The villages of Chappel and Wakes Colne lie either side of the River Colne in North Essex. It is a beautiful part of England, well worth a visit, not least for the Swan Pub in Chappel, which sells excellent beer and delicious food, nestling in the shadow of the mighty Chappel Viaduct.
The Viaduct still carries a single track branch line from Marks Tey up to Sudbury, in Suffolk, but in its day Chappel station (now Chappel and Wakes Colne station) was a junction station, serving a branch to Cambridge via Haverhill (next stop White Colne) as well as the 'main' line to Sudbury, and from Chappel the trains faced a stiffish climb up to the next station at Bures.
So the signalman at Chappel could be quite busy...
Tuesday 14th May 1912: Chappel Signal Box
‘CLANG!!!!’
“Bugger!” yelled Charlie, jumping like a cat. He staggered to his feet, resolving to become a lifelong teetotaller, at least when he was on early shift. Being a signalman was no job for a man with a morning head.
He pressed the button to the Marks Tey box, then put his finger on the bell, so that it wouldn’t commit any further atrocities within his skull.
‘Click-click-click……click’, uttered the bell, sounding slightly aggrieved about having its big moment stolen.
He rang back 3-1, accepting the train, holding his finger on the button for the last push so that John, in the Marks Tey box, could release a token to give to the driver. Possession of that token enabled the train to enter a single track section, and no other token could be taken out until that one was safely back in its place. That would ensure that everyone would be saved all the boring paperwork which would have resulted from a head-on collision on the Chappel Viaduct.
The bell from the Bures box had a much more civilised ‘ding’, but Charlie muffled it nevertheless, and soon enough he had the token in his hand to give to the driver for the next section. He carefully pulled various levers to set the road and clear the signals for the train, and then he was ready with his handkerchief against the Marks Tey bell for when it announced that the train was on its way.
Charlie returned the call and lurched off to the platform, delighted with the success of the damage limitation exercise thus far.
It was not to last. The racket that a railway station makes in the ears of a man with a hangover is beyond description. Steam hissing out of every tube, the train squealed to a halt.
“CHAPPEL!! CHAPPEL STATION!! THIS TRAIN IS ALL STATIONS TO CAMBRIDGE VIA LONG MELFORD!!! CHANGE HERE FOR ‘ALSTEAD AND ‘AVERHILL!!!” Joe Quinney, the porter, had a loud enough voice when he was whispering, now he was yelling over the noise of the locomotive, and the general hubbub of the station. Doors slamming, people bellowing at each other. Charlie felt sick.
“You all roight, Bobby?” asked the driver, swapping tokens. Like most drivers, he called all signalmen ‘Bobby’, it saved them the bother of learning their names. He peered at Charlie narrowly. “Oi reckon yew was out on the razz las’ noight, moi lad!” Charlie nodded miserably, and the driver smiled triumphantly at the accuracy of his diagnosis.
Joe, barely six feet away, blasted on his whistle, and enthusiastically waved to the guard. “Right away, Mr Hopkins!”
“Thank you, Mr Quinney!” Hopkins waved his green flag.
The engine gave a shrill whistle, and began to chuff enthusiastically as it began to tackle the climb to Bures, but it left Charlie feeling as though every devil in hell was shrieking inside his head. He hurried back to the box to warn Bures that the train was approaching, and to replace the token and inform Marks Tey that the line was once again clear. Then he stood, watching the clouds of steam from the departing train disperse. As they did so, his headache also dispersed, the sun came out from behind the clouds, and a robin in a nearby tree began to sing his little heart out.
A figure, shrouded at first by the steam, coalesced into the single most beautiful human being Charlie had ever seen in his life. She was in her early 20’s, her satin-black hair cascading over her shoulders, a pale blue dress above darker blue shoes, and she gazed up at him through deep hazel-brown eyes. Charlie thought his legs might buckle beneath him.
“Er….hello?” he ventured.
“Hello Bobby! I would love to see inside your signal box!”
The Great Eastern Railway Company totally forbade the entry of any non-Railway personnel into its signal boxes.
“Come on up,” he said. “By the way, I’m not ‘Bobby’, I’m Charlie.”
“But the driver…”
He stood aside to allow her to enter into the box, catching the scent of her perfume as he did so. God, she was absolutely lovely!
“Every signalman is called ‘Bobby’ by every driver. It goes back to the days when we stood by the tracks waving flags.”
She wasn’t listening. “Wow! Look at all these levers! How do you know which one to pull?”
“If it moves, you can pull it,” he quipped. “What’s your name?”
“I’m Caroline, but you can call me ‘Cally’,” she smiled, “all my friends do. Look! You’ve left those two out of position! That black one and that blue one!” The crossover to the Sudbury line and the lock were still across.
