Arrow with script quote design

The bus from Ashby stopped outside the Co-op this morning, and I stood on the kerb with my case and my mother's gloves still on, wondering which way the road would take me. Mr Pryce at the depot says the Leeds train is the one to catch, so I am writing this on the back of his timetable while the engine ticks over.

You will remember the quarrel at the church fete. I meant what I said about staying. I still mean it, in a way. But last night I dug out the old tin of pencils from under the stairs, and the drawing I made when we were twelve came out with it, an arrow with feathers at its head and loops of ink curling off the tail. You told me it looked like a bent fork. I kept it anyway. Underneath I had written the words Gran used to say when I hid in the orchard, follow your arrow wherever it goes, and I had made the letters swing like the shaft was pulling them along.

I am not sure where mine is pointing. Perhaps nowhere yet. But the tip is aimed at the grey line of the hills past the signal box, and the feathers are lifting, and the train is here.

Write to me care of the post office in Harrogate. Tell me the orchard has had a good year. Tell me you kept the bent fork as well.

Your friend always, Jean