Winter Wood (51 page)

‘Well . . . OK. But you'll have to talk to Miss Oldham. She's
terrible
on kids taking time off for no reason.'

‘You let me deal with Miss Oldham. And it's not time off for no reason. It's for a very good reason. I'll
phone her and explain, don't you worry. Now are you sure that you want to go in at all?'

‘Yeah. I better had.'

‘All right. Come on, then. I'll run you down to the bus stop. Just grab a bit of toast to eat in the car, and we'll have proper lunch later on. Together.'

Sam sat next to her on the school coach, and that was a comfort.

‘God, I've had a boring half-term,' she said. ‘Stuck out in blimmin' Manderville Wick with only the rocks to talk to. I've really missed you.'

‘Awww, have you?' said Midge. ‘Should have given me a call.'

‘Yeah, but I couldn't be zipped. So what about you? Do anything fun?'

Midge thought about it. ‘Yeah, I did actually. Went tobogganing with my cousin, George. Laughed so much I thought I'd do myself an injury.'

‘What, George Howard? Yeah, I know him – that little nut with the floppy hair.'

‘Ha! That's him. The one and only.'

It was good to talk to somebody normal, and they didn't come much more normal than Sam Lewis.

The steam train was really quite beautiful. It was already sitting in the station when the school party arrived on the platform, the engine quietly hissing away to itself. Midge immediately loved everything about it – the cream and brown coaches, with their brass door handles and GWR logos, the friendly smell of steam and coal and oil that hung upon the chilly
March air. And best of all was the engine itself, no awesome monster of the steam age, such as Midge had seen in films, but something rather more modest – a chubby little workhorse with its square tank and rounded dome. It didn't even have a name as far as Midge could see – just a number: 1025. Two bewhiskered men in grubby blue overalls and peaked caps leaned out of the open cab, chatting together. They looked as though they were enjoying themselves. Midge breathed in the atmosphere that surrounded the engine. It smelled like burnt toast. She wrinkled her nose, hovering on the edge of a sneeze.

Sam came up and linked an arm through hers. ‘Come on,' she said. ‘Let's go and get a decent seat, or we'll be stuck with the dreggos.'

Miss Oldham was standing on the platform shepherding everyone into the carriages.

‘Now remember, this will all be part of this term's project on the Victorians. I want completed worksheets handed in to me at the end of the morning . . .'

‘Yeah, yeah,' Sam muttered. ‘Always with the worksheets. You're never just allowed to
enjoy
anything, are you?'

‘. . . and your feet
off
the seats. We've a fifteen-minute stop at Evercreech, before coming back again. There's a shop there, but I want to see no sweet wrappers, no orange peel . . .'

Midge and Sam clambered in through the open doorway, and hustled along the corridors looking for an empty compartment.

‘Hey, this is great! Why aren't trains like this now?
Look – you get proper luggage racks. And you can open the windows, and everything!'

They found a compartment with only one other person in it – Kerry Hodge. Midge got the impression that Sam would have kept on looking a little longer, but she would have felt guilty if she'd passed by the open door. The snub would have been so obvious.

‘Hiya, Kerry. Good half-term?'

‘Mm. OK, I shuppose.'

‘Budge up then.'

The three of them sat looking out of the window for a moment, but Sam became instantly bored with that.

‘Look – they're like hammocks, those luggage racks. You could probably sleep up there. I mean, if it was night-time, and you were like really tired or something.' Sam stood up and grabbed one of the rails, testing its strength. ‘I reckon I could get up there.'

‘Yeah,' said Midge. ‘And you're probably daft enough to try. I can just see the Old'un letting you have a little nap while the rest of us grind away at our worksheets.'

‘It'sh dead eashy,' said Kerry. ‘I've done mine already.'

‘Yeah, well you would, you Brownie,' said Sam. She sat down again. ‘Let's have a look, though.'

Kerry shrugged. ‘OK.'

But then there was the sharp
peeep
of a whistle out on the platform, and the carriage jolted forward. Kerry's worksheet was forgotten for the time being as the train pulled out of the station and the world began to roll by.

