The Branch Line

by Dorothy Clewes

Kay & Rory Knew the Lane at the Back of Mr Brown's Shop. "But it doesn't lead anywhere", Kay said when she heard that Gerald had been seen mysteriously bicycling down it. The next day she discovered how wrong she had been. For the the lane opened up a whole new and exciting world - a railway line, a tunnel, a "push and Pull", a very small station - and Jow Smoke himself.

128 pages, Hardcover

First published January 1, 1963

About the author

Born in 1907, in Nottingham, Dorothy Mary Parkin was the daughter of Frank and Annie Gertrude Parkin. She was educated privately, studied pharmaceutics at the University of Nottingham, and worked for a doctor for nine years. She was married in 1932 to Winston Clewes. Her first book, The Rivals of Maidenhurst, was written when she was seventeen, and published under her maiden name, Dorothy M. Parkin. She went on to write many animal and adventure stories, published under her married name, Dorothy Clewes.

Reviews

[Heather · Rating 3 out of 5]

A charming little book.

Looking back though from 2017 to the 1960's when small railways and branch lines were shut by the infamous Beeching, it seems rather forward thinking for a group of children to be able to persuade the local adults to buy the railway rather than let it close, this was something that happened in the 1980's when enthusiasts realised how much they were missing steam engines and opened up small railways like this as heritage lines, which are now very popular.

I think reading this as an adult rather than a child affected my view of the story, as I like trains and know a bit about heritage lines. Its a charming, simplistic story, so easily solved, because it's a children's story, whereas the reality was, little lines like this, in the same situation were mostly not so easily saved. Given it 3 stars, as its quite simple and every obstacle is so easily overcome.

[Charlotte · Rating 3 out of 5]

a perfectly fine story of how three kids come up with a plan to save their local branch line, pleasant to read, but not quite four stars worth.

[Grant Buttars]

Vaguest recollections of reading this as a child but remember loving it.