brother but Imp may as well be too. He catches my eye for a moment and then I feel the lump in my throat again. The man asks something about my dress but Iâm not even listening, instead Iâm blinking quickly, trying to suppress the tears that feel so close. I turn away from the crowds and walk into the train without answering.
Inside, I donât even look at the surroundings, instead resting my hands on the cool glass on the far side, swallowing, blinking, and trying to tell myself Iâm an adult now. A Kingsman tells me it is going to be a long day â we are the furthest north so have to stop through the Realm to pick up everyone else but I am not really listening. I almost ask if I can go back for my pot of jam but he says there will be food and drink for the journey. Then he tells me there are five minutes before we leave and that I can spend that time with whoever I wish.
The obvious choice is my mum but weâve said everything we have to and I donât want to see her cry again. I tell him Opieâs name and start to describe him but he already knows. âThat tall blonde kid, yes?â he asks and I realise how distinctive Opie is, even among a crowd.
A moment later and he is in front of me. The compartment is large with rows of seats lining the sides but we stand, watching each other. He seems taller and thicker, his large arms by his side, his hair messy as if he has just got up.
âHello,â I say as I feel myself smiling.
âHello.â
We continue to stare at each other before his arms twitch and suddenly I am within them, feeling them around me, the bristle of his chin rubbing the top of my head. We donât speak but I feel a tingle along my spine as his fingers cup my head and slide along the curves of my back.
It feels like mere seconds before people are in the carriage, telling us it is time, that there is a schedule and a long day.
Before we move apart I whisper in Opieâs ear, telling him to look after Colt and my mother, even though I already know he will. He nods, smiles and winks â and then, as quickly as he arrived, he is gone.
The compartment door slides shut and the train begins to move as everyone files out again. The green of Martindale is soon the grey of wilderness and then I realise, finally, that my childhood is over.
8
Once every two weeks, a steam train chugs through Martindale dropping off supplies. It carries a limited number of passengers to the city and back as well but people are not encouraged to move around. It is an expensive and rare privilege. I have only travelled by train twice, only once officially. On the other occasion Opie and I sneaked aboard, hiding among the bags of grain and piles of fruit in one of the cabins at the back. We were young and silly and luckily didnât get caught; the potential penalty for being found is something not worth thinking about.
Both journeys were uncomfortable, yet somehow thrilling too. The ability to be somewhere so different to my village, within such a short space of time, was something almost too hard to get my head around. Mum said travelling was something she took for granted as a child. For those my age, unless we walk, it is the only way of getting outside Martindale. Perhaps thatâs why the gully became so important to me?
This train is completely different to the service ones that go through Martindale. Instead of the noise and the heat, it glides effortlessly and silently along the tracks to a degree that, if it wasnât for the windows, I wouldnât even know we were moving. We have the other Offerings to pick up and stop at a town a little further south to collect an Elite. The crowds are thicker than they were in Martindale; masses of people are pointing, waving and cheering.
After the Elite says his goodbyes, we sit together in silence. I try to stop myself peering at the grey-black hue of his thinkwatch, with the faint outline of a crown on it. He takes some
Inside, I donât even look at the surroundings, instead resting my hands on the cool glass on the far side, swallowing, blinking, and trying to tell myself Iâm an adult now. A Kingsman tells me it is going to be a long day â we are the furthest north so have to stop through the Realm to pick up everyone else but I am not really listening. I almost ask if I can go back for my pot of jam but he says there will be food and drink for the journey. Then he tells me there are five minutes before we leave and that I can spend that time with whoever I wish.
The obvious choice is my mum but weâve said everything we have to and I donât want to see her cry again. I tell him Opieâs name and start to describe him but he already knows. âThat tall blonde kid, yes?â he asks and I realise how distinctive Opie is, even among a crowd.
A moment later and he is in front of me. The compartment is large with rows of seats lining the sides but we stand, watching each other. He seems taller and thicker, his large arms by his side, his hair messy as if he has just got up.
âHello,â I say as I feel myself smiling.
âHello.â
We continue to stare at each other before his arms twitch and suddenly I am within them, feeling them around me, the bristle of his chin rubbing the top of my head. We donât speak but I feel a tingle along my spine as his fingers cup my head and slide along the curves of my back.
It feels like mere seconds before people are in the carriage, telling us it is time, that there is a schedule and a long day.
Before we move apart I whisper in Opieâs ear, telling him to look after Colt and my mother, even though I already know he will. He nods, smiles and winks â and then, as quickly as he arrived, he is gone.
The compartment door slides shut and the train begins to move as everyone files out again. The green of Martindale is soon the grey of wilderness and then I realise, finally, that my childhood is over.
8
Once every two weeks, a steam train chugs through Martindale dropping off supplies. It carries a limited number of passengers to the city and back as well but people are not encouraged to move around. It is an expensive and rare privilege. I have only travelled by train twice, only once officially. On the other occasion Opie and I sneaked aboard, hiding among the bags of grain and piles of fruit in one of the cabins at the back. We were young and silly and luckily didnât get caught; the potential penalty for being found is something not worth thinking about.
Both journeys were uncomfortable, yet somehow thrilling too. The ability to be somewhere so different to my village, within such a short space of time, was something almost too hard to get my head around. Mum said travelling was something she took for granted as a child. For those my age, unless we walk, it is the only way of getting outside Martindale. Perhaps thatâs why the gully became so important to me?
This train is completely different to the service ones that go through Martindale. Instead of the noise and the heat, it glides effortlessly and silently along the tracks to a degree that, if it wasnât for the windows, I wouldnât even know we were moving. We have the other Offerings to pick up and stop at a town a little further south to collect an Elite. The crowds are thicker than they were in Martindale; masses of people are pointing, waving and cheering.
After the Elite says his goodbyes, we sit together in silence. I try to stop myself peering at the grey-black hue of his thinkwatch, with the faint outline of a crown on it. He takes some
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