Thank you.
E. Nesbitt's Story of the Railway Children, dramatized in four parts by Marcy Cahan.
Part One.
We were not railway children to begin with.
I don't suppose we ever thought about railways except as a means of getting to the theatre or the zoo or Madame Tussauds.
We were just ordinary suburban children.
Roberta, the eldest.
Everyone called me Bobby.
And Peter.
And Phyllis, the youngest.
We had a mother who did not spend all her time paying dull calls to dull ladies.
She was almost always there, ready to play with us and read to us and help us with our homework.
And she used to write stories for us.
And we had a father who was just perfect.
Never cross, never unjust, and always ready for a game.
If he was not ready, he always had an excellent reason for it.
We had everything we needed.
Pretty clothes, good fires, heaps of toys, and a dog called James.
We ought to have been very happy.
We were very happy, only we didn't know how happy.
Not until the dreadful change...
It came quite suddenly.
Peter got a model engine for his tenth birthday.
And after only three days, he broke it.
Phyllis broke it.
I did not.
You did so.
At any rate, we all waited until Father came home and had had his dinner and his after-dinner cigar.
Father was most clever with his fingers.
All our hopes are pinned on Father.
I suppose you want to listen to your gramophone, Father.
We don't blame you if you do.
And not be bothered with accidents.
Accidents?
What's this about accidents?
Now dear, if you're quite comfy, the children want to tell you about the great railway accident and show you Exhibit A, Your new steam engine, Peter.
What happened?
It sort of exploded and Peter cried.
I didn't cry.
I had a cold.
Is there no hope, Father?
Hope?
Tons of it.
It needs a new valve.
I think we'd better reserve Saturday afternoon and you shall all help me.
Can girls help to mend engines?
Of course.
Girls are just as clever as boys and don't you forget it.
How would you like to be an engine driver, Phil?
My face would always get dirty.
I should just love it.
Do you think I could when I'm grown up, Daddy?
Or even a stoker?
You mean fireman.
Well, if you still wish it when you're grown up, we'll see about making you a firewoman.
I remember when I was a boy.
Come.
Two gentlemen to see you, sir.
Oh, dear.
A little late for visitors, Ruth, I think?
I did explain that, sir, but they wouldn't listen.
No?
What are the gentlemen's names?
They wouldn't give names.
I'm sorry, sir, they were very forceful.
I've shown them into the study.
Who on earth?
If an Englishman's home is his castle, why don't they equip suburban villas with moats and drawbridges?
I expect it's the choir holiday fund.
Get rid of them quickly, dear.
I wish we had got a moat and drawbridge.
Then when we didn't want people, we could just pull up the drawbridge and no one else could get in.
And Ruth could be a fire-breathing dragon in a moat, frightening people away.
Better not let Ruth hear you say that.
Why not?
It's more fun being a dragon than a parlour maid.
Isn't that so, Mother?
I expect so, dear.
I want to hear Father's story about when he was a boy.
He may have forgotten by now.
Then why don't I help pass the time with a brand new story?
About a princess with green eyes.
Yes, please.
A princess with green eyes and a fire-breathing dragon named Ruth and a brave heroic girl named Phyllis and a little... Quiet, Phil, listen.
I've no idea what you're talking about.
So you say, sir.
So I say.
Of course I say.
It happens to be the truth.
At last, father's rung to have them shown out.
Thank goodness, they're going.
Why were they shouting, mother?
Ruth?
Please, Mum, the master wants you to step into the study.
He looks like the dead.
I think it's bad news, a death in the family.
That'll do, Ruth.
You can go.
As for you, my dears, now, don't look so worried.
Don't worry.
Mother will sort it out.
She'll terrify them.
She'll send them packing.
You'll hear their screams all the way down the street.
Shh!
Listen.
You really must insist, sir.
You are making a very grave mistake.
What are they saying?
Ruth?
They're calling Ruth.
Bobby, I don't like it.
I know.
There's an awful lot of commotion.
They've gone.
Thank goodness.
Mother?
It's bedtime, darlings.
Ruth will put you to bed.
But you promised we could sit up late and talk to father.
Father's been called away on business.
But mother, it's night time.
I know, darlings.
It can't be helped.
Won't father come in and kiss us goodnight?
He asked me to kiss you goodnight on his behalf.
Where's daddy gone?
I can't tell you anything more.
Now be good, darlings.
Go on up.
It wasn't bad news, mummy.
Is anyone dead?
Nobody's dead.
No.
Go, dear.
Go now.
It was all very mysterious.
Phyllis and I went straight up, but Peter waited for Ruth on the stairs.
Ruth!
Master Peter!
You should be in bed.
I say, Ruth, what's up?
Ask no questions and you'll be told no lies.
You'll know soon enough.
