I am broken, I am broken inside,
My soul swallowed by the Nordic sea.
When am I but to see the Northern Light;
Their lights are ahead, above me.

Who says I shan’t sing but shall here,
For singing and hearing are inseparable,
Like the lonely souls of aging and youth;
Whose ends stand irreplaceable.

Who says I shan’t read but shall hear,
For reading and hearing are the same,
And so are the poesy and prose within me;
They all see through me alike.

And who says love is of insipid youth,
Had I given thought to your love;
Whose songs make me but hungry again,
Suspicious about me, unlike the rose.

And who says love is a sordid poem,
A phony line any may have writ,
And who one like me has in her room,
One that has not much wit.

And who says ‘tis not my Helsinki,
Within too much of a single beat,
None is faster than my heartbeat,
To love once more, like young poetry.

And who says old Helsinki shan’t love,
He has had much to understand,
That love is in his hold beyond reason,
A reason I shall see again.

And who says my Helsinki shan’t live,
Within too much of a long sigh,
Pampered by the bread of cold nights,
Asleep by the cheerful Northern Lights.

And who says my Helsinki is cold,
All the evil within their bold,
Too much have I hated and cried,
Too much have I seen the worst night.

And who says my Helsinki is bare,
I like the cool and safe midnight air,
With the green and silver trees there,
I have no time to waste its fair.

And who says my Helsinki is there,
With no love nor tune to love me,
All poems are a secret flute,
An eternity that waives sick truths.

And who says my Helsinki is sick,
Like a word chain tame and meek,
That I shall kiss his lucky cheeks,
That I shall seek to love.

And who says my Helsinki is red,
The twisting end that shan’t be met,
Whose winter smells like a summer lily,
Whose lavender blooms like a rose.

And who says my Helsinki has sinned,
As a lover I shan’t have seen,
Who might you be as a true lover,
Who might you be to love me, better.

And who says my Helsinki is late,
All was too young to receive their fate;
A bud raised in the summery hate,
Too small to be, naughty to the moon.

And who says my Helsinki is old,
There was a reason to behold,
That once appeared and spread again,
That once loved, and demanded love.

And who says my Helsinki is wild,
To climb the cooling clouds too high,
Bewitching youth on a Northern night,
Funny and bewildering like a poem.

And who says my Helsinki befalls,
We all hate longed for fields of fall
And the invigorating rain’s song,
After a fairy heat, for long.

And who says my Helsinki loves worse,
None is worldly in the wind of words,
Nor shall any witness the fall of me,
The fading of youth, its sallow skin.

And who says my Helsinki shan’t read,
With a simmering false that cheats,
Who says such immature threat,
That rains raise in their odd feeling.

And who says my Helsinki shan’t say,
All is rain in the Nordic West,
And the love prisons who want to see,
Charms those who linger to stay.

And who says my Helsinki shall fail,
None is so lithe, nor a fallen ill,
None has its least of temperaments,
None can adjust, all shall leave.

And who says my Helsinki is dust,
For dirt and debt cometh from the sun,
Such like desire—and the worst of lust,
With a love come undone.

And who says my Helsinki is free,
Whose soul is not bound to be,
Whose charm is thin that all see,
Whose love is vague.

And who says my Helsinki is a dream,
But reality truer than its own self,
That such words of his are precious,
A letter to read, a canto to my love.

And who says my Helsinki is a verse,
But a story that has heard the worse,
And who shall dream of which and the sea,
Who shall dare to mention the sun.

And who says my Helsinki shall age,
But a wise forgiver to all sins,
That age itself seems foreign,
That love itself matures, hence.

And who says my Helsinki loved once,
But not a voice to love again;
That love itself seems to listen
That misery itself shall laugh.

And who says my Helsinki is trodden,
And who says within which is disgrace,
A passion for fire is who is evil,
Ill as daylight, and tormenting.

And who says my Helsinki but echoes,
Within such a world of failed heroes,
I have but to me my deranged throes,
Which love to lay low about me.

And who says my Helsinki shan’t reside,
Ever since, have not I held my sight
And raised again to the Sun Kingdom,
I might choose not to retell my poem.

