Outcasts
Oi, look over there! Theres… theres a child! A little one! Hey called Billy, waving his arm toward the engine driver, unable to tear his eyes away from what hed seen.
Billy sat on the cracked wooden floorboards, his legs dangling from the steps, gazing out at the dense pine woods sliding past the railway supports, at the harvested patchwork of fields faded under the late summer sun.
The wind whipped cool through his trousers, refreshing his face flushed hot from tending the firebox. In these moments Billy felt as though he were flyingstrong, free, powerful.
Billy the fireman loved his shunting engine. On this quiet run, he could let his thoughts wander a bit.
When you get to Ridley, toss some more coal in the firebox. For now, just sit, said old Arthur, the engine driver, with the familiar fondness of watching Billy daydream, soot streaked across his face.
Billy looked up to Arthur with respect, though he never much liked the drivers mate, Nicka smug, condescending sort, always quick with a sneer.
Fancy a bite? Nick drawled, rummaging through his bag and pulling out his lunch parcel wrapped in newsprint.
Arthur produced his own packet, but Billy had overslept this morning and dashed out, forgetting his food. No time to turn back.
Cmon, mate! Grab your lunch, Nick beckoned.
Billy waved him off. Three hours left on shift. At home, hed stewed cabbage last night. And maybe, in the evening, he could call on Emily, his neighbour.
But the thought of Emily made him uneasy. Something troubled him in their friendship, left him feeling small and untidy in his own eyes.
Even now, with the sunlit birch copse rolling by, the thought of Emily unsettled him, casting a shadow inside.
Abruptly
Oi, look over there! Theres… theres a child! A little one! Hey Billys voice broke again as he waved frantically at Arthur.
A child sat with his back to a pine trunk, bare legs stretched before him, head bowed. But Billy was surethe child lifted his head to follow the clattering train. Alive, watching…
Where, whats got into you? Nick craned over, but the tall grass had already hidden the child.
Billy jumped up, hastily yanking the whistle cord.
We ought to report this! Send a message to the station.
Whats the panic for?
Its a childalone.
Could be foraging for mushrooms. Lots of folk out this time of year, said Arthur.
Didn’t look it. He was by himself.
Perhaps Mums nearby. Or Gran, Arthur offered.
Billy shook his head stubbornly.
Oh, for heavens sake! Didnt look it, didnt look it… Nick grumbled. Honestly, you fret too much. Bothering people for nothing.
Billy said nothing. He itched to retort, but the words eluded him, leaving him simmering with frustration. How could he explain what made him so certain the child was in trouble? Was it his posture? Or just something Billys young eyes had spotted
Mr. Arthur, lets at least ask at Ridley, see if anyones missing a child? Maybe hes lostlooked like hed noticed our train, maybe was hoping someone would help. I saw him, I swear.
All right, well ask. Could be time yet. Got to take on water there anyway.
Sighing, Billy slid open the iron doors of the firebox and began to shovel in coal, resentment catching in his chest.
That childhe reminded Billy of himself.
***
Billy! Billy! You little devil! Why didnt you feed the hens? Wretched boy, youll ruin us…
The wrecker was only six back then. He drank raw eggs to fend off hunger, snatched rowan berries off the tangled hedges, and slept in an empty shed whenever he was punishedwhich was often. Once, his mother threw him out in nothing but his vest, straight into a winter frost. Hed cried, desperately peeling frozen straw off the floor for warmth, before bolting barefoot through the snow to the neighbours house. He knew hed get walloped when they sent him home, but he ran anyway.
She didnt hit him. The neighbours kept him two days, then sent him to hospital, and from there on to a childrens home. The neighbour often remembered how hed found an old dried-up rusk under their table, and clung to it with such hunger she struggled to take it away.
And oddlyhis mother did visit the home, wept and begged for him back. Will you go? they asked him. He shook his head, staring at the floor, shrinking away from her touch. His mother wasnt a drunk; it was something elsea gnawing, nervous anger, a cruel, foolish temper.
Life in care wasnt much kinder. Billy often hid in the wardrobe to escape bullying from the older boys. His ginger hair made him a frequent target.
He was slow to stand up for himself. But he learned. His knuckles were scuffed almost always, and somehow it always ended with Billy taking the blame.
He never could raise a hand against a woman. But women raised hands to himMiss Irene, one of the minders, kicked him for getting her in trouble, after hed innocently confessed to the head he was fetching her lunch for herself. Shed battered him for it, and hed tasted blood, sobbed in the lavatory later, but couldnt fight back.
