Duplicity by Doris Davidson Page B

soon be seeing the mountains, then, and that’s two capitals I’ve seen, because when we were in London, you said that was the capital of England.’
    ‘That’s right. You’re a clever one, fancy remembering that. You’ll get on just great at your new school, I’m sure.’
    Sean looked thoughtful. ‘I wonder what my new school will be like? Do the people in Aberdeen speak a different language, Grandad?’
    ‘You’ll think so until you get used to them.’
    ‘Will they laugh at me for the way I speak?’
    ‘I don’t think they’ll laugh, but they’ll likely find it difficult to understand what you’re saying.’
    ‘Why will they? I don’t speak funny.’
    ‘It’ll sound funny to them, though, Sean.’
    The small lips pouted for a second. ‘I don’t think I’m going to like it in Aberdeen, Grandad. Can’t I go home to Yarmouth with you to live?’
    Arthur was secretly pleased - there was nothing he’d like more - but shook his head. ‘You can’t do that, son. Anyway, you’re not going to be living right in Aberdeen. Your new house is more than twenty miles north of that.’
    The guard blew his whistle, the train left Waverley Station and, after the scary journey through the tunnel, they could see the scenery again. With the quicksilver change of childhood, Sean forgot his qualms about the new life ahead of him.
    ‘Is that a mountain, Grandad?’ he asked in great excitement. He was pointing to the Castle, on its pedestal of volcanic rock.
    ‘Not really, but we’ll see one soon.’ Arthur stood up and took the duffel bag from the luggage rack. ‘Your Gran put something in here for us to eat. What say we have some breakfast?’
    ‘Ooh, yes, please, Grandad, but I’ll have to go to the toilet first.’
    How could he have forgotten the most important of the boy’s needs, Arthur chided himself, recognising the same need in himself now. ‘Right, then, off we go.’ He hoped that the toilet would be free, or if it wasn’t, that they wouldn’t have long to wait until it was. Thankfully, most of the passengers had been up and about earlier, and they just had to wait a few minutes. Luckily, the Forth Bridge caused a diversion, as Arthur had told Sean just the week before that when he had travelled home from Aberdeen during the war, all the passengers had thrown pennies over the bridge for luck. So he dipped into his trouser pocket, took out a handful of small change and selected a penny for the boy to throw from the open window of the nearest carriage. ‘It only brings good luck,’ he instructed, ‘if it goes into the water.’ Unfortunately, the coin landed at the edge of the bridge, but bounced over the side and splashed into the river far below. Arthur wondered if Sean would worry about it not going straight into the water, but he seemed to be quite happy with his throw.
    Back in their seats, Sean eagerly opened the duffel bag and pulled out a plastic container. ‘What’s in here?’
    Soon they were munching sandwiches and drinking Coke out of tins. ‘It’s like a picnic, isn’t it. Grandad?’ Sean looked up into his grandfather’s craggy face, but the excitement on his own small countenance vanished as a shadow passed over it.
    He’s thinking there’ll be no more picnics for the two of us, Arthur mused. It was going to be a heartbreaking business for both of them to say goodbye when he had to leave the boy. But even before they had finished eating, he was keeping constant his vigil.
    ‘That’s a mountain this time, isn’t it? Say yes, Grandad.’ He pointed to a mound in the distance.
    ‘No, no, that’s only a slag heap. Coal, you know.’
    Mountains seemed to hold a deep fascination for the boy, but the old man realised that he’d been born and brought up in East Anglia, flat as a pancake, so he had probably never seen anything higher than a small hill.
    They continued their journey, with Sean jumping up at intervals to say, ‘I don’t see any mountains yet, Grandad.’
    When