Jack crosses the floor to stand shoulder to shoulder with his friend. They grin at each other, pretending this is little more than a merry jaunt, a boys’ own adventure. He looks out at the grass-banked siding, studded with poppies and clumps of towering foxglove. His fingers wrap around the edge of the door, but he makes no move to leave. A surge of fear holds him in place. He wants nothing more than to anchor himself to Ben and be tethered to his unstinting loyalty. But he knows he cannot. He knows he must leave, yet he continues to linger in the warmth of his friend’s mournful smile.

They both start as a train’s whistle screams through the still morning air. The carriage shudders as the express whips past, the noise so great neither of them attempts to speak. The tracks rattle, then sing in its wake. Ben nudges him with his shoulder, his voice gentle with regret.

‘You must go now, Jack. While you can, lad.’

‘Aye.’ Jack holds out his hand and when Ben grips it, he places his other hand on top.

‘You’ve been a friend when I needed one, Ben. I won’t forget it.’

He jumps down from the wagon, landing both feet on the ballast. He straightens his legs and brushes off the coal dust clinging to his trousers.

‘Are you sure you’re doing the right thing now, Jack?’

Jack stifles a bitter laugh. ‘How am I supposed to answer that?’ The stones crump as he grinds them under the scuffed toe of his boot, summoning the courage to look up. ‘I don’t know what else to do, Ben.’

Ben nods, then releases a resigned sigh.

‘Your mam …’

Jack snorts. ‘Won’t even notice I’ve gone … at least not until rent’s due or she needs money for booze. She probably won’t even notice Jenny …’ He shakes his head as his voice fails him. His next words escape as little more than a whisper. ‘I can’t go back, Ben … I can’t risk it.’

‘Aye … I reckon you’re right …’

‘I never meant …’

‘No one can blame you, lad.’

Jack says nothing. Guilt tightens his throat like a drawstring purse. He merely nods to cover his mounting grief and adjusts the weight of the knapsack on his shoulder.

With a groan and a shriek, the train shunts forwards. Ben braces himself in the doorway.

‘We’re off,’ he calls out.

Jack backs away.

‘Take care of yourself, Jack,’ Ben calls again, rocking to the train’s building movement. ‘Try and let me know how you’re getting on.’ The wheels protest as they grate against the tracks. Ben raises his voice again. ‘Be sure to look me up when you get back, you hear?’