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the last hour. He had no need to ask himself how this had come about; it was only too evident. His mother had achieved her purpose.
    The knowledge that things could happen to you that could take away the feeling of loss wasn’t pleasant knowledge, Matty decided, for he did not want to forget Nelson – ever.

Chapter Three
     
    In a state of high excitement they arrived at Hexham. They were hot, thirsty, hungry and tired, but so excited they weren’t aware of their discomfort.
    ‘We’re nearly there. Look, we’re running in.’ Joe was bouncing up and down like a cork at the corridor window, and Willie, leaning over him, pushed his head out of the window, saying, ‘It seems years since we left Tyne Dock.’
    Matty, no less excited, pulled their cases from the rack. There were four cases, and the two largest belonged to him and one of them was full of food. That was his mother’s doing. Aw well. He smiled to himself, then shouted to his pals, ‘Here you! Get your stuff.’
    Like jack-in-the-boxes, the boys bounced into the carriage and grabbed up their luggage, and before the train had pulled itself to a stop Willie was on the platform and almost on his face as he missed his footing.
    Matty held Joe by the collar until the train was absolutely still, and when they alighted Matty went for Willie, saying, ‘It would have served you right if you’d landed up on the track. Now I’ve told you, Willie.’ He wagged his finger in the taller boy’s face. Any of your daft antics and we break it up.’
    ‘Aw, all right, Matty man, I just wanted to get off. I’m so hot I feel fried. I want a drink.’ He looked around, and Matty said, ‘You’ve got to get your things out of the van, we’re not seeing to them. You can have a drink after, so come on.’
    When finally their luggage stood in a pile outside the station, they looked about them. Where was Mr Walsh? What was he like? Would he have a car? A Land Rover or a lorry? They didn’t know. Mr Styles had said that Mr Walsh would know them by their number, and this Matty pointed out to Willie when he was once again on the point of leaving them to get a drink. ‘Look,’ he said, ‘if he just sees two of us he won’t think it’s us, he’ll think we’re some other blokes going campin’.’
    To this confusing but apparently, to Willie, lucid statement, he replied, ‘But, Matty, man, I’m chokin’.’
    ‘Well, you go on chokin’.’ Matty nodded at him briskly. ‘And when you peg out we’ll bury you.’ Again they were laughing, Willie included. He didn’t mind if the joke was against himself. Matty was in fine form. Oh, they were going to have a spanking time . . . But if only he could have a drink.
    Ten minutes later, all three were still standing outside the station. The cars had thinned out considerably, and so had the people, and what was very evident was that nobody was rushing round looking for three boys with camping equipment.
    It was when they had been waiting for half an hour and Matty was really beginning to worry that a small dilapidated-looking lorry drew to a stop in front of them, and a man, getting down from the cab, surveyed them for a moment in silence. Then he said, ‘Well, you’ve arrived then.’
    ‘You Mr Walsh?’ asked Matty.
    ‘Yes, I’m Mr Walsh.’
    ‘We’ve been waiting for half an hour.’ Willie smiled as he gave Mr Walsh this information. And Mr Walsh, looking from the crown of Willie’s damp hair to his dusty shoes, then up again, replied, ‘In that case you’ve had plenty of time to cool down, haven’t you? Well, what are you waiting for? Get your stuff on.’
    He let down the back of the lorry and stood aside while they loaded their gear, and when it was all on, he commanded, ‘Get yourselves up now.’
    ‘We ridin’ in the back?’ This was the first time Joe had spoken, and Mr Walsh gave him the same treatment as he had given Willie; he let his eyes rove over him before he said, ‘Yes, little ’un, you’re