As Sybil miserably retraced her steps, taking the next train back to Grange, she considered the guard’s words, which she certainly didn’t agree with. He might think that the police were on the case, but none of them knew wily little Ronnie, who could outwit a bag of monkeys. In the privacy of the empty compartment she had entered, Sybil sighed; she was quite sure Ronnie and his sister would be as difficult to find as a needle in a haystack.

32. Which Train?

In their dangerous, reckless journey, desperate not to be spotted by the ticket collector, Ronnie and Sally had foolishly darted on to the first train that left Carnforth Station shortly after they’d arrived.

‘How do we know we’re on the right train?’ Sally whispered, as they hid once again in a baggage compartment that contained a crate of irate quacking ducks as well as luggage.

Ronnie, whose geography left a lot to be desired, shrugged. ‘Stop naggin’ – they all go to London.’

But when the train eventually pulled into its destination, it was ‘LEEDS, LEEDS. All change here’ that the guard called out.

Sally’s eyes filled with tears. ‘We’re not in London,’ she said on a smothered sob.

Starving hungry, dog-tired and constantly snapped at by her older brother, Sally wished she hadn’t chased after Ronnie in the first place. She could be safe at Hope Farm right now, playing with the kittens, making bread in Mrs Larkin’s warm kitchen or helping the farmer milk the cows. Instead she was on the run with her brother, who didn’t seem to have much of a clue as to where he was going. It was cold, and it would soon be dark – then what would they do? Heavy footsteps approaching the luggage compartment made both children cower behind a pile of suitcases. As the guard struggled with the crate of squawking ducks, the children manoeuvred a path behind his broad back and bolted off the train.

Sitting in the refreshment room on the draughty platform, they tried to get warm in between begging for food or, in Ronnie’s case, eating customers’ stale leftovers. With his mouth full of dry bread, Ronnie went in search of information, leaving his sister shivering by a spurting gas fire. When a woman spoke to her, Sally all but jumped out of her worn-out T-bar shoes.

‘Would you like a hot drink?’ the kind-looking lady asked her.

‘Yes, please, miss,’ grateful Sally nodded. ‘And a bun too, please, miss.’

The woman returned to the fireside table with two cups of tea and a spam sandwich.

‘No buns,’ she said cheerfully as she set the tray down.

After wolfing back the sandwich and gulping the hot strong tea, Sally felt fortified.

‘Thank you, miss.’

‘You’re a bit young to be all on your own here,’ the lady commented.