And who says my Helsinki is pride,
This heart is too open and too wide,
But I shan’t live again on the English side,
Nor ponder the Yorkshire suburbs.

And who says my Helsinki shan’t tell,
Ever since, have I hated farewells
That longed to put their hands in my arms,
Lulled to the night by my poet’s charms.

And who says my Helsinki is a curse,
Since then, have I hated bad wills
As though I myself would not again feel;
Feel a starry night still to far away.

And who says my Helsinki is not me,
With all my tunes too rich for a single verse
That shall excite nor tune to me not,
You are not much dearer, but worse.

And who says my Helsinki shan’t dream?
For I writ much only of a dreamer,
A dreamer that bathes in solitude,
A dreamer that warms, one that charms.

And who says my Helsinki shan’t stay,
The world has grown out of its way,
That the evil sun has rinsed itself again
And shall slowly **** the cold days.

And who says my Helsinki is dry,
That in his life that lies in the sky
No warmth shall come to life,
With a heart that shall love us not.

And who says my Helsinki is shy,
Rules but its own magical, sour song,
Basked in its reserved poetic triumph;
Not much of its own soul, not the poem.

And who says my Helsinki is far,
Farthest from the poet’s closed heart,
And shall be awkward, should it remain;
Their hearts shan’t live to sicken again.

And who says my Helsinki isn’t fair,
With none but a wrong air to feel,
Not a heart, nor a hand that feels not
Life and love are dead in the cold.

And who says my Helsinki loves autumn,
That all is beautiful is left in town,
And they may die of ugliness,
That all wander on their own.

And who says my Helsinki loves winter,
With northern lights icy-clear,
With three rainbows drawing near,
With white and fierce snowstorms.

And who says my Helsinki loves summer,
With a love not from the heart,
With a word not from the poet,
With a spear that can hurt.

And who says my Helsinki loves spring,
Who shall be there but the poet to sing,
Like the chained melodies in her words,
The Christmas tales in her sweet worlds.

And who says my Helsinki but myself,
The paint and poet together at once,
That a word is so bright as its colour,
That the colour makes its hours light.

And who says my Helsinki but my heart,
Who shall open it a door to cold nights,
To the heart that yearns for cold rains,
To the soul that misses the clouds.

And who says my Helsinki but my art,
Who shall make it a comfort today,
For the words that are patiently passed,
For a promise that is never wrong.

And who says my Helsinki but my soul,
Who shall present it with joy tonight,
Who shall bring it life and thought,
Who shall cheer it, who shall love it.

And who says my Helsinki but my blood,
Who shall amend its present sight,
Who shall condemn all that’s amiss,
Who shall wed it, shall give it bliss.

And who says my Helsinki but my might,
And sends to me another silent poet,
The son of cold, the offspring of dark,
The child of solitude that embraces me.

And who says my Helsinki but my sight,
That all afternoons are a night triumph,
That all that is sick becomes my poem,
That all long nights become my lullaby.

And who says my Helsinki but my sigh,
That I can love on moaning nights,
That I am the chaste that shan’t hide;
To come and again, in an immortal light.

And who says my Helsinki but my light,
That I can stay versed in such frights,
That I shall stay stern and not wobble,
That I shall stay here, and adore still.

And who says my Helsinki, but my love,
All in my verses are a blessing,
All blessed be, an innocent King,
All a cold dark, a sweet morning.