And later, when Mother came up and kissed us as we lay asleep, I was the only one whom the kiss woke.
I said to myself, if Mother doesn't want us to know she's been crying, we won't know it.
That's all.
When we came down to breakfast the next morning, Mother had already gone out.
And she wasn't home at one o'clock, dinner, nor at tea time.
It was nearly seven before she came in.
Now, my darlings, I want to tell you something.
Those men last night did bring very bad news.
And Father will be away for some time.
I want you all to help me by being good and happy and not quarrelling when I'm away, for I shall have to be away a good deal.
We won't quarrel, Mother.
Indeed we won't.
Also, I want you to promise not to ask me any questions about this trouble and not to ask anybody else.
I did ask Ruth.
I'm very sorry, but I did.
What did Ruth say?
She said I'll know soon enough.
No, Pisa.
It's not necessary that you should know at all.
It's about business.
Government business, Mother.
Yes.
Now, it's bedtime, my darlings.
Don't worry.
It'll all come right in the end.
Don't you worry either, Mother.
We'll all be as good as gold.
We'll begin first thing tomorrow.
Why not now?
There's nothing to be good about now, silly.
You might begin to try to feel good and not call names.
Who's calling names?
Bobby knows that when I say silly, it's just the same as if I say Bobby.
I don't know any such thing.
I mean, it's just a... What is it Father calls it?
A germ of endearment.
Good night.
MUSIC PLAYS
Everything continued to be perfectly horrid for some weeks.
Mother was nearly always out.
Meals were dull and weary.
Then one day Mother came down to breakfast very pale and with lines on her face that used not to be there.
Now, my pets, everything is settled.
We're going to leave this house...
And go and live in the country.
Such a dear little white house.
I know you'll love it.
Of course we will, Mother.
We must be all packed by the weekend.
We're not being forced to leave, are we, Mother?
Of course not, Phyllis.
It's just time we had an adventure.
I never imagined we owned so many things.
Crockery, blankets, candlesticks, bedsteads, sauce.
What about the red turtle shell cabinet?
Oh, we can't take everything, Bobby.
But we seem to be taking all the ugly things.
We're taking the useful ones.
We've got to play at being poor for a bit.
Oh, lend me a hand with this, Bobby.
Soon, all the ugly, useful things were packed and taken away in a van.
And a cab came to take us to the station.
We were off.
At first we looked out of the window.
Then it grew dark.
Remember the summer father took us up to Scotland in the train?
We played that game.
Who could tell a longer story without stopping?
Mother won.
Phyllis ate all the cucumber sandwiches before we'd left London.
I did not.
Did too.
Children.
Where should we go this summer, Mother?
What's wrong?
Nothing's wrong, darling.
Try to think of this journey as a holiday.
Mother's right.
We're on a train, and trains are jolly.
I like being on trains with Father.
Here, Phil.
Cheese and pickled onion.
Clickety-clack, clickety-clack, clickety-clack.
I feel sleepy.
Me too.
Then sleep, darlings.
Trains are excellent places for a good snooze.
Mother was right.
We all had a good sleep.
But Phyllis was right, too.
Train journeys weren't the same without father.
Wake up, dears.
We're there.
Peter, bring the hand luggage.
Roberta, the overcoats.
Where are we?
It's so dark.
My nose is colder than it's ever been before.
Oh, my shoelaces have come undone.
Come on, dears.
We've got to walk.
There aren't any cabs here.
Why is it so muddy?
Why aren't there any gas lamps?
And why does it have to be all uphill?
Oh, there.
That's the house.
I wonder why she shut the shutter.
Who's she?
Mrs Viney.
I engaged her to clean the place and put the furniture straight and get supper.
Supper!
Oh, that's the garden.
It looks more like the black hole of Calcutta.
That's because the house is pitch dark.
Mrs. Viney?
Mrs. Viney?
Oh, don't tell me she's gone home.
The door's locked.
I know.
Check under the doormat.
Yes.
This must be the key, Mother.
Now then, let's cast some light.
There's our kitchen table.
And our pots and pans and crockery.
We could do with a fire.
What's that?
I'll bet it's rats.
Oh, dear, I wish we hadn't come.
Oh, don't be silly.
We just frightened the poor mice, that's all.
You often say you wish something would happen to you, and now it has.
This is quite an adventure, isn't it?
Yes, Mother.
Now, where has Mrs Viney put her suppers?
It's not in here, Mother.
Nor here.
Just a rusty cake tin and a broken plate.
What a horrid old woman.
She's just walked off with the money and not got us anything to eat at all.
Then shall we have any supper at all?
Of course we shall.
Just means I'm packing one of these big cases.
Where's the hammer?
I'm afraid it's inside the box.
