CHAPTER TWO

Martin stood beside the front door, his suitcase at his feet, watching his father as he put on his overcoat. It was a chilly, rainy London morning. The boy knew he was going to be taking a train ride, but that was all the information Daddy had given him. Mummy was on the phone, going over last minute details with the travel agent about the impending vacation to Spain. Martin thought she looked lovely, her short hair curled around her face, wearing the pretty pale green dress she had bought on her last shopping trip. He was sure his mother was the most beautiful woman in the world; she was most definitely the prettiest mum he had ever seen.

'Right, time to go, Martin. Say goodbye to your mother,' Daddy said. Martin walked quickly over to where Mummy stood and impulsively threw his arms around her legs, hugging her tightly. She frowned, looking down at him, and sighed into the phone, 'excuse me for a moment, William.' She put her hand over the mouthpiece of the receiver.

'Can't you see that I am on the phone?' she hissed. Martin's face fell.

'I'm sorry, Mummy,' he answered. 'I just wanted to say goodbye.'

'Yes, all right, goodbye, Martin. Mind your manners and behave like a proper young gentleman.'

'Yes, Mummy.'

His mother turned away from him and said into the phone, 'very sorry about that, William, now where were we?'

Martin moved back to the front door and picked up his suitcase. It was rather heavy and cumbersome, but he thought he would be able to manage it all right. He and his father went through the door and climbed into the waiting taxi on the curb. The rain was heavier now, and Martin watched the windscreen wipers slap back and forth as the taxi driver pulled out into traffic.

'Daddy,' he began a few minutes later, 'where exactly am I going?'

'We are going to Paddington Station, where you will board the train and travel to Bodmin Station in Cornwall. Your Aunty Joan will pick you up there.'

Martin was not aware that he even had an Aunty Joan, and said as much to his father.

'Your Aunty Joan is my sister, and you will be staying with her and your Uncle Phil while Mummy and I are in Spain. I expect you don't remember them; the last you saw them, you were only two years old or so.' Daddy went back to reading his newspaper.

'Do any other children live there?'

'No, just your Aunt and Uncle.'

'What sort of place is Cornwall? Is it very much like London?'

'You are going to the village of Portwenn. It is nothing at all like London.'

'What sort of house does Aunty Joan live in?'

'She lives on a farm. In a farm house. They have lots of animals to look after.' Daddy was starting to get impatient with him; Martin could tell by the way he pressed his lips together. He was quiet for a few minutes.

'Daddy...'

His father sighed deeply and dropped the paper from in front of his face. 'Yes, Martin.'

'Why has it been so long since I've seen my aunt and uncle?'

'We live very busy lives. They are busy looking after the farm and we are busy as well.'

'Do they remember me, do you think?'

'Yes, I am fairly certain they will remember you,' Daddy replied dryly.

'What if they don't like me?'

'Don't be silly, Martin. Just make sure you are on your best behaviour and use your manners at all times. And for heaven's sake, don't go whinging and crying about everything. No one wants a boy who acts like a sissy; it is very tiresome. And another thing...don't ask so many questions!'

'But...'

His father held up his hand, a stern look on his face. 'Enough, Martin! Sit there quietly and let me read my newspaper in peace!'

Martin closed his mouth tightly and didn't say another word until he was boarding the train.

After speaking briefly to the train conductor, Daddy said goodbye to Martin, reminding him to be on his best behaviour. Martin boarded the train and found his seat and hurried to the window to wave at his father, only to find he had already turned around and begun walking away from the platform. Martin swallowed a lump in his throat, his chin quivering, but refused to allow any tears to fall. He was going to be fine on his own, it was only a few hours before he would be in Cornwall. He tried to imagine what Aunty Joan's farm would look like. He had only ever seen pictures of farm animals in books, as well as tractors and other farm equipment, but London had not been the place to encounter those sorts of things in person. The only real animals he had ever seen were the dogs being led on leashes, the occasional stray cat, and the pigeons being fed by the old people in the park. Oh, and he had seen some horses as well...sometimes they pulled carriages for people to ride in.

Martin spent the better part of the first hour on the train thinking and watching the scenery moving quickly past his window. The clack-clacking of the rails and the steady rocking of the train car soon made him very sleepy. He felt his eyelids getting heavier. Just then, the conductor made his way through the car and stopped beside him. 'It's quite all right if you want to take a little rest, lad. I'll make sure you are awake by the time we get to Bodmin Station,' he said kindly. Martin looked at him solemnly. 'Thank you, sir,' he replied. The conductor nodded and went on his way toward the back of the car. The boy sighed, closed his eyes, and drifted off into a deep sleep.

