Shadows in the Steam Page 6

  Mysterious happenings occurred on the southern stretch of this line between Helmshore and Ramsbottom in the late 1950s. The platelayers and gangers who maintained the track in those days were a tough lot, prepared to be out in all weathers and able to do heavy physical work as well as paying scrupulous attention to the state of the track, an attention which could make the vital difference between safety and disaster. They were also a close-knit lot, which didn’t mean that they necessarily all got on well with each other!

  Two of the men in the gang certainly seemed to have it in for each other. What had started as good-natured banter turned increasingly edgy with personal insults, and then degenerated further into fisticuffs. On several occasions the men had to be separated and prevented from doing serious injury to each other. This culminated in tragedy. The gang were checking a stretch of track between the stations when one of the men, some distance ahead of the others, found that the door of a platelayer’s cabin was open. These little buildings contained tools and other equipment and made tempting targets for thieves. He entered, whereupon he was followed in by another of the gang who dealt him such a blow on the head that it killed him instantly. The assailant was one of the men who were at loggerheads and he had mistaken the man who went into the cabin for the work-mate he so much hated.

  It wasn’t long before the scene of this tragedy gained the nickname ‘The Murder Cabin’. Nor was it long before the ghost of the murdered man made his presence felt. The men came to call the spectre ‘George’, which was odd because that hadn’t been his name when he was alive. The first time one of the gang encountered George was when he was forced to take shelter during a torrential thunderstorm. It certainly knows how to rain in this part of Lancashire! He sat on an old barrow waiting for the storm to ease when a man walked in who he recognised as George and went and stood in the furthest dark corner without saying a word. This was odd but it didn’t particularly bother the ganger. The rain stopped and out came the sun. He got up and went outside, to be followed by the spectre which then simply vanished into thin air. He decided to keep his experience to himself in case his mates thought he was off his trolley. On another occasion the whole gang were crushed together in the cabin sheltering from a storm when the same figure walked in, passed through the press of bodies as if they weren’t there and went to stand in the same dark corner. They all recognised George and scarcely batted an eyelid, knowing that he had the habit of returning to the scene of his death. It was clear that they all accepted George as the resident ghost.

  Passenger services over this stretch of line ceased in 1966, the withdrawal of freight trains followed and the track was dismantled, some of the formation now being used by the A56 road. And that’s progress?

  LEICESTERSHIRE

  Rothley

  Rothley is one of the four stations on the restored Great Central Railway. The origins of the Great Central lie in a number of railway companies which amalgamated to form the Manchester, Sheffield & Lincolnshire Railway in 1847. This company was sometimes derided as the ‘Money Sunk & Lost’. In fact the company developed its operations on a complicated network of lines cutting an east to west swathe from Cleethorpes through North Lincolnshire, South Yorkshire, into South Lancashire, Cheshire, Merseyside, as far as Wrexham in North Wales, sometimes by arrangements with other companies. The MS&L moved vast quantities of freight and mineral traffic, especially coal, over these lines.

  In 1864 the company came under the chairmanship of Edward Watkin (later Sir Edward), a ruthless and ambitious entrepreneur who was not content with its provincial nature and was determined that it should have an extension to London. Even that wasn’t enough because he then proposed that, via the lines of other companies he controlled, this route would be further extended to the Kent coast and, through a tunnel under the Channel, would connect his railway empire with various major cities on the Continent. A grand vision indeed!

  Pushing aside those who argued that another line from the North to London wasn’t needed, he launched the building of the ‘London Extension’ from near Annesley, north of Nottingham, through the latter city, Leicester and Rugby, to Quainton in Buckinghamshire and then, by arrangement with the Metropolitan Railway and a short piece of its own line, to a station in London at Marylebone. This new operation was to be called the ‘Great Central Railway’.

  The line was built on a magnificent scale, heavily engineered to minimise gradients. It was truly a high-speed route and, as further evidence of Watkin’s grandiose scheme, it was built to accommodate continental rolling stock which has a more generous loading gauge than is normal in Britain. The story of its decline in the 1950s and ’60s under the stewardship of British Railways has often been told and never fails to arouse emotions. Be that as it may, the bulk of the line was closed, although a residual service was kept from Rugby to Arkwright Street Station in Nottingham, this finally being withdrawn in 1969.

  Rothley still sees trains because an eight-mile stretch from the northern suburbs of Leicester to Loughborough was restored and reopened by the Great Central Railway as a heritage line. Each of the four stations has a time theme, and Rothley’s is the period shortly before the First World War. As well as providing a delightful evocation of train travel in those far-off days, Rothley Station has acquired the reputation of being haunted. Ghosts present are said to include that of a former stationmaster who fusses about self-importantly marshalling passengers who, like him, are dressed in Edwardian fashions. The supporting cast includes very occasionally an aged, stooped man said to be a former signalman, a young and very smart woman flourishing a parasol and a lady who is slightly anachronistic because she is dressed in Victorian modes.

