It wouldn’t move again.
The guard made an announcement after about five minutes, explaining that snow on the line had caused a train coming out of Bury to derail and the line was blocked. In effect, this was the end of the journey. He advised passengers to stay seated, whilst the company arranged for buses to come and ferry everyone to Bury station.
As one might expect the passengers were none too pleased. However, they were prepared to wait for the buses to ferry them to the safety of Bury St Edmunds station. How they would continue their onward journey was a completely different matter. Network Rail had no interest in that problem.
The poor old guard was harangued by irate members of the public every time he dared show his face, and eventually locked himself in with the driver. After an hour, there was still no sign of the promised road transport. Most people had used their mobile phones to call friends and family to alert them to their predicament, and Rachel had secured a promise from her brother to pick her up from Bury station. Therefore, she was content to wait out the delay.
Others, however, were not so patient. After ninety minutes of waiting, several brash young men opened one of the carriage doors by force and departed the train. Only after they dropped into the snow, now three feet deep in drifts, did they start to regret their hastiness.
Like everywhere else in the country, East Anglia was in the depths of an Arctic-like storm. Whether those alighting youths made it to the railway station is not known, but the sight of them struggling even to stand up was enough to deter any further attempts at flight.
The guard came on the PA system once again, and warned people not to leave the train as severe financial penalties awaited the miscreants! This statement caused a ripple of laughter – mainly in disbelief at the crassness of the man.
However, the young idiots who had jumped out of the train had left the door open, and the passengers left behind could not close it. So a deputation was sent to the driver’s cabin to plead for the doors to be re-closed. After several minutes of argy-bargy, the driver agreed to re-cycle the entire system so that the door which had been forced open would shut electrically.
Mistake! Big, big mistake!
All of the doors on the train opened OK, but would not close again!
The passengers screamed at the driver to shut the doors but to no avail. However many times he made the selection to re-cycle – nothing moved.
Now all eight doors on the two carriages were wide open and were allowing the wind and snow to rush in.
The passengers were aghast. Those seated in the middle of the carriages – like Rachel – were warm enough for the moment – but those standing at the ends were taking the full blast of the storm. Major panic and unrest ensued. Naturally, everyone crammed towards the relative protection and warmth of the centre of the carriage, and of course some standing passengers toppled over onto those seated.
Arguments and scuffling started. Punches were thrown. Everyone was shouting and jostling for room and a seat. It was fast turning nasty and Rachel was very scared.
She was sat at an inside seat of a table for four. A man fell across the table knocking everything upon it flying. The elderly lady across from Rachel let out a horrendous scream, which was followed immediately by series of shrill and piercing whistles. This seemed to bring people to their senses and the fighting gradually tailed off, as all of the passengers turned to discover the source of the whistle.
A very large man, 6’ 6” tall and twenty stone if he was a pound, stood at the end of the carriage. He had a large pickaxe handle in his hand, and stood, legs akimbo looking menacingly at the crowd of horrified passengers.
Slowly, the hubbub died down as the man waited for complete silence.
‘Everybody just calm down, shut the fuck up and take a seat. If you don’t have a seat, sit on the floor.’
Nobody moved.
‘NOW!’ bawled the man.
Slowly, the passengers did as they had been instructed, and after a minute or so, some sort of order had been restored.
The burly man continued forcefully.
‘I am the driver of this train and like on boats and planes – I am in fucking charge – GET IT!’
Silence. Everyone just stared sheepishly at the driver. He now had their complete and undivided attention and therefore - control.
‘Now, you will stay seated until the buses arrive – which I am told will be in fifteen minutes. Yes, the doors are jammed and we are trying to solve that problem, but shouting and screaming and panicking will not help the situation one little bit. So, SIT STILL. UNDERSTOOD?’
Nobody moved or said a word. Until a man near the doors piped up.
‘Need any help, mate?’
The driver stared at the man. His voice was a little calmer now.
‘Yes, that would be helpful. You, you and you. Get up and follow me,’ replied the driver, pointing to several of the younger men.
The three men indicated got up, followed the driver to the centre of the train, and started to force the doors closed using sheer physical force. Slowly, but surely, they inched one of the doors shut. Then another and another. After about fifteen minutes all of the doors were closed again and the warm air blowers from the train’s power system started to take effect.
‘Well then, there we go. All sorted – panic over. Now just stay sat down until the buses get here. And, please, no more bloody nonsense,’ the driver reinforced.
With that, the driver walked back to his cab and a small ripple of applause broke out. Normal conversation amongst the passengers resumed once more. There were some sheepish looks from several passengers.
