And Then She Ran

by Karen Clarke

  ‘Thank you,’ I said, as Declan let go of my arm. I searched his face and saw quizzical concern in his eyes.

  ‘Sure you’re OK?’

  ‘If you hadn’t grabbed me—’

  ‘Someone would have.’ He glanced past me at the track. ‘It’s not a big drop, but with the baby …’

  ‘Exactly.’ I suddenly wished I hadn’t come. I was cold in spite of my layers. ‘Maybe this is a bad idea.’

  Declan’s smile returned. ‘Too late now.’ I glanced around, noticing the queue on the platform had cleared and the train was ready to leave. ‘We’d better get on board.’

  *

  As we settled ourselves on one of the slatted bench seats inside the coach, I determinedly shook off the fright of almost falling in front of the train with Lily in my arms. At least it hadn’t been moving, and Declan was right – it wasn’t a big drop from the platform. Someone would have grabbed me if he hadn’t. I was glad he’d been there though, looking out for me.

  ‘So, where did you say you lived before?’ he asked. The seats were narrow and his thigh brushed mine as he arranged himself, removing his coat and holding it loosely in his lap. ‘Here, I’ll put that underneath.’ He took Lily’s changing bag and stowed it under the seat. Across the aisle, a middle-aged couple smiled indulgently, probably assuming we were a family.

  To buy a few seconds, I shifted Lily so she could look out of the window. Could I tell him the truth, or at least a version of it? My heart felt skittish. It would be odd if I didn’t tell the truth and he found out later, but that was presuming we would meet again.

  ‘I grew up in Berkshire,’ I said, proud of my measured tone. ‘Both my mum and aunt were keen to leave Wales as soon as they were old enough. It’s the sort of place you visit, not live in, they used to say, though it’s funny my aunt has ended up back here and the place where my mum lives now … well, it’s not dissimilar to this part of the world.’ I was aware of Declan listening intently, as if genuinely interested. Patrick had paid attention like that once, but it was a crucial part of his job to weed out information. ‘She met my dad when he was on a stag night in Conwy, of all places. She worked behind the bar in a pub in the evenings, but was at college studying to be a vet. She loved animals, but my father persuaded her to leave and move to Berkshire with him. He was an accountant there, making quite a bit of money even then.’

  I pictured my mum, falling for his charming patter, different to the boys she’d dated before, probably expecting to pick up her studies elsewhere, keen to live a different life away from the country she’d grown up in. Then she’d fallen pregnant with me and settled into a life of domesticity in suburban Maidenhead, miles from her family, with a man who’d convinced her he was all she’d ever wanted.

  ‘So, that’s where you were living before coming to stay at your aunt’s?’ Declan said. ‘In Berkshire?’

  We looked up as the conductor got on and asked for quiet so he could relay information about our journey and the importance of staying in our seats while the train was moving. I barely took his words in, a prickle of nerves passing over the back of my neck. I hadn’t talked this openly to a virtual stranger for years – if ever. I glanced down at Lily, drowsy in her carrier, unbothered by her surroundings. He’s a new friend, I imagined saying. I think he’s one of the good ones your auntie Ana believes in. He’d saved us from falling and now I was opening up, which meant I trusted him.

  Declan’s hand nudged mine as he made himself more comfortable. My skin tingled with awareness. As the conductor finished speaking and the train lurched away from the platform, creating an excited ripple among the passengers, I threw Declan a smile.

  ‘I lived in America for a long time.’ I tried to make it sound as if saying it was no big deal, as if those happy times hadn’t been wiped out by the events of the past year. ‘Manhattan, actually.’

  His eyebrows popped up and he looked at me with renewed interest. ‘Let me guess, you were an au pair?’ He glanced at Lily. ‘You’re obviously good with children.’

  It was such an unlikely view of me – of the person I’d been before Lily was born, when mothering wasn’t even close to being on my radar – that I gave a disbelieving laugh. ‘Actually, I cook. I’m a chef,’ I said, looking for his reaction. ‘I used to run a restaurant that belonged to the uncle of a friend.’

  ‘Wow. Really? So, you never worked with kids?’

