THE TRAIN ran out from London. Straggling narrow streets and cramped houses, little gardens flapping with washing and chickens and crowded with rabbit hutches and the family effort at digging for victory, dreary gaping bombed areas, all gave way to fields, hedges, and a blue distance.
    Janet had managed to get not only a seat, but a corner seat. She sat relaxed, her grey eyes staring through the window. It was early summer, the fields were spangled with daisies and buttercups, the first dog roses were opening. She took a deep breath, and in doing so moved and her book slipped off her knee and in retrieving it her elbow dug into the person sitting next to her. “I’m so sorry,” she apologized.
    Her neighbour was a girl, slim, with red hair and brown eyes. She was, Janet noticed, expensively dressed. The sort of clothes that look good always, no matter how long they have been owned. The sort of clothes, in fact, that she had always wanted herself, and was sure it was an economy to buy, only she never had the money to do it.
    “It’s all right,” the girl laughed. “We can’t very well turn without knocking each other. Sort of ‘when father turns we all turn’. Awful travelling these days, isn’t it? Daddy told me to travel first, but I won’t in wartime, and anyway it wouldn’t be any better, everybody gets in everywhere, and it would just be a waste of money.”
    “I suppose it would,” Janet agreed. “I never travel first so I didn’t know it was as bad.” She turned back to the window. “Isn’t the country looking lovely?”
    “Yes. You haven’t been out of London much lately, have you?”
    “No. How did you know? Only for one week since the war started, as a matter of fact.”
    “You sat down with a sort of pleased ‘now we’re off’ look, and then as the last of the houses disappeared you were like a cat that’s going to purr.”
    “It’s not only going to the country. I’ve had an awful time packing up, and settling things, and getting off.”
    “You bombed out?”
    “Not at home. The office where I worked was.”
    “How miserable!”
    “Yes. My old boss was killed, and his partner’s in the army and overseas, so I couldn’t get at him.”
    “What are you going to do now?”
    Janet did not find these questions impertinent, she liked her red-haired neighbour, and could feel every question came from friendliness.
    “I’ve not quite made up my mind. I’m a secretary so I expect I’d better put in for the same sort of thing in one of the services; the W.R.N.S. is what I should like.”
    “Wouldn’t you rather have a change?”
    “I would, but I’ve been a secretary for years, so I’d be more use in that than anything.”
    “You can’t have been very many years.”
    “Why not? How old do you think I am?”
    The girl studied Janet. The small, slim figure. The pale, square, not pretty, but alive face, made noticeable by wide-set, beautiful grey eyes.  She watched Janet’s smile. It was a lovely thing. It not only lit her up as though a light were switched on inside her, but seemed to spread outwards to make other people smile too; she was smiling in answer herself.
    “Twenty-two? Twenty-three?”
    “Twenty-five!”
    “Are you? I shouldn’t have thought you were that much older than me. I’m twenty-one. I’d like to do something. I want to join the W.R.N.S. too, but I can’t just yet because of Daddy.” She lowered her voice, not that the five soldiers, two sailors, and three elderly women who filled the rest of the carriage were listen­ing, but her dropped voice suggested that she was confiding some­thing personal. “He was terribly ill last winter. The doctor thought he was going to die; he says he’s much stronger now, but he mustn’t have any worries. You know, no upset in his life. So of course just now I can’t leave him to join the W.R.N.S. or . . . ” she hesitated and finished lamely, “or any­thing.”
    Janet’s sympathetic eyes caught a faint flush on the girl’s cheek. She felt a wave of pity. The ‘or anything’ sounded suspiciously like marriage. Of course she was very young, but in these uncertain times it would be hard to put off getting married even for a month or two.
    “I hope your father’s soon better. I’m lucky I’m not tied. My mother’s not very strong, but I’ve a younger sister who lives with her. She’s rather delicate, not fit for war work, but she can manage the work of the cottage they’re living in, so I’m not needed at home, thank goodness. I’m simply longing to join up, would have done it ages ago only I couldn’t leave my boss.”
    The ticket collector came in from the corridor. He could not reach the end of the carriage so Janet gave her ticket to be passed to him. The girl took it casually then turned an amazed face.
    “You’re going to Worsingfold.”
    “Yes.”
    “But that’s where I live.”
    “So do my mother and sister.”
    The girl’s eyes widened, and Janet thought looked somehow not too pleased.
    “You can’t be Sheila Brain’s sister.”
    “Yes, I am. How did you guess? Do you know her?”