A hard life.
When he left care, they gave him a job at the railway. He started out in a hostel, ten to a room, but even that felt a freedom.
After his army years, they transferred him to the junction at Brookleigh, as a fireman, giving him a tiny staff cottage. Billy was over the moon. His own home!
Brookleigh was a shunting halt, with a switchmans hut, two dozen aging and new slate-roofed houses, a small green-painted school, and a makeshift nursery in one of the cottages.
His place was cold and basic, the sand whistled in through loose window frames, rats chewed the floorboards, but Billy wasnt put off. He’d never had anything else, he didnt know to call them problems. He might get a lodger one day, another railwayman, but he didnt mind.
No one to guide or pity himno one, except Emily. She was a divorced signalwoman who lived next door with her young boy.
Poor thing! Off you go to the station manager and get some proper clay or cement, else youll freeze come winter, shed scold with a soft smile.
She took him under her wing. Out of pity? Or perhaps for want of comfort herself.
So, shall we get married then? Billy asked after their first night together.
Emily collapsed into laughter. Oh, Billy, youre a card! Marry you! Im not looking for a husbanddont need another child. You can stay over winter, though, else youll waste away in your freezing shack. What did they teach you in that home of yours?
Their odd relationship flickered between closeness and absence, depending on Emilys moods. And it was starting to weigh on Billy.
***
The steam engine crested the hill and the village of Ridley unfolded below. Theyd arrived.
Arthur, will you find out? Billy called from the handrail.
Ill ask…
The driver and Nick disappeared into the office while Billy grabbed a battered kettle and his soap, jumped down onto the platform, and ducked beneath the carriages towards the water tower. He had no need for the stationif any news of the child, Arthur would report back.
Billy pulled off his vest and sluiced himself with cold water, sighing with relief, soaping up, letting the suds trickle down to the gravel beneath his feet. Damp but cleaner, he hurried back into the cab, just as Arthur and Nick clambered back in, bustling.
Any news?
What? Arthur snapped. Never mind the child. Stations swamped, we need to clear a sidingget a move on, Billy!
Billy fired up the stoker, coals surging into the hungry flames.
Signals green! Nick shouted, already checking ahead.
So were not coming back to the station? Billy asked over the hissing engine.
Nope. Straight home. What, not in a hurry for your supper? came Nick, mocking as ever.
Billy shot the other man a hard look, saying nothing. Nick, all cool self-satisfactionhed never understand a soul like Billy. Nor, likely, the child theyd glimpsed in the woods.
While the train was shunted onto a new track, Billy sidled up to Arthur.
Arthurlet me off at mile one-three-six, will you? Ill catch a lift back, its not far…
Are you mad? Your shifts done, youre not tired yet?
Ill manage. Therell be a lift on the road. Please, Arthur!
A few minutes hesitance, but the tension in Billys face made Arthur sigh, Alrightbut make it quick! We wont wait!
By the time Billy jumped down at the mile marker, clutching his canvas bag, the blackened wheels already hissed with steam and the engine rumbled off, the birds instantly returned to their singing as if the steel monster had never thundered by.
Billy walked along the embankment, tracing the place where hed seen the childhe remembered it well.
He crossed through new forestry, climbed over a knoll and cut straight through, almost running. Therethe same pine, the same hollow dipping away into the denser wood. No child.
Billy called out, searching, but silence replied. He found the spot, though: pressed needles, a hole dug with a stick.
Billy sat, catching his breath. Perhaps Nick was rightmust have been foragers and a child. No sense making a fuss. Now hed have to hike deeper into the woods, to Hawthorn End, the nearest village, off the main road, before he could try for a lift home.
Billy had never walked these woods before, only knew the area from maps and gossip.
Easiest to follow the stream. He kept casting about for the child, but nothing.
The summer day was cool, shaded. In spite of his hunger, Billy felt content walking these fresh woodsso different from the greasy fug of the engine.
He remembered Arthurs gruff advice: Billy, you ought to train up, become a driver yourself. Steam days are numbered. Soon enough therell be no work for a firemanelectricsll take over.
But all Billys memories of school were bad. Hed always lagged behind, and the childrens home didnt helphis physics teacher said he had talent, but English had always been a struggle, and mathsa strange teacher, shouting half the time, half muttering to herself at the board.
