Then suddenly he stood still, gazing downwards. “Oh, where is he?” Barney still jigged impatiently on the dusty grey platform, glaring at the disappearing backs that masked his view. “Trewissick’s five miles from St Austell, Great-Uncle Merry said.” “We’re miles from the sea,” Simon said loftily. “Stay where you are a minute,” Father said, from a barricade of suitcases. With a car.”īehind them, the big diesel locomotive hooted like a giant owl, and the train began to move out.
“Of course he’s there,” Simon said, struggling to clutch the long canvas bundle of his father’s fishing rods.
Barney hopped from one foot to the other as he clambered down from the train, peering in vain through the white-faced crowds flooding eagerly to the St Austell ticket barrier.
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