The 6:15 to Norwich was not boarding yet, which was the only good thing about Bayford Cross on a rainy Sunday. Kit Ng had the window seat in his head already, and a fruit pastel in his pocket. Mum was asleep on the bench. Two navy rucksacks leaned by her feet, alike as a pair of wellies. One was Mum's. One belonged to a man in a flat cap, who had gone to buy crisps. Dad's rule for stations was "Green for go. Check the frog." Kit tied the frog tag to the nearer bag. Tap, tap. "Green for go." He did not read the name card. The frog had one white eye from the Year One paint pot. Frogs beat every tag in the station, even lions. He dragged the bag towards Platform 4. It squeaked. It was lighter than Mum's bag usually was.