"Your train leaves tomorrow?" Bran said.
Beside him, Jane tore her eyes away from the sun-dazzled, plant-dappled water of the Bearded Lake and gave him a sidelong glance.
His face was neutral, expressionless; what little emotion might have shown in his strange tawny eyes was hidden by the customary dark glasses.
The wind off the lake ruffled his white hair; Jane itched to smooth it back into place.
"Yes," she said. She gave into temptation, dared to reach out and brush an unruly strand of hair off his forehead. "School starts again soon. I have to get all my books and things.
But I might be able to convince Mum and Dad to send me back over the Christmas holiday." Bran said nothing, and his face remained blank, staring off at the lake. Jane sighed.
"Our train doesn't leave until tomorrow afternoon; Simon and Barney and I will be able to see you before we leave.
No doubt Mummy will want us out of the hotel anyway while she packs her paints and canvas."
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