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The train station was absolutely packed. As we wound through the crowds of people — mostly parents and their children, which was probably to be expected — we clung to each other's sleeves to make sure we weren't separated from the rest of the class. It was too loud to hear what anyone was saying, and my head ached. There was a hollow sort of ache in my chest as well, which I didn't like.
I thought I might have heard Sir shouting, but it was one tiny sound in a sea of crying and screaming and shouting and everything else that was too loud, too loud, too loud. Picking anything specific out was impossible.
So we walked, twisting around this family and almost crashing into that family and dodging a different school before we could be swept up in their line...
It was chaos.
Reaching platform eight was like a thirteenth Herculean task, something we only just managed to do without anyone getting left behind. Even here, somewhere where parents weren't meant to be — according to the loudspeaker — it was making its way towards being deafening.
There were women in green uniforms scattered across the platform, and someone said they were Woman's Voluntary Services. Apparently it was their job to keep us all together and get us on the train. Many of our teachers were staying behind, for now or full stop, and that was rather jarring to hear.
I kept craning my neck, trying to see if Mum was here, or to find the St Peter's students. It was no use — Lottie and I weren't particularly short or tall — but I kept trying anyway.
"They wouldn't let her onto the platform," Lottie said hesitantly when she realised what I was doing. "Kit, stop it."
"I'm not looking for Mum!" I lied. Well, half-lied. "Where do you think the St Peter's kids are? Won't the train be leaving soon?"
"Bet you're looking for Riley."
"I'm not looking for him."
"Liar."
I forced my earlier concerns about Alex to the back of my mind and watched one of the WVS women as she began ticking off a list, sending a group of students in an expensive-looking uniform onto the train. St Mary's was just two lines away — there wouldn't be time for Mum to find us.
"There's St Peter's!" Lottie hissed, pointing at a fairly small group of children. Martha and Ellie were both walking arm-in-arm with a third girl in between them, and Thomas was trailing along behind the trio like a little lost puppy.
I couldn't be bothered to hide my relief.
But where was Mum? Had she turned up and been turned away? Or had she just gone straight home?
We hadn't said goodbye.
Thomas caught my gaze before Martha and Ellie did, and before the teacher leading them onto the platform could stop him he'd already darted around the girls and forced himself through the line between us.