“Try pushing the black one back,” he suggested.
She pushed at it, but it would not budge.
“Now try the blue one?”
It clicked back smoothly into line with the other levers. She laughed happily.
“Now push the black one.” That was a bit more effort, as she was now changing two points as she did so, but it went back well enough, and clunked into position. She skipped around the box in transparent delight. Charlie enjoyed his job, but it had never previously given him this much pleasure. He began to explain that the red levers moved the signals, the black levers moved the points, the yellow levers…
But she wasn’t listening again. “What’s that?” she asked, pointing up at the end wall.
“It’s a clock, Cally….”
“Not that, you ninny, above the clock!”
“It’s a crucifix. I’m Catholic.”
“Can I see it?”
Charlie fetched a chair, climbed up, unhooked the crucifix, and gave it to her.
At that moment, Bures rang once to call his attention. He answered, and, as expected, got 2-1 to say that the passenger train had safely arrived at the next station. No sooner had he cleared the line when Bures offered him a freight train, which must have been waiting in the loop there, which he accepted. Then Marks Tey offered him the Haverhill passenger train. He thought for a moment, then decided to accept that, too, holding the freight train at his signals until the passenger train was safely in the station, at which point the freight train could safely pass it. So he was quite busy, ringing through to Marks Tey, getting the token from White Colne for the Haverhill line, pulling levers.
He had an idea. Cally could take the token to the passenger driver, while he kept an eye on the freight! “Hey, Cally, why don’t you take this and give…..”
The token fell with a thud to the floor of the box. Cally’s blue dress was on the floor, she was stark naked, and she had been crucified on the signal box window frame. Her slender body stretched out and held out by four vicious looking nails. A crown of thorns sent rivers of blood across that beautiful face. She looked just like Jesus, except that she lacked the loincloth.
“Cally! What the HELL?”
Charlie was torn between lust and duty, between arousal and confusion. The bells behind him clanged twice as the trains entered his sections.
“Charlie…” she groaned, “Charlie!”
“Cally, how in God’s name did you get like…like…. THAT?”
“Charlie…. Jesus says….Jesus says…. You MUST stop the passenger train!”
“Whaaat?”
“There will be a crash…. On the bridge….dozens will die…. Brakes failed on the freight train.”
“But….”
“CHARLIE! NOW!!!! You have to stop the train!”
The Viaduct still carries a single track branch line from Marks Tey up to Sudbury, in Suffolk, but in its day Chappel station (now Chappel and Wakes Colne station) was a junction station, serving a branch to Cambridge via Haverhill (next stop White Colne) as well as the 'main' line to Sudbury, and from Chappel the trains faced a stiffish climb up to the next station at Bures.
So the signalman at Chappel could be quite busy...
Tuesday 14th May 1912: Chappel Signal Box
‘CLANG!!!!’
“Bugger!” yelled Charlie, jumping like a cat. He staggered to his feet, resolving to become a lifelong teetotaller, at least when he was on early shift. Being a signalman was no job for a man with a morning head.
He pressed the button to the Marks Tey box, then put his finger on the bell, so that it wouldn’t commit any further atrocities within his skull.
‘Click-click-click……click’, uttered the bell, sounding slightly aggrieved about having its big moment stolen.
He rang back 3-1, accepting the train, holding his finger on the button for the last push so that John, in the Marks Tey box, could release a token to give to the driver. Possession of that token enabled the train to enter a single track section, and no other token could be taken out until that one was safely back in its place. That would ensure that everyone would be saved all the boring paperwork which would have resulted from a head-on collision on the Chappel Viaduct.
The bell from the Bures box had a much more civilised ‘ding’, but Charlie muffled it nevertheless, and soon enough he had the token in his hand to give to the driver for the next section. He carefully pulled various levers to set the road and clear the signals for the train, and then he was ready with his handkerchief against the Marks Tey bell for when it announced that the train was on its way.
Charlie returned the call and lurched off to the platform, delighted with the success of the damage limitation exercise thus far.
It was not to last. The racket that a railway station makes in the ears of a man with a hangover is beyond description. Steam hissing out of every tube, the train squealed to a halt.
“CHAPPEL!! CHAPPEL STATION!! THIS TRAIN IS ALL STATIONS TO CAMBRIDGE VIA LONG MELFORD!!! CHANGE HERE FOR ‘ALSTEAD AND ‘AVERHILL!!!” Joe Quinney, the porter, had a loud enough voice when he was whispering, now he was yelling over the noise of the locomotive, and the general hubbub of the station. Doors slamming, people bellowing at each other. Charlie felt sick.
