Once again we are beholden to the current executors of the Knolly estate for letting us publish this, the second package of the great man's journals and memoirs.

Diddle–de, diddle-DA, clickety-click, clickety-clack went the sound of the rails on the track. So soporific, so calming, the sun was still climbing as we began to leave London and its waking hive of industry behind us, it was not surprising that my head began to droop on to Elspeth’s shoulder.

She made a noise and pushed me upright. 'I think you should sit opposite me don’t you?'

I stretched, smiled and dutifully changed seats once more. Now settled, I looked across at Elspeth buried in her book oblivious to the world rushing past. I returned my gaze to the view outside.

'Humpf…Bram Stoker, what does he know?' My breath steamed up a portion of the window and a childish drawing of a house began to appear.

'I’m sorry dear, did you say something?' enquired Elspeth.

I thought I had muttered this in my head but obviously not as my dear wife now peered over the top of her book.

'Hmm, no, no, just marvelling at the view. Good book is it?'

'Well it is a lot better than others that I have borrowed from Millicent. Oh! The books that gel reads ..... But I digress,' she said, folding a corner of the page over and placing the book neatly by her side.

'It’s very odd Knolly, but I need to know if you have ever met Mr Stoker?'

Ah, I thought here we go again, 'Why do you ask my dear?' I asked in a gentle probing tone.

'Mr Stoker, the writer, has created the character of a vampire hunter, a Mr Van Helsing; he seems very familiar to me, almost a bookish version of you.'

'Really? How odd. I must admit I have met the gentleman writer at one of Sir Arthur’s do’s. Quite a pleasant, fellow. Married one of Oscars’ old flames.'

I could see Elspeth was thinking hard at this point, 'You wouldn’t have let slip about certain activities after a few drinks would you?'

'I don’t know what you mean, tush! When have I ever come across vampires, hmmm?'

'Well, I don’t know,' she said her tone getting rather tetchy. 'You and Bertie got up to all sorts of things in Europe when you were younger.'

'It’s just a story, and not on a par with Sir Arthur’s works and - all right - I may have alluded to certain occurrences and may have given hints, but…'

There came a shout from the guard as he ran passed us:

'Madam! Sir! Brace yourselves.'

The driver must have applied the brakes with full force. The train skidded along the track, metal on metal generating an unholy racket, and all was a-screeching and a-judder and a-clatter. I held on to Elspeth, ensuring that she would not get too agitated by the erratic motion. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the guard once more, for he had not heeded his own words and consequently barrelled back along the corridor from whence he had come. We came to a halt with much whooshing of steam.

'What on Earth has happened?' exclaimed Elspeth. She was unhurt, but somewhat flustered. I settled her before opening the carriage window and looking out, and noticed some commotion further up the track. A policeman was walking the length of the train, providing explanations and assurance to the passengers as he went.

He consulted his notebook and spake thus: 'A Scandinavian gentleman - one Leif Lindqvist - was trying to push a market barrow across the tracks and became rather stuck.'

'Is he hurt?' I asked.

'Fortunately, sir, he is unhurt, but I fear for his wares.'

I went back into our carriage and explained to Elspeth. 'You mean that the train was brought to a stop by a Leif on the line?' she asked.

We chuckled at her play on words. I hoped that she would leave her book alone, but alas it was not to be.

With that interlude over and everyone back in their seats the whistle was blown and we were off once again. I deduced that what I needed was sleep and so I pulled one of the blankets down and snuggled down with the jolting rhythm once again.

I fear the lack of sleep the night before had dulled my senses for I had clearly forgot about the American watching my every move. However, he seemed to dwell in my subconscious and pop up in some further strange dreams of which I can only remember snippets. I noted to myself that I must discuss these with Bertie; living scarecrows, for instance. Luckily, I was awoken from my slumbers as we crossed over some major railway intersection and my head was dealt a heavy blow as it came into contact with the wooden window frame. Elspeth’s eyes rose over the top of her novel (and I use the term loosely here) and she peered at me and sighed in that way that all women can when it comes to their men-folk.

'Knolly you’re dribbling over that blanket! Thank goodness we have the carriage to ourselves!'

Why does that happen? I never dribble in my sleep when I’m in bed, but put me in an upright position to sleep and within a few hours I’ll look like a bloodhound. She took a handkerchief from the recesses of her handbag and proceeded to wipe my chin in rather too roughly a manner I thought.

'You’ll make a wonderful mother, you know that?'

Elspeth glared. 'Just tidy yourself up, in case other people get on at the next station.'

She quickly returned to her tale of Transylvania and I decided that I would not get any further conversation out of her until she had reached the end of the chapter or we got off.

'I’m just gong to stretch my legs dear,' I informed her. 'I won’t be long.'

