It looked miserable.
Typically, Jonty had arranged to go to the Keighley and Worth Valley Railway one day of his school half term, and, lo and behold, when he looked out of the window on that grey morning of that day of destiny – Rain!
Everything had been prepared the day before; his dinner, his ticket, some overalls and he had gone to bed early. and there it was — Rain!
As Jonathan contemplated his bacon sandwich at the breakfast table his dad asked “Are you going then?”
Jonty was never one to let a little drizzle put him of helping on the Keighley and Worth Valley Railway. and with a confident "of course" he proceded to nearly break his tooth on one of those white bits you occasionally get in a bacon sandwich.
Jonty’s was glad that his dad walked through the siling rain to the station with him and saw him onto the train.
“Look after yourself” he shouted through the carriage window as Jonathan sat down, whilst the drops from his nose commenced their dripping onto that months edition of 'Railway Magazine' that his dad had bought for him.
The pictures of trains fired his imagination as he looked forward to the day's tasks. As a member of the Keighley and Worth Valley Railway. For such a young lad, Jonty was privileged to be able to help run the line and, as soon as he arrived, he would see the Station Master at Keighley who would tell him where to go and what to do. Usually if he arrived early enough he was given a good job, like riding up and down the line in a buffet car all day, or gardening at one of the wayside stations (There were six stations, Keighley, Ingrow, Damens, Oakworth, Howarth and Oxenhope). One day, if he was punctual, regular and well presented, and when he was much bigger, he hoped to be able to drive the steam engines.
So engrossed was he in his thoughts that Keighley Station arrived in next to no time and, as he got up with a start, the automatic doors sliced shut on his train. With frightening efficiency the guard had assumed no one was alighting and rushed the train on it’s way.
Unfortunately Jonty had to get of at the next stop (Steeton), cross the bridge at lonely, damp and exposed Steeton Station in the rain and wait half an hour for the next train back.
When he finally arrived at his Station Master's office in Keighley he was bedraggled, cold and... late.
“Hello Jonty” said the Station Master kindly “Where’ve you been?”
After his nervous explanation, Jonty was reassuringly told to catch the next train up the line to Oxenhope and see old Jim, the curator at the museum there, where he would be allocated his task for the day.
Jonty loved the steam train ride up the valley. but was a little disappointed when Jim shoved him to a dark corner of the museum polishing brasses, out of sight of the trains and removed from contact with most customers.
By this time Jonty was running so late that it was soon dinnertime and it was with growing anticipation that he had watched the weather outside gradually brighten, enabling him to take his knapsack outside to sit on the platform to eat his lunch while he watched the trains pull in and have their engines shunted round to take their carriages back down the valley.
Jonty always loved to sit where the platform began to slope, as this was just where the engines would be re-coupled prior to their return journey.
The sun had dried everything out apart from the very spot at the top of the slope where both a puddle and Jonty had chosen to sit, but even a wet bum couldn‘t spell Jonty's enjoyment as he heard a train coming up the track.
You can always see the steam first from Oxenhope Station, and as the engine hove the round the curve in the cutting it made a splendid sight. It was a LMS 5212 , a splendid engine named a 'Black Five' which was rarely seen on the railway as it was such an imposing beast that it was most sought after, and leant to, other railways. It was capable of pulling a great deal more than some of the smaller engines used by the line, and liked to announce itself with proportionate proclamations. Accordingly it made more noise, smoke and steam and was altogether much impressiver!
Jonathan sat drinking his soup with some satisfaction as the engine hissed to a halt at the far end of the platform. As he fished around for his second course, the engine was taken to the points and reversed up alongside.
His second course was, unfortunately, one of his mum's specials; a pie filled with what appeared to be chocolate coloured Portland cement. Jonty only discovered this when he tried to bite into it, severely aggravating the tooth which he generally used for bacon sandwiches. His mum made great pastry however, but, just as he began to nibble round the pie, the engine, for a reason known only the the driver, let off a mighty hoot. Right next to Jonty.
Now, the hoot of a Black Five is something special at a mile distant. At two hundred yards cows stop producing milk. but at two hundred centimetres, only six feet from your ear, the effect is mind numbing.
