He treated her always as though he had forgotten that she had grown up. “How are you, Ellen, my dear?” He bent and aimed a brief peck at Mother’s cheek. “You haven’t seen it yet,” said Great-Uncle Merry. “Cornwall’s wonderful,” Barney said, bubbling. “Ah, there you are,” he said casually, looking down at them from beneath his bristling white eyebrows with a slight smile. They clustered round him, chattering like squirrels round the base of a tree. She jumped to her feet and ran after them into the sunshine, seeing in an instant what they had seen: the towering familiar figure of Great-Uncle Merry, out in the yard, waiting for them. Hey, he comes from the village!”īut as she looked up, suddenly the others were not there. She fumbled with the silver tab on the heavy strap. “His name’s on his collar,” Jane said, still down beside the dog’s neck. The crowds were thinning now, and through the barrier they could see clear blue sky out over the station yard. He scratched the red head, and the dog gave a throaty half-bark of pleasure. “Isn’t he gorgeous?” Jane crouched beside him, and ruffled the long silky fur of his neck.
He loped round them in a circle, raising his long red muzzle to each in turn, then stopped beside Jane, and licked her hand. “Darling, no,” said his mother plaintively, clutching at the bunch of paint-brushes that sprouted from her pocket like a tuft of celery.īut even before Barney whistled, the dog had begun trotting in their direction, swift and determined, as if he were recognizing old friends. He was a long, rangy, lean dog, and where the sunlight shafted down on his coat it gleamed dark red.
Its owner picked it up and moved away, and the dog which had been behind it was left standing there alone, looking up and down the platform. Then they saw that the suitcase had two brown pricked ears and a long waving brown tail. “What’s so marvellous about that?” Jane said.
He was staring at a large black suitcase among the forest of shuffling legs. 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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