Archie Preston stood on the platform of the quiet village station, his leather satchel feeling heavier than usual. It wasn’t just the books inside; it was the weight of leaving the only home he’d ever known for the sprawling, soot-stained streets of London.
He landed on a floor of ancient floorboards. The air was thick with the ghosts of tea and liniment. In the corner stood a venerable scoreboard, its numbers frozen at “46 for 3.” Against the wall leaned a row of wooden stumps, brown with age.
Archie Preston stood on the platform of the quiet village station, his leather satchel feeling heavier than usual. It wasn’t just the books inside; it was the weight of leaving the only home he’d ever known for the sprawling, soot-stained streets of London.
He landed on a floor of ancient floorboards. The air was thick with the ghosts of tea and liniment. In the corner stood a venerable scoreboard, its numbers frozen at “46 for 3.” Against the wall leaned a row of wooden stumps, brown with age. Englishlads Archie Preston