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It’s a gloomy morning at Kembleford Station, matching Mallory’s mood. Not that he’d be any more cheerful if the weather were brighter. It’s too ruddy early in the day for that.
Beside him, his wife is talking to a couple of the station’s porters, and he listens with half an ear as she instructs them on what to do with the family’s luggage. The cases, like them, have a nine-hour journey ahead, and the last thing they want is anything going astray.
Mallory lets her get on with it. Valerie is always in her element when giving orders, and it makes a nice change for someone else to be on the receiving end. Turning away from them, he scans his eyes along Platform 2 and then across to Platform 1, just in case. There are a surprising number of people about even at this early hour, but to his satisfaction, there’s no sign of any cassocked figures in view. Still, he narrows his eyes as he takes in the mixture of businessmen and day trippers hanging around. He wouldn’t be surprised if some of them are only there to make sure he really does get on the train.
“There”, says Valerie, and he turns back in time to see the porters wheeling away their luggage. “That’s that sorted. Not that you were the slightest bit of help. We were supposed to supervise the handover together.”
Mallory grunts. “You didn’t need my help. I’ve just been making sure the padre has done as he was told and stayed away.” He allows himself a satisfied smirk. “It looks like he has.”
“Would it really have been so bad if he’d been here to see us off? He’s been very good to us, and the poor man has been looking rather forlorn since Mrs McCarthy and Miss Windermere left.”
Mallory scowls. “All the more reason for him to stay away. I should think he’s had enough of farewells.” He straightens his spine and rocks on his heels. “And besides, we already said goodbye to him after Mass yesterday. He can think himself lucky I gave him that much.”
“I suppose you getting up in time for church was a minor miracle”, Valerie says dryly.
“Precisely.” Mallory ignores her tone. “I suppose you’d have preferred a grand fanfare with half the village here to see us off.”
“After the W.I. tacked my farewell onto Mrs McCarthy’s big leaving bash, even though that was weeks ago?” She snorts. “No, for once, Gerry, I agree with you. The only people I want seeing us off this morning are the ones we’ve got.”
She nods towards a group a little further along the platform, where Janet and John are standing with the Goodfellow family. All the children are clustered around the sergeant, listening as he regales them with everything he’s been reading up about Scotland.
It’s ridiculous that he did it at all. Who else would bother to research the place their boss will be moving to? But that’s Goodfellow, isn’t it? He’ll never have the quickest mind or the sharpest tongue, but he cares. Cares enough to have devoted his spare time to reading about it ever since he heard about the transfer. Enough that he now knows far more than Mallory has bothered to learn.
The sergeant must feel their eyes on him because he glances over and waves, smiling in a way that makes Mallory’s stomach flip. The inspector shoves his hands in his pockets and hunches deeper into his trench coat. He hates it – hates that seeing Goodfellow this way makes him feel all soft and squirmy inside, reminding him all too clearly why he wishes he could stay and why he has to leave.
“You go and say your goodbyes”, he mumbles to Valerie. “I’m going to watch for our train.”
He slouches over to the front of the platform, staring at the point where the track disappears out of sight around the bend. Not much longer, now, and Kembleford will be nothing but a memory, and then he can put all of this wretched sentimentality behind him. Let Valerie and the children have their emotional farewells. Things like that have never been his style, and this one would be far too painful for him to bear.
Besides, whenever he lets himself contemplate everything that’s about to change – a new home, in a new place, with a whole new team at work – the enormity of it feels like it could swamp him. The only way to cope is to keep his mind on the present and try not to think about what he’ll be leaving behind.
He turns around just far enough to see what the others are up to without them realising he’s watching, a skill honed through all his years in the police force. Valerie is sitting between the sergeant and his wife, now, on one of the station’s wooden benches, the three of them chatting together as they keep half an eye on the children.
The kids have formed their own huddle nearby, poring over something Mallory can’t see. It must be a railway timetable because he can hear snatches of their conversation as they point out to each other where the day’s trains are due to go. When he looks more closely, he notices the two Goodfellow girls are each holding one of Janet’s hands, and one of the boys has a friendly arm slung around John’s shoulders. He feels a pang of guilt at that. They got lucky in Kembleford, finding good friends so quickly. He can only hope they’ll manage it again in Scotland.
