Keeper of Secrets: Chapter 1: The Arrival

[Chris in Prague]

Sylvia's growing understanding of the world of trains had sharpened her awareness, attuning her to the rhythms and sounds of the railway. For weeks, she had felt a strange tingling in her fingertips whenever she neared running water, but she had dismissed it as imagination. Sometimes, out of the corner of her eye, she caught glimpses of vague, wavering silhouettes near streams or ponds, but they always vanished when she turned to look. These odd sensations and fleeting visions were pieces of a puzzle she could not yet understand – hints of a hidden power stirring within her, waiting for the right moment to reveal itself.

One fateful afternoon, as Sylvia and Rusty took their usual stroll along the Castle grounds, the distant chug of an approaching train caught her attention. She paused, watching intently as a heavily laden goods train laboured up the steep incline towards the caverns beneath Trevelver Castle. The locomotive's laboured breaths echoed across the landscape, each exhalation of steam a testament to its burden. The acrid smell of coal smoke and warm oil mixed with the sweet scent of wildflowers, creating an oddly comforting aroma.

As the train crawled past, Sylvia's keen eyes spotted something alarming – an axlebox under one of the ammunition vans glowed an ominous cherry red, with tendrils of evil-smelling smoke curling upward. Her heart leapt into her throat, pulse quickening. Memories of Stationmaster Treskerby's warnings about overheated axleboxes causing derailments flashed through her mind. She could picture the dangers: derailment, explosion, catastrophe in the caverns under the Castle.

Time seemed to slow. The world around Sylvia faded away, leaving only her, the train, and the imminent disaster. Indecision raged within her – should she run for help? Signal the guard? But there was not time. Without conscious thought, her focus shifted to a nearby stream, the tingling in her fingertips intensifying to an almost painful degree.

[Chris in Prague]

What happened next defied explanation. A succession of shimmering orbs of water, no larger than a football, rose from the stream. They hovered in the air, pulsing, refracting sunlight into a dance of miniature rainbows. Sylvia stared, transfixed by the peculiar sight, a mixture of awe and fear coursing through her.

Suddenly, as if answering a silent call, the watery spheres sprang into action. One by one, they launched towards the train, streaking through the air like liquid comets. Sylvia watched, wide-eyed and breathless, as the glistening orbs arced gracefully overhead.

With a sound like angry cats, the spheres smashed against the glowing axlebox. Steam erupted in great billowing clouds, momentarily obscuring Sylvia's view. She rubbed her eyes in disbelief, wondering if what she had seen was real or just her imagination playing tricks.

When the hissing vapour cleared, she blinked hard and looked again. The axlebox was transformed. Its menacing cherry-red glow faded rapidly, cooling to a harmless, rusty black before her very eyes.

Sylvia stood frozen, her mouth slightly open. Had she really seen what she thought she had seen? Had she somehow made it happen?

Rusty, who had been watching the entire spectacle with rapt attention, let out a soft whine and pressed himself against Sylvia's leg. His warm presence anchored her, reminding her that this was real, not some fantastic daydream.

As the last drops of water fell onto the tracks with a soft patter, Sylvia remained rooted to the spot. Her mind was spinning, trying to understand what had just unfolded before her eyes. A whirlwind of emotions swept through her – excitement, fear, and confusion all mixed together in a dizzying blend.

In that moment, as she absently stroked Rusty's fur for comfort, Sylvia knew something big had changed. The amazing scenes from her grandmother's stories about brave girls saving the day were not just pretend anymore – she could feel something special and powerful inside her, like butterflies in her tummy but all through her body and even in her head.

A funny, almost metallic tang hung in the air around her. Sylvia had noticed this smell before, usually when strange things happened around her. She had always thought it was just her imagination playing tricks.

[Chris in Prague]

The steady rumble of the goods train jolted Sylvia from her daze—danger still loomed. Heart racing, she sprinted towards the slow-moving train, with Rusty loping alongside her, barking excitedly. Her eyes locked onto the guard's van—a weathered grey wooden box on four wheels, its chipped paint and rust spots bearing the marks of years of service. As it rolled along at the rear, Sylvia's desperate shouts pierced the air, trying to catch the guard's attention, who stood oblivious on the far side of the van's small, covered platform.

