Shades of Captain Oates

All yesterday I carried my secret knowledge with me through evenings out and trips to campus . . . Why such melodramatic secrecy?

I left Watermouth in the early hours, leaving a little note that said “I may be gone some time . . ..” Shades of Captain Oates. I didn’t say where I’d gone or when exactly I’d be back, and I had a terrible time creeping from my room down the four flights of creaking uncarpeted stairs to the front door—only Alex was up. I padded down the hallway in my stocking feet, shoes under my arm, and unlatched the front door.

I felt like such a fraud.

I caught the five a.m. coach to Gatwick, arriving at 7.20, then a coach via Wolverhampton, Derby and Whincliffe to Easterby. Just Mum was in when I got back; Dad was at work . . ..