Yiska waits by the fence. The school's on the other side. Yiska waits for Benny; he is at lunch, she waits impatiently. The playing field is crowded with other kids; some girls sit in groups talking and laughing. Yiska sees boys coming out, Benny not amongst them. She waits arms folded,a face on her. Alma said she'd told her brother about her. Alma was her best friend. That's the boy, Yiska had told Alma. He's my brother, Alma said. Good, you can tell him, I fancy him, Yiska said. Alma had said she told him. Yiska waits; walks along the fence; sees other boys. No Benny. She has visions of things going places. Not that she'd tell Alma that. Some things are best not told. She looks towards the playing field; girls and boys in groups or couples or alone. She looks back towards school. He's there, Benny, walking by the fence, hands in pockets, school tie hanging loose, shirt unbuttoned at the neck. Alma said you wanted to see me, Benny says, looking at Yiska, his eyes hazel, his look, steady. Yes, I did, Yiska says, feeling her nerves beginning to unravel. Rick said you wanted to see me, too,  Benny says. My brother? Yiska says. Yes, the very one, Benny says. They stand by the fence, face to face. Only he said, you fancied the socks off me, Benny says, smiling. I never said. She looks past him. Yiska feels undone. Anyway I'm here, Benny says. Only said I liked you, she says, looking at him now, seeing his hair, the quiff, the smile. He looks her over quickly: eyes, hair, lips, hips, thighs shape of. Shall we go for a walk? Yiska asks. Sure, he says. Where? She asks. Benny shrugs. On the field? She nods. They walk off together, apart. His hands are still in his trouser pockets. She walks hands in front, fingers joined, prayer mode .Cat got your tongue? He says. No, no, just thinking, she says. Of what? Me? My socks? She smiles. She looks at him sideways on. What do you fancy? He asks. Who said I fancied anything? Yiska says, blushing slightly. Rick did, Alma hinted, Benny says, My socks, apparently, he adds. She looks at the playing field. Folds her arms. Stops and looks at him. I never said fancied. So what then? He says. She looks at her shoes: black, dull, unpolished. Maybe, a bit, I do, she says, looking at his shoes: black, scuffed. He takes his hands out of his pockets. Touches her arm, feels along until he reaches a hand. Nice hand, he says. She lets him hold it, feels his hand touching hers. Warm, soft. Taking her hand, they walk on. How much? Benny asks. How much what? Yiska says. Do you fancy me? He says, his thumb rubbing the back of her hand. Fancy's an odd word, she says, interested, more, she adds. O, I see, not fancy me at all, he says. She looks uncertain, the blush spreading. If I were in your bedroom would you fancy me there? He asks. What a question, she says, feeling her pulse increasing, imagining him there, in her room, her bed made-unusual for her- but made up tidy. I'd fancy you anywhere, Benny says, in a nice way of course, not necessarily in your bedroom. She looks at the high fence, the road beyond, traffic passing. He looks at her hair, the way her ears are just visible if she moves her head a small bit; lobes, suckable. Alma didn't say you fancied me, Benny says, but Rick did. *******, Yiska says, just like him. She looks at the wooded area to the left of the playing field. Went there once to fetch a rounders ball that got hit there in P.E, she muses. Could go in there, she says, pointing. Best not, he says, people may get wrong ideas. Think things. He sits on the grass, pulls her down, next to him. Safer here, he says, holding her hand, still. She sits next to him, crosses her legs, pulls her school skirt over her knees. She senses his hand there. Warm, wet, heated. How old are you? He asks. Same age as Alma. Thought so, he says. How old are you? She asks. Fourteen, he says, leave school at Christmas, be fifteen, then. She looks at his hand in hers. Wish I could leave school then, too, she says. I can't wait, he says. No more brain-washing. She looks at his eyes. Hazel, bright. I will dream of him tonight, she thinks, I'll dream of him next to me. His hand in mine. Mine hand in his. Will we kiss? She imagines so. Must not make too much noise though. Mother hears things too well, she thinks, looking at his chin, the jawline. What will you do? She says. When? He asks, looking at her school tie, tied in an untidy knot, her small ******* bulbs. When you leave school? She says. Don't know, want to be a mechanic, maybe car mechanic, he says, wondering what she would be like if she was beside him on her bed or his bed for that matter, but then she'd had have his younger brother there, too. Then you won't be here, she says. No, thank God, he says. I'll miss you being here, she says. Can always visit you weekends if I get a bus, he says, wondering if her bed wouldn't be better as she slept alone. She strokes his hand in her as if it were a cat. He looked past her at the other kids on the grass. Reynard was playing football as was Trevor. That'd be good, she says, I could meet you off the bus, if you came. If you like, he says, watching Trevor almost score a goal. She looks at his hazel eyes, the smile, Elvis like, the quiff of brown hair, his hands, she muses, stroking with her other hand. I don't want to appear forward, she says, but could we kiss? He looks back at her. Kiss? He says, looking at her lips and cheek and forehead. Where? He asks. Here, she says. Where, here? He says, homing in on her lips with his eyes. Not here on the field here, she says, blushing, looking around in case others are watching. Where, then? He asks, looking at her eyes, seeing himself there, small and untidy. Maybe, at school, in a corridor that's empty or in a doorway, she says. Why not here? He asks, no one will care a jot if we do. She bite her lip, releases his hand, looks past him, behind him. What will they say? She asks. Who? He says. Others around, she says, returning her gaze on him. Who gives a monkey, he says. I do, she replies, reddening in the face. He gets up to leave. Look, I am missing a game of football sat here, another time maybe, he says. No, no, don't go, she says, clutching at his hand, being pulled up as she does so. She stands beside him, still holding his hand. I can watch, too, she says. He looks at her, feels her hand in his. OK, he says, if you want. I do, she lies, walking with him towards the boys kicking a ball around. She senses the grass was  a bit wet because she is. She feels it. They stand and watch the boys in their game. She feels uncomfortable. Feels slightly undone, but they watch the game, she unkissed, but watching the boys having fun.