The three girls sat in silence, lulled by the gentle rocking motion of the compartment and the scrolling landscape outside. It wasn't such a bad way to begin the second half of term.

On the journey back they shared out the sweets and crisps that they'd bought in the little kiosk at Evercreech station.

‘It's all very well,' said Sam, her mouth full of Wotsits, ‘but it doesn't go on long enough. You can't really soak up all this Victorian shtuff on a train ride that only lasts half an hour each way. I jusht don't feel that I've quite
learned
enough yet – know what I mean? You could do with a whole day of it really. Maybe two.'

‘Oi, watch out,' said Kerry. ‘You're shpitting bitsh of crishp all over me.'

‘What? That's pretty rich, coming from you, you walking hosepipe.'

‘Midge Walters? Anybody know which compartment she's in? Oh . . . is she? Thanks.'

Midge could hear her form teacher coming along the corridor, asking her whereabouts. She quickly got out her worksheet, and at least managed to get her name written on it before Miss Oldham put her head into the compartment.

‘Ah, there you are. I had a phone call from your mum just before we left this morning, Midge. Told me to remind you about your dental appointment. I gather it should have been during half-term but then had to be rescheduled or something. Perhaps it couldn't be helped, but I'd appreciate it if things
could be better organized in future. It is a
bit
much, taking the afternoon off on your first day back. But there. Your mum'll pick you up at eleven from the station – though we'll be on the coach back to school by then. I'll have to ask a porter to keep an eye on you or something.'

‘Yes, Miss Oldham. Sorry about that.'

‘Well you sneaky old sneak, you,' said Sam, once Miss Oldham had retired. ‘I bet you planned that to get an extra half-day.'

‘No, I didn't, honest,' said Midge. ‘I'd forgotten all about it. Give us a look at your answers then, Kerry, otherwise I'll never get this done.'

There was another school party on the platform as the train pulled back into the station. All girls, and all dressed in blue jackets and berets.

‘St Hilda's convent,' muttered Sam as she opened the carriage door. ‘Snotty lot.'

‘You have to feel a bit sorry for them, really,' said Midge.

‘Yeah,' said Kerry. ‘Can't be much fun with no wildlife to look at.'

‘Wildlife? What're you on about?'

Kerry nodded towards a group of boys from their own class – Carl Polegato and two of his friends. They were already out of the train and passing the time by taking it in turns to punch each other on the shoulder.

‘Haha! Yeah, like you said – wildlife.'

‘Right! Everybody go out through the exit and line up by the coach. And stay on the pavement!' Miss Oldham's voice, rising above the general hubbub.
‘Midge, you'd better come with me. We'll have a quick word at the helpdesk.'

‘See you tomorrow then, Midge,' said Sam.

‘Yeah, see you. See you, Kerry.'

‘Bye.'

The woman at the desk told Miss Oldham it'd be best if Midge stayed on the station. ‘If she has a seat just out there on the platform, then I'll be able to keep an eye on her through the window. Go on, love. You'll be fine.'

‘OK. Bye, Miss Oldham.'

‘Bye, Midge. Now don't go wandering about. Just stay here where this lady can see you and wait till your mum comes, all right? See you tomorrow, then. Ooh – worksheet. Yes, I'll take that. Thank you.'

Away went Miss Oldham, shoulders back, heels clicking briskly on the marbled floor of the lobby. The teacher walk. Was that part of their training? Midge wondered.

There was a chalkboard at the platform entrance, and Midge read it as she passed by. ‘Steam Special! Taunton–Evercreech return's. Wed 03 Mar. Ticket's available.' The apostrophes were all wrong.

She heard the guard blow his whistle as she stepped back onto the platform, and then the
thuff
 . . .
thuff-thuff
 . . .
thuff
of the engine. Great clouds of black smoke came shooting out of the funnel. It was a bit messy, she supposed.

Midge watched as the brown-and-cream carriages began to move. Some of the St Hilda's girls were looking excitedly out of the windows, just as she and Kerry
and Sam had done. Did they have worksheets to complete as well? Probably.

