by Daniel Hurst
‘It looks like we are.’
8
STRANGER
The train comes to a halt at its first stop outside London, and I watch as several passengers disembark, stepping out onto the sun-kissed platform and scurrying off to their homes, where the comforts of a warm meal and several hours spent in front of a television set await them. Those with a shorter commute are now free. It’s just those hearty souls like Amanda who still have so much more journey time to endure.
The train is still relatively busy but not as bad as it was when we first left London, and I have been waiting for this particular stop before I make my move on the woman opposite me. We’ve been chatting innocently for most of the journey, and I can tell that Amanda likes me based on both how the conversation has been going and the fact she keeps self-consciously fiddling with her hair and glancing up at me whenever she thinks I’m not looking. She currently has her eyes back on her laptop screen, but I bet she is just dying for me to say something else to her again, so I’d better not disappoint her by keeping her waiting too long. A quick check on my stolen watch also reminds me that I’m not the only one who could be disappointed if I don’t reengage her soon.
It’s forty minutes to Brighton.
‘Tell me about your daughter,’ I say just after the doors close, and the train slowly moves along the platform again.
Amanda looks at me as if she might have misheard. ‘My daughter?’
I nod my head to telegraph that she heard right, and for the first time since we met, Amanda looks puzzled. It won’t be the last time, though.
‘How do you know I have a daughter?’ she asks me, and I imagine she is starting to worry that the perfect man she has met on her way home might not be so perfect after all. But like most things in life, I have an answer for it.
‘Your book. You said the main character is a single mum who ends up fighting for her and her daughter’s life. I could be wrong, but I’m guessing that character is loosely based on yourself.’
Amanda instantly looks down at her screen, clearly feeling a little shy about being so transparent.
‘It’s okay,’ I assure her. ‘Most writers write what they know. Even Lola over there,’ I say, nodding at our fictional erotic writer.
She laughs again and I’d finding it’s easy to get that reaction from her.
‘Some of it might be based on personal experience,’ Amanda confesses. ‘But only a little.’
‘So tell me about her,’ I say again, pressing her for more.
I can see that Amanda is wary of discussing this topic, and I know why. From what I have gathered, things aren’t particularly rosy between mother and child. I imagine it’s draining to live with a family member you clash with on a daily basis. But Amanda had better get comfortable talking about her daughter because she is the reason I am here right now, and we have much to discuss before we go our separate ways.
‘She’s seventeen,’ Amanda tells me, allowing her hands to rest on the table in front of her keyboard. ‘Bright girl but got no direction in her life. She’s not like I was at her age.’
‘You knew what you wanted to do?’ I ask, and Amanda nods.
‘I wanted to write.’
I smile at her again, mainly because I want her to feel as if she is chatting to an old friend and not just some random guy she has met on the train home. I bet she wasn’t expecting a free therapy session on her journey this evening. But I’m certain that I am getting more out of this than she is. That’s because I’m making sure to confirm a few things in my mind before I say what I came here to say. I’m impatient to just get to the point, but rushing in my line of work only leads to one place.
Prison.
‘She’s only young. She’ll figure things out,’ I tell her. ‘Just like her mother did.’
I wink at Amanda again, and she gives me that pretty little smile of hers. I’ll miss that in a few minutes’ time.
‘What’s your daughter doing right now?’ I ask, picking up the pace just like the driver of this train is doing as we head further out of the urban area and headlong into the great British countryside.
‘She’s at home, probably on the sofa, probably not moved all day.’
‘By herself?’
Amanda nods.
‘That’s interesting.’
‘What is?’
‘The fact that you trust her to tell you the truth about what she is doing.’
Amanda studies me for a moment, but I give nothing away, and the silence between us gradually moves from normal, to awkward, to just plain unsettling.
‘I’d better get back to work,’ Amanda says, looking back down at her screen.
‘But there’s so much we haven’t talked about yet.’
Amanda looks back up at me a little warily this time. ‘Like what?’
‘Like how can a single mum quit her only source of income so she can pursue a career with so much risk? Giving up a guaranteed wage for what? Some book she writes on her laptop on her train ride home? That seems like quite the risk to take. Unless…’
I pause for a little dramatic effect between us, allowing Amanda’s imagination to run riot while I do.
‘Unless what?’ she asks when she can’t take it anymore.
‘Unless you have a considerable amount of money saved away.’
I sit back in my seat and smile at Amanda as she processes my suggestion.
‘What are you talking about?’ she asks me, studying my face.
‘Don’t give me that,’ I reply with a wide grin. ‘You know exactly what I’m talking about.’
9
AMANDA
Why did this have to suddenly get weird?
I was so close to asking this man his name and maybe even enquiring about the possibility of the two of us going for a drink, but now he’s starting to give me the creeps. He seems to be suggesting that he knows something about me, though what that is, he hasn’t said yet. He just keeps alluding to it. But the fact he has brought up the subject of money, or rather my money, is making me think that it is time to bring this conversation to a swift end before it can get any worse.
