An hour later, just after seven p.m., the train pulled into Penzance station. Grace had been dozing, idly dreaming about a time she and Joan had gone out on the lash in Newquay and woken up in a field of cows. Joan had been using a cow pat as a pillow. Luckily it had been dry. They’d walked across fields until they found themselves in a quiet little village, where they’d got a massive fry-up and large mugs of coffee. They’d spent the rest of the day lounging about on the little strip of sand, eating ice-creams and talking about nothing. In a souvenir shop just back from the beach Grace had bought a little dream catcher decorated with shells, which she had hung over her bed right through university.
She had a smile on her face as she sat up just in time to see the PENZANCE sign slide gentl