But there's a coal shovel and the kitchen poker.
Let me do it.
You'll hurt your hands, Mother.
Let me.
I wish Father was here.
He'd get it open in two shakes.
Ow!
What are you kicking me for, Bobby?
I wasn't.
Hooray!
Oh, here are some candles.
You girls go and light them.
Peter, help me unpack.
Now, biscuits.
Ah, sardines, preserved ginger, cooking raisins.
What a funny supper.
I think it's delightful.
Now, Phil, don't put the marmalade spoon in among the sardines.
Oh, I won't, Mother.
Good, and then tonight I'll leave my door open and then, if a mouse comes, you need only scream and I'll come and tell it exactly what I think of it.
LAUGHTER
Phyllis.
Phyllis.
What's the matter?
Wake up.
Wake up.
It's morning.
We're in the new house.
Don't you remember?
Let's get up and begin to be useful.
We'll creep down quietly and have everything beautiful before Mother gets up.
I've woken Peter.
He'll be dressed as soon as we are.
Where's the wash basin?
There isn't any.
We'll have to use the pump in the yard.
This is more fun than basin washing.
How sparkly the weeds are between the stones.
And the moss on the roof and the flowers.
This is far, far, far and away prettier than our old house.
Let's go in and get to work.
Work, work, nothing but work.
Phyllis, we all have to pitch in and help Mother.
It's not fair.
If father were here, there would be servants and we could play all day.
Well, father isn't here.
There's no need to be horrid.
Bobby wasn't being horrid.
Now you're both ganging up on me.
Just because I'm the youngest, I'm the one that gets picked on.
Quiet.
Phil, listen.
There's a train at the bottom of the garden.
Where?
I don't see a train.
Stand on the water pump and look over there.
Where?
There.
It's the railway track.
Look how close we are.
Just down the path and across the field.
Let's go and have a look.
No, we mustn't yet.
We must work.
Work, work, nothing but work.
We worked like beavers in the house for an hour.
Then we drifted back out into the garden, where we collapsed in the grass.
There you are.
It's time to wake up, darlings.
Mother, what time is it?
Nearly eight o'clock.
We came out here to watch the trains, only we couldn't stay awake.
We've been working ever since dawn.
We lit the fire.
And put the kettle on and set the table.
I know darlings, only your excellent fire has been out for some time and the water in the kettle has all boiled away.
Also, you should have remembered to wash the crockery before setting the table.
Oh, dear.
Why does everything go wrong?
It doesn't matter because I've found another room.
A magic room.
With a table set for last night's supper.
Cold roast beef, bread and butter cheese and apple pie.
Apple pie for breakfast?
So Mrs Viney kept her promise after all.
She left us a note.
We missed it in the dark.
She had to go home early yesterday because her son-in-law has broken his arm.
Mother, I've got something to ask you.
Yes?
After breakfast, may we go down to the railway?
Only if you're careful.
We'll be careful, yes!
It seems odd to see all of a train.
It's awfully tall, isn't it?
We've always seen them cut in half by platforms.
What if that train's going to London?
That's where father is.
Let's get out of the station and find out.
What's that noise?
That's the signal box.
And this is the station platform.
Here's the porter's room.
Do you suppose that man is the porter?
He couldn't be.
He's fast asleep.
He's wearing a uniform and his cap says porter.
He does look funny with his mouth wide open.
He's waking up.
Here he comes.
How do you do?
How do you do?
Off to Maidbridge.
Fear not, the 1154 is only seven minutes late.
Oh, we're not going anywhere.
We live here.
The railway is our nearest neighbour.
So you're the folks what's rented the little white house by the embankment?
The three chimneys, that's us.
And you've come down to survey our operations.
Well, I don't blame you.
There's always something happening on the railway.
May I ask you a technical question?
Fire away.
You know that great pile of coal by the wall of the station house?
I know it well.
Why does the coal have a white mark?
To mark how much coal there be.
So we'll know if anyone nicks it.
Now, you'll have to excuse me.
All alight!
The sky alight!
Come on, Peter.
Come on, Phil.
We're in the way.
But maybe this train's from London, where Father is.
Race you, Phil.
First one home gets the last of the apple pie.
We soon got used to being without Father in the little white house near the railway.
We got used to not going to school and to seeing very little of Mother.
What is this?
Sorry, Mother.
We know you're working.
Why, Roberta?
May I light a fire?
I don't know how.
No, my love.
We mustn't have fires in June.
If you're cold, go and have a romp in the attic.
But, Mother, it only takes a very little cold to make a fire.
More cold than we can afford.
Now run away, there's darlings.
I'm madly busy.
Mother's always busy now.
She's not doing it for fun.
Her stories pay all the bills.
But we hardly ever see her.
Look on the bright side, Phil.
