Pushing through a crowd of porters, some wheeling their baggage, others chatting with harassed travellers, Watters looked for his train. He stopped a harassed porter who was manoeuvring a barrow through a cloud of steam, a collection of thieves, morning- suited businessmen, and casual travellers.
"Is this the train for Dundee?"
"That"s your sort, mate. Change at York and Edinburgh." The porter was thin-faced and tired, but his blue uniform was tidy. He put a hand to his cap in a perfunctory salute.
Having calculated exactly what the fare would be, Watters mentally thanked the fishermen for their generosity and the youth for his stupidity. Although a second-class ticket did not allow him upholstery on the wooden seat, at least he had glass in the windows. The lack of cushions was nothing