Here Kid take this what is it? whats it look like? its a prayer book thing yes so take it and hide it under your jumper why? just hide the **** thing so Benedict hides the  black book with red ends under his jumper and follows Anne into the grounds out of the French windows Anne crutches herself across the grass and makes towards the round white table and chairs and plonks herself down in a chair tossing her crutches aside Benedict sits down in the next chair looking back towards the nursing home do you think we were seen? seen doing what Kid? walking across the grass no doubt liberating Sister Dumb-arses prayer book no Anne says Benedict turns around and stares at her dont keep looking around Kid or the penguins will guess youve been up to no good me been up to no good it was your idea to take the prayer book but youve got it Kid not me but you said take it and you did well done Kid Anne says smiling she rubs her leg stump and pulls the blue skirt down further what do we do now? Benedict asks looking at Anne tempted to turn around and look behind him sit tight Kid sit tight but I cant hide the book under my jumper all day he says pass it under the table to me so he passes the prayerbook to Anne under the white table and she opens it in her lap he looks at her his stomach tightening guess whose it is? Anne asks he shrugs dont know its only Sister Bridgets how do you know? has it got her name in it? no they dont own personal property its just that it has this prayer card in it with an image of St Bridget on one side and a prayer on the other and on the top shes scrawled Sr Bridget in her bird-**** hand writing God shell go ape he says looking round at the nursing home what do we do? shush Kid what do want them to know weve got it? he stares at the building imagines the nun galloping across the lawn towards them her black robes billowing behind her like Batman turn round Kid youll look suspicious he looks round and stares at her sitting in the chair as if butter wouldnt melt in her mouth on a hot day where are you going to put it? he asks out of the sight of their eyes she says where though? she pulls up her blue skirt and tucks the black prayer book in her navy blue underwear and pulls down the skirt and brushes out the any signs you cant keep it there he says why not my knickers she says are they going to search me there? she says now just go get my wheelchair and  we can go visit the sea out the back gate he sighs and wanders back towards the home trudging across the lawn leaving Anne sitting in the chair like some royal queen on her throne she lifts up her skirt and adjusts the book more securely just as well I wore the passion killers Mum bought me she says to herself and lets down the skirt again and sits staring towards the home as she sits a few of the kids come out and make their way to the swings and slide they know her and avoid her like a plague a nun comes out too Anne stares at her its Sister Lucy a young one green as grass more ****** that the Blessed ****** herself Anne says under breath the nun walks towards Anne her hands inside her black habit how are we today Anne? the nun asks smiling my ****** leg aches Anne says o dear the nun says looking at Annes leg visible under the table have you seen Sister Paul about some pain killers? no not yet Anne says anyway its not this leg its the one not there my stump leg o I see Sister Luke says staring at the unseen stump beneath the blue skirt I could pray for your leg if you would like me to the nun says might help Anne says putting on her pious pose its hurts so much I feel like crying she allows tears to dribble out of her eyes(shes an expert of conjuring tears out of her eyes) o my dear child the nun says coming around the table and placing a hand around Annes shoulders Ill ask Sister Paul about some tablets the nun says thank you Anne whimpers feeling the prayer book move slightly as she