The more stories Mother writes, the more buns we have for tea.
Yesterday she said we could have jam or butter for tea, but not jam and butter.
That's what's called domestic economy.
I don't care what it's called.
Oh, I'm freezing.
I have an idea.
What?
I shan't tell you.
Don't then.
What I'm going to do may be wrong.
I don't want to drag you into it.
If it's wrong, Peter, let me do it.
I should like to do wrong if you're going to.
No, this has to be a lone adventure.
If Mother asks where I am, say I'm playing at mines.
What sort of mines?
Just say mines.
Oh, you might tell us, Peter.
Well, then, coal mines.
But don't let that word pass your lips.
On pain of torture, I do think you might let us help.
You shall help transport the coal.
There isn't any coal.
That's what you think.
Fine.
Keep your secret if you like.
Keep it if you can.
I'll keep it right enough.
We didn't hear anything more about Peter's lone adventure until two days later.
Phyllis and I were in the garden.
Bobby!
Phyllis!
Look what I've got!
What are you doing with that old perambulator, Peter?
This is the Roman chariot.
Look!
There you are.
The first coal from St Peter's mine.
We'll take it home in the chariot.
Peter, where exactly is this from?
From my coal mine.
All orders are carefully attended to.
All lumps cut to suit regular customers.
Peter, there's an awful lot of coal here.
Of course there is.
I'm a very efficient miner.
What I mean is, it's not just one or two lumps that a person might take home as a souvenir.
Oh, Bobby, be practical.
One or two lumps aren't enough to warm up the little white house.
This chariot is too heavy for me to move.
Here, I'll attach my braces to the handle.
I'll pull, you two push.
Ready?
A week later, Mrs Viney remarked to Mother how well the coal was holding out.
A week after that, Phyllis and I decided to follow Peter.
Bobby, it's too dark to see anything.
Quiet, Phil.
Just follow me.
Peter will be furious if he finds out that we followed him.
There's no reason for him to find out, if you can keep your voice down.
Look, there he is.
Just as I thought.
Peter's climbed right on top of the coal heap.
Bobby, someone's coming.
It's the station porter.
Stay back.
So, I've caught you at last, you young thief.
I'm not a thief.
I'm a coal miner.
Tell that to the Marines.
It would be just as true whoever I told it to.
Now, come here.
Do you remember me?
Of course.
You're the porter from the railway.
And this coal is railway property.
Now, you clam up and come along to the station.
Wait!
Not the police station.
Eh?
The railway station first?
Why, it's a regular gang.
Any more of you?
No, only us.
What do you mean by spying on me?
Time someone did spy on you.
Please, don't arrest Peter.
It's our fault just as much as his.
We helped to carry the coal away.
And we knew where he got it.
No, you didn't.
Yes, we did.
Of course we did.
We knew all the time.
We only pretended we didn't just to humour you.
Why, you're the children from the three chimneys up yonder.
What made you do such a thing?
Don't you know it's wicked to steal?
I thought if I took it from the top of the heap, it wasn't stealing.
And from the middle, it was only mining.
Did you do it for fun or what?
Not much fun carrying that heavy stuff up the hill.
Then why did you?
Remember those rainy days?
Well, Mother said we were too poor to have a fire, but we always had fires at our other house.
Peter, don't!
Well, I'll tell you what I'll do.
I'll look over it this once, but you remember, ladies and gentlemen, stealing is stealing, and what's mine isn't yours, whether you call it mining or whether you don't.
Now run along home.
You aren't going to do anything to us.
You're a brick.
You're a deer.
You're a darling.
The name is Perks.
Now run on home.
Don't speak to me.
Either of you.
You're spies and traitors.
That's what you are.
We did say it was us as much as you.
Well, it wasn't.
It would have come to the same thing in court with a real-life judge.
Anyway, it's not our fault your secrets are so easy to find out.
Oh, well.
There's still an awful lot of coal in the cellar.
Peter, I don't think we ought to be glad about that.
I don't know.
I'm not at all sure even now.
The mining is a crime.
Yes, you are, Peter.
Bobby.
What is it, Phil?
Do you think Father will be home before the coal runs out?
I don't know, Phil.
Father's bound to be home soon, isn't he?
You know Father.
He'll be home just as soon as he can.
When will that be, Bobby?
When will that be?
In part one of The Railway Children by E Nesbitt, dramatized by Marcy Cahan Victoria Carling was Roberta, Daniel Eisen was Peter and Kate McEnery was Phyllis.
Philip Voss was father, Frances Jeter was mother, and Paul Copley was Perks.
Ruth was played by Jenny Howe, and The Visitor by Danny Schiller.
The music was composed by Elizabeth Parker, And The Railway Children was directed by John Taylor.
