said goodbye to the room that had been her home for the past six months.
David accompanied her to Paddington Station on a foggy December morning to see her off on the long journey to Abergavenny.
‘Oh, Taffy, I do wish you were coming with me,’ she said, leaning out of the window as he stood on the platform.
‘You’ll be as safe as houses, Greta. Trust me. I wouldn’t do wrong by you, now would I?’
‘Your mother will be there to pick me up from the station?’ Greta asked anxiously for the third time.
‘Yes, she’ll be there. And one word of warning – try and remember to refer to me as David. She won’t be very impressed with my Windmill nickname, I can assure you,’
he said with a chuckle. ‘And I’ll come and visit as soon as I can, promise. Now, here’s a little something for you.’ He pressed an envelope into her hand as the guard blew
his whistle. ‘Goodbye, sweetheart. Safe journey and take care of the both of you.’
Kissing her on both cheeks, David thought Greta resembled a ten-year-old evacuee being billeted out to an unknown location.
Greta waved until he was a tiny speck on the platform, then made her way to her carriage and sat down amongst a group of demobbed soldiers. They were smoking and talking excitedly about friends
and relatives they hadn’t seen for months. The contrast between them and her was almost unbearably poignant – they were returning to their loved ones and she was on a journey into the
unknown. She opened the envelope David had put into her hand. It contained some money and a note telling her it was for emergencies.
As she watched London’s familiar buildings give way to undulating fields, Greta’s fear began to grow. She comforted herself with the thought that if David’s mother turned out
to be a madwoman and the cottage no more than a chicken shed, she now had enough money to return to London and rethink her plans. As the train travelled west, stopping at numerous stations, the
soldiers gradually disembarked to be greeted on the platforms by joyful parents, wives and girlfriends. There were only a handful of passengers left by the time she’d changed trains at
Newport, then, eventually, Greta was alone in the carriage. She began to relax slightly as she stared out of the window at the unfamiliar Welsh landscape. As the sun began to set, she became aware
of a subtle change in the scenery; it was wilder and more dramatic than anything she’d seen before in England. Snow-capped mountains appeared on the darkening horizon as the train chugged
nearer to Abergavenny.
It was past five o’clock and already pitch black when the train finally drew in to her destination. Greta pulled her suitcases from the rack above her head, straightened her hat and
stepped out onto the platform. A chill wind was blowing and she pulled her coat closer to shield her body. She walked uncertainly towards the exit, glancing around for anyone who might be expecting
her. She sat on a bench outside the tiny station as her fellow passengers greeted those there to meet them and subsequently departed into the night.
Ten minutes later, the narrow forecourt was almost deserted. After shivering on the bench for a few more minutes, Greta stood up and walked back into the relative warmth of the station itself.
The clerk was still working behind the window, and she tapped on it.
‘Excuse me, sir.’
‘Yes,
fach
?’
‘Can you tell me what time the next connecting train to London leaves?’
The clerk shook his head. ‘No more trains tonight. The next one’s tomorrow morning.’
‘Oh.’ Greta bit her lip, feeling tears pricking the back of her eyes.
‘I’m sorry, miss. Have you anywhere to stay tonight?’
‘Well, someone’s meant to be meeting me to take me to a place called Marchmont.’
The clerk rubbed his brow. ‘Look you, that’s a good few miles from here. Not walking distance. And Tom the Taxi is over in Monmouth tonight with his missus.’
‘Oh
David accompanied her to Paddington Station on a foggy December morning to see her off on the long journey to Abergavenny.
‘Oh, Taffy, I do wish you were coming with me,’ she said, leaning out of the window as he stood on the platform.
‘You’ll be as safe as houses, Greta. Trust me. I wouldn’t do wrong by you, now would I?’
‘Your mother will be there to pick me up from the station?’ Greta asked anxiously for the third time.
‘Yes, she’ll be there. And one word of warning – try and remember to refer to me as David. She won’t be very impressed with my Windmill nickname, I can assure you,’
he said with a chuckle. ‘And I’ll come and visit as soon as I can, promise. Now, here’s a little something for you.’ He pressed an envelope into her hand as the guard blew
his whistle. ‘Goodbye, sweetheart. Safe journey and take care of the both of you.’
Kissing her on both cheeks, David thought Greta resembled a ten-year-old evacuee being billeted out to an unknown location.
Greta waved until he was a tiny speck on the platform, then made her way to her carriage and sat down amongst a group of demobbed soldiers. They were smoking and talking excitedly about friends
and relatives they hadn’t seen for months. The contrast between them and her was almost unbearably poignant – they were returning to their loved ones and she was on a journey into the
unknown. She opened the envelope David had put into her hand. It contained some money and a note telling her it was for emergencies.
As she watched London’s familiar buildings give way to undulating fields, Greta’s fear began to grow. She comforted herself with the thought that if David’s mother turned out
to be a madwoman and the cottage no more than a chicken shed, she now had enough money to return to London and rethink her plans. As the train travelled west, stopping at numerous stations, the
soldiers gradually disembarked to be greeted on the platforms by joyful parents, wives and girlfriends. There were only a handful of passengers left by the time she’d changed trains at
Newport, then, eventually, Greta was alone in the carriage. She began to relax slightly as she stared out of the window at the unfamiliar Welsh landscape. As the sun began to set, she became aware
of a subtle change in the scenery; it was wilder and more dramatic than anything she’d seen before in England. Snow-capped mountains appeared on the darkening horizon as the train chugged
nearer to Abergavenny.
It was past five o’clock and already pitch black when the train finally drew in to her destination. Greta pulled her suitcases from the rack above her head, straightened her hat and
stepped out onto the platform. A chill wind was blowing and she pulled her coat closer to shield her body. She walked uncertainly towards the exit, glancing around for anyone who might be expecting
her. She sat on a bench outside the tiny station as her fellow passengers greeted those there to meet them and subsequently departed into the night.
Ten minutes later, the narrow forecourt was almost deserted. After shivering on the bench for a few more minutes, Greta stood up and walked back into the relative warmth of the station itself.
The clerk was still working behind the window, and she tapped on it.
‘Excuse me, sir.’
‘Yes,
fach
?’
‘Can you tell me what time the next connecting train to London leaves?’
The clerk shook his head. ‘No more trains tonight. The next one’s tomorrow morning.’
‘Oh.’ Greta bit her lip, feeling tears pricking the back of her eyes.
‘I’m sorry, miss. Have you anywhere to stay tonight?’
‘Well, someone’s meant to be meeting me to take me to a place called Marchmont.’
The clerk rubbed his brow. ‘Look you, that’s a good few miles from here. Not walking distance. And Tom the Taxi is over in Monmouth tonight with his missus.’
‘Oh
Similar Books
