Free Coming Home by Rosamunde Pilcher

alighted, lugging their baggage. A certain urgency prevailed, a flurry of departure. Then the porter heaved their suitcases on board and went in search of seats. Uncle Bob, with seamanlike thoroughness, followed him, just to make sure the job was done in a proper fashion. Molly, panicking slightly, lifted Jess into her arms and hopped up into the train, and had to lean down to kiss her sister goodbye.
    ‘You've been so kind. We've had a wonderful Christmas. Wave goodbye to Aunt Biddy, Jess.’
    Jess, still clutching Golly, flapped a little white-furred paw.
    Aunt Biddy turned to Judith. ‘Goodbye, dear child. You've been a little brick.’ She stooped and kissed Judith. ‘Don't forget. I'm always here. Your mother's got my telephone number in her book.’
    ‘Goodbye. And thank you so much.’
    ‘Quick. Up you get, or the train will go without you.’ She raised her voice. ‘Make sure Uncle Bob gets off, otherwise you'll have to take him with you.’ For a moment she had looked a bit serious, but now she was laughing again. Judith smiled back, gave a final wave, and then plunged down the corridor after the others.
    A compartment had been found containing only one young man, who sat, with an open book on his knee, while the porter piled luggage in the racks over his head. Then, when all was stowed, Uncle Bob tipped the porter and sent him on his way.
    ‘You must also go, quickly,’ Judith told him, ‘or the train will move, and you'll be caught.’
    He smiled down at her. ‘It's never happened yet. Goodbye, Judith.’ They shook hands. When she drew her hand away, she found, in the palm of her woollen glove, a ten-shilling note. A whole ten shillings.
    ‘Oh, Uncle Bob,
thank you.
’
    ‘Spend it wisely.’
    ‘I will. Goodbye.’
    He was gone. A moment later, he and Aunt Biddy reappeared again, standing on the platform below their window. ‘Have a good journey.’ The train began to move. ‘Safe arrival!’ It gathered speed. ‘Goodbye!’ The platform and the station slid away behind them. Uncle Bob and Aunt Biddy were gone. It was all over. They were on their way.
    The next few moments were taken up in getting themselves settled. The other occupant of the carriage, the young man, sat by the door, and so they had the window-seats. The heating was on full blast, and it was very warm, so gloves, coats, and hats were removed by the children; Molly kept her hat on. Jess was put by the window, where she knelt on the prickly plush and pressed her nose against the smutty glass. Judith sat opposite her. Her mother, once she had folded coats and stowed them in the rack, and then delved into her travelling bag for Jess's drawing-book and coloured pencils, finally sank down beside Jess and let out a sigh of relief, as though the whole operation had been almost too much for her. She closed her eyes, but after a little they fluttered open again, and she began to fan her face with her hand.
    ‘Goodness, it's hot,’ she said to nobody in particular.
    Judith said, ‘I think it's rather nice.’ Her feet hadn't even started to thaw.
    But her mother was adamant. ‘I wonder…’ Now she was addressing the young man, whose privacy and peace they had so rudely disturbed. He looked up from his book, and she smiled disarmingly. ‘I wonder, would you mind if we turned the heating down a little? Or even opened the window a chink?’
    ‘Of course.’ He was very polite. He laid aside his book and stood up. ‘Which would you rather? Or, perhaps, both?’
    ‘No, I think a little fresh air would do the trick…’
    ‘Right.’ He moved to the window. Judith tucked her legs out of the way and watched as he unloosed the heavy leather strap, let the window down an inch, and then fixed the strap again.
    ‘How's that?’
    ‘Perfect.’
    ‘Be careful that your little girl doesn't get a smut in her eye.’
    ‘I hope she won't.’
    He went back to his seat and picked up his book again. Listening in to other people's conversations,