Without looking up she waved a gloved hand in my direction and I stepped out into the corridor. Looking out of the window I could see we had now moved well into the countryside on a whim I decide to stick my head out of the window, something I had not done for many years. The wind whipped past my ears and I tasted the smoke and ash that was billowing out from the engine up ahead mixed with those fresh country smells. Being temporarily deaf I did not hear the ticket collector as he sidled up alongside me and tapped me on the shoulder.

'Tickets please!'

I nearly leaped through the window in shock. Not like me at all to have kept one's back unprotected and, to cap it all, I dinged my head once more on a window frame.

'Tickets please!' the railway official asked once more, but with a hint of a smirk at my dilemma.

I stepped back to the compartment to take the tickets from Elspeth who was waving them in my direction whilst still nose-deep in her book.

'Tell me, do you name your carriages at all?' I asked hesitantly of the inspector as I handed him our tickets.

The ticket collector gave me a bemused look.

'Why would we want to do that? It's the engines that are important not the carriages. No sir, these just have numbers. Why do you ask?'

'Oh, a passing thought, nothing more.'

He gave me a quizzical look handed me back my tickets and walked as quickly away as possible.

I returned to window gazing. How many stations had I slept through I wondered? I took out my pocket watch; a good hour had passed so it would not be long before we reached Andover Junction for our connecting train to Marlborough. If only all these tiny railway companies could be merged so that one didn’t have to change at all. Then again I don’t think the local populace would be in favour of such a grand scheme.

Fortunately, the remainder of the journey was uneventful. Our connecting train was just pulling in and only a few passengers joined us, so soon we were on our way once again.

We chuffed along through stations and villages I knew so well: Redpost, Weyhill, Ludgershall, Grafton, Collinsbourne and Savernake, very soon we were soon within the environs of Marlborough itself. Elspeth had put her book away at long last and was once again in a conversational mood.

She noticed the beaming smile on my face and spoke up. 'You miss all this don’t you, the countryside and all?'

I shook my head, 'No not really, it brings back too many memories. And you can’t really go back, can you?'

'Your friends would argue at great length about that I’m sure.'

'Oh yes! We could shut Herbert, Dr Roux, Bertie and Hobbes all the same room to debate travelling back into the past, but I wouldn’t want to be near it.'

Elspeth smiled and nodded. 'Rather an explosive mix aren’t they. But I would hate us to lose their friendship.'

'Indeed. Some of the League meetings can get rather fraught. All good stout fellows though. Hmm… do you remember when I first brought you to meet Auntie?'

'Knolly how could I forget. I was so nervous at meeting your family, and Bertie did not help at all with his generous measures of wine. And there was that Finnish Vodka he had been given from Alex.'

I laughed all too loudly at this and Elspeth pummelled me on my arms in an attempt to make me stop. This only made things worse and we were soon reduced to a giggling mess. Anyone looking in through our carriage window would have been rather shocked, I fear.

Ah! Marlborough Station! The first thing I noticed was a wonderful aroma that penetrated the background smell of the steam locomotive and fresh air. The smell of roasted chestnuts - a childhood favourite of mine. I bought a bag for the journey to Hoot Hall whist Elspeth went in search of transport to takes us up to the Hall.

Clutching my warm bag of nuts I followed her out of the station. She was not happy.

'I distinctly remember telling your Aunt our time of arrival, and would have at least expected Sol-Tan or Sag Aloo to have been here to meet us with transport.'

'Dear, I’m not surprised at all. She is probably miffed that we have come by train.

I proceeded to do a passable impression of my Aunt complete with associated hand waving, 'I can just hear her now. "Knolly! I buy you an automobile for your birthday and you come to see me by public transport." Bless her!'

Other passengers spilling out from the station out stared horrified at my loud tomfoolery and Elspeth hushed me up and bundled me in the direction of a horse drawn cab.

As I took my seat, Elspeth stared at my nuts and wrinkled her nose.

'Why,' she asked, 'have you just paid good money for a bag of burnt conkers?' I didn't bother to offer her any.

The cab afforded us a leisurely trot through the town and into the countryside. So many memories! I pointed out to Elspeth where my cousins and I would go scrumping in the autumn-time. And there was Treacle Bolly! Here, I had an experience that set me on the road to adulthood, for it was at this place on a warm July afternoon many years go that Molly Saunders once treated me to a glimpse of her foundations. I was profoundly moved by this event, so much so that I did not eat or utter recognisable words for a fortnight; indeed Auntie was so troubled by my state that she sent me to Brighton to recuperate. However, when she eventually discovered that my condition was brought about by a glimpse of bloomers, I received a hearty biff on the bonce.

I decided not to share that particular memoir with Elspeth.

The Great Knolly Archive

The Shepherd and
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