Where Is My Ticket?

Nora and Perry had been looking forward to the hike for weeks. The next morning they would catch an early train and spend the day in the hills, so on the evening before they sat on the living-room floor, surrounded by piles of kit, and began to pack with the seriousness of explorers.

Nora had a map and a bottle of water; Perry had two apples and a woolly hat. “I’ve got the sandwiches,” she announced, patting her rucksack. “So between us we have food, water and a map,” Perry said, counting on his fingers. “What more could anyone need?”

The answer came a moment later. Perry rummaged through his bag and frowned. “Where is my train ticket?” he asked. “I have mine,” Nora said, rather smugly. “You, apparently, do not have yours.” He turned his rucksack inside out and searched every pocket twice, without result.

In the end they asked their mother, who was washing up in the kitchen. She dried her hands, took a small box from the shelf and opened it with a faint smile. “You have two tickets in here,” she said. “Nora’s and Perry’s. I put them away last week so that nobody could mislay them.”

The children burst out laughing. “Now we have everything,” Nora declared. Their mother, however, had saved one last surprise: from the back of the cupboard she produced two warm blue scarves, one for each of them. “Do not underestimate the hills,” she warned. “It is always colder at the top than you expect.”