‘Sorry, I’m not sure what you mean,’ I say, and my eyes flit from the man to the carriage behind him. I’m looking to see if there are any other tables free for me to sit at and continue my writing. The vibe at this table has changed dramatically, and I don’t wish to be around it any longer. But there are none. Never mind a table seat, there are no unoccupied seats at all, and I don’t expect there to be until we have passed through the next stop at least.
Damn you, rush hour.
If I do get up now, then I’ll end up standing all the way back to Brighton, and that wouldn’t be fun. It would also be unfair because I got this seat, and I shouldn’t have to leave it because a fellow passenger is making me feel uncomfortable. That’s why I look back to the man sitting opposite me and frown.
Why should I have to move? I’ll simply ignore him and go back to my writing.
I look down at my laptop and try to pick up the thread of my story where I last left it, but then the man speaks again.
‘Don’t be rude. We’re talking.’
I look up from the screen against my better judgement and make eye contact with him again, but those eyes don’t look so dreamy anymore. Now they appear to be staring straight into my soul.
‘Sorry. I really need to concentrate on this,’ I try, but I have a feeling that won’t be enough.
‘And I need you to concentrate on me because what I am about to show you is very important,’ he says, and I watch as he takes his mobile phone out of his pocket.
‘What is it?’ I ask as he scrolls through his phone, even though I’m wary of what the answer could be. But I don’t have to wait long to find out. He turns his device around and holds it out towards me, and suddenly it’s as if all the noise and colour on this train is sucked out of the carriage.
It’s a photo of two people in bed. It looks like a selfie of a happy couple, and
I can see smiling faces and bare shoulders, all of which contributes to my confusion and surprise when I recognise the young woman.
It’s Louise.
‘Where did you get that?’ I ask, reaching out for the phone to take a closer look, but the man swipes it away just before I can get it.
‘A friend sent it to me an hour ago,’ he says, seeming to take some delight in my failed attempt at grabbing his device. ‘It seems your daughter has been keeping secrets from you.’
‘What are you talking about?’
My voice is raised now, and we attract the glances of a couple of commuters across the aisle. The man opposite me stays quiet until he is sure the passengers have gone back to their own business.
‘Stay calm, and Louise will be okay,’ he tells me, his voice much lower than mine was. But I’m not feeling calm, especially after he has just used my daughter’s name.
‘How do you know my daughter?’ I ask again, and I notice that my hands are gripping the edge of the table now as I speak.
‘Like I said. My friend is with her, and let me tell you, he knows her a lot better than I do, if you know what I mean.’
He gives me another wink, but unlike the ones that preceded it, there’s nothing friendly or flirty about this one.
‘I don’t understand. Who are you?’
‘I’m like everybody else here—just a guy on a train putting in an honest day’s work.’
‘What do you want?’
‘Again, I just want what everybody else here wants.’
‘Which is?’
‘More money, of course.’
I’m doing my best to stay calm, but it’s hard. ‘Money? What money? What are you talking about?’
The stranger shakes his head with a smile. ‘Stop messing about. You know what I mean. Your money.’
I knew it. A handsome man striking up a conversation with me on a train. Showing an interest. Complimenting me. Flirting with me. It was too good to be true. There had to be more to it.
And now I know what it is.
Ever since this train left London, I thought I was only giving this man the pieces of information that I was comfortable sharing. But it turns out he already knows plenty about me, and instead of him extracting facts from me, now it’s my turn to try to get them from him.
‘What are you talking about?’ I ask in response to the money statement.
‘Don’t play games. I know you have money at your flat. I know it’s in the safe in your bedroom. The only thing I don’t know is how to access it.’
I’m trying to remain calm, but inside I’m freaking out.
This cannot be happening.
That safe is not supposed to be public knowledge.
How is this possible? There are only two people in the world who know about it. Me and Louise.
Louise.
Oh, God, what has she done?
I’m trying to give nothing away, but he must spot a flicker of emotion on my face as I think about my daughter.
‘Yes, that’s right,’ he says with a smug grin. ‘Louise has been a silly girl.’
I look around the carriage to see if anybody else is looking at us. Is this some kind of prank? Where’s the hidden camera? Am I going to be on TV? The thought of that is mortifying, but it’s a hell of a lot better than the other possibility.
The possibility that this is real and the man opposite me is trying to take everything in my safe.
‘What have you done to her?’ I ask, feeling the fear gripping me inside as I wait for the answer.
‘Nothing yet. And we won’t do anything as long as you give us what we want.’
‘We?’
‘The man in the photo with Louise that I just showed you. We’re working together as a team, and we’re a very formidable one at that. He’s at your flat right now with your daughter.’