When youve no roots, its hard to find your path. Billy only ever truly felt useful when he shovelled coal in the firebox: tangible, directbecause of his work, the train moved. Away from the job, he drifted, neglected small chores, often went hungry simply because he forgot to shop.
Youre hopeless, you are, Emily would sigh, during her kinder moments. If I leave for the countryside, howll you live?
How, indeed? Billy pondered that often, but never found an answer. His job, that was his small lifes meaning.
…
Billy might have missed it, but for the sudden rustling of reeds nearbyand out from them, slowly, unsure, stood a childthe very one hed been searching for.
It was a girl. Her scarf had slipped to her shoulders, hair wild, wearing a grey cardigan, baggy tights, and barefoot. She must have been drinking from the stream; she wiped her mouth on her sleeve, regarding Billy with wary eyes.
Well, what have we here? Ive been looking for you! Hiding out, are you? Billy grinned, hand on heart.
The child didnt move, just ducked her head.
Come here, love. Are you lost?
She kept silent, dropping her gaze. Billy started towards her, but she edged away, pushing through the reeds.
No need to be frightened, love! Ill see you home, I promise. Dont run
Billy caught up, gently taking her ice-cold hand. Her feet were numb, soaked from wading in the stream.
Youll catch your death. Come here, up on the bank.
He found a patch of grass and sat her on his lap, keeping her still. He knew how to manage little onesthe childrens home made sure of that.
Why barefoot, eh? Woods are no place to walk like that. You’ll get hurt, or catch a chill. Lets see.
He pulled off her wet tights and began rubbing her feet warm, grumbling in Arthurs fashion, Look at you, frozen stiff! Never mind, well sort you out. Hold still now…
He pulled off his own socks and shoes, bundling his thick socks on her tiny feet. They bunched up to her knees, offering warmth even if they wouldnt stay up.
Not ideal, this, but itll have to do.
A sense of calm settled on Billyhe was overwhelmed by the odd bliss of responsibility.
Here, have this.
He handed her his packagethe sandwich Arthur had been kind enough to packand as she wolfed it down, he just watched. Bread and cheese crumbled in her desperate grip, her eyes fixed on her meal, catching up every scrap, including a bit of grass.
Easy, love. You dont need to rush…
He remembered the neighbours story of him, years back, clutching a hardened old rusk, not letting go. Just now, no one could wrestle this sandwich away from the girl. He held out his rough, coal-blackened palm for her to catch the crumbs.
Its all right. Youre safe now.
She looked up, eyebrows raised, still hungry.
No moreI promise, thats enough. You don’t want to overdo it, trust me…
He meant it. Hed seen it as a boy in caretwo lads once ran off, lived rough for a month, then when brought back, the kitchen folk fed them too much at once. Nearly killed them. One needed surgery.
Billy used his penknife to slice off a bit of his bag strap, tying it around the girls ankles to hold up the socks.
Ill carry you, all right? Then you can walk a bit later on. Lets go.
He hefted her up, though it was awkward going over roots and bumps with her in his arms. Now and again, she walked beside him. She still said nothingand Billy began to wonder if she was mute.
Wait, waita lift, like this! he crouched by a fallen tree. Climb up, hold on.
She understood, hopping on his back, little arms wrapping round his neck. That made it easier, brighter, but they soon needed another rest. He hoped Hawthorn End wasnt far.
They paused to drink from the streamBilly needed it badly, as hunger and thirst nagged at him.
Would she run off? He listened, heard the crack of a branchshed followed him down to the water.
Dont wet your feet again, now! he scolded gently, but then splashed her face teasingly. She dashed offbut halfway up the bank, turned, and almost, almost smiled. Billy knew shed caught the joke.
When they eventually came clear of the woods, they found a small village and, across a field, the road. Billy headed to the cottagesmaybe someone there would know her. Besides, they both needed warming up.
He knockeddogs barked inside, and a kindly woman in a stained pinny opened up, pigs grunting in the yard behind her.
Billy quickly explained.
Youre not up to any nonsense, are you? the woman said with a smile.
No, miss. Just a fireman from the Ridley line, our train passed by earlier.
Goodness, you’ve come far! Come on inwhys she got no shoes?
Her name was Mrs. Hazel. She, too, could hardly take her eyes off the way the girl ate, scooping the last noodles from the bowl, breathing heavily, sucking her fingers.
