by Larry Stuart
A minute or so later a new sound arose. The deafening roar of the monster, which had just hurtled down the mountain, was now replaced by the cries and moans of the injured men.
‘Cameron! Are ye all right?’
‘I think so. What about you, Rob?’
‘Aye…Ah be fine, but we’d better look to the others.’
While they were talking, the engine driver and fireman, not requiring any further encouragement, had uncoupled the loco from the rest of the train, and were already beginning to accelerate back to Keith to raise the alarm.
When the air finally cleared, the scene was one of total carnage. The section of newly laid track was gone. In its place a chaotic new hillside had been born consisting of dirt, boulders, tree trunks and branches. Amongst this confusion were human limbs, some still attached to screaming bodies, others bloodied and rootless.
Cameron and Rob did their best to help the injured. Strips of clothing were used as makeshift tourniquets and bandages. Assurances were given, promises were made, and lies were told, as they comforted the living. As time passed, the groans and wails of those suffering began to subside; and to some death was a welcome relief.
Cameron was on his knees. His hair was matted and grey with dust, his face streaked with dirt and lined with tension. His shirt lay in tatters around him, the sleeves having been used to try to stem the blood pumping from Duncan’s pulverised legs, now lying screened from view under Rob’s blood-soaked shirt. In his hand Cameron forcibly gripped Duncan’s fingers, as if somehow this might transfer some of his strength to his injured friend; while in the distance, the shrill whistle of the yard engine announced the imminent arrival of help, but also served as a timely reminder of how long the suffering had lasted.
Rob tried to hold Duncan down as, even though he was unconscious, he thrashed from side to side. Suddenly, his dust-encrusted eyelashes fluttered and his eyes flew open.
‘Get yer hands offa me, Rob…Let me get up!’
‘Lay still, Duncan,’ said Cameron. ‘There’s been a landslide and you’ve injured your legs. The engine driver’s gone for help…but he’s almost back, so you just lay there, quietly.’
‘But…but Ah feel…fine,’ Duncan stammered, his head jerking upwards as he started to cough and choke.
Using the only clean piece of shirt he had left, Cameron reached out, wiping the trickle of blood appearing from the corner of his friend’s mouth.
‘Help is nearly here. You’ll be fine,’ Cameron said, with a smile of encouragement masking his inner dread.
‘But…but why canna…why canna no feel any pain if Ah’m hurt?’
‘Dinna bother yourself, Duncan…The two of us will no doubt be off chasing the lassies again by tomorrow night.’
The engine arrived, and within seconds nurses from the hospital and men carrying stretchers hurried to the scene of the catastrophe; but Cameron did not seem to notice.
Suddenly, Duncan’s eyes opened wide again.
‘Cameron…Ah’m frightened. Ah dinna want to die…Ah feel…Ah feel cold.’
‘Don’t b…be silly, Duncan. You’ll be ff…fine,’ stuttered Cameron, squeezing Duncan’s hand.
‘Thanks, Cameron…yer a…a real…friend….’
Suddenly, a spasm passed through Duncan’s body. His fingers clenched – claw-like – and then relaxed.
‘Duncan…Duncan. Hang on!’ Cameron cried. ‘Please hang on…Help is coming.’
The only response he got was the peaceful look appearing on Duncan’s dirt- encrusted face as his life melted away. Cameron stayed kneeling, unmoving, as if frozen in time and place. He felt almost lifeless, the adrenaline having drained from his body. And still, he didn’t seem to notice the arrival of the train or the crowd of people now milling about.
Rob, with the wave of his hand, silently directed the rescuers away from Cameron and his friend. Then, twenty minutes later, he softly squeezed Cameron’s shoulder.
‘Come away now, Cameron. Let’s have a cup of tea an somethin’ to eat. We’ll come back for Duncan. Dinna fret yoursel’…we’ll no leave him behind.’
With an aching heart, and tears streaming down his face, Cameron took off the remains of his tattered shirt, gently placing it over his best friend’s face.
CHAPTER SIX
The following Monday morning, Cameron was subdued and lost in thought as he folded up his newspaper and stepped down from the coach. The extra days off provided by the company to all surviving crew members, and the mature counselling afforded by his grandmother, had gone some way in helping him recover from his emotional ordeal. But the headline in today’s newspaper had brought reality back with a jolt.
* * *
THREE MORE BODIES RECOVERED
AFTER WORST SCOTTISH RAIL
DISASTER
* * *
The article had gone on to say that, with the addition of the two men who had died on Saturday from their injuries, and the presumed death of the two senior railway men who had been swept away down the hillside, the death toll stood at eight.
‘Excuse me…Mr Stewart. It is Cameron Stewart, isn’t it?’
Cameron turned, staring in the direction of the voice.
Appearing from around the far corner of the station building was a vaguely familiar man, hurrying in his direction.
