train, trying to postpone the evil hour of parting. It was going to be a long, lonely journey back to Yarmouth by himself.
The six-year-old settled himself down and was very quiet, and Arthur wasn’t surprised to see that he had fallen asleep already, his long, surprisingly dark eyelashes resting on his flushed cheeks.
With a shudder, the train drew slowly out of the station, and Arthur shifted his hip slightly to take his pipe out of his pocket. Puffing contentedly, he wondered how Nell and he would fill their lives now that the young folk had left. His wife was probably lying awake right now, going over their John’s life from the time he’d made his first squawking appearance.
Nell was going to miss John and Marge, his wife, but it was he, Arthur admitted to himself, who was going to miss young Sean most. He’d been the boy’s slave since the day the small dimpled hand had first clutched his finger and taken over his heart. How proudly he had taken out the pram to show off his grandson to his fisherman friends, and when at last the boy was old enough to walk with him, it had always been the harbour they had headed for.
Since Sean had started school, of course, they’d only been able to go out together on Saturdays and Sundays, except during the holidays, when they had set off early every day, rain or shine. ‘Was that the boat you used to go on, Grandad?’ Sean would ask a dozen times. ‘When I grow up I’m going to be a trawlerman just like you and go out to sea in my boat.’
Arthur had been pleased about that. It had gone some way to make up for the disappointment he’d felt when John had refused to follow in his father’s footsteps. Sean loved to hear stories of his grandfather’s experiences in the Royal Navy during the war, and, especially just lately, of the time he’d been in Aberdeen. Arthur remembered that time, taken off a minesweeper and spending four weeks in Foresterhill Hospital after having his appendix removed. He hadn’t really seen much of the place, but had told the boy that it was a beautiful city, clean but cold.
‘Will I like it in Aberdeen?’ Sean had asked. ‘Maybe I’d better stay here with you and Gran.’
He had felt his heart lift then, but said, ‘What about your mum and dad, though? They’d miss you, and you’d soon be wanting to see them again, and Susan. No, son, you’ll like Aberdeen and you’ll forget all about Yarmouth in a short time.’ And about your grandad, had come the sobering thought.
He watched Sean shifting his position in his sleep. He was now lying with his feet against his grandfather’s leg, his head against the side of the carriage, one hand dangling over the edge of the seat and the other flung across his forehead. He looked so sweet and defenceless that Arthur had to restrain himself from grasping him up in his arms, and had to swallow several times to get rid of the lump in his throat. Knocking his pipe out in the ashtray, he put his feet up on the seat opposite.
No one else had come into the carriage - probably worried that the boy would be noisy when he woke up; but his Sean was never noisy. Well, not all that much. He fell asleep himself eventually, vaguely aware of the station noise at York, but the next time he surfaced was in Newcastle.
It was daylight now and he took a newspaper from his pocket. It was yesterday’s news, bought before they’d boarded the train in London. But it would occupy his mind and turn his thoughts away from the parting that had to come. He dozed again after a while, and in no time, it seemed, they were in Edinburgh, the milk churns clanking and a magazine trolley rattling alongside the window.
Sean sat straight up, wide awake at once. That was the best of being so young, there was no land of in-between, when the worries and anxieties of the day, forgotten in sleep, came crowding back to haunt you. ‘Is it Scotland yet, Grandad?’
‘Yes, son, this is Edinburgh, the capital of Scotland.’
‘I’ll
The six-year-old settled himself down and was very quiet, and Arthur wasn’t surprised to see that he had fallen asleep already, his long, surprisingly dark eyelashes resting on his flushed cheeks.
With a shudder, the train drew slowly out of the station, and Arthur shifted his hip slightly to take his pipe out of his pocket. Puffing contentedly, he wondered how Nell and he would fill their lives now that the young folk had left. His wife was probably lying awake right now, going over their John’s life from the time he’d made his first squawking appearance.
Nell was going to miss John and Marge, his wife, but it was he, Arthur admitted to himself, who was going to miss young Sean most. He’d been the boy’s slave since the day the small dimpled hand had first clutched his finger and taken over his heart. How proudly he had taken out the pram to show off his grandson to his fisherman friends, and when at last the boy was old enough to walk with him, it had always been the harbour they had headed for.
Since Sean had started school, of course, they’d only been able to go out together on Saturdays and Sundays, except during the holidays, when they had set off early every day, rain or shine. ‘Was that the boat you used to go on, Grandad?’ Sean would ask a dozen times. ‘When I grow up I’m going to be a trawlerman just like you and go out to sea in my boat.’
Arthur had been pleased about that. It had gone some way to make up for the disappointment he’d felt when John had refused to follow in his father’s footsteps. Sean loved to hear stories of his grandfather’s experiences in the Royal Navy during the war, and, especially just lately, of the time he’d been in Aberdeen. Arthur remembered that time, taken off a minesweeper and spending four weeks in Foresterhill Hospital after having his appendix removed. He hadn’t really seen much of the place, but had told the boy that it was a beautiful city, clean but cold.
‘Will I like it in Aberdeen?’ Sean had asked. ‘Maybe I’d better stay here with you and Gran.’
He had felt his heart lift then, but said, ‘What about your mum and dad, though? They’d miss you, and you’d soon be wanting to see them again, and Susan. No, son, you’ll like Aberdeen and you’ll forget all about Yarmouth in a short time.’ And about your grandad, had come the sobering thought.
He watched Sean shifting his position in his sleep. He was now lying with his feet against his grandfather’s leg, his head against the side of the carriage, one hand dangling over the edge of the seat and the other flung across his forehead. He looked so sweet and defenceless that Arthur had to restrain himself from grasping him up in his arms, and had to swallow several times to get rid of the lump in his throat. Knocking his pipe out in the ashtray, he put his feet up on the seat opposite.
No one else had come into the carriage - probably worried that the boy would be noisy when he woke up; but his Sean was never noisy. Well, not all that much. He fell asleep himself eventually, vaguely aware of the station noise at York, but the next time he surfaced was in Newcastle.
It was daylight now and he took a newspaper from his pocket. It was yesterday’s news, bought before they’d boarded the train in London. But it would occupy his mind and turn his thoughts away from the parting that had to come. He dozed again after a while, and in no time, it seemed, they were in Edinburgh, the milk churns clanking and a magazine trolley rattling alongside the window.
Sean sat straight up, wide awake at once. That was the best of being so young, there was no land of in-between, when the worries and anxieties of the day, forgotten in sleep, came crowding back to haunt you. ‘Is it Scotland yet, Grandad?’
‘Yes, son, this is Edinburgh, the capital of Scotland.’
‘I’ll
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