Bones in the Barrow
“For one thing, Christmas was drawing near, and Terry had other things to think of. There were parties and dances to arrange; a gala night at the Square Dance Club he belonged to; also presents to buy for his family and the girl friend. None of this was, or could be, on a large scale, but it occupied his thoughts quite enough to stop him worrying about a mystery that grew more dim and less important with every day that passed. And when, Christmas over, the New Year took the stage in a cloak of t...hick snow, his physical discomfort from chilblains and chapped ears forced his attention upon his own grim path in life: the early rising, the daily journey, the monotonous grind at the office. He did not criticize its value, or question its inevitability; he merely grumbled. To himself, when surrounded by his elders; to his friends when they complained of their own misery.
But he had not altogether forgotten his dreadful experience. Again and again, as he travelled to Waterloo, he gazed out the window at the houses beside the line, trying to recognize the one that held the undisclosed secret of that foggy morning in November.MoreLess
But he had not altogether forgotten his dreadful experience. Again and again, as he travelled to Waterloo, he gazed out the window at the houses beside the line, trying to recognize the one that held the undisclosed secret of that foggy morning in November.MoreLess
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