moves in the chair she tries to adjust it with her hand to a more secure position Benedict comes across the lawn pushing the wheelchair he sees the nun and his eyes enlarge and he senses danger have they suspected Anne already about the missing prayer book? he wheels the chair behind Anne the nun looks at him arent you a good boy she says yes hes my best friend Anne says smiling through the glassy eyes the nun smiles well I best get back Ill see Sister Paul about those pills the nun says and walks off towards the home that was close Benedict say she didnt mention the prayer book Anne says she just came about me and the ****** leg and offering prayers o I see he says gazing at the stump area thinking about the stump of her leg hes seen many times are you going gawk at my stump all day or are you going to help get in the ****** wheelchair? o right yes he says and helps her get from the chair and into the wheelchair holding it steady at the back make sure the prayer book doesnt slip out of my knickers Kid she says as she rises from the chair and plonks into the wheelchair she moves the book to a more comfortable position and pulls her skirt down pass her knee just as they were about to move away Sister Bridget comes across the lawn towards them like a rhino on heat hang on Kid here comes the penguin wait wait the nun says raising a hand Benedict pauses pushing the wheelchair and stares at the approaching nun keep cool Kid Anne says under her breath act innocent as the Pope at a nudist colony Benedict feels himself perspire the nun stands in front of Anne in the wheelchair a prayer book has gone missing the nun says gazing at Anne has it? Anne says in an innocent tone yes it was taken from the Common Room shall we help look for it? Anne asks have you seen it? the nun asks no not that I know of whats it look like? Anne asks as if butter wouldnt melt a prayer book is what it looks like the nun says eyeing Anne with her suspicious eyes black cover with red ends no cant say I have Anne says Benedict looks away at the trees behind of them at the avenue between them and you Benedict have you seen it? the nun asks staring at him her eyes over him like maggots he shudders no sister not seen it at all he hates lying to  a nun he feels as if she looks into his soul and at the minor sins lurking there like naughty children then the nun looks down in Annes lap gazes at the outline of the leg stump not hiding it are we? the nun says hiding what? Anne says my stump? no I tried hiding it but its always there each morning I wake up the nun screws up her eyes and peers at them both no I mean the book where is it? no idea Anne says Benedict looks down at Annes lap where have you hidden it? the nun says havent seen it Anne says one of the children says she saw you take it the nun says me? Anne says you cant take the word of child I believe what the child tells me Benedict looks at the outline of the leg stump the child says you have it about your person she saw you from the upper bedroom window the nun says sternly must be mistaken must have seen me rub my stump they always watch me rubbing it so nosey the nun sighs and gazes at Annes lap and at the stumps outline show me your leg stump? the nun says hands on her hips Anne pulls up her skirt to reveal the stump Benedict looks too wondering if the book outline could be seen under the knickers the nun looks away where have you put it? put what? the book the prayer book the nun says I havent seen it Anne says as innocent as she can muster innocence lies will get you to Hell the nun says and walks off across the grass like a bad tempered bear what now? Benedict says Anne takes the book out of her knickers and hands it to him warm and scented what do I do with it? he asks shove it on that other chair under the table and were off to the beach so he puts the book under the table and pushes Anne off in the chair off out of reach.

