“King’s Cross station is best for Cambridge,” Lily announced. “There are two departures each morning, and the same for the return in the afternoon. Time for travel is little more than an hour.”
She then provided both departure times.
“The weather had let up and the messenger office was already open,” she announced. “And there are biscuits from the Public House.”
“Ye went to the courier office, alone, this time of the mornin’?”
I heard the disapproval in Brodie’s voice.
“We will take the second departure,” I replied, before that temper could get the better of him.
“That will give us plenty of time to make our inquiries once we arrive, then make the afternoon train back to London.”
I handed him a biscuit that contained a thick slice of ham, to soothe the savage beast as it were.
“You might call Sir Knollys at Marlborough House if the telephone is working and make your appointment with His Highness.”
Lily grinned.
There were a few comments made, some in Gaelic. From time to time, it was necessary to poke this bear.
“Aye,” Brodie said as he set the earpiece back in the cradle on the telephone. “I’m to meet with His Highness at two o’clock this afternoon,” he informed me after the call had ended.
“I will see the two of ye to the rail station.”
I saw the protest Lily would have made and shook my head.
I did not argue that we were perfectly capable of finding a driver and making the trip to King’s Cross station.
“We could take a cab quite easily now that the streets have cleared,” she pointed out as we took the lift to the street level while Brodie took the stairs.
“One needs to pick one’s battles,” I replied.
King’s Cross station was very much like a small city under that arched dome with glass panels and included separate tracks for arrivals and departures with an island between.
Under that dome were shops, cafes, a telegraph office, and the ticket office with a half dozen windows.
Coaches with passengers arrived and departed, clogging the roadway that was already congested due to overnight weather and snow.
We had arrived in good time, and Brodie went to purchase our tickets while Lily and I waited under an overhead sign with departure times and destinations.
She had traveled by train to Scotland with us and Aunt Antonia several times, most recently during the influenza outbreak. Yet, there was still that fascination with the congestion of passengers and the sound of trains departing for other places, not to mention the admiration of a young man nearby who made no attempt to disguise his interest in a young girl. Or, rather, a young woman, I reminded myself.
“You seem to have drawn attention,” I commented as we waited.
Lily turned to inspect the young man. She might as well have been inspecting fresh produce at a street side vendor, or perhaps the latest catch from a fish monger.
“He’s barely out of knickers,” she exclaimed. “His mother must be about somewhere.”
And so ended that bit of flirtation as Brodie arrived.
“Accordin’ to the clerk at the counter, ye should arrive before noon. The last train departs from Cambridge at four o’clock.” He handed us our tickets. “The next platform.”
He escorted us, then assisted us aboard the train. His hand lingered on mine as Lily continued on into the passenger compartment.
“Be careful.”
It was always the same, yet I knew where it came from, and welcomed it. And my response was the same as well.