He dreamt of wading into a large, calm pool of lovely warm water, like a giant bathtub. He kept walking very slowly, and with every step he felt more and more relaxed. The water was up to his knees...then his thighs...then his waist...Martin awoke with a start, feeling the spreading warmth in his trousers and realizing, with horror, what was happening. He tried to stop what had started, but it was too late. He looked down, panicked, and watched the dark, wet patch spreading all over his front. He could feel the wetness begin to travel into the seat cushion underneath him. 'Oh no! ' he groaned quietly, and quickly looked around to see anyone had noticed. No one seemed to be paying any attention to him, and for a second he thought maybe it would be okay; maybe by the time he had to get off the train, his clothing would be dry enough that no one would be the wiser.

But this was not to be. In a few short minutes, he felt the train began to slow. Martin felt the heat begin to rise in his cheeks from the shame of what he had done. There was nothing he could do; everyone was going to see what a dirty, nasty boy he was. And his mother and father were going to be so, so angry with him.

The conductor approached the boy's seat and saw that he was crying in earnest. 'My goodness, lad, what is the matter?' he asked with concern. He then noticed the wet trousers, and understood. 'Oh dear, had a little accident, did you?' he said gently. Martin just nodded and continued crying. 'There there, that's all right, son. These things happen on occasion, no need to be so upset. Up you get, we've just pulled in to Bodmin Station. And who will be picking you up here?'

'My...my Aunty Joan,' Martin replied, his little voice thick with tears.

'Right, as soon as your Aunty Joan gets you back home, you'll be cozy by the fire in some fresh dry clothes,' said the conductor, leading Martin by the hand to the front of the train car.

Joan stood on the train platform, watching as the passengers departed the train and hurried to their next destination. She had been worrying about little Marty all day, knowing he would be travelling alone, and hoped his trip was pleasant, regardless of the circumstances. Just then, the conductor exited the train car, followed by a small little fellow who looked as if someone had killed his puppy. Of course it was Marty. Those ears were a dead giveaway. But why on earth was he so upset?

'What has happened?' she demanded, rushing toward the conductor and the pitiful little creature by his side. She knelt down in front of Martin to make sure he hadn't been hurt somehow...and then realization dawned on her.

'I fell asleep on the train,' Martin cried, 'I was so sleepy...and then...' fresh tears escaped his eyes as he hung his head.

'Like I told you, lad, accidents happen, there's no harm done,' the conductor patted him on the shoulder. 'I expect you are the boy's Aunt?' he said to Joan.

'Yes, thank you for your kindness,' she replied. 'Now, Marty, it's all right...'

'No, it's not! Mummy and Daddy...they are going to be angry with me, I've been a naughty boy...' the poor child was beside himself, and all because of a little wetting accident? Joan pursed her lips together as the frustration and anger toward her brother bubbled to the surface. She pulled the boy close to her and hugged him tightly. At first, his small body stiffened, as if he wasn't sure what was happening, but then she felt him relax and put his arms around her neck. His crying soon became the occasional sniff and gulp of air.

'Now,' Aunty Joan said, looking at Martin, 'everything is going to be fine; we are not going to tell your mother and father about this, because it was only an accident. You didn't mean to do it, and you are not a naughty boy, do you understand?'

Martin's eyes widened with surprise. 'You...aren't going to tell them?' he asked in a small voice.

'Of course not. It's over and done with. Now, let's get your suitcase and get you home so you can change and have some supper.' She smiled at her nephew, stood up, and held out her hand.

Martin looked up at his Aunty Joan. Now that his tears had subsided, he noticed her kind face, her twinkling eyes that looked as if she may laugh at any second. This woman was Daddy's sister? They certainly didn't look anything alike...or act anything alike, for that matter. She had told him he wasn't naughty...and when she hugged him, it had felt so lovely; she was soft and cozy, like he was holding a warm blanket. And he would be staying with her for four whole weeks!

He felt a grin spread slowly across his face, and put his small hand in Aunty Joan's. They stayed that way as they retrieved Martin's suitcase and walked to where the old farm truck was parked.