‘I’m sorry. Allow me to introduce myself. My name’s Bruce McTavish. We did meet once before, I believe. Wasn’t it outside the post office in Dufftown?’
‘Of course … Please, excuse me,’ Cameron said, holding out his hand as he recognised the Company’s Personnel Manager.
‘Nice to see you again…even if it is under such difficult circumstances. It must have been very distressing for you. Anyway, if you have a moment would you follow me up to the office?’
Passing through a door marked “Private” in the main hall of the station, they then climbed the stairs leading to the second floor and turned left, before walking to the end of the hallway. As Mr McTavish knocked on the door inscribed G.J. Mathieson Regional Manager, Cameron gazed out of the window overlooking the yard. He was trying his best to look calm, even though inside he began to feel like a naughty schoolboy standing outside the headmaster’s office. After a brusque ‘Come in’ the two men entered the room and advanced towards the man sitting behind a large oak desk.
‘Good morning, Mr Mathieson. This is Cameron Stewart…the man I was talking to you about.’
The man glanced up from his work, and then half rose to offer his hand.
He was a tenacious looking character, with thick-lashed eyes and veined cheeks, bordered by a neatly trimmed beard flecked with grey. His pendulous double chin spilled over his high white collar, while his meaty right hand was damp to the touch. The worsted woollen suit probably cost more than a month of his wages, thought Cameron. But his fashionable look was rather spoiled by the flakes of dandruff sprinkled over his shoulders.
After settling back into his chair, he signalled to Cameron and the Personnel Manager to take a seat in front of his desk. Then, putting down his pen, he leaned back into his leather-trimmed chair.
‘I’m afraid we seem to have a bit of a staff problem after that unfortunate accident last week...and we were rather hoping you might be able to help us, Mr Stewart.’
Cameron wasn’t too sure where this was leading. But surely, he thought, the railway didn’t need his input when it came to hiring people?
‘Mr McTavish,’ said Mr. Mathieson, angling his head towards the Personnel Manager. ‘Would you be so kind?’
‘The track laying crew need a new foreman and we’re thinking of promoting Rob Pirie into that position. You’ve worked with him. What do you think of the idea?’
Cameron felt like he’d just taken a blow to the body. In the back of his mind he’d had thoughts of that job for himself, and he’d been here six months longer than Rob.
‘I’m sure he would be great for the job, and the men really respect him… especially after last week.’
Mr Mathieson now half-raised his hand, indicating that he would carry on.
‘We lost another good man last week. He was not only the depot manager, but also controlled our entire inventory. Mr McTavish, here, has been doing a little checking into your schooling, and it appears you were very highly thought of by your former headmaster. From what he tells us, you did particularly well in mathematics and grammar…is that so?’
‘Well, I suppose I did all right in those subjects if you…’
‘Yes, yes…well anyway, we’re offering you the job. Let me just say, though…I thought you might be a bit young to be taking on those duties… but Mr McTavish seems to have a lot of faith in you, so I’ve decided to give you a chance. If you go with him now, he’ll brief you on your new position.’
An hour or so later Cameron walked out of the Personnel Manager’s office. His heart was still pounding. In his wildest dreams he could never have imagined being offered that promotion. Along with the job came a substantial increase in pay and shorter hours. His day would now start at eight and finish at five, and on Saturdays, assuming there were no major problems, his working day would end at noon. In addition to running the Huntly depot, he would also be doing a lot of travelling to attend company meetings in Aberdeen, and to arrange contracts with their various suppliers for sleepers, rails and ballast.
Cameron’s mind was elsewhere, as he wandered across the marshalling yard. All he could think about at the moment was the pleasure of being able to tell his grandmother
about his good fortune, and the sadness he felt at not being able to share his news with his Father or Duncan.
An almost party-like atmosphere greeted him as he opened the door and wandered into the depot.
‘Where ye bin?’ shouted one of the track crew.
‘Have ye heard the news?’ another yelled. ‘Rob’s the new foreman. Is that no greet?’
Just then Rob appeared from behind the men, strutting over to Cameron with a stern look on his face.
‘What time ye calling this to be showin’ up for work?’
The room suddenly went quiet. Then Rob, unable to contain himself, burst into laughter, while at the same time giving Cameron a playful punch on the arm.
‘’Tis fantastic Rob…I’m really happy for you. You really deserve the job. My only concern is whether or no you’ll be able to get any work out of this bunch.’
‘Och! No problem. If they dinna do as Ah tell ’em, Ah’ll just cut off their food at meal time…Now, come on ye lot. At least try to make it look like ye is doin’ as Ah asked, on ma first day.’
Cameron remained where he was, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other while his cheeks got redder and redder.
‘Come on, Cameron. What’s yer problem?’
‘Well…actually…I’ll no be comin’ with you. I’ve got a new job.’
‘Och, so they finally realised yer worth…an given ye a broom to sweep the station floor?’
Suddenly, Rob’s chuckling stopped and his mouth hung open.