  LINCOLNSHIRE

  Barkston

  Barkston is a few miles north of Grantham and is the place where the East Coast Main Line crosses the Nottingham to Sleaford, Boston and Skegness route. There was formerly a triangular junction at Barkston, one side of which was a south to east curve allowing trains from Grantham to proceed directly to Skegness or, via Leadenham, to Lincoln. A north to east curve allowed trains from the Newark and Doncaster to access the Skegness line directly while the western side of the triangle was the East Coast Main Line. All these lines were built by the Great Northern Railway. Until 1955 there was a small station on the main line at the southern end of the triangle.

  At one time locomotives fresh from building or repair at Doncaster Works would be given a gentle running-in by travelling from Doncaster, taking the north to east curve to Barkston East Junction, reversing from there to Barkston South Junction and then, facing north, returning to Doncaster where their drivers would report any faults that needed rectifying before the locomotives were given final clearance from the works. These locomotives might be from Scotland or the north-east of England, and some of them might not normally be seen so far south. This meant that the Barkston area attracted trainspotters eager to underline such exotic beasts in their dog-eared Ian Allan abcs. Trainspotters had much in common with twitchers.

  At one time numerous reports were received of a mysterious figure that crossed the line perilously close to advancing trains and much to the annoyance and concern of their drivers. The same figure was also seen scaling the ladders up to the arms of the old-fashioned somersault semaphore signals as if to inspect the oil lamps to ensure they were functioning correctly. It was not unknown for trainspotters to do foolish things while showing off to their mates. Was this figure the ghost of some forgotten trainspotter re-enacting the foolhardy actions of the past? Or is there some other explanation? Trainspotters these days are far fewer in number. No one has seen the spectre of Barkston for nearly fifty years.

  The East Coast Main Line and the Skegness line are still operational. The Barkston Junctions, however, are no more.

  Bourne

  Bourne is a pleasant small town in south Lincolnshire. It was once the junction of lines that radiated to all four cardinal points. The first of these was the Bourne & Essendine Railway which was opened in
May 1860 and gave the town access to the route of the Great Northern Railway from London that became known as the East Coast Main Line. This company was absorbed by the Great Northern in 1864, and it enjoyed a slow and somnolent existence until 1951 when it closed completely. In August 1866 the Spalding & Bourne Railway opened and later became part of a company with greater ambitions, as suggested by its name: the Midland & Eastern Railway. In 1872 the Great Northern Railway opened its route to Sleaford from Bourne, this closing to passengers in 1930. The final opening was that in 1894 of the line to Little Bytham Junction and Saxby to the west. This and the line eastwards to Spalding became part of the Midland & Great Northern Joint Railway and its fabled cross-country route from the Norfolk coast to the East Midlands.

  Many existing buildings were taken over and adapted for railway use in Britain in the nineteenth century, and one of the most interesting is Red Hall at Bourne. Although the origins of the hall are not absolutely certain, it is thought to have been built around 1600 and almost certainly by a member of the local Fisher dynasty. Later on in the seventeenth century it came into the hands of the Digby family. This has led to the emergence of a local myth which has almost taken on the status of received wisdom. This avers that the Red Hall has a connection with the family of Sir Everard Digby, one of the chief conspirators in the Gunpowder Plot of 1605. The myth has shamelessly been expanded by those who say that Red Hall was one of the meeting points of the conspirators while they were planning their dastardly deed. Never letting the truth get in the way of a good story, it has even been alleged that Red Hall is haunted by the ghosts of some of the gunpowder plotters!

  In 1857 Red Hall was sold to the Bourne & Essendine Railway Co. It was within a few yards of the railway and it became a rather grand stationmaster’s house and ticket office. It later came under the ownership of the M&GN Railway who decided that it was no longer suitable for their purposes and it was proposed for demolition. This suggestion created an absolute furore in the town, and the locals, with the assistance of the Society for the Protection of Ancient Buildings, were successful in preventing the demolition from going ahead.

  Passenger trains ceased at Bourne in February 1959 when large parts of the M&GN lost their passenger and in some cases all their services, closing completely. Freight services were withdrawn from the town in 1965. Red Hall became redundant when passenger trains finished and its condition was allowed to deteriorate until once more it became a candidate for demolition. Fortunately in 1962 it was acquired by the Bourne United Charities and, with the aid of various grants, an expensive repair and refurbishment was done. It then became a community resource greatly appreciated by the townsfolk.

  One of the authors used to present courses for the Workers’ Educational Association in a room in Red Hall. One particular course was held on ten winter evenings, and on those occasions a key-holder would appear a few minutes before the meetings were due to start in order to open the building up. The author liked to prowl around the grassy area surrounding the hall, even in the dark, and to speculate about what the place must have been like when there was considerable railway activity so close by. He remembers very clearly his surprise when one night he arrived about half an hour early and found the door open but no lights on in the building. Deliberately not turning the lights on, he decided to have a look at the rooms upstairs. They were very atmospheric in the almost total darkness, but not threatening in any way. There was nobody about. He made his way back down to the room on the ground floor where the meetings took place, still with ten or so minutes to spare. He remembers even more clearly how he then heard the clear and unmistakeable sound of creaking floorboards as someone moved around in one of the upstairs rooms. The key-holder was amazed to find him installed because the hall had been left locked. Was it a human intruder or someone from the ‘other side’ in Red Hall that winter’s evening?

