It's a fair spring day in Brent and just a mile or so away the ganger has paused in his walk of his length for a breather and a quick Woodbine outside the PW hut near the narrow metal bridge that carries the lane to Cheston. It was very quiet, with just the gentlest of breezes from the south west and the sound of bird song in nearby Lady's Wood. There had been a lot of rain the previous week, and the little culvert under the main lines was still full with gurgling water running off the moor. Joshua Finching yawned and checked his pocket watch. There was no real hurry, the Down 'Limited', with it's usual gleaming 'King' and new 'Centenary' stock would be due in half an hour, plenty of time to continue his patrol up to nearby Wrangaton station.
A sudden 'poop poop' heralded the approach of a large motor car in the lane above. Probably Sir Greville, returning to Glazebrook House, after doing some business or other in Plymouth. The heavy and rather ancient Wolseley laboured up over the bridge, the sound gradually receding as it disappeared down the lane.
Joshua contemplated a second cigarette but decided to continue with his inspection. He was about to get to his feet, when the distant whistle of a Great Western loco echoed on the breeze. 'What's that, then?' he wondered, 'nothing due on the up for a while yet'. Silence returned, and Joshua reluctantly stood, but the sudden realisation that he could be at The Horse and Groom in Bittaford before closing time gave him a new impetus.
He started to walk towards the summit, when he again heard the whistle on the breeze, only louder this time. Then there was a second whistle, a slightly different pitch. The breeze stiffened and he heard snatches of locomotive exhaust. The sound faded again, to be replaced by the bird song and the hum of the breeze through the telegraph wires. Then it returned, this time the faint but unmistakable sound of two steam locomotives in double harness, being worked hard against the gradient. This must be a special, he mused. As Joshua approached the portal of Wrangaton Tunnel, the cacophony increasing in volume as he got nearer the short tunnel, with the station visible beyond. The twin whistles echoed again, warning of the approach of the special. Joshua stepped clear into the Down cess, not wanting to get caught by the sound of this unexpected up train masking the sound of anything on the Down.
Suddenly, the smokebox of a small Prairie hove into view, with a larger engine coupled behind. With a volcanic exhaust and deafening roar, the second locomotive was revealed to be one of the new 72XX 2-8-2 tank engines, it's Brunswick green still respectably clean. The driver on the '45' gave him a friendly wave, and Joshua glimpsed the fireman on the '72' working hard, filling the firebox, as the train, composed of a seemingly endless procession of box vans, passed him. Finally, the smoke from the exhaust cleared the shallow cutting, as the 'Toad' brake van lurched past and disappeared onwards towards Brent.
Quiet returned to the countryside as Joshua continued walking through the short tunnel and emerged at Wrangaton station. He had barely reached the neat, stone signabox, when the block bell from Brent announced the imminent arrival of the Down 'Limited'...