The Baghdad Railway Club(28)

It went without saying – since he had public school written all over him – that he had never worked on the footplate, so I asked how he’d come by his driving skills.

‘See . . . my old man has four hundred acres in a little spot called St Keyne.’

‘That’s in Cornwall,’ I said.

He nodded. ‘Little railway goes right through our land.’

‘The Lyeskard and Looe line?’

‘That’s right,’ he said, and I could tell what he was thinking: This bloke really is a railwayac. ‘You know it?’ he said.

‘Read about it.’

‘Why would anyone write about the old L and L?’

‘St Keyne was in The Railway Magazine – in a series called “Notable Railway Stations”.’

‘Notable? What’s notable about it?’

‘Its smallness,’ I said. ‘As I recall, the waiting room is the station master’s front room.’

‘That’s right,’ said Stevens. ‘Plays war about it, he does.’

‘He told The Railway Magazine it gave him the chance to meet all sorts of fascinating people.’

‘Old Williams? Did he really? He’s a bit of a pill actually, is that chap, but the other chaps, the drivers on the line . . . They were all right, and they’d give me rides up.’

‘They taught you driving?’

‘Well, gave me a few pointers, you know.’

‘I’d have given fortunes to have cab rides on a branch line.’

Silence for a space.

I asked, ‘How long have you known Shepherd?’

‘Oh, practically for ever you know. His folks know my folks. His dad was at the University with my dad.’

‘And were you at the University with him? With Shepherd, I mean?’

He shook his head.

‘The Shepherd’s a good ten years older than me. And I wasn’t at the University. The Shepherd was, of course.’

‘Oxford or Cambridge?’

‘Can’t recall. One or the other though, I know that.’

‘Why do you call him The Shepherd?’

‘Well now . . . why do I call him The Shepherd? Always have done, I suppose.’ I thought that might be the end of the matter, but Stevens was really thinking about it. ‘It’s his name, isn’t it? So that’s one reason, and then again he’s like a shepherd.’

‘How?’

‘Well, I don’t mean he keeps sheep. His folks own a fair old patch of Wiltshire, you know, but I don’t believe there’s a sheep on it. But he’s calm, and I suppose a shepherd is taken to be a calm sort of chap.’ He paused for a second, before adding, ‘Not that he doesn’t pull off the craziest stunts.’

I thought: That fits the bill, if what I’ve been told about him is true.

‘What sort of stunts?’ I said.

‘Oh, I don’t know.’

And this time, it seemed, he really didn’t.

‘You’re a boxer aren’t you?’ I said.

‘Yes,’ he said slowly, ‘I am.’ And he eyed me shrewdly for a while. ‘How the deuce did you work that out?’ He didn’t wait for an answer, but said, ‘You met The Shepherd in a hotel didn’t you?’

‘We got to talking,’ I said, ‘and we found we had a mutual interest in railways.’

He nodded. ‘Nuts on railways is The Shepherd. Anyhow, I’m off now.’

‘Where to?’ I said, trying to keep a light tone, for I felt I was exceeding my limit of questions.

‘Oh,’ said Stevens, ‘number eleven Clean Street.’

You’d have thought the place was known to all, but I put off asking about Clean Street in favour of a flurry of quick questions that got from Stevens the following data during his progress towards the door. His battalion had been one of those that had fought at Gallipoli. (Asked whether that show had been as bad as everyone said, he replied, ‘Oh, you know . . .’) He’d then joined the garrison force at Basrah, where he’d headed a team of PT instructors. He’d run into ‘The Shepherd’ practically the moment that he – Shepherd – stepped off the boat. The two had renewed their old acquaintance, and Stevens had accepted Shepherd’s offer to come up to Baghdad and help him run the railways. Stevens had not fought his way into Baghdad, as Shepherd had done, but come up in comfort on a steamer. As to our present work, I ought to remember – not that it really made any difference – that we were ‘Railways (Strategy)’. When I asked what that meant, Stevens said, ‘Search me. I think it means we try out The Shepherd’s ideas.’ He gave me to understand that most of the routine railway operation around Baghdad – not that there was much of that as yet – would fall to the Royal Engineers.