The Last Train Home

Chapter Five

Mrs Goodwin couldn't show any more disdain for me if she tried.

The moment the paperwork had been signed and the exchange completed, she stalked out of the room without so much as a second glance at me. Instead, I followed Mr Goodwin out of the hall and through a maze of dirt tracks and fields until we reached a small farmhouse. The brick of the house was crumbling, ivy twisted its way up the outside of the brick and even poked itself through the walls, pushing bricks out of place. What few windows were visible were covered in dirt and the entire house appeared to be falling down.

Inside wasn't much better. The paint and wallpaper had started to peel off and a layer of dust coated almost every surface in the house. With the dirty windows, light couldn't penetrate and the entire house had this gloomy feel to it. Everything looked like it needed a good scrub with a brush and a bucket of water and I knew that if Mum were there, she would have done it at lightning speed. Mum hated any sort of dirt and dust.

Throughout my entire first night, Mrs Goodwin refused to even look at me and almost slammed my plate of food down in front of me. If she kept it up, I'd be leaving before she even had the opportunity to find someone else to help with the farm chores. I didn't want to be there just as much as she didn't want me there but she could hardly blame me for being the last one left in the village hall by the time the two of them arrived. With any luck, I would only have to put up with them for a week.

Mr Goodwin showed me to my room. It was a small, box room with a sloped ceiling, a bed, a small nightstand with light and a lone chest of drawers against one wall. Like all the other rooms, the window was coated in a layer of dirt and the wood of the frame had become warped so the window didn't even open.

"It's not much, but we're working on it," Mr Goodwin said, standing in the doorway. I placed my suitcase on the bed. "This farm was my father's, it fell apart with him I suppose."

"I have a bed, what more could a person need?" I shrugged.

"A good way of looking at everything." He smiled. "Don't worry about Barb, she wanted a strapping young lad to help us out, but you look strong enough to me. She'll come around."

"Maybe."

"I'll leave you to it. You can put your things away in the drawers. Breakfast is around seven and if you're up for it, you can join me right afterwards for some work on the upper pen."

"Thank you."

Mr Goodwin nodded and silently dipped out of the room, closing the door and plunging me into darkness. I sighed and sat down on the edge of my bed, looking out into the darkness and drumming my fingers lightly on the top of my suitcase. He seemed nice, nicer than his wife at any rate, but I couldn't help but wonder if he was only being nice to try and counteract his wife. Still, I had finally eaten something and had a warm bed for the night so I could hardly complain - although I wanted to.

I switched the bedside light on, the bulb flickering several times before becoming stable and filling the small room in a yellow-ish glow. The light didn't make the room look any better, but I tried to ignore it and unlatched my suitcase, rooting around it for my nightdress. Despite the chest of drawers, I had no intention of unpacking since I knew we would be back on the train by the time the week was out. I could pull what I needed from it and be ready to go by the time we were allowed to.

Through the door, I could hear the soft hum of conversation from downstairs with the occasional rise and fall in tone from Mrs Goodwin. Whenever she seemed to raise her voice, it quickly dropped down again, as though she was being told to stay quiet. I pulled on my nightdress, moved my suitcase so it was on top of the chest of drawers before crawling between the blankets. I was asleep before my head even hit the pillow.