by Matt Shaw
It’s not her hair...
That smells nice too but... not the same as the other scent. Actually, her hair smells of coconuts. Must have just washed it.
She took a step away from me, towards the counter, as the man in front of her moved away clutching his freshly purchased rail ticket. As she takes a step forward, she drags a suitcase along the floor next to me.
I step forward with my own suitcase.
Hopefully she’s going to the airport too. Unless she lives in this small village, somewhere, and is going on a holiday somewhere in Britain.... maybe up to Scotland or across to Wales?
It’s not important.
I’ll still make sure I travel in the same carriage as her. The smell of her delicate perfume is far more preferential to the smell of dirty train carriages. Had I still been with Mary, I might have even asked the lady what the fragrance is, just so I could get a bottle for Mary.
I’ll refrain from asking. As much as I like the scent, I don’t think it would suit me.
The lady pushed her bag to one side, and stepped out of the way to put her ticket away. I stepped forward to get my own.
“Single to Heathrow, please...”
The miserable looking woman, behind the glass, punched a few buttons into her machine which, in turn, spat a ticket out of it.
“Twenty-two pounds.”
So polite.
I took a twenty pound note from my wallet, and two pound coins from the pocket of my jeans, and dropped it through the hole in the cashier’s window. Unless I get a ‘please’ or a ‘thank you’, I always drop the money in front of the person I am dealing with. I always figured, if they can’t be polite to me - I sure as hell can’t be polite to them.
Mary hated it when I did that and always felt the need to berate me in front of whoever was dealing with me. Used to piss me off further.
The woman pushed my ticket through another gap in the glass and tried to look round me to see who was next in line.
People like her baffle me. If they hate their jobs that much - why do they stick with it? Surely it would be easier, and nicer, just to get a new one...
I laugh to myself...
Or easier to book a ticket to Australia where you plan on killing yourself.
I stepped away from the ticket desk and followed the nice-smelling lady to platform two. A quick check on the computer screen, attached to the platform’s wall, confirms we’re heading in the same direction. Thought so. Better safe than sorry. Would have been embarrassing to just presume we were going to the same place, only to find she was actually headed in the complete opposite direction.
She turned around and flashed a quick, polite smile when she realised I was looking right at her. Busted! A quick smile back before I looked down at my watch, pretending to take note of the time.
It’s the first time I’ve seen her face properly.
She’s pretty too.
Nice smile.
It’s nice when people smile at you, when they catch your eye. Too many people walk around, looking at the floor.... or worse still, when they just see you looking at them, they simply scowl at you; a warning to keep your distance.
The blonde lady.... I didn’t expect a smile from her - not that I meant for her to see me watching her. Normally, the prettier the person - the more likelihood they’re just going to ignore you, or do the scowl.... at least, that’s what experience has taught me so far.
Goes to show - shouldn’t judge a book by the cover.
I wonder how she’d feel being compared to a book?
A proper watch check. The train should be here in a couple of minutes. I timed that well. Normally I get to the platform just as the train pulls away and I end up having to stand around for hours on end. Nothing quite as irritating as watching your train leave without you on it, knowing you have at least another thirty minutes to wait before the next, slower, train pulls in.
“Excuse me, what’s the time, please?”
The blonde lady.
Talking to me?
“Erm... eight forty-three,” I replied.
“Thank you,” she said, turning away again.
There are clocks all over the place. From where I’m standing, I can clearly see two. Why’d she ask me for the time? Why didn’t she just look to one of the clocks, suspended above the platform. They have large digits so eye-sight can’t be an issue... And the way they hang from the roof of the platform - suspended by two chains.... You can’t miss them. She must have wanted to talk to me. Turning around and catching me looking at her.... did she just turn around to have a sneaky look at me, having seen me out of the corner of her eye? Did she..... No.....
Girls don’t approach me. Not since Mary approached me all those years ago. I think and, even then, she was the first woman to approach me. Normally I’d be the one approaching the ladies.... when I was trying to meet them.... nine times out of ten, I’d be the one being rejected too.
I felt my self-confidence go up, a fraction.
And, as though my fortunes were already starting to change for the better, the train pulled into the station. A whole minute early.
Today is a good day.
As the train slowed to a stop, I could see it was one of the older style trains. Carriages with a set of doors for every row of seats - not one of the trains with the fancy electric doors at each end of the carriage.