I think about the photo he just showed me of Louise and a dark-haired man who looked to be a few years older than her. They seemed to be lying in bed together and were clearly very comfortable around each other considering their apparent state of undress. While it was a shock to see my daughter’s image on this man’s phone, it was also striking to me to see her with a guy I never even knew existed. Louise has obviously been keeping secrets from me.
And there was me thinking we already had enough problems in our relationship.
‘I don’t know what kind of prank you’re playing, but this isn’t funny,’ I say, closing my laptop and sliding it into its bag. My writing is obviously done for the day, but real-life events are proving to be far more unpredictable than anything I could have written in my fiction novel.
‘This is not a prank, Amanda,’ he states firmly, and I freeze.
He knows my name.
I told him a lot of things about myself during the course of this journey, but I didn’t tell him that.
I look around again at my fellow passengers and wonder if calling to them for help might get me out of this scary situation.
‘Don’t even think about it,’ he says as if reading my mind, and I return my gaze to his annoyingly smug face.
‘Look, I don’t know what you think you know about me, but you’re wrong. There’s no safe, and there’s no money. You’ve got me mixed up with somebody else.’ I go to get up out of my seat, and for a second I think I might just be able to leave. That is until the man speaks again.
‘I wouldn’t do that if I were you. Trust me. You do not want to test me.’
I pause in position by my seat. Do I believe him and sit back down? Or do I grab my things and get as far away down the train as I can from this guy?
‘Just sit down and listen to me,’ he says. ‘It’s in your best interests to hear me out.’
I sincerely doubt that, but how else am I going to know what this is all about?
I slump back down into my seat but keep a grip on my laptop bag and coat in case I need to make a dash for it. Trying to think rationally, I console myself with the fact that this is a very public place, so this man can’t do anything to harm me here in front of all these witnesses. There is also the fact that we are on a train that is going to pass through several stations before it reaches Brighton, so I will have the opportunity to potentially escape at any one of those stops if I need to.
Whatever this is, it’s going to be all right. I just need to stay calm. Maybe it’s not as bad as I think it is. So what if he knows about my safe? As he says, he doesn’t know how to access it. That’s because I’m the only one who does. Even Louise doesn’t know the code, and based on what I am learning now, that is a good thing because it sounds like she has been sharing plenty of information with somebody else about my private life.
‘I know who you are, and I know how much money you have in that safe. I know those things because your daughter has told her boyfriend all about you and your savings.’
‘Her boyfriend?’ I reply. Is it that serious with this guy?
‘Don’t feel bad because she didn’t tell you. He’s a few years older than Louise, so maybe that’s why she didn’t mention him. But trust me, you’re not the only one who has been kept in the dark about things.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘The man your daughter has been seeing for the last few weeks is not who he says he is. He’s actually a convicted criminal, and between you and me, he is very dangerous.’
‘Dangerous?’ I say, feeling as if everything is starting to spin. ‘What the hell have you got my daughter into?’
‘She is the one who has got herself into this. She is the reason all of this is happening.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Your daughter has told her boyfriend all about you and your dreams. But what was most interesting was the bit where she mentioned that you have £20,000 locked away in the safe in your bedroom.’
I continue to grip the table with my hands, trying my best not to freak out.
This is a bad dream.
Please tell me this is a bad dream.
‘He passed on this information to me a couple of weeks ago, and since then, we have come up with a plan to get that money out of your safe. Tonight is the night when we make it happen.’
I can’t believe this. I guess I’m not the only one who has been making grand plans. But whereas mine is only slightly unrealistic, this guy’s is downright crazy.
‘You must be mad if you think I’m going to give you the code to that safe,’ I tell him, doing my best to stop my voice from cracking as I speak. I’ve decided that there’s no point in me trying to deny the existence of the money now. He obviously knows too much. But I can still put up a fight, or at least make it sound like I can.
‘I think it would be best for Louise if you did as you were told,’ he replies condescendingly, but he doesn’t understand the situation. I love my daughter, and I will do anything to protect her, but opening that safe may not be the best way of doing that. In fact, I’m confident it will only make things worse for her, and for me.
With his words ringing in my ears, I reach into my bag for my mobile phone in an attempt to call my daughter.
‘I wouldn’t do that if I were you. My partner is with Louise right now, and he will know immediately if you phone her to warn her about him.’
I hold off on making the call after his warning but keep my phone in my hand just in case. A quick glance outside the window at the row of houses passing us by tells me that we are coming towards the next station. It wouldn’t do me much good to try to run now considering I’m stuck on a moving train. But maybe if I can get off this train when it stops, then I could get help, and all of this might be all right. But we’re not at the next station yet.
‘Who are you?’ I ask the man, trying to keep calm and stall for time.
But the reply I get chills me to the bone.
‘Me?’ he says with a devilish grin. ‘I’m your worst nightmare.’
10
