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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