‘When the Midland Railway was authorised in 1844,’ said Cope, ‘we inherited an assortment of locomotives from the constituent companies. There were 95 in all, plus 282 carriages, 1256 goods wagons and a number of horseboxes, post office vans and carriage trucks.’
‘The Midland Counties had tiny Bury locomotives,’ recalled Colbeck, ‘but the North Midland had those sturdy, sandwich-framed ones.’
‘So did the Birmingham and Derby Junction.’
‘Is all this relevant?’ wailed Tallis.
But the other two men ignored him. They were inspired by everything they saw, from the turning of the huge wheels on massive lathes to the riveting of the boilers and the ingenuity of the bending tubes. The pounding of the giant steam hammers made Tallis put his hands over his ears but the others took the hullaballoo in their stride. It was in the roundhouse that Colbeck simply stood and stared in awe. It was the largest structure of its kind in the whole country, with a turntable at its centre and a series of parking bays running off it like the spokes of a wheel. There was a fearsome compound of smells and sounds. Cope indicated points of interest and Colbeck evinced an almost childish glee.
‘How much longer is this going on?’ complained Tallis.
‘You may leave if you wish,’ said Colbeck.
‘I thought we came here to learn something.’
‘We’ve learnt dozens of things, Superintendent.’
‘All that I’ve learnt is that it was an act of madness to accompany you. The stink is unbearable and I think my eardrums are perforated. How can anyone work in such appalling conditions?’
‘Employees adapt very quickly, sir,’ said Cope. ‘Apprentices start as young as thirteen years of age. They work an eight-hour day and are controlled by a steam whistle. Only when it rings for the sixth time can they end their shift.’
‘It makes our day seem soft by comparison,’ said Colbeck.
‘Nonsense!’ exclaimed Tallis. ‘We work longer hours and often have to be on duty all night. Also, I should remind you, we face danger on a daily basis.’
‘So do the employees here.’
‘It’s true,’ said Cope, sadly. ‘We have far too many accidents. Railway workers need to keep their wits about them. Some men have been incapacitated for life, and I’m ashamed to admit that we’ve had fatalities.’
‘You’ll have another if I have to stay here any longer,’ grumbled Tallis.
‘At least stay to see the turntable in action,’ urged Colbeck.
‘I’ve seen enough.’
‘There’s something I’ve always wanted to do.’
‘I think I can guess what it is, Inspector,’ said Cope. ‘Give me a moment and I’ll arrange for your wish to be fulfilled.’
‘What’s this about a wish?’ asked Tallis.
After removing his hat and his coat, Colbeck handed them to him.
‘Please look after those for me, Superintendent.’
‘Where are you going, man?’
‘You’ll soon see.’
A locomotive had been driven onto the turntable and stood there throbbing with latent power. Cope was speaking to the fireman who gave an affirmative nod. It was the signal for Colbeck to hurry over to them. After taking instructions, he and the fireman went to one side of the turntable while two other railwaymen went to the other. After rocking the vast wheel to and fro for a little while, they put all their strength into a heave. To the amazement of the watching Tallis, four men were making a locomotive of immense weight turn as if it were made of paper. They pushed on until it had completed a semicircle then locked it into position so that it could drive frontwards out of the shed again. Colbeck was overjoyed to have been part of the operation. Ignoring the fact that the fireman’s hand was covered in coal dust, he shook it gratefully.
Tallis was both bewildered and annoyed, mystified by what Colbeck had done and infuriated that he was holding the inspector’s hat and coat. There was worse to come. A steam whistle suddenly went off only yards away and Tallis was so startled that he took a few injudicious steps away, only to get his foot jammed under a rail and to fall backwards on the ground. His yell of anguish brought Colbeck running over to him. Picking up his discarded hat and coat, he bent over the superintendent.
‘Are you all right, sir?’ he enquired.
‘No, I’m not,’ howled Tallis. ‘Thanks to you, I may have broken my ankle. Why did you ever bring me to this hellhole?’
‘The visit has paid a handsome dividend, sir.’
‘Is that how to describe my injury?’
‘Didn’t you see what happened?’ asked Colbeck with controlled excitement. ‘I just discovered how to solve this murder.’
CHAPTER NINETEEN
It was strange. Lydia Quayle had been living in London for a few years yet nobody in her family asked her about the sort of existence she led there. Their minds were instead fixed on the murder inquiry and on the imminent funeral of the victim. Even her mother showed no curiosity in where she’d been and what she’d been doing. The mood in the house was sombre. Faces were drawn and voices low. Lydia found it oppressive. Having left her sister alone for so long with their mother, Agnes began to feel territorial, insisting that it was her place to maintain the bedside vigil and refusing to be supplanted by Lydia. She therefore returned to her accustomed position and left her sister free to reacquaint herself with her brothers. Before she did that, Lydia made her way to her father’s study so that she could look at the portrait of the man who’d become such an ogre in her perception. Almost bursting out of the gilt frame, Vivian Quayle seemed horribly lifelike with his abiding sense of achievement and his air of unassailable confidence. Even though she knew that he was dead, Lydia felt a cold hand run down her spine.
She was struck anew by the incongruity of a room with many bookshelves yet few books. It was so different from the well-kept library that she shared with Beatrice Myler in London. There was no place for paintings or decorative objects there. Every shelf was occupied by a book of some sort and piles of them stood on the table and on the window sill. Beatrice was far too self-effacing even to consider the idea of having her portrait painted. Lydia’s father, by contrast, filled the room with his personality.
‘What are you doing in here?’ asked Lucas.
He’d entered so quietly that she twitched in surprise at the sound of his voice.
‘I’m sorry, Lydia. I didn’t mean to give you a shock.’
‘Being back in this house has given me a series of shocks, Lucas.’
‘There haven’t been many changes.’
‘In my opinion, there have been lots. It may look the same to you but it seems vastly bigger than I remember. That could be because I’ve been used to a much smaller house, of course. It’s gloomier and less welcoming here than in the past. Then there’s mother,’ she said with a note of self-reproach. ‘That’s the major change. If I’d know she was so unwell, I’d have come sooner.’
‘I did urge you to do that in my letter.’
‘I’m ashamed to say that I didn’t even read it properly. Father was alive then and … well, let’s just say that his presence kept me away.’
‘We missed you, Lydia.’
‘You did — and I’m grateful for that. Stanley would never have bothered to track me down and Agnes is already showing signs of her old envy.’
He took her by the shoulders and placed a gentle kiss on her cheek.
‘It’s a tonic to see you again.’
‘Thank you, Lucas.’
‘I wish we could have met in other circumstances.’
‘That would have been impossible,’ she explained. ‘It took a dreadful event like this to bring me back. I’d never have returned to Father’s deathbed. I’m here for the family, not for his sake.’