‘Bloody hell! Yer no tellin’ me ye be the new depot manager…are ye?’
Cameron quickly settled into his new role, and soon discovered that the job required much more travelling than he’d imagined.
Within three days, he was back in Dufftown, where the manager at the sawmill was a little bemused to be dealing with his ex-employee. However, a few days later his amusement turned to chagrin – and a little admiration – when he discovered that Cameron had altered the basis of the railway’s contract. And by changing the payment for sleepers from unit price, to paying by the board-foot, he had in fact negotiated a better rate for the railway than they’d previously had.
Two days after that success, Cameron was in Aberdeen attending his first monthly board meeting. At first, the other directors and managers tended to disregard the “young upstart”. But it didn’t take long for them to discover that what he lacked in experience he soon made up for with perception and invention.
A few months later, after a particularly long and tiring meeting, the board
unanimously approved two of Cameron’s “fresh new ideas”. And from that day on, he was fully accepted as a manager – even Mr Mathieson now referring to him as Mr Stewart, as opposed to his previous title of “Young Cameron”.
His social life was inexorably changing as well. Although Cameron still met up with his friends at the Kings Head, his relationship with them was no longer the same. They still traded jokes and bought each other drinks, but he could tell the men had become more guarded. Cameron had suspected that this might happen, and so, gradually began to reduce the number of nights he spent at the inn. As a consequence, going home on Saturdays became much more the norm, as he now needed Helen’s company as much as she wanted his.
One gloomy autumn afternoon, Cameron stared out his office window, unable to concentrate on his work. Low, grey clouds raced across the sky piling up against the brooding crags to the east, while dust and decaying bits of vegetation swirled about the marshalling yard, rising higher and higher as the breeze strengthened. Soon, the large window beside his desk began to rattle in its frame and, for the third time in the last fifteen minutes, he looked up at the clock on the wall. ‘That’s it. I’ve had enough,’ he announced to his empty office, stacking his papers and tidying his desk, before throwing on his coat and leaving the depot.
Head down against the wind, he made his way across the yard towards Bogie street – the main road leading from the station to the centre of town. Inside the station, the stopping train from Keith to Aberdeen had just arrived. Like some shiny, great caterpillar, it lay alongside the platform disgorging its passengers, while at its head the loco idled, exhaling steam at the legs of the unwary. Porters with loud voices touted their services, while trainmen busied themselves refilling the locomotive’s water tanks and bunkers in preparation for its onward journey.
All of a sudden, the front doors of the station crashed open. A porter’s trolley over-loaded with bags and boxes appeared, crudely being shoved out of the arrivals hall by a uniformed member of staff.
Cameron’s heart suddenly felt as though it was pounding its way out of his chest. His body froze, as his eyes fixated on the heavenly vision before him. Struggling through the doorway behind the trolley was the most beautiful girl he had ever set eyes on. She was smartly dressed in a long, fawn-coloured skirt, with matching buttoned jacket, while on her head she wore a cream-coloured bonnet, accentuated by a chocolate-brown ribbon above its brim. In her left hand was a holdall-style bag, whilst in her right she dragged a large, metal-edged chest along the station forecourt.
Cameron’s legs finally responded to his urgings, and as he hurried over to offer his help, he took in her shapely neck, flushed rosy cheeks and the long, dark-brown curl, which had sprung from beneath her pretty bonnet.
‘Can I help you with some of those?’ he asked, before awkwardly coming to a halt directly in front of her.
‘Oh…be you a porter? Them inside all seem to be taken.’
‘No, I’m no a porter…but…but I do work for the railway,’ he added, quickly. ‘And I would be…ah…very pleased to help you.’
For the first time in his life Cameron was nearly at a loss for words; and he was sure he now looked and sounded like a complete idiot.
‘That’s very kind of you, but I’m afraid I have to get to Scott’s Hospital… and I’ve no idea how far that may be. Maybe you could point me in the direction of where I could hire a hansom cab?’
‘Och, you don’t want to be wastin’ your money on that. The hospital’s no far…an…an I’d be happy to help you with them bags.’
‘Well, if you’re gonny help me with them, then we should at least know each other’s names. My name’s Mary…Mary Fraser.’
‘Of course…sorry. I’m Cameron Stewart….Anyway, give us them here and we can get goin’…oh…and I do hope you’re no too ill.’
At this point she began t
o giggle.
‘As a matter of fact, I be very well, thank you. You see, I be a nurse…and I’ve just arrived to take up a new post at the hospital.’
That night when Cameron got home, along with a sore shoulder from carrying the heavy trunk, his chest ached and his head felt as though it were in the clouds. He couldn’t stop thinking about that enchanting dark curl, those honey-coloured eyes, rosy cheeks and slightly-flared, pert little nose. Although he had little experience with women, he was sure he had just met the girl of his dreams. Now he just had to work out how to charm her.