Daniel clutches his little suitcase and drags it across the wet platform. Rain hammers the flickering gas lamps. Tink, tink, tink—the chime rings.
He stops dead. Water drips from his sleeve. Daniel tilts his head. Somewhere in the dark, a door creaks open.
A kind-faced stranger steps into the lamplight. She nods toward the waiting carriage and murmurs, "You're just in time."
Daniel's suitcase slips from his grip and thuds on the slick planks. He stamps his wet boot and wipes his palms on his trousers.
Daniel lunges for the carriage steps. His boots skid on the wet metal, arms pinwheeling.
"Step, little one," the stranger says, and her voice is steady as the clock tick overhead. Daniel grips the rail and hauls himself up.
Daniel tumbles aboard. The door clicks shut. The tracks hum as the train lurches forward.
Through the small window, the stranger presses her flat hand to the glass. Daniel presses his small hand to the other side.
The station slides into the rain. The platform blurs, the lamps wink out one by one.
Daniel sets his suitcase by the window and pats the seat. The carriage glows warm yellow. Ahead, Bellford hums and waits.