Although I prefer the ease of pushing a button, to open the door.... I do like the character of the older carriages. There’s something about them. The seats, in the older carriages, are more bouncy too - compared to the newer carriages. The seats are definitely harder in the new carriages. Probably better for your back on the longer journeys.
As soon as the train stopped, completely, I twisted the handle and pulled the door open. The pretty blonde did the same on the next door down. Same carriage. Great!
She walked to the right hand side of the carriage and sat down so I stayed on the left - so I could still see her though the gap in the aisle. If I sat at a certain angle, I could see her in the reflection of the window too.
So pretty.
I feel like I’m cheating on Mary - looking at this stranger but I can’t help myself.
Despite the time of the morning, the train is deserted. Just the two of us in this particular carriage. I’m not sure how many in the other carriages but the platform wasn’t especially busy - although, it is a small village so that hardly surprises me. Just presumed the train would have already been full from previous stops.
Why am I even thinking about it? I hate the train when it’s busy. People hacking and coughing over each other, noisily drinking their hot morning drinks or rustling packets of sweets.... some people, with their personal headsets on blasting music to such a level you can only stare at them and wonder how they aren’t deaf yet.
At least my traveling companion is quiet.
Quick glimpse.
She’s looking out of the window on her side of the carriage.
Still smiling.
A few seconds later and the train slowly pulled out of the station. A nice rocking sensation, throughout the carriage, as we slowly gathered some speed.
This is it...
Australia here we come.
6.
Well that was unexpected...
Slowly I opened my eyes. I knew I was tired but.... never fallen asleep on a train before now. I wish I hadn’t, though... napping like that, I always end up with a headache....
A few seconds for my eyes to adjust to the surroundings... What?
What the Hell?
The carriage is dark. Lit by a couple of lights only. And outside.... outside is pitch black.... Night time. How long was I asleep? What happened to the day?
Pretty lady in the window’s reflection.
I turned my attention back into the carriage. In the same seat as earlier - the pretty blonde lady with the nice perfume. Fast asleep.
She looks cute when sleeping too. At least she looks dignified. The wet patch,
down the front of my shirt, says I look anything but dignified when I sleep.
I stood up.... we’re not moving... the train has stopped? Quick look out of the window; I squinted into the darkness. We have stopped. How come no one came and woke us up?
Should I wake her?
Yes.
I’d want to be woken up.
I moved, softly, over to her seat and gently tapped her on her arm, “Hey...”
Slowly she started to stir.
“You fell asleep,” I said.
She seemed to come round to the situation faster than I did...
“Shit, what’s the time?”
She was more polite the first time she asked, back at the station.
I looked down to my watch. The second hand was stuck, as were the other two hands.
“Cheap battery,” I laughed, showing her it had stopped.
“I had a plane to catch!” she moaned.
“Me too.... Guessing by how dark it is outside, I reckon we’ve probably missed our flights, though.”
“Shit! You fell asleep too?”
I nodded, “Pretty stupid or what?”
She shook her head in disbelief.
I’d be annoyed but, waking up with this pretty lady took the edge off for me. Too bad the thought of waking up with me wasn’t enough to take her edge off as well.
“They’ll be other flights.”
“It’s my sisters wedding tomorrow, I’m supposed to be the Maid of Honour.”
“Ah...”
Last minute flight for her, then.
I only have to kill myself. It’s not the end of the world if I have to put that back for a day or two.
“Well,” I said, “we can’t fix anything sat here... What say we get off this train and find out where we are at least.... then we can figure out how to get back to the airport.”
She nodded. “I don’t believe this.... Angie is going to be so mad at me...”
“Your sister, I presume?”
“Yes.”
“Well, let’s see where we are - might still be able to make it yet....”
I returned to my seat and grabbed my suitcase before returning to the pretty lady.... the pretty lady? Jesus, this is stupid....
I extended my hand, “James...”
She smiled the same pretty smile from earlier and took my hand, “Lisa.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Lisa...”
She smiled again and opened the carriage door. As I watched her step from the train, onto the platform outside, I couldn’t help but wonder whether this was fate trying to throw me a lifeline.
I doubt it. I’m not that lucky.
I, too, stepped from the train.
“Well this is creepy,” said Lisa.
She wasn’t exaggerating either. A long, deserted platform. The clock, on the wall of the platform was the old analogue style - as opposed to the digital clock seen in most other train-stations. Ivy had grown up the wall of the station building. The station that time forgot.
