A Whistle in a Pocket
Rosa heard a whistle while she was carrying Grandpa's old coat. She stopped by the kitchen door. The sound came again: two short whistles, then one long one. She looked through the window. There was no train in the garden. Grandpa wanted his coat back at four. It was half past three, and his house was next door. Rosa had time to look inside the pockets.
The right pocket was open. A little black engine stood inside it. Three green carriages waited behind the engine. The engine was shorter than Rosa's hand. A man in a blue hat looked out of the engine window. He was about as tall as her thumb. "Are we at the garden station?" he asked. Rosa looked at the kitchen chairs, then at the little man. "You're in a coat," she said. "Yes," he answered. "But which pocket?"
Rosa put the coat on the kitchen table. She spread out its long sleeves. Two lines of yellow stitches ran from the right pocket to the left one. They passed along the front of the coat, just below the buttons. A small tree was sewn on the left pocket. Under the tree was a tiny red bench. "There's the garden station," the driver said. "We need to get there."
Rosa put one finger against the engine. It was small, but it was heavy. She could not push it across the coat. "It only moves along the tracks," the driver said. He pointed at the yellow lines. "The coat was folded. We couldn't see the way." Rosa moved a sleeve away from the tracks. The driver waved from his window, and the train began to move.
The Hole in the Road
The train passed the first button. Rosa walked her fingers beside it. Warm air came out of the engine, and the green carriages made a soft clicking sound. At the next button, the driver stopped. Rosa bent down. There was a hole in the coat. The yellow lines ended at one side and began again at the other. She could see the kitchen table through the hole.
A woman opened a carriage window. She wore a red scarf and held a book against her chest. "Is there a problem?" she asked. "The bridge has gone," said the driver. The woman looked towards the little tree. "My granddaughter's waiting for me. I promised to read the next chapter today." She opened the book. Rosa could not read its tiny words, but she could see a picture of a bear.
"I can make you a bridge," Rosa said. She took a piece of paper from the drawer and put it across the hole. "There are no tracks," said the driver. Rosa found a yellow pencil. She drew two lines across the paper. The driver looked carefully from his window. "A little closer together, please." Rosa rubbed out one line and drew it again. The new lines joined the stitches on both sides.
The driver started the engine. Its front wheels rolled onto the paper. The paper went down in the middle. The engine leaned forward. "Stop!" Rosa called. The driver pulled a handle, and the wheels stopped turning. The woman held the edge of her seat. Rosa kept very still. Then the train slowly moved back onto the coat. The paper was thin. Two yellow lines did not make it strong.
Under the Yellow Lines
Rosa took the paper away. There were two dark marks where the wheels rested on it. She looked around the kitchen. The clock said ten to four. She could carry the coat next door quickly, but she did not want to fold it again. The driver was looking at the clock too. "Is there anything else in your drawer?" he asked.
There were pencils, a spoon and a wooden ruler. Rosa took out the ruler. It was longer than the hole and narrow enough to fit between the buttons. She put it under the paper, across the hole. Now the paper lay flat. Rosa pressed it with one finger. This time, it did not go down.
"Shall we try again?" she asked. The driver got out and walked onto the bridge. He looked at the yellow lines, then at the place where the paper met the coat. "Keep the coat still," he said. "And please take your finger away." Rosa moved her hand. He walked back to the engine and climbed inside.
The train moved forward. Rosa watched the front wheels cross the hole. Then the engine reached the stitches on the other side. One green carriage crossed, then another. In the last carriage, the woman waved her red scarf. Rosa wanted to wave back, but she kept both hands on the table. The last wheels left the paper. Then Rosa let out her breath.
A Place to Wait
The train stopped under the little tree. A girl ran from behind the pocket. She was as small as the driver and had a bear on her blue jumper. The woman stepped out with her book. The girl took her hand, and they sat together on the red bench. The driver looked up at Rosa. "Thank you for the bridge," he said. Then he blew his whistle. The engine and the three carriages went into the left pocket. Inside, a green light shone for a moment. Then everything was quiet.
Rosa looked at the clock. It was three minutes to four. She put her arms under the coat and lifted it carefully. The ruler stayed under the paper. She walked out through the kitchen door and along the path to Grandpa's house. He was waiting at his front door with his glasses in his hand.
"I couldn't fold it," Rosa said. "There's a new bridge." Grandpa put on his glasses. He looked at the paper, the ruler and the two yellow lines. "Ah," he said. "I caught the coat on the garden gate yesterday. I was going to mend that hole." He carried the coat to his table. "You can sew it later," Rosa said. "Someone's reading a book now."
Grandpa bent down beside the tree. Rosa stood beside him. They could not hear the words, but the girl's finger was on a picture in the book. "We'll leave them alone," Grandpa said. He put two chairs beside the table. Rosa sat down. From the pocket came a small sound, softer than the whistle. The girl was laughing at the bear.
