‘We saw pictures, and heard music, and then we walked about and
talked. We went to the station, and there was no train, but there
was one in the morning, and I saw him off in a fog . . . it was
all foggy’ . . . and I seemed to see it again, as I talked about
it, the station filled with smoke, and the lights, and the thin,
sharp fog . . . and Hugo’s train going out, away, round the bend
of the line . . .
And she said:
‘Is that all, Helen?’