Rachel was totally unimpressed. She was still very cold and very frightened. She could see the road alongside the rail line, and there was absolutely no way that any coach could drive up and rescue them from the train. However, she had little choice but to wait and see what happened. It was now past 2pm and she tried her brother on her mobile phone again. He revealed that he was trapped in traffic not three hundred metres from the family home. There was no way that he could get to her in his car. Rachel was now particularly troubled and the sense of impending doom multiplied.
Even if the buses got to the train – which she severely doubted – how would she get onwards to Norwich and home? She wasn’t really dressed for a snow trek through the East Anglian countryside. Maybe she could stay in a hotel for the night – just until the snow stopped. Then a man across the aisle asked for silence and said that he had some information for everyone. When he had the passengers’ full attention, he relayed the essence of the Prime Ministers speech, which he’d just heard on the radio. Three other passengers confirmed it.
A numbed silence stretched through the two carriages. Rachel was now really upset and started to weep. Several other women in the compartment soon joined her.
‘What are we going to do now?’ someone cried out, and a general hubbub of talking and muttering filled the carriage reaching a crescendo until the driver re-appeared.
‘Now what?’ he bellowed.
The man with the radio told him about the Prime Minister’s radio broadcast.
The driver fell silent for a few seconds.
‘Right then, I may as well tell you – there ain’t no coaches comin’. They're stuck in the snow. So I reckon we got two choices. Either we stay here for the duration and freeze to death when the engine runs out of fuel, or we make a break for it. I can’t see another way. Anyone else got a suggestion?’
Silence invaded the carriages as the reality of the situation sunk in. The driver continued:
‘I thought not – so I’m for walking out. Don’t fancy freezing me bollocks off in here tonight. Let's put it to a vote. Right. Who’s for stayin here, then?’
A frail male voice called out:
‘Who put you in charge anyway?’
‘I’ve told you once already. If you wanna argue mate, come on, try your luck. Someone has to get a grip and if your previous display is anything to go by
, I reckon you’re lucky I haven’t fucked off and left you already. OK! Any more stupid questions. No. Then let's vote. Who’s for staying?’
‘I’m not dressed for that weather, I’ll freeze in five minutes,’ an old lady shouted.
‘We can pool our resources and wrap up warmly. Most of you have got extra clothing in your bags and suitcases. Come on, we can do it. It's only about a twenty minute walk to Bury Station. I know the way – it's straight up the track. Come on, we can do it!’ The driver was almost pleading now.
‘Yes, let's run for home,’ cried out a student. ‘We can't stay here. We’ll die.’
Slowly but surely hands rose, voting to leave the train.
Rachel didn’t move. She was now terrified. She could understand the logic of the suggestion to leave the train – after all, she was a Cambridge maths undergraduate, but she was loathe to go out into the snow. Her hand stayed down. She reckoned that they would eventually be rescued – by helicopter or the police or the fire brigade or somebody. They wouldn’t just be abandoned – this was 21st century Britain. Things like this just didn’t happen!
All but four people voted to go. Three elderly ladies plus Rachel. The rest of the passengers were off to Bury station in the storm.
The driver quickly issued orders for everyone to dress up as warmly as possible. People opened up their suitcases and bags and put on layer after layer of clothing, plus gloves, hats and scarves. The train crew borrowed spare clothing, but not much really fitted the outsized driver – however he made the best of it – he really had little choice.
When everyone was wrapped up as warmly as possible, the driver issued marching instructions. Firstly, he would throw out a load of empty bags and suitcases into the snow to make a landing platform. Then he told everyone to pair off. One man and one woman in each team. Each pair was to stick together like glue. Their survival and their lives depended on mutual support.
By now, it was almost 2.45pm and the passengers were eager to get going.
‘Right,’ shouted the burly driver, ‘First pair. The guard is at the bottom and will catch you as you drop down. Come on, quickly, first pair move down to the front of the train. We are exiting out of the side that is sheltered – so you should be reasonably protected from the wind. There are one hundred and two of us, excluding the four staying put. I’ll leave the train last, and will then lead us up the track to the station. The guard will bring up the rear. I knew all that army training would come in handy one day. Now, let's get going and good luck everybody. We’ll soon be at Bury station.’
The first woman jumped the four feet into the bags and was helped to her feet by the guard. Her male partner followed, they joined hands and edged up the side of the train and stopped at the front, just in the shelter from the storm, although they were still being splattered by cold snow. They were followed by the next pair and the next until, after about twenty minutes, all one hundred passengers were huddled against the train. The driver then turned back to the four women sat in the centre of the train.
‘I haven’t got time to argue, but this is your last chance to join us. Come on, it's not far.’
There was no response from the four frightened women. Rachel simply shook her head. The four looked pathetically alone, clasping hands for comfort.