"Guard! Guard!" she called out, waving frantically. "The axlebox! It's too hot! On the ammunition wagon!"

Alerted by her cries, the elderly railwayman quickly moved to the side of the van facing Sylvia. He leaned out, his bushy eyebrows furrowing with alarm as he gave her his full attention. "What's that then, me little maid?"

"The axlebox was smoking on the ammunition wagon!" Sylvia called back, her voice urgent. She had been told that overheated bearings could seize up, causing a terrible derailment. "It's stopped smoking now, but it's screeching bad! You gotta check it when you stop! It might break!"

[Chris in Prague]

The guard's eyes widened in recognition of the grave danger, and he nodded sharply. "Yer right there, me dear! That's proper serious, that is! I'll 'ave 'em check it the moment we stops. Could've been a right disaster, that could. 'Ow did 'ee spot it, then?"

Sylvia bit her lip, thinking fast. "I... I saw smoke", she shouted, feeling better as the train slowed down near where it was going to stop.

"Well, bless my soul!" the guard shouted as the train pulled ahead. "You've done us a right good turn today, you 'ave! Thank 'ee kindly, miss!"

She stood still as the train disappeared into the reception sidings outside the caverns, her pulse racing. She looked down at Rusty, who wagged his tail and whined softly. "Did you see that, Rusty?" she whispered, her voice trembling. "The water... I think I made it move. I... I don't understand what's happening to me."

Rusty tilted his head, his brown eyes seeming to say he had seen it all. Sylvia reached down to scratch behind his ears, her mind whirling with the implications of what had just happened. She had always known she was different, but this... this was beyond anything she had ever imagined. As the reality of her newfound power settled in, a mix of excitement and trepidation filled her. What other wonders – or dangers – might lie ahead?

With a deep breath, Sylvia straightened her shoulders. Whatever this might mean, she would face it head-on. But first, she needed answers, and she knew just where to start. It was time for a long-overdue conversation with her grandmother about the true nature of those tingling sensations.

[Chris in Prague]

As they returned to the Castle, questions flooded Sylvia's mind. Was this the ancestral power her grandmother had hinted at? Were there other things she could do? And most importantly, who could she tell about this extraordinary event? The familiar walls of Trevelver Castle loomed before her, suddenly full of secrets waiting to be uncovered. Yet, as Sylvia gazed upon her ancestral home, excitement and determination welled inside her. Whatever this power was, whatever it meant, she was ready to embrace it. After all, she was a Trevelver, and Trevelvers had always been ready for adventure. With Rusty by her side, Sylvia squared her shoulders, prepared to unravel the mysteries that lay ahead and discover the true extent of her newfound abilities.

In the following days, the incident with the water and the overheated axlebox left Sylvia both exhilarated and confused. As she tried to understand what had happened, she looked at her familiar surroundings with new eyes. Even her beloved toys seemed different now, as if they, too, might hold hidden secrets. The lines between the ordinary world of trains and the extraordinary world of magic began to blur in her mind, transforming her everyday life into a landscape of potential wonder and discovery.

[Chris in Prague]

On a sun-dappled afternoon, five-year-old Sylvia sat cross-legged among her wooden toys in the Castle's airy morning room. A sprawling farmyard and village spread across the rug, bathed in sunlight streaming through tall, arched windows. Rusty lay curled beside her, his tawny coat glowing in the warm light, his tail softly thumping as he watched with drowsy, protective interest.

Sylvia's fingers traced the contours of a stone barn and a quaint farmhouse, her miniature world dotted with stables, a chicken coop, and a pigsty. White-painted fences and grey stone walls snaked across the carpet, mirroring the undulating grounds outside. A duck pond shimmered with reflections of overhanging trees, and painted figures stood outside village buildings—a general store, bakery, post office, school, church, and pub.