  ‘No!’ I laughed again at his expression, which was pure surprise. ‘Is it so amazing? Chefs can be women too, you know.’ I cradled Lily’s bottom, feeling her twitch as she sank into sleep. ‘I was pretty good,’ I said, still smiling. ‘People ate my food and even enjoyed it.’

  ‘I didn’t mean it like that.’ He bumped me with his shoulder. ‘Look,’ he said softly. ‘Isn’t it something?’

  I followed his gaze to a waterfall cascading over boulders between a canopy of trees, tumbling into a river below.

  ‘It’s lovely.’

  People were taking pictures all around us. I thought about Morag. ‘My aunt was a photographer,’ I said, caught up in the moment. ‘Not this sort of thing. I think she thought it too tame.’ Declan was so close I felt his breath tickle my cheek. I kept my face averted, staring through the window. ‘She took pictures in conflict zones, probably the kind of places you went when you were in the army.’

  ‘Dangerous work,’ he said, after a moment when I thought he hadn’t heard. ‘People have been killed in mortar attacks taking photos.’

  ‘My mum worried about that, though she never said as much.’

  ‘It’s the sort of job that sounds exciting, like being a soldier, but it just brings home the futility of it all.’

  ‘That’s pretty much what my aunt said.’

  As the train climbed, we fell silent, lost in our thoughts, eyes fixed to the scenery obscured briefly by smoke puffing from the engine. Gradually, I relaxed, letting myself appreciate the beauty of the changing colours as the sun poured iridescent light around gullies and into the valleys, highlighting the richness of the terrain. It was so different to anything I’d looked at before. I had a sense of the untameable nature of it all, of being close to something mythical and understood the reasons people came up the mountain in their droves: fulfilment, escape, refuge, peace, adventure – or just for the conquest.

  We passed plenty of climbers taking advantage of the good weather and promise of a spectacular view from the summit, some with all the kit, others in jeans and T-shirts.

  ‘I hope the weather holds for their sakes.’ Declan pointed to a gaggle of teenagers carrying Tesco bags, dressed more for a party than a five-mile trek to the highest peak in Wales. ‘They clearly don’t realise how cold and windy it’ll be at the top,’ he said. ‘People don’t see Snowdon as a proper mountain like Everest and come ill-equipped. The rescue team get over three hundred calls a year from idiots like that.’

  On cue, we ascended into a curtain of mist and the temperature dropped by several degrees. It was a relief to finally get off the train and out of a bracing wind that threatened to knock us off our feet.

  The visitor centre and café were set in a large, modern construction that looked like a feat of engineering, clad in oak and granite with panoramic windows. While Declan headed to the counter – I think hot chocolate is the order of the day – I wandered over to look at a wall hanging depicting the building of the centre, which had cost an eye-watering eight and a half million pounds. Lily stirred, snuffling and squashing her face into my fleece, her cheeks carnation pink. Outside, fog swirled around the windows. More people piled in, filling water bottles and queuing to order hot food.

  Declan returned as I was carefully removing my coat and placed two steaming cardboard cups and a paper plate on one of the free-standing tables dotted about. ‘The pasties smelt so good, I couldn’t resist,’ he said. ‘They’re enormous. You can share mine this time.’

  His words were intimate, but something slightly formal had entered his tone, subtle but unmistak
able. Was he regretting bringing me here? Then he smiled and removed his coat once more. It was warm in the building, compared to outdoors. I felt the prick of perspiration in my armpits. Lily was nuzzling my chest, fingers grasping. ‘She wants a feed,’ I said, suddenly self-conscious at the thought of doing it in front of him.

  ‘Shall I get them to heat up a bottle?’ He bent to reach for the bag on the floor.

  ‘Not necessary.’ He straightened, looking mildly puzzled. ‘I feed her myself,’ I said, willing my face not to glow red. ‘It’s a perfectly natural process. You don’t have to look.’

  ‘You don’t give her a bottle?’ He seemed confused, almost disbelieving.

  ‘Women do breastfeed.’ I tried to laugh through a rising annoyance. ‘Didn’t your sister?’

  ‘Yes, but …’ He ran a hand through his hair, seeming to search for words that wouldn’t come.

  ‘Look, I can find the bathroom and do it there if it makes you uncomfortable.’