‘OK, I’ll try and send help for you when we get to the station, goodbye - and good luck.’
With that, he also jumped from the delayed 10:02 Cambridge to Norwich train.
He trudged up to the front of the line of passengers, patted the man on the shoulder and beckoned him to follow. The storm was much worse than he’d estimated but it was too late to turn back now.
Unfortunately, what he also didn’t know was that their position relative to Bury wasn’t quite as he’d calculated. He thought they were about four miles from the station. Actually, it was nearer nine.
However, he was blissfully and fatally unaware of his mistake as he plodded on up the track. It was hard going and every time he looked back, he found it impossible to see the rear of the line. He just hoped the guard was doing his job, although he doubted it. The man was a pathetic, incompetent old fool.
In fact, the line of passengers was getting badly strung out. Several women had collapsed within the first mile and their male partners were bravely trying to revive them. The line soon stretched to over five hundred metres. There were about thirty people in a group at the rear of the line, and it was clear that they were struggling, and had little hope of making the station – even if it had been only four miles distant.
Eventually, the guard had to start considering his own survival, and unilaterally decided to abandon his post and hurried on up the line towards Bury. He left those thirty or so people to survive on their own.
None of them made it to the station.
As the guard progressed up the line, he passed further evidence of the folly of leaving the train. At regular intervals he came across bodies lying in the snow – either pairs locked together or females abandoned by their supposed male protectors.
He didn’t see another living soul that day. After two miles and two hours trudging towards Bury Station, he himself stumbled and fell, exhausted. He didn’t get up either, and perished some seven miles from safety.
The driver led the line manfully, but after almost three hours of intense struggle against the elements, he was completely on his own. He could see no one. He waited, staring into the whiteout for five minutes, but no one appeared. So, he turned and walked on. By some miracle he continued for another half an hour, after which he also fell to his knees and froze to death.
Nobody would ever know that Rachel and her three companions were waiting in vain on the 10:02 from Cambridge.
It was just one of many.
Day 2 – Grantham, Lincolnshire – 3:00pm
Brady climbed the stairs and re-joined his two new companions.
The both sat quietly, Chris finishing his cold chicken.
Then the lights went out.
‘That'll be the first of the failures, then,’ observed Brady with a resigned tone.
‘We can expect much more of this during the next few days. I think we should sort ourselves out for the coming night. I’m not planning to go out in this again anytime soon, so we should make a survival and escape plan, and then get ourselves tucked in for a siege.’
Both Chris and Jane spoke at once.
‘One at a time, please,’ smiled Brady. Chris went first.
‘What about my mum? Where is she? She left for work this morning and I haven’t heard from her since. And my gran. She only lives down the road and she wasn’t there when me and Mike tried earlier. I want my mum.’ Chris was near to tears.
‘And what about my family? I’ve got relatives all over the country. I’ve got to let them know I’m alright!’ chimed in Jane.
‘Calm down, calm down!’ Brady was terribly aware of their concerns.
‘OK, OK, we’ll spend an hour speaking to our relatives, and doing what we can to find your mum and gran, Chris. But you both must realise, as hard as that may be, that the situation outside in the snow is desperate! Many, many people are already gone and you should prepare yourself for the worst. I’ve got a couple of pretty awful calls to make myself, believe me.’
‘But we can’t just write our people off, Andrew,’ came back Jane, mildly disturbed by Brady’s apparent lack of compassion.
‘We might just have to. What else can we do? It's suicide to go out there now. The best we can do is try to contact our relatives and reassure them. But they will be in the same situation as us – and unfortunately, very, very sadly, some of them will be gone.’
‘Please, Mr Brady, please just try my grans house once more. Can I phone now? Please?’ Chris was insistent.
Brady stared at the young boy and nodded.
‘OK, let's get phoning. I just hope my cordless phones work in the power outage or, if not, we can use mobiles – although I suspect coverage will be poor and the system maxed
-out. Let's give it a try anyway.’
Brady walked over to the cordless phone and picked it up. However, as he suspected, the phone was dead. Modern phones needed electricity and whilst the power was off, they were useless.
‘As I assumed. No power – no phone. Let's try mobiles. And I suggest we leave them plugged in for permanent charge just in case the power is restored.’
Chris and Jane pulled out their phones and Chris looked up, dismayed.
‘Mine’s flat.’
‘So is mine,’ added Jane, disconsolately.
‘That's it then, we’re snookered. We can’t contact anybody until the power returns. I suggest we all make lists of people, with numbers, so that we can get on the lines as soon as the power is restored – if it ever is!’ instructed Brady.
Snow! The Series [Books 1-4] Page 17