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She was leaving Cornwall
further and further behind.  The train to London clattered and swayed around
her.   She reflected on her final conversation with her father, asking him if
he could drive her and her possessions to London, heard his refusal all over
again.  She saw in her mind’s eye the self-righteous expression of her sister’s
face as she stood in the doorway of the kitchen listening to Emma and her
father argue.  The countryside blurred even more as Emma angrily wiped a tear
from her eye.  I should have known he’d refuse, she told herself.  But she was
fed up of always being the one in the wrong, of being made to feel that she was
the black sheep of the family.  If only Meredith were still around.  Emma knew
the two of them would have got on so well.  They were alike, she was sure of
it. 
    Tired of watching the world flash
past her, Emma picked up her gossip magazine, wishing she had someone to talk
to.  She had wanted to travel with Natalie, but Natalie was already there.  She’d
been up and down to London telling Emma she had things to do at the house and insisted
that Emma couldn’t come with her; she needed to go ahead to sort things out. 
Emma had felt a bit left out, but told herself she’d be there soon and it would
be worth it in the end.  The train began to slow down.  Emma looked up from her
magazine in a daze, half expecting to find herself in London already.  No such
luck.  It was only Exeter.  She’d been here so many times it was no longer
interesting and leafed through her magazine restlessly. 
    ‘Excuse me,’ a voice said.  Emma
looked up.  An elderly man was standing in the aisle next to her.  ‘Can I sit
next to you, please?’
    ‘Of course,’ Emma said moving her
bag aside.  She turned back to her magazine.  The train moved away from the
station and gradually began to pick up speed.  They’d soon left Exeter far
behind.  Emma found herself looking out of the window again, her mind drifting
back to her earliest memories.  Meredith.  And what happened to her.  But what
exactly had happened to her?  Emma remembered the official version, what she’d
been told, but what was the truth?  Even the version of events her father had
given her, the secret he’d wanted her to keep, was that the truth?  Or could it
be much worse?
    ‘Where are you headed to?’ The old
man’s voice in her ear made Emma jolt up in her seat.
    ‘London,’ she replied.  She no
longer felt like talking.
    ‘I’m only going as far as Reading
thankfully,’ the old man said.  ‘I can’t stand London.  I lived there before
the war, but it’s very different now, it’s all changed.  There are so many
people from all over the world there now.  It was never like that when I lived
there.’
    Emma nodded along politely, but
wished he’d shut up and let her brood in private.  The man paused for a moment
and Emma thought he’d finished but then he said,
    ‘You know, you remind me very much of
my fiancée.  She died in the Blitz.’ 
    Glancing at him, Emma saw he had a
tear in his eye.  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said awkwardly. 
    ‘That’s all right.  I’m a silly old
fool, but I still miss her.  I can picture her face like it was yesterday.  Of
course I’ve got the odd photo of her, but her face is clear in my mind.  I wish
everything else was!’
    Emma found herself grinning at
him.  Her frostiness melted away.  It was good to have someone to talk to.  As
she and the elderly man chatted, Emma realised once more how much she missed
her own grandfathers, both of whom were now dead.  She found herself talking to
the elderly man about them, and their experiences of the war which they’d
recounted to her.  He seemed genuinely interested in what she had to say, which
was refreshing for Emma.  Her father and sister were usually so busy working on
the farm that they wouldn’t be around that often to have a proper conversation
with. When she did talk to them for any