  ‘No, no, of course it doesn’t. I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking.’ He gave a shake, seeming to return to himself, and held out his arms. ‘Shall I hold her while you sort yourself out? We could go over there.’ He nodded to a quiet corner by the counter. ‘There’s a seating area.’

  I suddenly realised I was desperate for a wee, my bladder straining. ‘Actually, if you wouldn’t mind holding her for a moment while I go to the loo, that would be great.’ I reminded myself he was an uncle, was used to holding a baby – had saved us from a fall at the train station – but it still felt strange to be handing her over. She looked tiny in his grasp, his fingers curling around her sturdy body, the other hand cupping her head. He held her in front of him, melting into a smile when she kicked and gurgled – a happy sound that drew smiles from a neighbouring table.

  She’s perfectly fine, I told myself, dashing for the toilets. I was getting better at trusting her with other people. Last night at the pub, and now in a café near the top of a mountain with Declan. It was a giddy thought that nearly prompted a giggle as I wondered whether I would only ever be comfortable leaving her with someone while I used the loo.

  At least this time, I really needed to go. Luckily, there weren’t too many people waiting, but I found myself washing my hands in a hurry, registering surprise that my reflection showed flushed cheeks and shining eyes, the lingering remnants of a smile.

  My bruise was fading already.

  *

  I headed back, spotting Declan in the corner where he’d moved my bag and coat. He had his back to me, holding up his phone as though trying to get a signal. As I drew closer, I saw he was using the camera. Lily was pressed to his chest, facing forwards as he snapped a photo.

  ‘What the hell are you doing?’

  ‘Grace!’ As he turned round, his phone fell to the floor and spun away. ‘Christ, you made me jump.’

  ‘Why are you taking pictures of Lily?’

  She wriggled with a happy screech, whether at the sight of me or because she liked being in Declan’s arms was hard to tell. I ducked down and retrieved the phone. ‘Where is it?’ I jabbed at the screen.

  ‘Here.’ Declan held out his hand and I thrust his phone at him.

  ‘Hello, baby!’ I forced a smile for Lily. ‘Have you been a good girl?’

  ‘She’s been brilliant.’ Declan bounced her. ‘My mother rang just as you went. One of those WhatsApp video calls. My sister showed her how to do it. She happened to notice I was holding a baby.’ He looked at Lily and rolled his eyes. ‘She got very excited didn’t she, little one?’ He bounced his knees again. Lily’s eyes widened with delight. ‘She insisted I take a photo so she could show everyone what I’ll look like when I’m a daddy.’ He was still addressing Lily in a sing-song voice. ‘Hey, take a look if you don’t believe me.’

  I was shaking as I looked at the screen. Sure enough, I could see the photo had gone to an Eileen Walsh, two blue ticks indicating she’d seen it. A message underneath read: Oh, my GOD, the pair of you are so CUTE!!!

  I released a shaky breath. ‘You shouldn’t take pictures of people’s babies without their permission.’

  ‘You’re right, I’m sorry.’ He palmed his phone into his pocket. ‘I didn’t think. It was spur-of-the-moment, but you’re right. I shouldn’t have done it.’

  He sounded genuine but something felt off-key. His tone didn’t quite ring true and his eyes evaded mine.

  ‘Actually, she does look really cute.’ I forced a calmer tone. ‘Would you mind if I took a picture of her too? I don’t have many.’

  He masked a look of surprise. ‘Sure, be my guest,’ he said. ‘Just the baby, mind. You don’t want my ugly mug in the picture.’

  ‘Of course.’ I rooted my phone from my bag and turned on the camera. ‘I swear she’s smiling,’ I said, as cheerily as I could. I removed her woolly hat then took a snap before angling the phone slightly to include Declan’s face as I took another picture. It was perfectly lit by the misty light flooding from the bank of windows. ‘See?’ Moving over, I clicked on the image of Lily and showed him.

  ‘Beautiful.’ He dipped his head to look more closely. ‘Just like her mother.’ His eyes met mine, his pupils dilated. I stared back, mesmerised by the intensity of his gaze. ‘We’ve got about half an hour before we have to get back on the train,’ he said, breaking the spell.