  Front of Red Hall, Bourne. Few main station buildings in small country towns were located in such distinguished premises.

  Red Hall from the south.

  Claxby & Usselby

  This station served two settlements with strong Scandinavian origins as indicated in the ‘-by’ element in their names. As so often happened, the station was not located very conveniently for either of them. It was on the line originally built by the Manchester, Sheffield & Lincolnshire Railway (later the Great Central) from Lincoln through Market Rasen to Barnetby and Grimsby, and it opened for business in 1848.

  In the 1960s tragedy struck in the signal box when the signalman on duty suffered a sudden and fatal heart attack. Subsequently other men working in the box heard a variety of strange and inexplicable noises which included a disembodied voice. What sent shivers through them was the fact that they knew the voice. It was unmistakable. It was that of their deceased colleague!

  The line is still operational but the station closed in March 1960.

  Elsham

  Elsham was a small wayside station on what became the line of the Manchester, Sheffield & Lincolnshire Railway (later Great Central Railway) between Doncaster, Barnetby and Grimsby. This stretch of line was opened in 1866. Close to where the line crosses the Ancholme River an accident occurred in the 1920s in which four people were killed. Fog in Britain is not what it used to be, but during the period from 1930 to the 1950s there were strange reports that on those occasions when a fog descended an eerie stationary steam locomotive could be seen, the fiery glow from its furnace visible from afar. No one has claimed a sighting since. The line through the former Elsham Station is still operational.

  Elsham; a typical wayside station of the former Manchester, Sheffield & Lincolnshire Railway, known to many as the ‘Money, Sunk and Lost’ railway!

  French Drove

  The line from Spalding to March was built by the Great Northern Railway Co. and opened in 1867. In 1882 it became part of the Great Northern & Great Eastern Joint Railway Co. The line, for all that it passed through the heart of the rural Lincolnshire Fens, was a very heavily used major goods and mineral route, part of a system joining the coal-producing districts of west and south Yorkshire and Nottinghamshire to the coal-starved districts of East Anglia and, more particularly, London.

  French Drove Station had had a period when it was known as French Drove and Gedney Hill. The latter part of the name is a commentary on the relative nature of language. Any piece of land protruding more than a couple of feet above the extraordinarily uniform flatness of the Fens constitutes a hill in these parts. The station closed to passenger traffic in September 1961 and the station house was put on the market. A family from outside the district moved in, and they were slightly nonplussed when a local postmistress told them in no uncertain terms that the house they had moved into was haunted.

  The family was a level-headed lot, not taking this kind of information too seriously. However, it wasn’t long before strange occurrences were happening in their new home. This they were renovating themselves, the house needing a lot of work to make it liveable in. Their mail was usually delivered by a post lady on a bicycle. One morning they had made an early start and were beavering away busily when they heard a woman’s voice by the front door, which they often left open on warm days. They assumed that it was the friendly post lady and one of them went to greet her. No one was there. No post either – it came later that day. This was puzzling, but the woman’s voice was soon forgotten as they buckled down to work again.

  A few weeks later a youngish man knocked on their door. He told them that he had worked at the station a few years ago, was revisiting the area and had to come to have a look for sentimental reasons, and was curious as to who was occupying the house now that passengers no longer came and went – not that there’d been many in the latter years, anyway. He was very pleasant and they invited him in for a cup of tea. He had plenty of memories of the old days and kept them interested, but they certainly pricked up their ears when he told them that many years previously a stationmaster had hanged himself in the room above the former ticket o
ffice. His wife used to help out by closing the station at night, and when it was dark she attended to these duties carrying a lantern because the station, like so many others in the depths of the countryside, was ill-lit. She herself hadn’t been able to face life without her husband, and she simply lost the will to live, withered away and died not long after his death. The man told them that a figure carrying a lamp was often seen in the vicinity of the station during the hours of darkness, which is why many of the locals avoided going anywhere near the place if at all possible. Everyone felt that the place was haunted.

  This revelation inevitably had a slightly dampening effect on their enthusiasm for the building and renovation work they were doing on the house. This feeling became much stronger a few months later when, last thing at night, one of the family spotted what looked like a lamp being carried along the formation of the old line, 100 yards or so away. He called the others who all agreed about what they saw. A few restless nights followed until they discovered that it was actually the lamp on the bike belonging to a man who lived in a former crossing-keeper’s cottage a mile or two down the line and who used often to take a shortcut home where once the trains had thundered past at all hours of the day and night.

  This still left the mystery of the woman’s voice early that morning and the tales of apparitions around the old station so gloatingly repeated by the locals.