‘Yes, dear.’

Marion fidgeted involuntarily at this ridiculous thought.

‘Are we disturbing you?’ the woman asked, leaning over and patting Marion’s knee.

Marion opened her eyes a little. ‘Not at all, it’s just that I do have a rather bad headache coming on.’

‘Oh dear.’ The woman began to rummage in her handbag. ‘I have some smelling salts here somewhere. I find they are wonderful at curing my headaches. Don’t I, Ronald?’ She didn’t wait for an answer, just handed over the small bottle of salts to Marion, who was now obliged to open it and take a sniff. The ammonia and eucalyptus made her eyes water and she coughed.

‘That’s it. Take a good sniff.’

Marion knew the woman meant well, but this was all still a nuisance. She returned the bottle and searched for her handkerchief to wipe her nose. ‘Thank you.’

‘I just hope the poor new Queen has a bottle of these with her at all times. What a shock all the abdication business must have been. And her poor husband, with his stammer, having to take over. Not to mention those little girls. I suppose the older one will be Queen now, if they don’t have a son. Dreadful business. I still don’t understand why his brother couldn’t just marry Mrs Simpson and be happy! People think being royal is easy, but I think it’s cruel. Imagine not being able to marry the one you love.’

‘I think Mrs Simpson is a very stylish woman,’ said Florrie.

‘Oh, I don’t know,’ her betrothed answered. ‘Not as pretty as you.’

Florrie giggled. ‘Oh, Frank, that’s so sweet of you.’

Marion wanted desperately to escape, but didn’t know how. It would be too rude to just get up and leave, and it was so busy today that there might not be another seat left on the train.

At last, rescue came in the shape of the guard.

‘Next stop in five minutes. Five minutes to next stop.’

‘Is this us?’ asked the woman.

‘Yes,’ Ronald answered.

The two children, who had been quietly reading, were given their coats. The suitcases were retrieved. The woman couldn’t resist a final ‘Goodbye. Nice to meet you. Happy Christmas and good luck with the wedding.’

The train jolted to a stop, doors were opened and slammed, a whistle was blown, and the carriage was silent once more.

Marion closed her eyes.

‘How is your head?’ Florrie asked sweetly.

‘Can I get you something from the buffet car?’ That was Frank.

Without moving either closed eyelid, Marion said, ‘I think I may be sick.’

‘Oh dear.’ Frank sounded concerned. ‘Can we get you anything?’

She shook her head.

‘We’ll leave you in peace then.’

The compartment door closed, leaving her to herself. Marion sighed with satisfaction. She was tired and more than a little frayed by the recent goings on at 145, but now she would be at home for four long, peaceful weeks – and George was waiting for her at Dunfermline. Dear George, whom she hadn’t seen for three long months. The heather he had given her was her talisman, proof that he cared. She carried it with her always.