The Dulcets
are a collection of villages and hamlets comprising of Dulcet Meadow, Dulcet St Mary, Dulcet Green, and Dulcet-on-Brooke,
to name but a few, and of course Dulcet-on-Willow,
a large sprawling village beside the gentle shallow River Willow, which ran
unhurriedly from the Pepperstock Hills to the more vibrant River Brooke, and it
was on the banks of the river where the home of Clare Gammon was situated.
It was
previously her family home and she had lived there all 26 years of her life;
she had lived alone in the house for 2 of those years.
She worked
in Dulcet St Mary for the Dulcet Garden Centre as a senior buyer, but she had
many more strings to her bow.
Clare was
very active in the church, at St Bede’s as well as farther afield.
This
involved among other things, being a greeter at the church services, delivering
Parish Magazines, helping at the Christmas Bazaar, Summer Fete, and Sunday
School, you name it, and she did it and that was only in the village.
Her wider
good works included the Soup Kitchens in Finchbottom or Purplemere, who were
always desperate for volunteers.
The
Christmas Charity Wagon in Sharpington, which was an old Mornington Brewery
dray, pulled by two white shire horses, which was bedecked with tinsel and
lights and carried on the back, a multi denominational choir singing Christmas
Carols.
Clare was
not however, among those going from door to door, as the wagon drove around the
town, collecting donations in plastic buckets and handing out sweets to the
excited children, no she was in the choir on the back of the Dray because she
had the voice of an angel.
She also
volunteered for the Roving Angels, which had been in existence for about two
years and was similar to the Street Angels, Street Pastors and other groups
that had sprung up all across the UK in the previous 20 or 25 years.
They had
made a really positive impact on crime and antisocial behaviour in Finchbottom
and Purplemere town centres over the first two years, particularly in the
general vicinity of the bars and clubs.
Providing a
calming presence on the streets late at night in situations where a police
uniform might have the opposite effect.
In the
first two years of the Roving Angels, they had contributed to a 29% fall in
public place violence on the weekends.
It all
began when Christian Churches in the area came together with the Police and the
Borough Council’s to establish the Angels.
But it took
people of Faith to make it work as with so many things in life.
Clare had
been doing it for two years so had not been with them since the beginning.
But one of
her favourite good deeds was to help out on the Santa Express, which was
something to behold, and she loved it because it reminded her of her childhood.
The Santa
Express was in reality the Finchbottom Flyer, a 4-6-2 standard gauge
four-cylinder steam locomotive built at the Northchapel Works in 1933, liveried
in the black and gold of the DCRN, Downshire County Railway Network.
It was a
great work horse of the DCRN from 1933 until 1962.
After it
was taken out of service it was stored at the Northchapel Works and remained
there for twenty-five years, until it and several other engines and assorted
rolling stock were acquired by the Downshire Railway Preservation Society, with
the financial support and patronage of Baron St George of Mornington, who was a
man with a strong sense of history and his stewardship of the Mornington Estate
wasn’t restricted just to the land and properties within the Estate, they also
ensured the protection of historically significant buildings and landmarks
under threat from modernizers.
Although
steam railway engines didn’t really fall within the Estates normal parameters
his Lordship made an unprecedented exception.
The
acquisition of the Flyer was made in 1988 and the restoration was completed in 1992.
The maiden
journey for fare paying customers was on the August Bank Holiday in 1993 and
ran from Sharping St Mary to Sharpinghead and then onto Sharpington.
It wasn’t
until seven years later when the Sharpington spur line was completed, they had
access to the main Finchbottom line and were able to go County wide.
It was two years earlier than that when the Flyer had its first outing
as the Santa Express which ran from Sharping St Mary station to a secret
location where Santa was waiting in his village and grotto.
It was actually the old herb drying sheds which had been preserved and
renovated and dressed for the season.
The train picked up children and their parent’s late afternoon so that
they arrived at the grotto in darkness in order to make the most of the
spectacular lights.
It ran every day from the first of December up until Christmas and
there were always plenty of Elves aboard to ensure the children didn’t escape
from the carriages.
Clare
Gammon was one of those Elves, it was one of the high points of her year, she
well remembered her parents taking her when she was a young girl and she liked
to see other kids as excited as she used to be at their age.
On
Wednesday afternoon she drove to Sharping St Mary and when she got there the
kids were going crazy with excitement and she found the excitement was quite
infectious.
But her job
on the trip was to make sure none of the over excited little darlings fell off
the train.
There were
always plenty of helpers, many of whom she already knew, but there was often a
new face or two, and that Wednesday was no difference, but one helper fell into
both categories.
She had
just got aboard the carriage and closed the door when a voice behind her said
“My God its
Miss Piggy”
Only one
person had ever called her Miss Piggy, and that was Michael Cooper, but she
hadn’t seen him since they were at school together when they were 14, because
he moved out of the village, she didn’t know where to.
She turned
around to face the speaker,
“It is you”
he said and laughed, and the schoolgirl crush she had on him as a 14-year-old
girl flooded over her again, even though the tall man with broad shoulders and
hands like shovels, short brown hair, neatly trimmed beard, and hazel eyes, was
so different from the boy she worshipped, only his infectious laugh was the
same.
“Michael!”
she exclaimed
“The very
same” he replied
“Not the
same” she corrected him “but definitely you”
She had
never believed in love at first sight or in soul mates, she thought them rather
fanciful notions, the stuff of romantic fiction and sentimental movies.
That was
until she met the grown-up incarnation of Michael Cooper when she was instantly
smitten, but she doubted he would feel the same.
“What are
you doing here?” she asked
“The same
as you”
“That’s not
what I meant” she said, but then became aware that the sounds of bedlam were
emanating from her carriage
“I’d better
go” she said regretfully
“I would
love to catch up though” she called over her shoulder
“Me too” he
shouted after her
She did
catch sight of him a couple of times after that, the first time was when one of
the Elves, Lily Farmer managed to trap him between the carriages armed with a
bunch of mistletoe and only when she had satisfied herself in the pagan ritual
did, she let him go.
Irrationally,
having witnessed the kiss, she was not at all happy about it, but she did enjoy
seeing him again.
Now if the
kids were excited on the way to the grotto, then judging by the decibel level,
they were even more so on the way back to the station.
The second
time she saw him was when they disembarked after the return journey, and the
children and their parents made their way home, when her own cousin Eleanor kissed
him and said goodbye.
Sadly, she
never got to speak to him again, not that day at any rate.
She drove
back to Willow rerunning the day’s events in her head and just as she pulled
onto her drive, her phone rang, so she came to a halt and answered it.
“Hello!”
“Hi Clare”
her cousin Eleanor said
“Guess who
asked me for your number today?”
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