Then she saw a girl in a compartment by herself. A pale and familiar face staring out at her. Cropped hair, dark eyes, some sort of hat. The girl smiled in recognition and raised a hand, her palm very white against the carriage window. She was waving. Goodbye . . . goodbye . . .

Midge raised her own hand automatically and waved in return, but it took her a few moments longer to realize who the girl was.

Celandine . . .

It
was
Celandine. Absolutely and without a doubt. Short cropped hair . . . thin face. Not quite the girl in the photograph that hung in her bedroom – more like the little nurse in that later newspaper clipping. But it was definitely her.

Midge could only stand there and wave, helpless, unable to keep the moment from slipping away. Goodbye . . . goodbye . . .

The chuffs of smoke and steam stumbled over themselves, then fell into a steadier rhythm as the engine gained momentum. Midge kept her eyes fixed on the window, but the angle had changed and she could no longer see the girl. The train was slowly disappearing, curving into a distant belt of trees.
Ba-dum . . . ba-dum . . . ba-dum . . .
a last rumble of wheels, and the end carriage had rocked out of sight.

Gone. Only the smell of it remained. Burnt toast.

Midge stood in the empty silence, staring down the track. It was a while before it occurred to her to go and sit down.

She was stunned, shocked by the clarity of what she had seen. And some of her earlier fears were coming back to her – the scary feeling that she could no longer tell what was real and what was not. She
wasn't
dreaming, she knew she wasn't. But then that was what she had thought last night. Maybe it was all just her imagination. All of it . . .

Midge sat back on the metal bench and stuffed her hands into her blazer pockets. No. Whatever had happened last night, the Various had been real – George had seen them, and Katie too. She might have had some weird dreams about them, but she hadn't imagined them. This could be different. She might have been mistaken, or she might have just seen a ghost, but she definitely wasn't dreaming.

There was a connection between them. Her and Celandine. And Una. Three girls, linked together across time. And Celandine had somehow seen into the future, seen this person that would be her, Midge, years and years before she'd even been born. She'd known what she would look like, the clothes that she would wear and everything. Seeing someone from the future. That was far more amazing than the other way round, seeing someone from the past, wasn't it?

So when she'd waved at the girl sitting on the train . . . Celandine . . . had she been looking into the past? And had the girl on the train who had
waved back to her been looking into the future?

Midge couldn't get her head around it at all. She thought she could remember Aunt Celandine saying something about this, though – seeing her from a train. She'd have to ask.

And then it hit her. There would be no checking back on this story, no comparing of notes. Not any more. Celandine had gone. The smiling face at the carriage window, the last wave . . . goodbye . . . goodbye . . .

Midge felt her lungs collapsing in a huge sigh. She knew. She just knew.

‘Yes, we'll see each other again, dear. That's a promise.' Her great-great-aunt's voice.

And Celandine, the child, had kept that promise for her. They had seen each other again, one last time.

The station clock moved on, announcements echoed over the tannoy, people and trains came and went. Midge just sat on the bench and let it all go by, lost in the numbness of her own thoughts. She felt sadness but no overwhelming pain of loss. Nothing had happened that shouldn't have happened. And everything that should have happened had. The Various had gone. And Pegs, and Una. And now Celandine. They'd all moved on, along with the station clock.

‘Midge?' Her mum, walking out onto the platform. Smiling, but not smiling quite as she might have been. So she knew too.

‘Midge . . . are you OK?' Mum sat next to her on the
bench, put her arm about her shoulders. Midge leaned into her. And waited.

‘Midge, I've just had a phone call . . . from Mount Pleasant . . . just as I was leaving . . .'

‘It's OK, Mum. I know.'

‘What?'

‘I already know. It's Aunt Celandine, isn't it?'

‘Er . . . yes. I'm afraid so. Carol Reeve called . . . but how did you know about it? I thought you weren't supposed to have mobiles at school.'

‘No. I saw her. Mum. . . . I
saw
her. Aunt Celandine, when she was a little girl. She was on the train – the steam train? I saw her through the window, waving goodbye to me. It was so . . . well, it was so nice really. She was smiling and waving. And I just sort of knew what had happened.'