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of a journey. Mind you, most places are a bit of a journey from there. Are you related to the Urens, then? How inexcusably nosy of me, I am sorry, but then after badgering you on the train I’ve already made an idiot of myself so I might as well keep at it.’
      ‘No, no, I’m not . . . Er, Aunt Gwen’s not from here, she came to live here a while ago. I think she’s like a housekeeper there or something.’
      Hester Lightfoot looked past his shoulder for a moment and then her eyes widened. ‘Oh yes! Yes, someone told me once that her name was Guinivere. Small woman, always dresses in black, lots of bangles, rather . . . distinctive character?’ Gavin was nodding. ‘I should say I don’t know her myself,’ Hester went on. ‘Everyone says she’s very nice, just not the norm for that corner of the county, it’s a little more predictable . . . But anyway! Isn’t that odd? I know your aunt, almost. I don’t think anyone knew she even had a family.’
      He’d wished her away over and over on the train, but now Gavin found himself quite relieved to be talking to her.
      ‘Looks like she forgot about her family this evening, at least,’ he said.
      She was obviously so amazed to hear him make even half a joke that she examined him doubtfully before chuckling.
      ‘Hmm. Well, I’m sure you won’t mind me saying, but she does have a bit of a reputation. It’s probably entirely undeserved. I suspect the locals think she’s unreliable just because they’ve seen her wearing purple lipstick. Did you try ringing her?’
      ‘Nah. She hasn’t got a phone.’
      ‘Of course not. Have you checked to see if she left a message?’
      It would never have occurred to him, and he admitted it.
      She went into the ticket hall, and he heard her talking through a partition to the one person on duty. She took longer about it than he expected and eventually he went in after her.
      ‘. . . So if she does show up you can let her know that I’ve given him a lift already? . . . Hester Lightfoot. Here – I’ll write it down’ – she found a pen on a string and the back of an abandoned ticket – ‘and my number too, but if she comes, you can just tell her Professor Lightfoot picked him up. All right? . . . Thanks very much.’ She pushed the ticket through the window and turned back to Gavin. ‘No message for you, and I don’t see why you should have to hang about here in the cold when I’m going the same direction anyway. I hope you don’t mind. We just have to take the branch line a few stops and then I can drive you round to Pendurra. It’s only a little further for me, and I know the very house where your aunt lives. Quite a coincidence. I’m not sure I haven’t even been inside it, ages ago. Anyway, it sounds as if my train has finally arrived. Do come with me. It’ll save you having to wait who knows how long.’ She led him back along the platform.
      The school kids were noisily pushing inside a still noisier train that had just chugged in. Hester took a few more steps that way, then saw that Gav had stopped following. She turned back until she was peering intently at him from rather too close. Her expression had become startlingly earnest again, full of something that he hadn’t expected to see there and couldn’t fathom.
      ‘It’s all a bit peculiar, I know. To say the least. But do let me give you a lift. Please. Fellow travellers.’
      Caught off-guard, and used to enforced consent, he mumbled some kind of incoherent agreement.
      ‘Good, wonderful!’ she said, snapping back into the bright and unembarrassed mode he’d assumed was her natural state. ‘The branch-line train doesn’t leave for another few minutes. If you want to let anyone know . . .’
      Gavin had completely forgotten promising Mum he’d leave a message from the station. He reddened, realising what he’d have to say.
      ‘Oh yeah, good thought, thanks. Oh wait, is there a payphone or something? Mine’s