    “Of course I know her, everybody knows everybody in Worsingfold. Anyway, she and your mother live in one of Donald Sheldon’s cottages, and he’s a tremendous friend of Daddy’s and mine. Your sister’s going to teach his little girl, Iris.”
    “Sheila is! I’m sure she can’t be. Besides, she’s got enough to do with the cottage.”
    The girl gave her a rather odd glance.
    “Your mother’s an awfully energetic person, I should think.”
    “She shouldn’t be.” Janet’s face took on a worried look. “As a matter of fact her heart’s not very strong. She doesn’t know it, nor does Sheila. I got her down to the country on a trick. I got the doctor to say Sheila ought to get away; she never would have gone except for that.”
    “I expect it’s difficult for your sister.” The girl’s voice had lost its easy naturalness and sounded forced. “I know how diffi­cult it is to keep Daddy in order. I say, I wish you’d come and see Daddy and me while you’re in Worsingfold. Our name’s Haines, Daddy’s a retired colonel, and I’m Barbara. It’s awful to have a retired colonel for a father; he knows just how the war ought to be run, and gets so angry when the Government doesn’t do things his way. You can hardly see our walls for maps, and they’re ruined with pin-holes where the flags have gone in.”
    Janet laughed.
    “I’d simply love to come. I suppose Sheila knows where you live?”
    Barbara stared at her feet.
    “Oh, yes. Yes, of course she does.” She looked up. “Anyway, you can’t miss it. It’s called Worsingfold House. That sounds awfully grand, but it isn’t really. It’s the only house in the village, everything else is cottages except for the vicarage, and the Old Oast House which belongs to the doctor, and, of course, the farm. Donald Sheldon has the biggest of those, but you know him, don’t you?”
    “Me! No, I don’t know a soul in Worsingfold. My sister found the place and fixed the cottage and everything.”
    “Did she?” Barbara gave her shoulders a faint shrug. “I can’t think why, but I thought it was through you. I mean I thought I’d heard it was through a sister of Sheila’s that you knew Donald, but I expect I’ve got muddled.”
    “No, we knew nobody, the cottage was just to let and we took it.” Janet was looking at her watch so she did not see the puzzled expression on Barbara’s face. “We must be nearly there, aren’t we?”
    Barbara looked out of the window.
    “Not far off.” She stretched as much as the cramped con­ditions would let her. “I’ll be glad to get back.”
    “Have you been away long?”
    “No, only one night. The dentist.”
    Janet’s grey eyes ran over her thoughtfully.
    “I should have thought it would be fun for you to get away now and again.”
    Barbara put on her gloves. Her voice lacked colour.
    “Oh, it can be fun, of course, but just now it happens that everybody I know is overseas.”
    Janet was moved by the naïveté of this. Barbara was very young in some ways; nobody could be deceived by her ‘every­body’. It was obvious that what she meant was ‘my special somebody’.
    Barbara became conscious of how her words had sounded, for she turned pink and said hurriedly:
    “You do promise to come and see us, don’t you?”
    “Of course, it’s awfully nice of you. As a matter of fact I shan’t be in Worsingfold long. I shan’t take more than a week’s holiday before signing on.”
    “Let’s hope they don’t call you up for a bit after you’ve joined, for I should think you need more than a week’s holiday.”
    “A fortnight or three weeks would be nice, but I’d like to get down to real war work. It’s nice to feel free now to do it. My boss was awfully old, and though not past his work, found it a bit heavy once his nephew, who was his partner, was called up.” Janet had quick movements, she swept round now to Barbara. “I can’t get over what you said about Sheila teaching. Apart from having heaps to do with the housework, and shopping, she’s not the type to teach.” She sighed. “I can see part of my holiday will be spent putting my family straight. Sheila must be talked out of that idea.”
    “But it’s a promise,” said Barbara bluntly. “You can’t make her let Donald down like that. Iris is eight and ought to be doing some lessons. Donald was frightfully pleased when she promised. He’s been very disappointed she hasn’t been strong enough to start yet. You see, his wife died two years ago, and though he’s got an awfully good housekeeper called Gladys Batten, she hasn’t much time for Iris, though she says she adores her.”
    A smile flooded Janet’s face.
    “You don’t like Gladys Batten.”
    “I can see she’s a marvellous housekeeper, looks after the house awfully well and cooks and everything, but I don’t really like her. I can’t think why, for I’m sure she’s a very good woman, but you can’t like people just because they’re good, can you?” She got up. “We’re nearly there.” She stretched up to the rack for her case. “I am glad I met you. I’ve a feeling we’re going to be friends.”