The Last Train Home

Chapter Ten

With plenty to do around the farm, the next few days flew by.

When Friday rolled around, I could hardly believe that I had been away from home for an entire week and that I would have to return home. Mrs Goodwin had warmed to be a little, but not enough for me to think that she would accept me staying in her home any longer. Still, I had tried a lot of things I never thought possible, including my first ever riding lesson which wasn't as much of a disaster as I first thought. Despite that, I was ready to go home.

I had missed my own bed and having more than two blouses to choose from in the morning. Despite the chest of drawers, I had lived out of my suitcase since I never saw the point in unpacking it all if it would only be for a week. Now that week was up, I made sure everything had been packed and the latches clicked in place so I was ready to go when we were allowed to. A week away was long enough for me, and even with the outbreak of war, I didn't think it would ever move off mainland Europe.

"Sybil! Can you come here?" Mrs Goodwin yelled up the stairs. I triple checked the latches on my suitcase and left it on the bed, walking down the stairs to find Mrs Goodwin standing near the doorway with her coat on.

"Yes?" I asked.

"You're spending the day with me. I have some errands to run in the village and you've been working on the farm all week. People will think we're trying to hide you on purpose and I'm sure Jonathan can manage for the day."

"Alright." I didn't see the point in arguing, she seemed set on me accompanying her even though she still didn't like being in the same room as me for too long. At least being in the village meant I would be one of the first to hear if we were returning home.

Mrs Goodwin hands me my coat from the rack beside the front door but I just drape it over my arm rather than put it on. The weather had held up all week and still showed no signs of Autumn approaching; the coat felt a little unnecessary. She pulled a face and pursed her lips but said nothing further on the matter, perhaps she didn't want my last day with them to turn into an argument, I could be grateful for that at least.

I followed Mrs Goodwin from the house, the two of us passing by Mr Goodwin as he returned to the house in search of something. He offered me a reassuring smile as I passed which I returned, although I wished I could be spending the day working on the farm rather than in the village. Other than Alec, Mr Thompson, and Mrs Williams, I hadn't met anyone from the village and had a real conversation with them and I had no intention of doing so. Why should I meet them if I wouldn't be around long enough for anything other than a passing greeting?

We traced the track we walked down the Sunday before, with the sun high in the sky above us and a few clouds dotted about. None of them looked like rain clouds so I assumed I would be safe with only having my coat on my arm. Even though I wanted to spend the day on the farm and not in the village, I didn't mind the walk down there and it reminded me of my walks through London with Dad during the summer or a trip to Hyde Park for a picnic.

When we reached the village square, I followed Mrs Goodwin across the cobblestone to a shop right on the corner. Outside were several boxes of fruit and vegetables with people milling about and picking up the produce to inspect it. Many of them were looking more to the fruit than the vegetables, probably because they could grow them themselves.

"We're not due a harvest this year. We didn't get the time to plant anything given the state of the farm so I'll need to buy enough to last us at least the week. With any luck, we'll be able to be ready for next year's harvest. If you take this, I can fill it," Mrs Goodwin said. She handed me a wicker basket she had carried on her arm.

"What happened to the farm? For it to fall apart the way it did?" I asked. I hoped Mrs Goodwin wouldn't find my comment rude, but I had been curious about it since Mr Goodwin first mentioned it being a family farm.