Sylvia pushed a green tractor with a trailer laden with hay bales across the carpet. The room smelled of old books, beeswax polish, and a hint of lavender from her mother's perfume.

Her gaze fell on two wooden passenger trains. One train was a rich dark green, while the loco. of the other was a lighter green with chocolate and cream coaches.

Next to the trains was a new addition—a goods train, a birthday present from Sir George, featuring various wagons and vans. The light blue vans for the Castle Estates, dark blue for the Castle Brewery, and bright orange for the North Cornwall Pasty Co. made Sylvia smile as she recognised the family businesses.

Tracing the bright orange wagon with her finger, Sylvia's eyes lit up. "Mummy, do you remember when we visited the North Cornwall Pasty Company?"

Lady Penelope smiled warmly. "Of course, darling. That was a lovely day, wasn't it?"

Sylvia nodded enthusiastically. "Oh yes! The smell of the pasties was simply divine. And I watched the workers crimping the edges—it was terribly fascinating."

"Indeed it was," Lady Penelope agreed. "And do you recall the train that pulled into the siding while we were there?"

"I do!" Sylvia exclaimed. "I asked you if it was our train, didn't I?"

Lady Penelope nodded. "You did, clever girl. And I explained that it was frightfully important for transporting pasties and other goods across the country."

Sylvia looked at her toy train with newfound understanding, her eyes sparkling with recognition. "So, Mummy, my little orange van is just like the big ones we saw in Penmayne?"

Lady Penelope beamed with pride. "Exactly, darling. Your toy train is a miniature version of the real ones that help our family's businesses."

"How splendid!" Sylvia exclaimed, her excitement palpable. She then turned her attention back to the passenger trains. "Mummy, why are our passenger trains, my trains, different colours?"

Her mother looked up, setting her book aside. Her gentle smile reflected her pride in Sylvia's observations, and a warm smile illuminated her face.

"How a very good question, darling. Those different colours represent two different railway companies."

Sylvia listened intently, the distant chime of the Castle clock tower marking the quarter-hour. Outside the window, she could hear the faint rustling of leaves, carried by a gentle breeze that brought with it the salty tang of the sea.

"Railway companies?" Sylvia echoed, her brow furrowing slightly.

"Indeed," Lady Penelope nodded. "The dark green one is the Southern Railway, and the lighter green with chocolate and cream coaches belongs to the Great Western Railway."

Sylvia picked up the two trains, examining them closely. "But why do we need two, Mummy? Isn't one enough?"

Lady Penelope chuckled softly. "A very good question, Sylvie. Having two railway companies is actually rather advantageous for us. It's rather like... hmm..." She paused, considering how to phrase it. "It's rather like having two roads to the same destination instead of just one. If one road is terribly busy or closed for repairs, we can use the other."

"Oh!" Sylvia's eyes lit up with understanding. "So, we can always send our pasties and such, even if one train is out of sorts?"

"Precisely, darling!" Lady Penelope beamed, clearly impressed. "And it's not merely for transporting our goods. It also aids in bringing more visitors to Cornwall."

Sylvia nodded, then tilted her head curiously. "But Mummy, why do you prefer the dark green one and Daddy prefers the other?"

Lady Penelope's eyes twinkled with amusement. "My, you are particularly observant today. Well, the ladies in our family have always been very fond of the Southern Railway. Would you care to know why?"

Sylvia nodded eagerly, edging closer to her mother.

"You see, Sylvia, the Southern Railway was the first to use electricity to power its trains, especially around London," Lady Penelope began. "This made them faster, cleaner, and they run ever so smoothly. Its efficiency is most impressive, and its trains are almost always punctual, which we find terribly important."

"Like when we mustn't be late for tea?" Sylvia inquired.

Lady Penelope laughed lightly. "Yes, darling, rather like that. The Southern is always trying new things, always improving, and that feels frightfully exciting and modern to us."

"And what about Daddy's train?" Sylvia pressed, her curiosity piqued.

"Ah, yes. Your father and his family have always preferred the Great Western Railway", Lady Penelope explained. "You see, he grew up on Great Western territory and has the most delightful memories of its trains from his boyhood."

