The train set is huge: a scale model of the Carnforth line. Every detail recreated in miniature. Working lights, flocked grass and queuing passengers.
“Watch this,” Jake says, pulling the train up at a signal.
“Nice.” I clip-clop a horse around the paddock opposite the station.
Jake drops in a plastic hay bale.
“Mum’s ill,” I tell him.
The train moves off again.
“She needs an operation. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“I’m not stupid,” he says.
“I know, buddy. I know.”