there were several Thomas’, this had been the only Tom and his birthplace was as expected. Sue felt that she could now start building up her family tree in earnest. She couldn’t wait to pay another visit to London and do more searching, tiring though it was.
When Dave arrived home he found Sue to be, if not overwhelmed by his return, at least, not overtly hostile. He was able to add to the improvement in relations by announcing that he was due to collect his contract-hire car the following day. Sue was pleased, as it meant that she would now have the use of their Morris, which would give her much greater independence.
The evening could have passed pleasantly between the two, as Dave’s combined satisfaction of having his test rig up and running, plus the new car, should have made him amenable. Initially he showed an interest in Sue’s recent family history ‘finds’, but he could sense that she would go on and on about them unless he cut her short. He attempted to conceal his increasing boredom.
“So what’s your next step?” he enquired, after looking at her grandparents’ documents.
“Well, for the moment I’ll concentrate on the three couples that I’ve found and try to find details of their parents’ marriage in the indexes. Now that I know the maiden names of my great grandmothers, it will be much easier.”
Whilst Sue paused briefly with this thought, Dave took his chance and went into the hall to collect his briefcase.
“Well, must get on myself.”
Sue was disappointed. She was so enthusiastic, but it was clear that her husband’s priorities lay elsewhere. She was not deceived by his apparent interest in her family history, she realised that he was patronising her. As long as he was not diverted from his own interests he was happy. His attitude saddened her, as one of the pleasures of any activity was being able to share the successes and failures with others.
A few days later Sue phoned Pam to see if she could be persuaded to put down her hammer for the day, as she would like to take her out, it being su
ch lovely weather.
“It’s my treat. I’ve got the car from now on and it’s to say thanks for the lifts that you’ve given me over the past months.”
“You should know by now that it doesn’t take much for me to down tools. The old man will probably have a tantrum and have me thrashed by his manservant when I get back, but I’ll just have to put up with that. Actually, I’m beginning to enjoy this rough treatment, but then Cummings does have something of the Mellors about him, so that’s OK. What time?”
It was an hour later when Sue drove through the ornate gateway and along the tree-lined drive, to the eighteenth century house. The sun slanted through the beeches and, as she neared the building, an abundance of snowdrops lit up the imposing frontage. There were masses of them, including numerous large islands on the lawn in front of the main doorway. Crocuses were also making a determined effort to compete. She gave the archaic bell-pull a good tug and was disappointed when the door was opened by a frail lady and not the Mellors look-alike. Perhaps another time. Pam almost knocked the old dear off her feet as she brushed past her.
Sue’s suggestion of Salisbury was fine with Pam, who relaxed, as best as anyone with her background could, in a Morris 1100. Strangely, Pam found that it was a pleasant change to be a passenger. Sue would have thought that someone in her friend’s exalted position, would be used to being chauffeured everywhere, even to the local shops. Not so apparently.
They took the journey sedately. Wiltshire was a lovely county and Sue was, from now on, going to make every effort to enjoy it. Through Devizes and onwards to the open plain – wonderful. The rolling hills either side, the odd stand of beech and the sunshine. Later, having turned right just before Stonehenge, they passed a cluster of burial mounds and gradually descended towards Salisbury, instantly recognisable even though still some way off, by occasional glimpses of the cathedral spire.