That’s the nature of the job, he tells himself. The kids are resilient; they’ll be fine. Give them a few months, and it’ll be like they’ve lived in Scotland all their lives. In any case, this new place is bound to be safer than Kembleford. It’s a small town, not the centre of Glasgow.
He turns his attention back to the adults, then almost immediately wishes he hadn’t.
“I’d best go and have a word with the inspector”, Goodfellow is saying. He moves to stand, but Valerie catches his arm, and he sits back down.
“Before you do...” she says, “Just in case he’s too stubborn to tell you himself, I want you to know how much we both appreciate you. It’s made a world of difference to Gerry, knowing there was someone he could rely on at work, and he was much happier here once the two of you became friends.
Goodfellow’s face creases into a smile. “You’re both very welcome”, he says graciously. “It’s been a pleasure.”
Valerie snorts. “I’m sure it’s been a complete nightmare at times, but you really have been a marvel. I’ll always be grateful to you for risking your life to save him from that bullet, and for helping him find us when those dreadful men kidnapped us.” She shudders at the memory, and Mrs Goodfellow rests a comforting hand on her arm. Valerie takes her hand and squeezes it, giving her a tight smile.
“I’m just glad you’re all safe”, the sergeant tells her.
Mallory turns back to the track, glaring at it as though it might rear up and attack him as he wills away the prickling dampness in his eyes. So intent is his focus that he doesn’t register Goodfellow’s footsteps until he’s standing right beside him.
“The train should be along in a few more minutes”, the sergeant observes, and Mallory grunts wordlessly in reply.
“Before you go, sir, I just want to say you’ll be missed in Kembleford. It won’t be the same without you.”
“Yes, well, I daresay you’ll all cope.” Mallory can’t look at him.
“That’s not what I meant, sir.”
Mallory grits his teeth, fighting against the emotions threatening to shatter his indifferent facade. “You’ll have a new inspector before you know it”, he says gruffly, “And I haven’t exactly made many friends here. Valerie will probably be missed more than I will.”
“Even so”, Goodfellow persists, “Things will be very different at the station without you around.”
“Unless the crime rate drops without me here, I doubt you’ll have time to notice”, Mallory snaps. Why can’t the sergeant take a hint and stop trying? “Give it a month, and you’ll all have forgotten I was ever here.”
“I’ll never forget you, sir. I couldn’t.”
He says it with such conviction that Mallory’s resolve almost crumbles. He opens his mouth to respond, then closes it again, words unspoken. What could he say? Even if Goodfellow could handle the truth, it would be far too dangerous, far too scandalous for a station platform.
Anything further he might have said is lost as a faint, unnoticed background rumble grows to a rhythmic clickety-clack, and the Glasgow train toots its horn as it finally rounds the bend. It’s a bright sound, but it fills Mallory with dread. His pulse quickens, and a dark pit opens in his stomach. This is it: in a few minutes, he’ll be sitting on that train, leaving Kembleford for good. Panic closes around his heart, and he has the wild thought that he doesn’t want to go. He quashes it. Like it or not, it’s too late to change his mind. The transfer has been finalised, and most of their belongings have already been sent on ahead to Scotland. And besides, Valerie would be furious at yet more upheaval, and the people of Kembleford would never let him live it down.
“Looks like this is it then, sir.”
“Yes...” Mallory turns to meet Goodfellow’s gaze and instantly regrets it. The sergeant tries to force a smile, but he looks as miserable as Mallory feels, and it doesn’t reach his eyes.
The inspector takes a deep breath. “I’d appreciate it if you’d write. I’ll miss...” He trails off and clears his throat, gesturing vaguely as he avoids looking at Goodfellow. “...Some things about this place.”
“You too, Gerry. I’m going to miss you.”
Mallory glances back up at him and then quickly looks away, blinking against the dampness in his eyes. It feels impossible that this could be the last time he’ll ever see Goodfellow’s face, so familiar it feels like it’s engraved on his heart. These are their last moments together, and he knows he should drink in those precious drops of time, but it’s all too much. There’s a sick, wrenching sensation in his chest, as though his heart is being torn in two. He wants to say more – there’s so much he’s never been able to say, and his chest aches at the thought this might be his last chance.
