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them and they never seem to have enough to eat.’

      ‘I know,’ Bridie said. ‘I saw it myself when I was over before, though I was just a child of thirteen then. It must be terrible to be so hungry and cold.’ As she spoke she realised how long it had been since she’d eaten and her stomach growled in protest.

      ‘Are you hungry?’ Tom said, hearing the rumble of Bridie’s stomach. ‘My mother and sisters have packed me food enough for half a dozen. Please help me eat it?’

      Now he knew for certain there was something wrong, for surely to God a person wouldn’t set off for such a journey without a bite with them. What manner of family did she come from at all? But again he felt unable to pry and instead began to open the various packages his mother and sisters had pressed on him.

      Bridie watched Tom’s broad hands unwrap the food, while her mouth watered in anticipation, noting that his hands were unblemished and smooth and his fingernails clean and well shaped. Then her attention was taken by the food and her interest in the man fled at such a feast before her.

      There were four hard-boiled eggs, slices of ham and others of cheese, and slices of thickly buttered soda bread, large pieces of barn brack and half a dozen scones. ‘I have milk too,’ Tom said, producing the bottle. ‘My mother insisted on lacing it with whisky “to keep the cold from my bones” she said.’

      Bridie had never drunk laced milk before; she’d never tasted whisky at all. But she found it was very pleasant indeed and considered Tom’s mother a wise woman for thinking of it for it certainly warmed her up. The food also put new heart into her and made her more hopeful about the future, whatever it held.

      When this was all over, she thought, maybe she could make it up to her mother and father for running away and certainly beg their forgiveness. Surely to God they wouldn’t hate her for ever?

      ‘I’m glad you have someone to lodge with,’ Tom said suddenly, breaking in on her thoughts. ‘Birmingham, like most cities, is a depressed place. The people back home seem to think you can peel the gold from the city’s streets.’

      ‘But how would they know how it is?’ Bridie said. ‘Many of our neighbours have travelled nowhere all the days of their life except into town on a Fair Day.’

      ‘Yes, you’re right,’ Tom agreed. ‘Still you have someone anyway. Where’s your sister meeting you?’

      ‘At New Street Station,’ Bridie said. ‘At least … I must send her a telegram to tell her the times of the trains.’

      ‘There’ll be plenty of time when we get to Liverpool for that, I should think,’ Tom said. ‘I lived there for some time, so I know my way about.’

      ‘Did you? Why did you leave?’

      ‘Oh, there were reasons,’ Tom said. That was his cue to tell Bridie all about himself, but he said nothing and instead changed the subject. Though Bridie chatted easily enough, she parried all his questions about her home or family, knowing it would never do for him to guess where she lived and how far she’d come. Instead, she asked Tom questions about himself and was particularly interested in anything he could tell her about Birmingham.

      ‘But you know it already, surely?’ Tom said. ‘Didn’t you tell me you were over before?’

      ‘Aye, but I was a child just,’ Bridie said, ‘and my sister was expecting so we didn’t stray far from the house. I went to the cinema a few times, though, to the Broadway near to where they live. That was truly amazing to me, and my cousin Rosalyn was green with envy when I described it. We went to a place called the Bull Ring a time or two as well, though never at night, although Mary said there was great entertainment to be had there on a Saturday. She used to get tired in the evenings, though, and she wasn’t up to long jaunts.’

      ‘Oh, you missed a treat all right,’ Tom said. ‘The Bull Ring is like a fairyland lit up with gas flares and the place to be on a Saturday evening, if you can shut your eyes to the poverty all around. You must make sure you pay a visit this time and see it for yourself.’

      ‘I will,’ Bridie promised.

      ‘There are cinemas too of course,’ Tom said, ‘like the Broadway picture house you mentioned, but I really like the music hall and that’s what I spend my spare money on.’

      ‘Music hall?’

      ‘Now there’s a treat if you like,’ Tom said. ‘The city centre is full of theatres and they put on variety shows and some do pantomimes. Have you ever seen a pantomime?’

      Bridie shook her head.

      ‘I didn’t see one myself until I came to live in Birmingham,’ Tom said. ‘But they are very funny, well worth a visit. There was a moment’s pause and then Tom suddenly asked, ‘Do you dance, Bridie?’

      ‘Dance?’

      ‘Everywhere you go there are dances being held,’ Tom told her. ‘There are proper places of course, like Tony’s Ballroom and the Locarno, but they’re also held round and about the city centre in church halls and social clubs. There’s often a dance hall above picture houses and even on wooden boards laid across empty swimming baths.’

      ‘I can’t dance at all,’ Bridie said. ‘Not like that. I know Irish dancing, I mean I can do a jig or reel or hornpipe with the best of them, but I don’t know a thing about other types of dancing.’

      ‘Well, if you have a mind to learn, there are schools about ready to teach you,’ Tom told her. ‘And sometimes only for coppers.’

      ‘It sounds such an exciting place to live in, I saw less than half the place last time. I know nothing about these other things,’ Bridie exclaimed.

      ‘There’s grinding poverty here too,’ Tom reminded her. ‘Sometimes the bravery and stoicism of the average Brummie astounds me. Some families we help are so poor, so downtrodden, and yet they soldier on, their spark of humour still alive. Those lucky enough to be in work fare better, but the hours of work are often long and the jobs are heavy and I can’t blame them for seeking entertainment.’

      ‘You seem so settled in city life,’ Bridie said. ‘Don’t you miss Ireland?’

      ‘Not so much now,’ Tom said. ‘I did of course, but I’ve been away from it so long. I miss the peace of it sometimes, the tranquillity that you’d never find in a city, but I feel needed there like I never was on the farm.’

      ‘So you’d not ever go back to live there?’ Bridie asked.

      Tom was a while answering. Eventually he said, ‘Ever is a long time, Bridie. Who knows what the future holds for any of us? But, for the moment at least, my place is there.’

      And mine too, Bridie thought, but she didn’t share her thoughts with Tom. She didn’t know what the future held for her either and every time she thought of it, her stomach did a somersault.

      Her silence went unnoticed, though, for the train was pulling into Derry and they began to collect their belongings together as they had to change to the normal gauge train for the short journey to Belfast and the ferries for England. Bridie tried to return Tom’s coat, but he refused to have it back and insisted she wrap it around herself, carrying her own sodden one over his arm.

      It was on the train that Bridie saw Tom properly for the first time and, now that the light was better, she realised he was a very handsome man. His hair was very dark and a little curly and he had the kindest brown eyes ringed by really long lashes. His nose was slightly long and his mouth wide and turned up and it gave the impression he was constantly amused by something. The whole effect was one of gentleness, kindness, though his chin seemed determined enough.

      And then, as if aware of her scrutiny, Tom smiled. It transformed his whole face and Bridie’s heart skipped a beat.

      ‘I’m glad we’re travelling together, aren’t you?’ Tom said.

      Oh yes, Bridie was glad all right, but she thought it best

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