by danger, the unexpected, the unknown.
He should be with them, to keep them safe. She allowed herself to be bundled on to the train, still sobbing occasionally. Hannah held fast to her hand, but she treated her gently. There was no
tugging or pulling at her to keep up. Ellie was already curled up on one of the seats, already half-asleep.
May felt the silence envelop all of them as they closed the door of their compartment. Mama stroked her head once in a distracted kind of way, and then gazed out the window. She kept patting her
daughter’s hand, murmuring, ‘Good girl, good girl,’ as May’s breathing stilled, but she still kept her eyes fixed on something beyond the window. It was strange: there was
nothing to look at, it seemed to May. Everything was blank and featureless once the bright platform had slid away, backwards, into the dusk.
‘Why were those men fighting, Mama?’
‘Sshhh – we’ll talk about it later. It’s nothing for you to worry about. No one can touch you now. You must rest, May, you need to breathe quietly.’
May wanted answers; she wasn’t interested in breathing quietly. But it seemed that neither Mama nor Hannah felt inclined to speak. Underneath all the recent terror, her senses sharpened by
fear, May was able to detect an undercurrent of something else in her mother’s silence. She was different, somehow, more distant. Her presence with them in the carriage was somehow
unemphatic. She had withdrawn that part of herself that made her Mama. It was as though May could have been anyone’s daughter, sitting in any carriage, going anywhere on a normal, everyday
journey. She felt suddenly afraid that in the midst of her terror, she had, somehow, done something to make her mother stop loving her.
Hannah whispered to her to lie down, pointing towards Eleanor and pressing her finger to her lips. There was nothing else for it. Her breathing felt more normal now, the hammering of her heart
against her ribcage had eased, and Hannah’s gestures were becoming insistent. She’d have to do as she was told. Reluctantly, she tucked her feet under her on the seat and lay down,
nestling her head into Hannah’s lap. Exhausted, she waited for sleep.
But sleep would not come. The wheels of the train failed to comfort her, the motion made her begin to feel sick. Rather than the familiar taketa-tack of its wheels, the usual, soothing
rocking sensation, the train instead seemed to become sinister. The noises it made were an uncanny echo of the ugly shouts May had heard on the city streets, imitating their rhythm and ferocity.
She felt the base of her throat start to constrict again. She was about to sit up when Hannah began to speak, quietly, to their mother. May decided to stay where she was. A strong instinct told her
that this conversation would cease if she were suddenly to appear awake. She kept her eyes closed instead, and listened, straining to hear her mother’s reply above the noise of the train.
‘Your father has been arrested, Hannah. The police came and took him away two days ago.’
May felt her stomach lurch and fill rapidly with butterflies. At the same time, she was conscious of a wave of relief: it was always so much easier once the darkness was named : she had
been deeply disturbed by the great silent cloud of distress which, up until now, had surrounded all of them in the dimly lit carriage.
‘What did he do?’
May held her breath.
‘He embezzled Post Office funds.’
May was puzzled. She had no idea what her mother meant. She waited, and Hannah spoke again, voicing her thoughts, speaking for her, as she often did.
‘I don’t understand. What does that mean?’
‘It means he took money – borrowed it, without permission.’
‘But if he borrowed it, then he means to pay it back. Why don’t they just let him pay it back?’
‘Because he hasn’t got it, Hannah. And if you haven’t got it, then borrowing like that is the same as stealing. That’s the
He should be with them, to keep them safe. She allowed herself to be bundled on to the train, still sobbing occasionally. Hannah held fast to her hand, but she treated her gently. There was no
tugging or pulling at her to keep up. Ellie was already curled up on one of the seats, already half-asleep.
May felt the silence envelop all of them as they closed the door of their compartment. Mama stroked her head once in a distracted kind of way, and then gazed out the window. She kept patting her
daughter’s hand, murmuring, ‘Good girl, good girl,’ as May’s breathing stilled, but she still kept her eyes fixed on something beyond the window. It was strange: there was
nothing to look at, it seemed to May. Everything was blank and featureless once the bright platform had slid away, backwards, into the dusk.
‘Why were those men fighting, Mama?’
‘Sshhh – we’ll talk about it later. It’s nothing for you to worry about. No one can touch you now. You must rest, May, you need to breathe quietly.’
May wanted answers; she wasn’t interested in breathing quietly. But it seemed that neither Mama nor Hannah felt inclined to speak. Underneath all the recent terror, her senses sharpened by
fear, May was able to detect an undercurrent of something else in her mother’s silence. She was different, somehow, more distant. Her presence with them in the carriage was somehow
unemphatic. She had withdrawn that part of herself that made her Mama. It was as though May could have been anyone’s daughter, sitting in any carriage, going anywhere on a normal, everyday
journey. She felt suddenly afraid that in the midst of her terror, she had, somehow, done something to make her mother stop loving her.
Hannah whispered to her to lie down, pointing towards Eleanor and pressing her finger to her lips. There was nothing else for it. Her breathing felt more normal now, the hammering of her heart
against her ribcage had eased, and Hannah’s gestures were becoming insistent. She’d have to do as she was told. Reluctantly, she tucked her feet under her on the seat and lay down,
nestling her head into Hannah’s lap. Exhausted, she waited for sleep.
But sleep would not come. The wheels of the train failed to comfort her, the motion made her begin to feel sick. Rather than the familiar taketa-tack of its wheels, the usual, soothing
rocking sensation, the train instead seemed to become sinister. The noises it made were an uncanny echo of the ugly shouts May had heard on the city streets, imitating their rhythm and ferocity.
She felt the base of her throat start to constrict again. She was about to sit up when Hannah began to speak, quietly, to their mother. May decided to stay where she was. A strong instinct told her
that this conversation would cease if she were suddenly to appear awake. She kept her eyes closed instead, and listened, straining to hear her mother’s reply above the noise of the train.
‘Your father has been arrested, Hannah. The police came and took him away two days ago.’
May felt her stomach lurch and fill rapidly with butterflies. At the same time, she was conscious of a wave of relief: it was always so much easier once the darkness was named : she had
been deeply disturbed by the great silent cloud of distress which, up until now, had surrounded all of them in the dimly lit carriage.
‘What did he do?’
May held her breath.
‘He embezzled Post Office funds.’
May was puzzled. She had no idea what her mother meant. She waited, and Hannah spoke again, voicing her thoughts, speaking for her, as she often did.
‘I don’t understand. What does that mean?’
‘It means he took money – borrowed it, without permission.’
‘But if he borrowed it, then he means to pay it back. Why don’t they just let him pay it back?’
‘Because he hasn’t got it, Hannah. And if you haven’t got it, then borrowing like that is the same as stealing. That’s the
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