This unpredictable eruption convulsed every muscle in Jonty's little body and sent the pie shooting into the air like a clay pigeon. On landing, it being round, it rolled down the platform coming to rest in the ballast at the bottom of the slope.
Unfortunately as Jonty watched his pie settle, other beady eyes had spotted the morsel.
Wherever tourists congregate, birds learn to gratefully accept all tit-bits thrown by them, and Oxenhope Station was no exception.
An inordinately large Magpie, built, fuelled and buffed by a regular supply of high octane fodder donated by the visitors to the Keighley and Worth Valley Railway, swooped down and, with the elegance of a fully loaded Jumbo Jet taking off for Singapore, managed to steal the pie from in front of an aghast Jonathan, and lumber off with its swag.
Jonathan watched incredulously as the huge bird. barely gaining altitude flapped of slowly down the valley to its destination.
What else could happen to poor Jonty? He luckily managed to find a Mueller yoghurt but of course, no spoon. The train left and blew steam at him, and it was a wet, hungry, sticky fingered, frustrated Jonty who returned to his polishing.
Old Jim, the curator, like most of the volunteers on the line, liked Jonty, and as he could sense Jonty was not totally happy (Kind old men do have that knack). He suggested an early return to Keighley.
"I've got just the job for you" he said as he unlocked the museum strongroom and reached onto the top shelf. Jonty's eyes opened wide as old Jim carefully wrapped a gleaming locomotive nameplate in a small blanket.
“I've rung up the Station Master at Keighley and told him you'll be bringing this down on the next train. make sure you take it straight to him, as it’s probably the most single valuable plate we have.”
Jonty peeked in wonderment beneath the blanket. He always read the adverts in the railway magazines and knew that this was a very precious cargo.
The sun was still shining as Jim saw him onto the train. Jonty sat on top of the nameplate and watched the valley so by. Before long he was at Keighley and, picking up the plate, alighted while looking for the Station Master.
Unfortunately, very unfortunately, Jonty's bad day had not finished. In the hubbub of the train arriving, the guard, porters and Station Master were temporarily occupied.
Jonty felt a push, and before he knew it the plate had been snatched right from beneath his arms, and Jonty was in a heap on the floor. His assailant bounded up the long ramp towards the main road but, despite being only eight, Jonathan shouted and ran after him.
It was no good; by the time Jonathan had run as fast as he could to the main road the robber was running quickly away from the little boy as only a man can.
Jonathan was mortified. He though of how old Jim had trusted him, and how all the members used to look after and talk to him. But all that would be gone now. They’d say it wasn't his fault but they’d all know it was. Worse still, as an outcast from the Society he would never realise his dream of being an engine driver.
He knelt down and hid his eyes beneath his arms.
God moves in mysterious ways they say, as do many of his creations. At that precise moment in time one of Sir William Stainer's creations, the large Black Five Locomotive, for a reason known only to the driver let of a mighty hoot as it rested by the points below the road bridge parapet. If ever a sound could manifest itself as ground to air missile. the hoot of a Black Five was that. The blast rent the air for quarter of a mile around the station, and for the second time that day galvanised the de facto owner of one of Jonty's mum's famous Portland pies into a state of severe shock. The fatigued Magpie, after its long flight down the valley with it’s bulky cargo, had no energy left, and, within sight of its roost, dropped the pie from a height of 200 feet. Owing to its density, its height and the laws of physics the pie coincidently approached terminal velocity Terra Firma simultaneously. It was fast, and had begun to whistle.
The robber, meanwhile, while accustomed to the blast from ordinary engines, felt defensively compelled to look above him when he heard the decreasing tone of the plummeting pasty.
Too late. In order to focus quickly on his impeding doom, the robber's eyes crossed with cartoon inevitability as it landed right on the bridge of his nose, BANG! knocking him out cold and spread-eagling the unfortunate on the floor.
Jonty hardly believing his eyes and how everything had happened so quickly, was first to the scene and, with equal measures of joy and speed picked up the plate, bashing it over the prostrate criminal's head for good measure.
Needless to say, from then on Jonty was never consigned to polishing in the museum (although there were times when he volunteered for old times' sake). Old Jim even fashioned an small plaque which was placed beneath the nameplate in its display case which simply read `THIS PLATE WAS SAVED BY JONTY', which has remained an object of great admiration for visitors to this day.
