The Last Train Home

Chapter Nineteen

My first reading lesson ended up being an unmitigated disaster.

It turned out that whilst I thought I had some understanding of how sounds were made and knew at least the basics, that was far from the truth. Jonathan decided that it would be best if we started from the very beginning which ended up being the alphabet, something I definitely did know. Still, he thought it would be better to go over it again just to be sure that I knew it well enough for the next stage of our lessons which would be sounds.

That was where the trouble started. I quickly became frustrated by the way the sounds were made and how different combinations of letters made the same sound. It didn't make any sense to me. There were words that I thought were easy to spell, but then weren't because the letters that made the sound were different to those in the previous word even if the sound was the same.

"Don't be too hard on yourself, Sybil. You'll get it eventually," Jonathan had said, but it did little to help.

"Who created this language, anyway?" I grumbled.

"It's mainly Latin, Greek, French and plenty of others. I agree that it's a pain, sometimes I get confused with spellings."

I know he said it to try and make me feel better, he even laughed a little afterwards, it didn't help me. Everyone else I knew had managed to grasp the different sounds and spellings when they were five and yet I was fourteen and still struggling to grasp it. Jonathan and Barbara had both tried to be reassuring about it, especially by telling me they had come across countless others with the same issues I had, but it didn't help much.

Monday came around and with it came a dark, brooding cloud that lingered over the farm from the moment I woke up. The house returned to the gloom and darkness it had been encased in when I first arrived only this time the cause was the weather and not the amount of dirt caked onto the window. Barbara grumbled at the sight of the cloud as she prepared breakfast that morning, staring out of the window and watching as the cloud moved. It looked fit to burst at any moment.

"I really don't like the look of that cloud," she said, placing some toast in front of me.

"What errands have you got to run today?" Jonathan asked. He dropped toast crumbs down his jumper almost immediately.

"I need to get some more carrots for the soup tonight." She tutted. "The sooner this farm is up and running, the better. We can have our own carrots then."

"I'll go," I said. "There isn't much I can do around here now and I have to find my way into the village on my own someday, right?"

"Hm, perhaps. You might fare better in the rain than I will."

"There you go then! Sybil can run the errand for today and you can do whatever household chores need doing."

"And you?"

"I thought I might hang up that photograph of Mother and Father in the living room, just above the fireplace."

"That's going to take all morning is it?"

Barbara raised an eyebrow at her husband who nodded and grinned like a child, clearly trying to get out of any other chores other than hanging up a photograph. She shook her head and I saw the slight trace of a smile on her lips when she did so. The two of them were almost polar opposites with Jonathan being on the more goofy side and Barbara on the more serious side of life. Despite that, they seemed to work out quite well and they had yet to have a serious argument between them whilst I was there.

After breakfast, Barbara put together a shortlist that just had carrots written on it, apparently she didn't trust me to remember. She dug out the wicker basket that she always took on trips in the village so she could carry everything back in one piece. I pulled on my coat, just in case it did rain, as Barbara fussed around with her purse and pulled out several coins which she tucked into a smaller purse.