Mercy me… Sit tight, Ill ask aroundmaybe someone knows if a childs missing. Lay her up on the box-bed there, look, fast asleep already.
The girls fingers stayed in her mouth, curled over her bowl. Billy gently put her to the warm side of the hearth, tucked her in, and himself nodded off, slumped against the oven.
He awoke when the door banged. Hazel was back, with a white-haired, cane-carrying lady. After greeting them, the old woman bent over the sleeping child, peering intently.
Yes, shes kin, she said after a long pause. Recognise the eyes, I do. Perhaps mistaken… but, yes.
Whose kin? Billy asked.
Theres an old tiny village, up the waySt. Marys they call it. Thats where Miss Agatha here hails from, Hazel explained. Or did. Theres nothing left but three housesall that’s left living, three people. No power, no wellsjust a river. The girls mother went away long ago. Came back for a time, left her child with her granher, I suppose. She nodded at the sleeping child. Her Grans not all there now. Nobody else in the world to look for her…
How far is it? Billy asked anxiously. The day had worn on.
Best not walk it at night. Well ask Victor next doorhell run you up on his motorbike, and then maybe run you on to the main road. He always helps.
Billy went with Hazel to fetch Victor, a lad about his own age, quick to help.
Billy returned to fetch the girl. Inside, Agatha sat stroking her hair as she slept.
Right, best I carry hershell not wake, but well see… He lifted her in his arms and out to the bikes sidecar, where she soon snuggled back to sleep.
As they set off, twilight deepened, the sun falling away beyond the forests edge. Billy took a breathhe always did love speed, the wind in his face, as the motorbike zipped along country roads, old pines whirling by like ancient, bent sentinels.
And he was glad. Glad hed jumped off the train, glad hed cared. Let Nick scoff, let him scurry home to his warm supperBilly had done right, and wasn’t that what mattered? Not comfort, but purpose.
He glanced at the sleeping child, her matted hair, pale face, suddenly so small, so aloneand a fierce urge to guard her washed over him. He wished he could shield her from every hurt the world might serve, from all the loneliness he himself had enduredand maybe, just maybe, shed be spared.
There you golook, Victor shouted.
Where?
On the hillside, beneath tangled overgrowth of cherry and lilac, a cluster of half-buried dwellings. The last mile was nothing but tracks through wild fields, a rickety bridge, then up the slopeSt. Marys, or what was left of it. Three homes, tumbledown beams and mossy chimneys eaten by nettles.
A stooped man emerged, wearing a farmers smock.
There, therewhos that? Oh, so you found her! he exclaimed, spotting the child in the sidecar. Grans been howling all daywouldnt settle… and Lucy, she…
Yours, is she? asked Victor sternly.
Yes, yes the man nodded.
And you didnt call the police? A child gone?
No police here anymore, he said, surprised.
A child missing, and you didnt search?
We did… Well, Lucy and I, we combed the hedgesgot some mushrooms, as well… Porcini, best season… Lucys in her house there. Fast asleep, she is. Went over to Hawthorn End and back. Grans in the far cottage, butwell… He tapped his head. All she does is scream these days.
Victor and Billy pushed the bike further.
Wake up, were home, Billy said gently to the child. Come on, time to see Gran.
He helped her from the sidecar. The cottage door hung crooked, the smell inside sharp and earthy. Dirt floors, scraps everywhere.
How do they live here in winter? Victor muttered. Billy just shrugged.
From behind the stove came a piercing wail. The little girl pressed closer to Victor, scared.
There on an ancient bed lay an old woman, swaddled in heavy jumpers, a scarf knot under her chin, patched boots on her feet, eyes burning.
She reached out a shaky arm, and screamedagain and again. But, in a heartbeat, the child rushed over, curled up beside her. The old arm dropped, heavy but gentle, across her back, and the womans eyes shut in calm.
The sun sank below the horizontheir task finished: the child was home.
Time to go…
As Victor and Billy left, the old woman called softly after him, You twothe outcasts…
Billy paused, glancing back in confusion.
What do you mean?
Nothing left for either of you, except the kindness you give, she murmured.
Billy stepped outside, the dusk cool and quiet. The engines fire, the loneliness behind himand in his heart, a little certainty: sometimes, those with the least can give the most. In looking out for each other, perhaps none of us are truly lost.
And with that, Billy shouldered his bag, warmed through, and headed home down the winding roadgrateful for the chance to care, and to be cared for, in the vast, tangled world.
