But once more the porter was shaking his head. ‘There’s a box all right, but the train’s as full as it can hold, and will be drawing out at any moment. It’s the one the workers from the quarry up the hill there . . .’ he gestured vaguely to the tree-covered hills nearby, ‘catch to get home, only today of course it’s late and tempers are a bit frayed. So unless you want to miss it . . .’ He plunged a hand into his uniform pocket and handed Glenys two sixpences, saying as he did so: ‘Sorry it’s not pennies, miss, but no doubt someone will change this for you.’

Glenys took the sixpences, thanked him, and waved to Jimmy and Mo, who were leaning out of the window and making signs that she should hurry, though the train was still stationary.

As soon as she was aboard the two children bombarded her with questions, but Glenys could only shake her head. ‘It was a terrible line, and in the end we got cut off,’ she told them. ‘I think Frank said we should get as far away as we can; it sounded as though he was afraid the Huxtables might catch up with us otherwise. However, if we carry on at this rate we might not get much further than Deniol anyway, so I think we’ll just wait and see how we feel when we get there. I asked him what was happening his end, but I don’t think he could hear me. Still, at least we’re in touch again. I mean to ring him at the same time tomorrow, and we must just hope for the best.’ She took Mo’s hand and began to push her way through the quarry workers, but Jimmy jerked at her arm.

‘It’s no use going back to our compartment, Auntie Glenys,’ he said. ‘They wouldn’t let us save the seats because we’re only a couple of kids, and of course they’ve been working the early shift and want to sit down. So we brought our luggage into the corridor, and when they get off we’ll be able to find seats once more. One of the men told me it’s normally only a twenty-minute ride to his station, but it might be longer today because of the work on the line.’

Glenys sighed, but when the train stopped at the next small station and a couple of the men got out, she and Jimmy were able to grab their seats. She offered Mo her knee, but Mo had seen another attraction. A boy had come on to the platform, staggering beneath the weight of a wooden crate. This was a quieter station than the last one and he went along to the guard’s van shouting for someone to give him a hand. Mo jumped down and ran along the platform, seizing one end of the crate and peering through the slats at the occupant, a puppy. It was black and white and fluffy, and Mo recognised it as a border collie, for she had recently watched fully grown dogs of that breed herding sheep. The boy pushed the crate into the guard’s van and left with a brief word of thanks. Mo climbed into the van and knelt beside the little dog to read the label.