Marion Halligan


Veronica Ballod sits in a train travelling north. She has forgotten that once trains meant connection with glamorous places, so that whenever she saw or heard one her heart yearned to be on it, going there. Not staying here. Or rather, she hasn't forgotten, she remembers it as a fond desultory fact, long past its use-by date. Train travel is a chore, now. Planes are what is glamorous, planes to Europe. The destination, if not the vehicle. The cities of home are known.



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