1945

The train, as if impatient to start its journey north, huffed and puffed its plume of smoke towards the station’s glass-panelled roof. The June sun shone onto the waiting passengers; onto the beady-eyed waddling pigeons searching for anything edible. The sun added to the discomfort of the sweating men loading the guards’ van: heaving into it sacks of mail, boxes, crates, packages and parcels.

Sweat beaded the faces of the porters carrying heavy expensive luggage towards first-class carriages. Young boys, dirty, unkempt, mitching from school, some barefoot, some wearing boots several sizes too big, touted less prosperous passengers. ‘D’ye want your case carried mister?’ they asked, wiping faces and noses with torn sleeves of their shirts and gansies. Giving the ‘ride on that till you get a pony’, salute to railway employees who threatened to kick their arses if they didn’t get to Hell’s Gates out of their way.

Around the station kiosk people pushed and shoved their way to the counter, bought newspapers and hopefully asked if there were any cigarettes ‘Are you coddin’ me?’ the assistant replied. ‘Sure for all the cigarettes that are about, the war might still be on.’

Not far from the kiosk a group of young girls in ill-assorted outfits stood close together. They wore faded summer frocks, too long or too short. Some had topped the frocks with costume jackets in serge, flannel and tweed, all with the appearance of having had a previous owner …

The girls were mostly pretty. Good complexions. Dark-haired and fair. Ginger and auburn. Straight hair combed up into sweeps secured with many clips, frizzy perms; and one girl with long straight blonde hair wore it in the style of Veronica Lake. Now and then with a toss of her head shaking it back to look up at the station clock. Around their feet were shabby cardboard suitcases secured with belts or pieces of rope. They talked loudly, laughed and giggled nervously. One, after glancing up at the station clock, began to cry. Her companions offered her words of comfort, cigarettes from paper packets of woodbines. Green packets decorated with honeysuckle. ‘Have a bull’s eye,’ one suggested and with difficulty prized from the depths of a newspaper cone a sticky hard-boiled black and white sweet. ‘Go on,’ she urged ‘take it.’ The girl sniffed and sobbed, then wiped her eyes, took a sweet and began to suck.

A little apart from the group two other girls and a woman stood. The woman wore a black edge-to-edge coat over a dusky pink dress and a black straw hat tilted becomingly over one eye. Her shoes were suede, good condition and high heeled. To the older of the two girls she talked earnestly. From time to time the girl nodded as if agreeing with what was being said. Expressions of irritation and embarrassment flitted across the other girl’s face.

The guard’s van closed. Passengers who had loitered now began to board the train. The woman threw her arms around the younger girl, held her close and kissed her. A railway employee walked along the platform slamming doors. The group picked up their suitcases and moved forward. One called to the others, ‘We’ll squash into the same carriage.’ The girl disengaged herself from her mother and followed them. At the end of the train a man waved a green flag. The train began its journey to Belfast.