Читать книгу Whatever Happened to Mary Janeway? - Mary Pettit - Страница 7
From Mary Janeway:
The Legacy of a Home Child
ОглавлениеJuly 25, 1900
Mary headed for the station with the same determination that had helped her get this far. She never looked back. When she arrived at the wicket, she found she had enough money, the money Will had given her, to go as far as London. And that is how she decided her destination. The station master could not help wondering where the little curly-haired young woman with the straw hat and tiny red suitcase was really heading as he helped her board the train.
With the exception of one elderly man and a couple, there was no one else aboard. Mary chose a window seat and felt wistful but not sad as the train pulled out. She watched the fields roll by and allowed herself to be gently lulled by the slow lateral motion of the train rolling down the tracks.
After about thirty minutes the train stopped at Beachville to pick up some passengers and mail. A young girl in her mid-twenties boarded the train and stopped beside Mary’s seat. Mary panicked briefly. Was this someone from Innerkip who recognized her?
“Do you mind if I sit with you?” she asked.
“No, I don’t mind,” Mary replied.
“I’ve a long trip ahead and I hate travelling alone,” the girl admitted, smiling as she sat down, removing her large brimmed hat and setting a train case in the aisle beside her. Mary guessed that the girl was around Annie’s age but nothing like Annie. This young woman was friendly.
“Where are you going?” Mary asked with curiosity.
“I go as far as London, then I catch another train to Montreal,” the girl explained, still a bit out of breath from hurrying. “I’m to meet my cousin Elizabeth there. She’s coming to live with us,” she said excitedly. “What about you?”
“I’m going to London,” Mary answered truthfully. “My sister Caroline just had a baby and she needs me,” she said without hesitation. She turned and looked out the window.
And I will be free, she thought.
Cornfields, pastures, rivers, and trees flashed past, but all Mary could see was her own reflection in the glass.