Ingrid finds the crowds of people overwhelming the West End of London is busier than she thought it would be theyve just got off the bus at Trafalgar Square quite near from here the National Portrait Gallery he says as they walks through Trafalgar Square past by Nelsons Column its a 170 feet high he says looking up Ingrid looks up too I bet he can see for miles up there she says its been there since 1843 he says walking on howd you know? she asks Mr Finn told us in history the other month Benny says I never heard him say that Ingrid says following behind Benny you were probably asleep Benny says smiling no I wasnt she replies just dont like history I find it bores me they climb the steps into the National Portrait Gallery and spend an hour or so looking around at the various portraits afterwards they come out and Benny says what about a glass of milk and cake in Leicester Square? is it far? she asks no just around the corner he says so they walk around and into Leicester Square my old man brings me here sometimes Benny says usually Sundays and we have a look around then we have a drink some place and have a go on the machines in the pinball alleys  my dad doesnt take me anywhere Ingrid says taking in the bright neon lights and the crowds of people passing them by I came with Mum once when she did evening cleaning at one of the offices up here Ingrid says remembering my mum works up here too cleaning some evenings Benny says they go into a milk bar and sit down at a table a waitress comes over to them and asks them what they wanted to drink or eat Benny tells her and she walks away he looks at Ingrid sitting in the chair he noticed she winced when she sat down whats up? your old man been hitting you again? he asks her why how did you know? she says looking at him blushing slightly saw how you sat and winced he replies he was in a bad mood and said I was too noisy and now that my brother and sister have left home he finds it easier to pick on me and Mum too Ingrid says you should tell someone Benny says Ingrid shakes her head Mum says Ill be taken away and wont see her anymore and I dont want to go in a home away from her so I say nothing and you mustnt either she  says eyeing Benny anxiously whod believe me he says looking at her wishing he could save her from the beatings she gets but he knows no one would believe him the waitress beings their milks and two biscuits and goes off after putting them on the table I saw your mum had a back eye the other week and my mum said she told her she walked into a door some ****** door that must be Benny says she must walk into that door on a regular basis Ingrid begins to sip the milk through a straw the waitress had provided she says nothing but looks at the glass and the sound of other people talking and laughing Benny sips his milk also thinking of the last time hed seen Ingrids old man passed him on the stairs and her old man eyed him coldly but said nothing after he had gone downstairs Benny gave him the ******* gesture Ingrid is glad to be out of the flat and the Square but shes anxious about his return that night after work and what he will ask her and she finds it hard to lie to him and if she says shes been to art gallery and the West End hell whack her for going and for going with Benny and Mumll say nothing then hell thump her for letting me go off and Ill feel guilty for getting Mum into trouble you let a nine year old girl out into the West End with that Benny kid? thump thump Ingrid can see it all now as she sips her milk Benny sips his milk eyeing Ingrid opposite looking anxious her mind on something else her eyes through her glasses enlarged what are you thinking about? he asks she looks at him nothing she replies its impossible for the human brain not to  think about something unless its died of course and I assume your brain hasnt died he says smiling Daddy says Im brain-dead sometimes she says but I wasnt thinking of anything in particular she lies looking at Bennys hair and the quiff and his hazel eyes and that way he has of studying her you dont lie too good he says lying about what? she says trying not to look too guilty Im not lying what were you really thinking about then? he asks she looks away from him and sips more of the milk I bet youre worrying about your old man finding out about us going up West and you know you cant lie to save your life Benny says I wish I could lie but I just blush or my eyes give me away Daddy always looks at my eyes he says they give me away before my mouth does then Im for it and he knows it and Mum gets it also then whether she knows about me or not its a matter of creative truth telling Benny says she looks at him and she frowns whats that? she says well keep in mind something who have said or done and put it in place of something you have done or said which you know you shouldnt have done he says but we have been here she says how can I put anything in its place? we will Benny says where? she asks well go to the church on the way home and you can go in there on your own and pray or something look at the coloured glass windows and flowers and then tell your old man that if he asks where youve been and done they finish their drinks and biscuits and go back to Trafalgar Square and get a bus back to the Elephant and Castle and Benny and Ingrid go to the church at the top of Meadow Row right now you go in on your own and sit and pray and have good look at the things inside like the coloured glass windows and the altar and then if your old man asks you can tell him the truth Benny says Ingrid goes in the church and Benny waits outside and as he does so he spots Ingrids old man go by on the other side of Meadow Row but he doesnt see Benny he just walks down the Row his features grim and Benny thinks of tiny demons following him.

