From far away came the sound of an engine's whistle, and she pictured the train swinging over the points outside Shrewsbury Station and meandering down the vale between the Stretton Hills to home...

2. The Caravan

Peter woke with that same tight feeling in her throat. Why did she feel so excited? Then she remembered school was over.

An hour later, as she cycled down the drive with her knapsack snug between her shoulders, Margaret and two others called "Good-bye" to her from the dormitory window. Then she swung out of the lodge gates, waved to the old gardener, and the holidays had really begun.

The mist was still hanging a little low in the old streets of the town as she made for the Minsterly road and on into open country. After a few miles the road ran through a pine wood, and here she felt hungry for the first time for two days. She pulled her cycle in to the bank, climbed through a wire fence, and unbuckled the haversack. Cook had excelled herself, so she settled back comfortably against the trunk of a tree. The smell reminded her of the woods above Appledore, and she wondered what the other Lone Piners were doing now. And this gave her an idea. She fumbled in the haversack again and found a writing pad and pencil.

"Dear David" - she wrote and then added - "And all.

"Thanks for writing. I'm sorry about the meeting but it can't be helped. I've got to go to this place but I'm going to plan for you all to come too. Be ready for a special message and warn Tom as well. Take care of Sally. I'm writing this in a wood on my way to Seven Gates. Tell Dickie I remember about the Stiperstones and maybe I'll need the Lone Piners to help me.

"Love to your mother and all from

"Peter."

Then she went to sleep and was wakened by the sound of rumbling wheels and cheerful singing. The sun was well up now and, rubbing her eyes, she ran to the edge of the wood. Up the road from Shrewsbury came a gaily painted caravan. A real Romany house on wheels! Red and yellow were the sides and yellow and red the wheels. The roof was green and so were the shafts, and there were white lace curtains in the windows. On the driving seat was an olive-skinned woman with a bright handkerchief round her hair, and next to her rode a serious little girl of nine. Smoke curled from the tiny chimney as the caravan passed, and Peter waved a greeting. The woman smiled with a flash of white teeth, but the girl stared straight ahead.