The Varney’s lived in the small country village of
Mornington-By-Mere in the Finchbottom Vale nestled between the Ancient
Dancingdean Forest and the rolling Pepperstock Hills.
Which was a quaint picturesque village, a
proper chocolate box picturesque idyll, with a Manor House, 12th
Century Church, a Coaching Inn, Windmills, an Old Forge, a Schoolhouse, a River
and a Mere.
He lived and worked up at Mornington Field which had once been an RAF
base but had been converted into a mixture of commercial and residential units.
They lived in one of the Cottages in Dulcet Mill Lane, number 5, in the part of the Village known
as Manorside and they had lived there together all of the married life.
70 year old George was employed at the Mornington Brewery before he
retired while his wife Tracey was a stay at home mum, raising their six
children.
They were obviously all grown up now and most of them had children of
their own and were now in every corner of Downshire.
In the summer of 2016 it was to be their fiftieth wedding anniversary and
as a special surprise for his wife he had booked the Finchbottom Flyer, a renovated steam engine and coaches, which
ran from Sharping St Mary along a section of preserved
track that was very significant to them both and the whole family were going to
be aboard for the celebration.
Their story began far back in the previous
century in April 1965 when during the final days of the
age of steam, the Sharpington to Abbottsford train rattled its way through the
Finchbottom Vale late on a Monday night.
George Varney had
spent the Bank Holiday Monday with a couple of mates in the traditional seaside resort of Sharpington-by-Sea, where they inhabited
the Victorian Pier, and played crazy golf, frittered away their time in the
numerous amusement arcades and of course rode the rides in the Sharpington Fun
Park, like the Rotor and the Wild Mouse, The Cyclone and the Morehouse
Galloper.
But Harry and Len
didn’t leave when he did as they had pulled a couple of local girls so they
decided to get the milk train back the next morning.
George was nineteen
years old and had no hard feelings over his friends getting lucky he had had
his chance but he declined what was on offer, he wasn’t looking for knee
trembler in an alleyway or a bunk up under the pier, he was looking for something
or someone a little more wholesome.
So he left his friends
to their cheap thrills with their cheap slutty girls and got the train home.
When he reached the
station the train was already on the platform so he got aboard and slammed the
door behind him and walked down the corridor and went into the first
compartment he came to.
When he slid the door closed he sat down and
found himself seated opposite a girl sitting quietly in the corner.
Her name was Tracey
Garvey and she had long straight brown hair and was on
the plain side of pretty with a heavily freckled face, lovely blue eyes, a cute
nose and a thin-lipped smile, which she greeted him with.
George returned the smile and sat down and
slowly appraised the short quiet girl in the pale lemon dress and cream
cardigan.
Her legs were nice, he thought, sheathed in
tan coloured stockings and she had tiny feet, always a bonus for George, small
feet.
Although he didn’t know it she was the same
age as him and had also spent the day in Sharpington, but in her case she had
been visiting a maiden aunt.
They spent the next twenty minutes exchanging
glances, his of curiosity, mixed with desire, and hers of coquettishness.
But then the motion of the train began to
lull him off, and when the long blinks had set in he slept, and while he slept
he dreamt, and his dreams were all about the girl in the lemon dress.
George and Tracey spent their first twenty
minutes together exchanging glances, his of curiosity mixed with desire, and
hers of coquettishness.
But then the motion of the train began to
lull him off, and when the long blinks had set in he slept, and while he slept
he dreamt, and all his dreams were about the girl in the lemon dress.
He was following her, but she was just out of
reach and his friends Harry and Len were behind him and they were shouting
“Don’t let her get away, she’s the one”
But he couldn’t catch her, she was always
just out of reach, and the dream would have continued in the same vein
indefinitely had the sound of a train rattling by in the opposite direction not
brought him back and through half opened eyes he saw the girl seated diagonally
opposite him across the aisle was also dosing.
He was starting to close his eyes again but he
began to think that it may have been providence that had brought him wide
awake.
So he rubbed his eyes and forced himself to
stay awake and watched the quiet girl across the aisle with her legs drawn up
under her and her head resting against the seat back as a smile played about
her lips.
“She looks so angelic” he thought as he
watched her, and although he didn’t know it as he was watching her, she dreamed
a dream of him.
A dream of similar ilk to his own in which
her aunt urged her on
“Don’t make the same mistake as I”
The train was just approaching Childean when
she suddenly awoke with a look of alarm on her face, she looked out of the
window to get her bearings and he said
“We’re just pulling into Childean”
“Oh good” she said and quickly crossed the aisle
and sat beside him, smiled coyly and then she kissed him
The kissing came to a halt at the same moment
that the train did
“That was very nice….” he began
“Tracey” she said “My name is Tracey”
“That was very nice Tracey” he continued
“I’m George” he said and kissed her on the
lips as the guards whistle echoed shrilly
“Is this you’re your station?” he asked
“No” she replied “I’m going to Abbottsford”
“Good, so am I” he said and kissed her again
as the train pulled out of the station.
By the time they reached Abbottsford they
were no longer strangers as he and the quiet girl in the corner chattered all
the way and they only paused in order to kiss again.
Not only were they not strangers anymore but
they were also no longer singletons looking for their perfect fit and by the
following Easter they were no longer singletons.
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