Free The Serpent in the Glass (The Tale of Thomas Farrell) by D.M. Andrews

fat lady had unfortunately positioned herself right in front of the window so that he couldn’t quite see the sign on which the station’s name was written. The train began to make strange noises, as if it were some ancient engine ticking over with cogs, wheels and cranks. Then it hissed like a snake and gave Thomas a start. Concern filled his mind. Where had Stanwell Clear gone? What if he didn’t get back before the train left? Jessica didn’t seem to be worried. She’d found an old broadsheet newspaper that someone had left on one of the seats, and was rooting through its pages.
    Thomas glanced out the window. ‘Maybe we should go look for him, sounds like the train’s leaving?’
    Jessica looked up from the paper. ‘Trains always sound like they’re leaving, you get yourself all ready to move off and then they go as silent as the grave again. I’ve been on more trains than you. You get used to it, Thomas.’
    Jessica was right, she had been on more train journeys than Thomas — one more, and Thomas had only tallied up a grand total of three such journeys in his lifetime. And Jessica’s extra trip had only occurred last year when Aunt Dorothy had taken Jessica to visit the closest shopping centre, to train her in the life skills of bargain hunting and advanced window shopping. Aunt Dorothy maintained that every young woman should know about such things, and that young men were interested in other less important matters. So Thomas hadn’t been invited.
    The train went quiet and Jessica gave Thomas one of her knowing looks. Thomas ignored her and looked out the window again. The fat lady still blocked the sign. She wore a hat that looked as if it had a net over it. A couple of pale yellow flowers stuck out from one side. Had they been real Thomas would have thought them in great need of watering. Suddenly the train started up again more ferociously than before, and Thomas started looking about again, hoping to catch a glimpse of Mr Clear. The train shuddered and started to make a low whining noise. Thomas blocked his ears. Such sounds always seemed to bore right into his skull, though it apparently bothered others very little. Jessica had pulled a pen from somewhere and had started a picture crossword. She liked those, and often tried to finish the ones Mr Westhrop left incomplete.
    Just as the whining noise stopped and Thomas pulled his hands away from his ears, Mr Clear’s face appeared at the window of the compartment door. He smiled and then moved swiftly in. Behind him followed a boy a little shorter than Thomas, but who looked to be about the same age. He wore a large cream-coloured jumper and dark brown trousers that matched the colour of his hair. A wide grin spread across his large mouth on seeing Thomas and Jessica. Behind him followed a massive suitcase, which he dragged with tired arms.
    ‘This be Marvin Plundergeese, no — Blunderguess, Blenderghost?’ Mr Clear fumbled hopelessly trying to remember the boy’s name.
    The boy screwed up his nose. ‘Penderghast.’
    ‘Yes, yes that be it,’ Mr Clear said, waving a hand at the boy behind him. ‘’E’ll be startin’ at the ol’ Manor this year too.’
    ‘But please,’ the boy began more enthusiastically, ‘call me Penders, everyone else does.’
    ‘Don’t you like “Marvin”?’ Jessica asked.
    The boy shot her a hurt look. Thomas winced inside. Why did his sister have to be so blunt? True, he’d thought the same thing on seeing the boy’s reaction, but he’d never have asked the question in public. Jessica held no distinction between private and public when it came to talking. Mr Clear closed the door and resumed his seat. Penders sat down next to him, looking awkwardly between Thomas and Jessica as the train began to shudder and whine slowly out of the station.
    The boy sighed. ‘It sorta sounds like a hamster.’
    Jessica looked out the window. ‘The train?’
    ‘No, ‘Marvin’.’
    ‘Oh, I see,’ Jessica said, although