“You all roight, Bobby?” asked the driver, swapping tokens. Like most drivers, he called all signalmen ‘Bobby’, it saved them the bother of learning their names. He peered at Charlie narrowly. “Oi reckon yew was out on the razz las’ noight, moi lad!” Charlie nodded miserably, and the driver smiled triumphantly at the accuracy of his diagnosis.
Joe, barely six feet away, blasted on his whistle, and enthusiastically waved to the guard. “Right away, Mr Hopkins!”
“Thank you, Mr Quinney!” Hopkins waved his green flag.
The engine gave a shrill whistle, and began to chuff enthusiastically as it began to tackle the climb to Bures, but it left Charlie feeling as though every devil in hell was shrieking inside his head. He hurried back to the box to warn Bures that the train was approaching, and to replace the token and inform Marks Tey that the line was once again clear. Then he stood, watching the clouds of steam from the departing train disperse. As they did so, his headache also dispersed, the sun came out from behind the clouds, and a robin in a nearby tree began to sing his little heart out.
A figure, shrouded at first by the steam, coalesced into the single most beautiful human being Charlie had ever seen in his life. She was in her early 20’s, her satin-black hair cascading over her shoulders, a pale blue dress above darker blue shoes, and she gazed up at him through deep hazel-brown eyes. Charlie thought his legs might buckle beneath him.
“Er….hello?” he ventured.
“Hello Bobby! I would love to see inside your signal box!”
The Great Eastern Railway Company totally forbade the entry of any non-Railway personnel into its signal boxes.
“Come on up,” he said. “By the way, I’m not ‘Bobby’, I’m Charlie.”
“But the driver…”
He stood aside to allow her to enter into the box, catching the scent of her perfume as he did so. God, she was absolutely lovely!
“Every signalman is called ‘Bobby’ by every driver. It goes back to the days when we stood by the tracks waving flags.”
She wasn’t listening. “Wow! Look at all these levers! How do you know which one to pull?”
“If it moves, you can pull it,” he quipped. “What’s your name?”
“I’m Caroline, but you can call me ‘Cally’,” she smiled, “all my friends do. Look! You’ve left those two out of position! That black one and that blue one!” The crossover to the Sudbury line and the lock were still across.
“Try pushing the black one back,” he suggested.
She pushed at it, but it would not budge.
“Now try the blue one?”
It clicked back smoothly into line with the other levers. She laughed happily.
“Now push the black one.” That was a bit more effort, as she was now changing two points as she did so, but it went back well enough, and clunked into position. She skipped around the box in transparent delight. Charlie enjoyed his job, but it had never previously given him this much pleasure. He began to explain that the red levers moved the signals, the black levers moved the points, the yellow levers…
But she wasn’t listening again. “What’s that?” she asked, pointing up at the end wall.
“It’s a clock, Cally….”
“Not that, you ninny, above the clock!”
“It’s a crucifix. I’m Catholic.”
“Can I see it?”
Charlie fetched a chair, climbed up, unhooked the crucifix, and gave it to her.
At that moment, Bures rang once to call his attention. He answered, and, as expected, got 2-1 to say that the passenger train had safely arrived at the next station. No sooner had he cleared the line when Bures offered him a freight train, which must have been waiting in the loop there, which he accepted. Then Marks Tey offered him the Haverhill passenger train. He thought for a moment, then decided to accept that, too, holding the freight train at his signals until the passenger train was safely in the station, at which point the freight train could safely pass it. So he was quite busy, ringing through to Marks Tey, getting the token from White Colne for the Haverhill line, pulling levers.
He had an idea. Cally could take the token to the passenger driver, while he kept an eye on the freight! “Hey, Cally, why don’t you take this and give…..”
The token fell with a thud to the floor of the box. Cally’s blue dress was on the floor, she was stark naked, and she had been crucified on the signal box window frame. Her slender body stretched out and held out by four vicious looking nails. A crown of thorns sent rivers of blood across that beautiful face. She looked just like Jesus, except that she lacked the loincloth.
“Cally! What the HELL?”
Charlie was torn between lust and duty, between arousal and confusion. The bells behind him clanged twice as the trains entered his sections.
“Charlie…” she groaned, “Charlie!”
“Cally, how in God’s name did you get like…like…. THAT?”
“Charlie…. Jesus says….Jesus says…. You MUST stop the passenger train!”
“Whaaat?”
“There will be a crash…. On the bridge….dozens will die…. Brakes failed on the freight train.”
“But….”
“CHARLIE! NOW!!!! You have to stop the train!”
Last edited:
A job one better did not do after a heavy night.
We cannot blame her for every disaster.