He half turns, and his gaze lands on their wives saying their final farewells. Mrs Goodfellow is leaning forward slightly, looking intently at Valerie as she clasps the other woman’s hands in hers. She’s saying something, and although her voice is too hushed for Mallory to hear, the expression on her face is clear enough. She looks almost as upset as he feels, like she’s losing someone infinitely precious to her and doesn’t know if they’ll ever meet again.
That level of honesty is alien to Mallory. He’s been afraid of looking like a fool if he opens up enough to even admit that he’ll miss Goodfellow. But watching the sergeant’s wife as she drops Valerie’s hands only to throw her arms around her, he suddenly feels even more of a fool for saying so little. He’s been biting his tongue, careful of his words, too worried he might let a hint of his real feelings show. But Goodfellow has been a true friend, and he deserves a damn sight better than a half-hearted goodbye.
He takes a deep breath, strengthening his resolve, and holds out a hand to shake. “Thank you, Sergeant”, he says. “Daniel. For everything.”
Goodfellow’s face lights up, and to Mallory's shock, the sergeant ignores the hand and steps forward, engulfing him in a hug. For a moment, time stands still. A warm, tingling sensation radiates through Mallory’s body, feeling like home. His face is pressed against Goodfellow’s shoulder, and he breathes in the warm, intoxicating scent of the sergeant.
Then, all too soon, it’s gone. Goodfellow pulls away, and Mallory is left feeling bereft of something he hadn’t known how much he needed.
“I’m sorry, sir; was that too much?”
Mallory opens his mouth to reply – although what he would say, he isn’t sure. But at that moment, the train doors swing open, and the platform becomes a hive of activity as the passengers rush forward to board.
“Get that promotion and make me proud”, he says hoarsely, reaching out and giving Goodfellow’s arm a quick squeeze. “Then maybe you can come to Scotland and we can work together again.”
Then he turns away, not looking back as he heads for the doorway where Valerie is shepherding Janet and John onto the train.
It takes him a few moments to find them, peering into each compartment until he spots their familiar figures. The three of them are crowded against the window, waving, presumably to the Goodfellows on the other side. Valerie turns her head as he enters, and he freezes, caught off-guard by the tears in her eyes. She’s been hiding it well, he realises, but now that he looks properly, he can see the pain in the lines of her face. It looks all too similar to his own.
She steps to one side, creating a space, and raises her eyebrows in unspoken question. Mallory shakes his head, declining to join them. The last thing he wants is to see Goodfellow out there on the wrong side of the glass.
Valerie narrows her eyes and he squirms internally, his chest burning with shame. But she just sighs and turns back to the window, forcing a cheery smile onto her face.
Guilt twists in Mallory’s gut, but he pushes the feeling away. It’s too late for regrets. Instead, he distracts himself by rifling through the bags Valerie packed for the journey. Most of it’s food and drink for the four of them and assorted entertainment for the kids, but Mallory added a newspaper and a couple of books of his own to read.
With a grunt of satisfaction, he retrieves his copy of Bernard Darwin’s Golf Courses of the British Isles. Realistically, he plans to sleep through at least half the trip, but he can still start reading up on what Scotland has to offer.
He chooses the furthest seat away from the outer windows, not wanting to risk seeing or being seen from outside. He’s just getting comfortable when there’s a shrill blast from the guard’s whistle, followed by a rush of steam. A moment later, the carriage creaks and judders as the train begins to move.
Valerie and the children stay crowded at the window for a few moments longer, bracing against the wooden wall as they wave their last goodbyes. Then, as the train rounds the bend and the station disappears from view, they finally take their seats.
“How long is it till lunch?” Janet asks as soon as she’s sat down.
“It’s only a quarter to nine!” Valerie tells her with a trace of exasperation.
John groans theatrically. “I’m hungry, too! It feels like ages since breakfast.”
Valerie sighs. “You’re lucky I brought plenty of food. Very well; you can have an apple each if you’re starving, but you’ll have to wait until lunchtime for the rest.”
She begins rummaging in her bag, and Mallory leans back in his seat, tuning them all out. He takes one last look through the window at the Gloucestershire countryside rushing by, and then closes his eyes for a nap.
It’s no good. Behind his eyelids, his mind fills with the memory of his last sight of Goodfellow. It seems impossible to believe he’ll most likely never see the man again. There’s a hollow feeling in his chest. A sense of emptiness, as if he left a vital piece of himself behind on the platform of Kembleford Station.
He has a horrible feeling it was his heart.