I had my overnight bag and my coat, and as we stepped down onto the platform I saw a porter carrying my trunk off the luggage car. ‘That’s mine,’ I said, and we went to fetch it. The Red Cross lady looked at her wristwatch. ‘Do you see your husband? Is he coming to the station?’

‘He’s meant to be.’

It wasn’t a busy place, nothing like a city train station, and the clusters of people were already beginning to disperse. Beyond the station was a great big hill, and on the horizon were the outlines of mountains, so soft they seemed to float there. My breath came in puffs of vapour, and I could smell wood smoke and coal. I was glad for my coat but it wasn’t lined, and I wished I had a warm hat and gloves as well.

‘What should I do with this, ma’am?’ the porter said, gesturing to my trunk.

‘Just put it beside that bench there and Sarah can wait with it. I’m not meant to leave you, dear, but the train is going to depart in five minutes. Have you got a telephone number?’

I shook my head.

‘I’ll take you to the station agent.’

She bustled me to a small hot office where a fat man sat drowsily eating eggs and bacon from a white plate with blue edges.

She explained my predicament and the station agent nodded, wiping greasy fingers on a handkerchief and pushing the plate away. The sight of the eggs, even congealed, made my stomach ache with hunger. I had slept through breakfast again. He put on his spectacles. ‘Roy Jackson, didja say? The Jacksons are from over Boone’s Mill way. I’ve got a telephone number for him here. You go on and I’ll look after this, don’t worry. We’ll get this girl to her husband in no time.’ He grinned, showing teeth stained brown from tobacco. ‘You’re free to sit in here if you like. Outta the cold.’

‘I’ll sit with my trunk, thank you. I’ll be just there.’ I pointed to the bench outside.

‘Suit yourself.’

We hurried out and the Red Cross lady frowned at the train, which let off a whistle. ‘I hate to leave you here,’ she said. ‘All on your own.’

‘They’ll be here. You heard the station agent. I’ll be fine.’

If she’d known me, that lady, she might’ve heard the strain in my voice. Recognised that I would not be fine. But she was a stranger to me, and I to her. She boarded the train, and then there was the slow rumble and chug of it starting, of the forward movement, of it leaving without me.

CHAPTER 24

CHAPTER 24