Cefn Halt, by Idris Maddocks

An original novel extract set in the twentieth century.

The first train of the day reached Cefn Halt at ten past seven, and on that frosty morning in 1931 Gwilym Mostyn had been on the platform since six. He lit the two oil lamps, one at each end, trimming the wicks with a penknife so that they would not smoke the glass. He swept the night’s leaves from the boards and scattered ash from the waiting-room grate on the slope where the frost made the planks treacherous. He unlocked the little parcels cupboard and checked its contents against the list in his pocket: a crate of day-old chicks for Mrs Bevan, a wireless battery, a coffin plate engraved and wrapped in brown paper. He chalked the date on the board by the gate, though no one but himself ever read it. Then he carried the milk churns from the cart track to the edge of the platform, two at a time, rolling them on their rims the last few yards because his back would no longer stand the lifting. When the signal arm dropped with a clank in the cutting, he straightened his cap, buttoned his jacket to the collar and stood where the guard’s van would stop, as if the whole railway company were watching.

List five tasks Gwilym carries out before the first train arrives.