I keep a framed photograph on the mantle of an old friend. Mabel looks like she came to the platform to wave someone goodbye. She was never seen again. People liked to believe she decided, on a whim, to board a train and disappear.
I never believed she’d left. She’d been anticipating the day when her Harry would ask for her hand. Mabel had her mind set on settling down, not setting off.
So when they renovate the old railway station and my granddaughter calls with news they discovered bones there, I know the waiting is over. They found Mabel.