Fairy Tale Birth At Hazel Grove
by Angus Shoor Caan
Genre: Drama
Swearwords: One strong one only.
Description: All in a day's work for a vastly underpaid rail worker.
____________________________________________________________________
Hans saw the woman board the train at Manchester Piccadilly, her and another ten or so passengers, or, ‘customers’, as they were now to be termed.
He checked for tickets between Piccadilly and Levenshulme, and picked up a discarded copy of the Manchester Evening News, knowing he had an hour and a half in Hazel Grove sidings to kill, and a curmudgeonly driver who didn't go in much for conversation.
According to the ticket check, no one was travelling beyond Stockport. On arrival at Stockport, Hans made sure no one boarded the train, saving him the trouble of walking through for another check. The platform dispatcher came back for a chat, they had attended safety briefings together and were good friends through that. Time to go and he gave Hans the signal and he in turn buzzed the driver to set off.
No one boarded between Stockport and Hazel Grove so Hans gathered his traps together in readiness for changing ends in the sidings.
The driver didn't even acknowledge him as they passed each other mid-train, but Hans, and others of his grade, were well used to such behaviour from him.
Deciding he was hungry, Hans reached in his bag for the flask and wrapped pack of sandwiches he had prepared earlier. He saw his hands were grubby, remembered a recent health and safety brief that said folding money was one of the biggest spreaders of germs, and headed for the toilet to wash.
The toilet door only partially opened and Hans could see the woman via the mirror, she was obviously in some distress. He remembered she was heavily pregnant when he checked her ticket.
“The....the baby's coming,” she gasped. “I thought I wanted to pee but the baby's coming. I'm sure of it.”
“First thing we need to do,” said Hans calmly, “is get you out of this cramped space. Can you move at all?”
“I'll......I'll need some help.”
There was a long seat opposite the toilet and between them they managed to get her to it.
“I'm Hans,” he told her. “I've got three kids of my own so I don't want you to panic. Is this your first?”
“Yes. I'm Christiane. Hans? Is it Hans did you say? I need to get to a hospital, Hans, please.”
“OK, Christiane. I have to leave you for a couple of minutes but I'll be right back. Don't worry.”
Hans dashed through the train to the front cab, opened the door and addressed the driver, who was himself eating lunch.
“We've got a pregnant lady on board about to give birth. Could you get on to the signalman and have us platformed right away? Oh, and tell him to send for an ambulance?”
“Fuck off,” said the driver through a mouthful of something disgusting. “Can't you see I'm eating. Besides, I walked through this train and there's only you and me on it.”
Hans reached beyond the man and picked up his schedule docket. He checked the train reporting number, opened the local door and ran to the signal telephone.
“Hello, Bobby,” he said when the signalman answered. All railway signalmen are colloquially named ‘Bobby’ for convenience. Hans gave the reporting number and explained the situation, repeating it at the Bobby's request.
“I've a slow freightliner due through in a few minutes,” explained the Bobby, “and then I'll have you in. Keep an eye out for the signal. I'll have an ambulance here as soon as I can arrange it, over.”
“OK, Bobby. Thanks. Over and out.”
The driver was still eating when Hans climbed back aboard. He hadn't moved.
“You couldn't even go and check on that poor woman?” he raged, incensed. “You are one ignorant bastard of a man. Watch for that signal changing and get us in there as soon as you get right of way. I don't believe you just sat there filling your face when we have a situation here.”
Christiane was on the floor when Hans reached her.
“Shit, Christiane. Did you fall? Are you hurt?”
“No, no,” she tried to laugh, “I got down here myself....more comfortable. What's happening, Hans? You were a long time.”
“Bloody driver wouldn't get off his lazy arse. Didn't you hear me shouting at him?”
“Something else on my mind at the moment,” she tried to laugh again, then gasped in pain. “How.....how much longer, Hans?”
“Not long now,” assured Hans. The freight train was trundling past the sidings but it barely seemed to be moving. “Can you hold on for another couple of minutes?”
“Well.....if I can't, you're going to be a midwife. In fact, you'd better start scrubbing up.”
A few moments later the train lurched into Hazel Grove station. Hans ran to the back cab and released the doors and the ambulance crew wasted no time in assessing Christiane.
The driver, unhappy at being spoken to in such a manner by a lowly conductor, marched along the platform, intent on having a word. Hans got in first.
“She's going to be fine. Think yourself lucky, you lazy, idle bastard.”
Hans ended up travelling to hospital in the ambulance with Christiane, who gave birth to a healthy baby boy on the way. The train driver, a hulking brute of a man, had knocked him out with a single blow.
The banner headline on the late edition of the Manchester Evening News read,
Swearwords: One strong one only.
Description: All in a day's work for a vastly underpaid rail worker.
____________________________________________________________________
Hans saw the woman board the train at Manchester Piccadilly, her and another ten or so passengers, or, ‘customers’, as they were now to be termed.