  I gathered Lily’s warm limbs against me as I sat down and discreetly fed her while Declan forked chunks of buttery pastry into my mouth, a personal gesture that felt oddly natural. The pasty was as delicious as it looked and while I ate I tried to hide the tension threading through my bones. When he asked about the restaurant where I’d worked, I squeezed the worry from my tone as I gave him broad strokes. ‘What about her daddy?’ he asked easily, once I’d run out of steam. ‘He’s missing out on this little one.’

  ‘I don’t really want to talk about him,’ I said. ‘I’m not being awkward just … he’s not a good person, believe me. I don’t want him in our lives.’

  He studied me for a moment. ‘I’m sorry.’ He rubbed the side of his nose. ‘I guess I take after my mother. She likes to get to the bottom of what makes people tick and I … well, I like you.’

  Why? I couldn’t stop the word from planting itself in my head as I blushed and looked away. I wanted to believe him, to not be paranoid, but still something felt off. When I’d finished my hot chocolate, I rose and said, ‘I’m going to change her nappy,’ not waiting for his response.

  In the little changing room, I took out my phone and sent the picture I’d taken of Declan to Ana’s number. Could you ask your uncle if this is the man who asked about me at the restaurant? My fingers kept slipping and I had to correct half the words. He has an Irish accent. Outside, I heard the final call for train users to gather outside. Please let me know ASAP X

  Pushing my phone in my pocket, I opened the door.

  ‘You forgot your bag.’ Declan was outside, the bag dangling from one hand.

  ‘Thanks.’ I took it, knowing I looked flustered. ‘I got her undressed then realised. Do I have time?’

  ‘If you’re quick.’

  I changed Lily’s nappy in record time, grateful she only needed a quick wipe, before popping her back into her clothes and heading outside. The mist had lifted and everyone was looking at the rocky slope leading up to the pyramid-shaped peak of the mountain. Stone steps curved into the side where a mass of people had gathered, waiting to reach the top. A couple was already there, posing for selfies.

  ‘Takes away some of the mystery, doesn’t it?’ Declan said wryly. The wind was strong, thrashing our hair and whipping away his words. I had to lean close to hear him. ‘Like those queues at Everest you see on the news, as if they’re at McDonald’s waiting to buy a burger.’

  Sheltering Lily with my arms, I said, ‘It would be even more popular if there was a McDonald’s at the top,’ and when he grinned and nodded, I wished I hadn’t messaged Ana, that I wasn’t looking for reasons to doubt him. Th
at we really could be friends.

  We didn’t talk much on the journey back down. I wondered whether he sensed my reticence, or whether he’d got what he wanted – a photo of Lily. Had he really only sent it to his mum?

  ‘There’s nothing like this in Manhattan,’ I said, twenty minutes in, pointing to one of the former slate quarries the area was famous for.

  ‘This train was originally used to transport slate.’ Declan added pointedly, ‘I’ve done my Welsh research too.’

  Was that a dig? He gazed past me through the window, a brooding set to his brow.

  ‘Have you ever been to New York?’ Might as well go for broke. ‘I didn’t think I could get used to living in a city, but I grew to like it.’

  ‘Once,’ he said, without hesitation. ‘It wasn’t somewhere I’d want to settle. I much prefer open spaces.’

  ‘How long were you there for?’

  ‘Not long.’ He’d kept his coat on, hands pushed deep in his pockets. His legs were stretched in front of him, crossed at the ankles. He seemed relaxed but turned to look out of the window on the other side, where sheep were grazing at the side of the track. ‘No ewes in New York.’

  ‘When I told you earlier I’d lived there, you didn’t say anything.’

  ‘I didn’t think it was important.’ When he met my gaze there was something troubled in his eyes. ‘Like I said, it wasn’t my favourite place.’

  ‘How long ago was it?’

  ‘What is this, the Spanish Inquisition?’ He pulled his head back, as if to see me more clearly. ‘A lot of people have visited New York at some point.’

  In my pocket, my phone beeped. Shifting Lily, who’d fallen asleep, I took it out and glanced at the screen, knowing it could only be Ana. My heart jumped as I read her message. Just called Uncle. He said the man was American. What’s going on? X

  My shoulders slumped as I put my phone back. If Patrick had sent someone after me, it wasn’t Declan.

  ‘Everything OK?’

  ‘My friend, Ana.’