“Talk about the last stop,” said Lisa.
She walked over to the station door and pulled it open, disappearing into the old building. May as well follow her.
The inside of the station wasn’t much better than the outside. Just as deserted. The ticket booth was empty with the computer systems off. The automated ticket machines, on the wall, were also off. I wonder whether they’ve ever been turned on.
Some of the ivy, from outside, had even managed to snake it’s way through various cracks in the brick-work, and the station windows, to continue creeping up the walls on the inside too.
“They really need to think about decorating this place,” I said.
“There’s no times anywhere....”
A quick glance around; she’s right. There’s no information posters saying when the next train will be passing through.
“Well this is just great,” she said. “Now what?”
“Sit and wait?”
“Really? I half expected to find a skeleton behind the counter in here....”
“Okay, so we might have a bit of a wait on our hands.”
“A bit? Do you think anyone ever comes through this way?”
Another look around.
No.
Probably not.
I turned my attention back to an increasingly frantic Lisa. She was flicking through various leaflets which were dotted around, “What are you looking for?”
She stopped, “You realise - there’s nothing around here which says where we are...”
“What do you mean?”
“Normally there are signs which say the station’s name.... or, on leaflets, it says where we are.... but here, there’s nothing....”
I had a quick look around. She was right - there was nothing. The leaflets were just generic station leaflets; health and safety, various timetables - none of which made sense.
“And how come no one woke us up?” she continued. “Aren’t you finding this just a little bit weird?”
Now she mentions it, yes. It is fairly strange.
“Maybe it looks better in the daylight.”
“I don’t relish the idea of sitting here for the night, thanks.”
I don’t blame her. Creepy station. If I were alone, I certainly wouldn’t stay here until the morning. The station has an eerie feel about it - as though it should be the home of an insane station-master who slays people who stumble through the station late at night....
Great, now that’s in my overactive imagination. Brilliant. Probably best I keep that thought to myself.
There is an awkward pause between the two of us.
I’m sure, as the man, I’m supposed to be the one who figures a way out of this but my mind is blank - other than the evil station-master lurking somewhere, in the shadows, waiting for us to temporarily go our separate ways.
“Fancy going halves on a taxi-fare?”
Good suggestion. Wish I thought of it.
“I mean,” she continued, “we’re going to the same place....”
We’re in the middle of nowhere. It would make sense to go halves on a fare. God only knows what it would cost otherwise.
“Sounds like a plan,” I said.
* * * * *
“I think it was less creepy in the station,” I said, whilst trying to maintain some of my alpha-male status.
The taxi rank was full of taxis. No drivers in the car, just lines and lines of empty cars.
“Where do you think everyone is?” asked Lisa.
I shrugged.
The only sign of life was from a dog barking somewhere deep within the thick fog... The fog... where did that come from?
“Maybe there’s a little cafe a little further up the road?” I offered. “Maybe we’ll find the place brimming with life? All the taxi drivers enjoying a full English.... cups of coffee.... a station-master ordering himself a ham omelette....”
Lisa just looked at me.
I guess she doesn’t agree with the idea of a busy cafe.
I tried again, “Maybe they’ve all topped themselves?”
“If I lived here, I’d have topped myself a long time ago!” replied Lisa.
Ah, a girl after my own heart.
A green flash, somewhere in the fog, caught my eye, “What the hell was that?”
Seconds later the dog yelped and fell silent.
“I have no idea...” said Lisa. She stepped closer to me. “Maybe we should check to see if that cafe exists.... might be warmer...”
And less freaky.
We both extended the handles on our suitcases before heading up the hill in the direction, we hoped, of civilisation.
“I’m pretty glad you fell asleep too,” said Lisa as she walked closely by my side.
I wonder if she’s as grateful for me as I am for her...
Don’t ask.
Act brave.
You’re the man.
The street we chose to walk up, the only one leading away from the deserted railway line, was
lined with terraced houses - all of which looked similar in not only their general appearance but also in the flaws they had.... same bricks looked to be damaged.... tiny borders, in front of the windows.... filled with exactly the same weeds... more weird was that, none of them had their lights on. Not a single house with anybody home or anybody up. Sure, we didn’t know what time it was and it could have been the middle of the night but.... normally there’s someone milling around somewhere.