The loud shush of the steam train shush shush and grey steam turning white shushing out from beneath the train and out of here and there of the huge black dragon and O the power of it Benny says sitting beside Lydia on Kings Cross Railway Station on a seat aged and discoloured watching the steam rise up and upwards and breathing in the smell of the train and steam and she sits with her small hands together between her knees poking out of her white dress with blue flowers her small hands pushing out of her corn blue coloured cardigan her fingers pressing against each other fingertips on fingertips will this train go to Edinburgh? she asks will this train go to Edinburgh? I think so Benny says Ill ask he says and leaps up and goes along the platform and seeing a porter with a trolley stops him and asks the porter glad to rest for a few moments eyes Benny and says yes it does and takes over six hours or more and seeing the boy standing there eyes hazel and bright and the quiff of hair why are you thinking of going? the porter asks smiling revealing a number of teeth missing no not today Benny says noting the absent teeth of the porter or rather the teeth remaining and trying to count the teeth but the porter closes his mouth and smiling walks off with his trolley so Benny walks back to Lydia on the seat yes it does the porter says six hours or more to get there he says thats a long time Lydia says longer than I sleep or my big sister and she can sleep a long time especially if shes been out until the early hours- her mother calls it ******* but Lydia knows nothing of what it means and never bothered to ask-he asked if am I going to Edinburgh and I said not today but it seems exciting to think we could go just get on the train without anyone seeing us and sit in a carriage on our own and if the ticket collector man comes we can say our parents are in the dining car and he might go off and we could go to Edinburgh Benny says smiling at Lydia and she looking at him taking in his grey sleeveless jumper and the white shirt and blue jeans and do you think we could? she says were only nine you and me and Im sure the ticket man would think it odd we were alone while our parents were in the dining car and we were sitting in the carriage alone Benny looks at the train and the steam and the powerfulness of it and says lets get nearer lets get as close as we can and she says all right but not too near Daddy says not too near ok Benny says and they walk as near to the train as they can sensing the powerfulness of the train all the more and the smell of it filling their lungs and been says isnt that great? yes it is Lydia says and reaching out to try and catch some steam but it flows through her fingers and even as she claps her hands together the steam escapes and goes on its journey upwards what do you think? Benny asks Edinburgh today? just us he watches her standing there beside him thin and pale and her hair lank and straight and her eyes peering at him its along way she says her eyes getting larger her mouth opening to a wide oval six hours or more he says although we could sleep maybe sleep until were there where to sleep? she asks rubbing her fingers together nervously wont we get hungry? she asks we never brought food or drink and Ive no money left to buy any she says looking at him wanting him to say it didnt matter they would find food some place but he looks at her and says we can sleep in the carriage our heads against the seat backs or lying down on the seats and food? she says what about that? he looks at her maybe I can get some from the dining car someone might leave things he says rolls or butter you never know what people may leave do you think we could? she says moving closer to him wanting him to say yes of course we could its going to be all right but he looks at the train and the long carriages filling with passengers and the windows having faces looking out at them and says maybe another day when we have some food with us and bottles of drink  and a change of clothes he says got to have change of clothing I havent much to change into she says Mum never gets it done in time some days and I have to wear clothes day after day we can plan it he says make sure it goes to plan with food and clothes and drink and money I can get some Benny says be better then we can go to Edinburgh then like it is on the billboards she looks at him feeling he is right and she does feel it would be a bit of a risky going today without a change of clothing especially knickers she needs those she muses not sure of how much clothing she might need depending she supposes on how long they go for and where to stay once they get there where to stay that is the question she asks herself and she takes Benny hand in hers and says yes another time when as you say we have food and clothes and money and drinks he nods and rubs her hand and says its long way off but we will go yes we will she says excitedly wanting to go that day but yes we will wait to go some other time and they look at the train as it gives out a huge shush of steam like a ******* dragon and they stand back as it gets louder and more powerful and a guard with a green flag waves it wildly and the train huffs away shush shush it goes steam rising and outward like grey white snow.