He checked for tickets between Piccadilly and Levenshulme, and picked up a discarded copy of the Manchester Evening News, knowing he had an hour and a half in Hazel Grove sidings to kill, and a curmudgeonly driver who didn't go in much for conversation.
According to the ticket check, no one was travelling beyond Stockport. On arrival at Stockport, Hans made sure no one boarded the train, saving him the trouble of walking through for another check. The platform dispatcher came back for a chat, they had attended safety briefings together and were good friends through that. Time to go and he gave Hans the signal and he in turn buzzed the driver to set off.
No one boarded between Stockport and Hazel Grove so Hans gathered his traps together in readiness for changing ends in the sidings.
The driver didn't even acknowledge him as they passed each other mid-train, but Hans, and others of his grade, were well used to such behaviour from him.
Deciding he was hungry, Hans reached in his bag for the flask and wrapped pack of sandwiches he had prepared earlier. He saw his hands were grubby, remembered a recent health and safety brief that said folding money was one of the biggest spreaders of germs, and headed for the toilet to wash.
The toilet door only partially opened and Hans could see the woman via the mirror, she was obviously in some distress. He remembered she was heavily pregnant when he checked her ticket.
“The....the baby's coming,” she gasped. “I thought I wanted to pee but the baby's coming. I'm sure of it.”
“First thing we need to do,” said Hans calmly, “is get you out of this cramped space. Can you move at all?”
“I'll......I'll need some help.”
There was a long seat opposite the toilet and between them they managed to get her to it.
“I'm Hans,” he told her. “I've got three kids of my own so I don't want you to panic. Is this your first?”
“Yes. I'm Christiane. Hans? Is it Hans did you say? I need to get to a hospital, Hans, please.”
“OK, Christiane. I have to leave you for a couple of minutes but I'll be right back. Don't worry.”
Hans dashed through the train to the front cab, opened the door and addressed the driver, who was himself eating lunch.
“We've got a pregnant lady on board about to give birth. Could you get on to the signalman and have us platformed right away? Oh, and tell him to send for an ambulance?”
“Fuck off,” said the driver through a mouthful of something disgusting. “Can't you see I'm eating. Besides, I walked through this train and there's only you and me on it.”
Hans reached beyond the man and picked up his schedule docket. He checked the train reporting number, opened the local door and ran to the signal telephone.
“Hello, Bobby,” he said when the signalman answered. All railway signalmen are colloquially named ‘Bobby’ for convenience. Hans gave the reporting number and explained the situation, repeating it at the Bobby's request.
“I've a slow freightliner due through in a few minutes,” explained the Bobby, “and then I'll have you in. Keep an eye out for the signal. I'll have an ambulance here as soon as I can arrange it, over.”
“OK, Bobby. Thanks. Over and out.”
The driver was still eating when Hans climbed back aboard. He hadn't moved.
“You couldn't even go and check on that poor woman?” he raged, incensed. “You are one ignorant bastard of a man. Watch for that signal changing and get us in there as soon as you get right of way. I don't believe you just sat there filling your face when we have a situation here.”
Christiane was on the floor when Hans reached her.
“Shit, Christiane. Did you fall? Are you hurt?”
“No, no,” she tried to laugh, “I got down here myself....more comfortable. What's happening, Hans? You were a long time.”
“Bloody driver wouldn't get off his lazy arse. Didn't you hear me shouting at him?”
“Something else on my mind at the moment,” she tried to laugh again, then gasped in pain. “How.....how much longer, Hans?”
“Not long now,” assured Hans. The freight train was trundling past the sidings but it barely seemed to be moving. “Can you hold on for another couple of minutes?”
“Well.....if I can't, you're going to be a midwife. In fact, you'd better start scrubbing up.”
A few moments later the train lurched into Hazel Grove station. Hans ran to the back cab and released the doors and the ambulance crew wasted no time in assessing Christiane.
The driver, unhappy at being spoken to in such a manner by a lowly conductor, marched along the platform, intent on having a word. Hans got in first.
“She's going to be fine. Think yourself lucky, you lazy, idle bastard.”
Hans ended up travelling to hospital in the ambulance with Christiane, who gave birth to a healthy baby boy on the way. The train driver, a hulking brute of a man, had knocked him out with a single blow.
The banner headline on the late edition of the Manchester Evening News read,
Fairy Tale Birth At Hazel Grove
Hans, Christiane and her Son all doing fine
See page 5 for details
Hans, Christiane and her Son all doing fine
See page 5 for details
About the Author
Angus Shoor Caan is in an ex-seaman and rail worker. Born and bred in Saltcoats, he returned to Scotland after many years in England and found the time to begin writing.
Angus is the author of ten novels, two short story collections and four collections of McLimericks. All but three of his books are McStorytellers publications.
You can read his full profile on McVoices.
Angus is the author of ten novels, two short story collections and four collections of McLimericks. All but three of his books are McStorytellers publications.
You can read his full profile on McVoices.