She continued, her tone warm with affection, "The Great Western is a bit grander and more traditional. A very famous engineer named Brunel helped build it, and his bridges and tunnels are considered absolute masterpieces. They used to have wider train tracks called broad gauge, which made the rides feel smoother and faster."

Sylvia's eyes widened. "It sounds splendid, Mummy!"

"Oh, it is... in its way", Lady Penelope replied. "Your father adores how beautiful and comfortable everything is—the stations are elegant, and the trains are designed to feel utterly luxurious. For them, it's not merely about reaching a destination; it's about enjoying the entire experience. He's terribly fond of their history and engineering."

Lady Penelope stood and walked to a tall bookshelf, returning with a heavy, leather-bound album. As she opened it, revealing sepia-toned images of people and locomotives from long ago, Sylvia spotted a distinguished man standing next to a gleaming train.

"Is that Great Grandpa?" Sylvia asked, her eyes wide with wonder.

Lady Penelope nodded. "Indeed it is, darling. This photograph was taken when he assisted in opening the new railway line from Bodmin Road to Boscarne Junction. Our family has long understood the importance of railways in connecting our businesses to the rest of the country."

She then opened a map and explained: "The Southern Railway runs from London Waterloo via Okehampton, Launceston and Wadebridge to Cant Cove, then Penmayne. It's a vital link for our businesses, connecting us to the capital and beyond. The Great Western Railway runs from London Paddington to Penzance, stopping at Bodmin Road with connecting trains to Wadebridge. Both these lines are essential for transporting our goods and bringing visitors to Cornwall."

Sylvia nodded, her mind racing with new understanding. "So both railways help us with our business, and that's why we need them?"

"Precisely, darling", Lady Penelope said, clearly impressed. "And one day, perhaps you'll help look after these railways and all the people who depend on them, too. You see, it's not just about trains, Sylvia. It's about connecting people, places, and livelihoods. That's why both the Southern and Great Western Railways are so terribly important to our family and to Cornwall."

As Sylvia returned to her toys, she viewed them afresh. In her imagination, her little trains now travelled the routes her mother had described—Penmayne to Cant Cove, Cant Cove to Wadebridge, and finally, all the way to London; the lines connecting her family's past, present, and future across Cornwall and England.

Sylvia then thought about how her toys differed from Gerald's soldiers and guns, lorries, and cars and how she loved spending time with her mother in the Great Library, while Gerald preferred playing outside.

A new certainty took root within her: being a Trevelver was about more than just trains and businesses. The strange magic she had sensed with the hot axlebox had stirred something deep inside her. She began to notice subtle shifts in her surroundings, feeling the presence of ancient and powerful forces.

A sudden hoot from a tawny owl startled her, knowing they normally slept during the daytime. The room's atmosphere shifted; sunlight turned golden and sparkly, and the air grew thick with anticipation. Sylvia felt the Castle holding its breath, the air charged with the tang of magic, like licking a coin. Her wooden toys seemed to tremble, and the bell on her toy sheep tinkled softly. Sylvia sensed something thrilling—and perhaps a little frightening—was about to happen, just like in her favourite tales.

[dannyboy]

Anything more planned Chris?
@Chris in Prague

[Chris in Prague]

Anything more planned Chris?
@Chris in Prague

Thanks, David. I'm now writing a trilogy featuring Sylvia. I began with what, later, became Book Two, from which some of these railway scenes are taken. Then, I decided it would be interesting to write about her birth and childhood, which grew into an entire book which I'm trying to complete before Christmas.

I'm still buying model railway items, including 3D-printed coaches but have no time to do anything with them!

I can post some more railway scenes. When Book One is finished, I can send you a .PDF as I'm keen to have some pre-publication readers' feedback. I'm trying to find one of my former students to design the book covers as I don't have the skills to do an expert job, only a rough draft.

Best regards.

[dannyboy]

This is all sounding quite interesting. 

When Book One is finished, I can send you a .PDF as I'm keen to have some pre-publication readers' feedback.

I do not mind being a guinea pig.