Barbara was off to Texas and Jane to New York, and at the station we were directed to different platforms before we had a chance to say goodbye. I knew their smells by then, I could tell you every detail of their clothing, their make-up, when they brushed their teeth and the type of talcum they used. And just like that, they were gone. We all promised we would write. Those of us going to Virginia, Maryland and Washington DC were put into a carriage together. The porters loaded our trunks into the luggage car and I carried my suitcase on board, stowing it in a rack above an empty seat. I sat beside a window with a latch in the hope that it would open. There was grime on the outside but inside it was clean, and I rested my forehead against the glass for a moment, just to close my eyes. It had been such a long day.

When I woke it was dim in the carriage and there was a woman asleep beside me. Outside it was black, so I only saw my reflection—crumpled hair, frock, face—in the window. There was the travel-weary wail of a baby, a mother humming under her breath, and the thump thump of the rails beneath us, the carriage rocking from side to side almost imperceptibly. The long, low whistle as we passed another train, the whoosh of air between us.

I stood up and went in search of the toilets. The carriage was full of brides, most of them asleep, some clutching babies or small children. Two of the Red Cross ladies dozed in the last seats. They would see us through to our final destinations.

There was a blast of wind and track noise as the door at the end of the carriage slid open and the conductor walked in, grey-uniformed with a ticket machine slung around his waist. ‘Excuse me, ma’am,’ he said, and I turned sideways to let him pass. ‘You going to Virginia, Maryland, or DC?’ he asked.

‘Virginia,’ I replied.

He tilted his head. ‘Huh?’ He hadn’t understood me.

I said it again, trying to pronounce it as he had, VurGINyuh.

‘Oh, Virginia.’ He nodded and started to walk away.

‘Pardon me, where is the ladies’ room?’

He turned back around and pointed in the direction from which I had come. ‘Two carriages down. If you get to the dining car you’ve gone too far.’