by Sarah Bourne
Alice sat in the pub looking at Tim, the ticket collector, and thinking about what he’d just said. He’d watched her from the end of the carriage but couldn’t look at her up close because he was shy around girls he liked. He was good-looking, slim, could do with a haircut, and one of his hands was misshapen, as if he’d been in a fight and broken it, but ages ago. He took a sip of his lager and looked like he was struggling for something to say. She felt sorry for him. She’d never understood why people were shy. She was an extrovert, loved being the centre of attention and never had trouble talking to anyone. If she felt awkward she tended to talk more, not less.
‘Why do you work on the trains?’ she asked.
‘It’s a good job, pays quite well. Get to move about a bit.’ There was a hint of red creeping up his neck. Alice wanted to take his hand and tell him she wouldn’t bite, but it might make him feel more self-conscious.
‘But you want to be an artist, right?’
He shrugged and made a sound that could have been the beginning of a laugh. ‘Yeah, I suppose so.’
‘What sort of stuff do you do?’
‘People mainly.’
‘Are you any good?’ Alice hoped he didn’t want her to look at any of his stuff. If it wasn’t in a magazine, she wasn’t interested. Shame he didn’t want to be a writer. She’d loved the Twilight books and read all of them several times. That writer had made a fortune. And Pauline de Winter, of course – she’d be rolling in money. Alice wanted to be rich.
‘I dunno. I don’t let anyone see it. I’m still learning, I guess.’ The blush crept a little higher and he swallowed hard.
Alice thought he looked like he was outside the headmaster’s office waiting for a caning. Poor thing. Still, she quite liked it. Most good-looking guys were so aware of it they didn’t make any effort, they just expected to be admired. She wanted to hug this one and tell him she’d make everything all right for him.
‘Sorry, we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.’ She noted his relief and went on. ‘We can talk about me instead!’ She laughed so he knew it was a joke, and was pleased when he did too. He had lovely eyes. ‘What you said about me singing, did you mean it?’
‘What bit?’
‘About not giving up.’
‘Of course I did. I mean, I’ve never heard you, but I reckon if you want to be a singer, you gotta sing.’
She smiled. ‘Yeah. I don’t think I could stop even if I wanted. I sing all the time, even on the loo.’
The blush reached Tim’s cheeks, and Alice giggled. ‘Sorry – too much information!’
He took a crisp and looked over her right shoulder.
‘My mum sang. She was a child star in films and TV. Everything handed to her on a plate. She tells me I’ve got the talent and all I need is to find an agent to promote me. Aim high, she says. Reach for the stars. It’s easy for her to say when she doesn’t reach for anything except the TV remote and the wine bottle these days.’ Alice realised she was getting heated and stopped.
‘My dad’s a drinker too,’ said Tim.
‘Maybe we should introduce them!’ Alice laughed. She looked at Tim again and caught him staring at her. He blushed crimson, and she couldn’t help herself; she took his hand. ‘It’s okay, you know, I don’t mind you looking at me. Actually, I quite like it.’ In fact, she liked it a lot. He wasn’t just a ticket collector; he was trying to be an artist, and he was kind and a good listener, and even though they’d only just met, he’d been really nice and encouraged her. He’d made her realise she had to keep singing.
She was glad he wasn’t just a ticket collector. She couldn’t imagine introducing him to her friends if he wasn’t also an artist. They all had boyfriends who were in IT or insurance.
She noticed Tim looking at his watch. Was he bored? She didn’t want him to go. ‘Fancy another drink?’ she asked. ‘Not that I’m an alcoholic or anything.’
Tim laughed. ‘Sure.’
Several beers later, Tim was talkative and Alice was falling in love. She knew it was really lust, but she wanted to be in love. She wanted to feel cherished, like the heroines in Pauline de Winter’s books. She deserved it.
‘How come you’re so wise, Mr Tim Engleby?’ she asked as he set another drink in front of her.
He raised an eyebrow.
‘All the stuff you said in the park this afternoon. I do want to be a singer. I can’t spend my whole life wiping people’s bums and looking for their false teeth.’ It was true. She didn’t think she could stand another day of it. But then, she often thought that, but when she went in, it was okay. The oldies were pleased to see her, the ones who remembered from one day to the next, anyway. And they didn’t mean to shit themselves. She just hoped she didn’t get like that when she was old.
‘Do you sing to the old folks?’
‘Yep. I learnt a few of their favourites off the music therapist who comes in once a week. It’s nice to see them smile and some of them sing along. There was this one time when an old lady who hadn’t spoken, or even looked at anyone, for months, started singing along and the nurses couldn’t believe it.’
‘I bet you’re good with them. You should be a nurse, when you’re not singing. Or be the first singing nurse.’
Alice glanced at him to make sure he wasn’t making fun of her, but she should have known he wasn’t. He wasn’t like that. He meant it. And why shouldn’t she do nursing? As a backup to her singing. She didn’t have any A levels but there must be other ways to get into nursing. Her, a nurse! What a great idea. She did like working with people, and she did have a knack with the oldies. She got her phone out to write herself a note to look into it.
‘Going to give me your number?’ asked Tim, but he didn’t look at her. They’d been getting on so well, and he’d certainly loosened up with the alcohol, which was what she’d been hoping, but as soon as it got personal again, he was as awkward as a hermit at a rave.
‘Yeah, if you like.’
Tim fumbled with his phone. ‘I’ll give you my number and you can call me and I’ll have yours,’ she said.
She watched as he keyed the numbers in, and turned away as her phone began to ring.
‘Hello?’
There was a pause, and she glanced over her shoulder. Tim looked confused, so she smiled, and talked into the phone again. ‘How are you?’
‘Good,’ he said.
‘Me too. I’m out with a fella at the moment, having a really nice time. He’s very kind, and good-looking, and I like him a lot.’
There was another pause, but this time Alice didn’t let herself look at him.
Eventually, a voice in her ear said, ‘I’m out with a pretty amazing chick. She’s a singer, or will be, but she probably has a boyfriend.’
‘No – no she doesn’t,’ said Alice. ‘She’s single and ready to meet someone.’
‘Oh.’ She didn’t let him say any more. She turned round and kissed him on the mouth and was very happy to discover he was a good kisser.
‘You know what,’ she said when they’d pulled apart. Tim had his arm round her, and she had tucked herself into him. ‘I’m glad the audition went badly. I wouldn’t have met you otherwise.’ She looked at him.
Tim smiled. ‘I’m glad I was given the afternoon off, otherwise I wouldn’t have met you.’
Minutes later, his phone rang again. Alice watched his forehead crease into worry lines as he listened. I like him, she thought. I really like him. He’s so different from Karl. Tim would never forget Valentine’s Day – he’d probably paint me a picture or something romantic like that. And he likes me, he said he was glad he met me.
She felt a warm glow.
‘I’m really sorry, but I have to go.’ Tim waved his phone at her. ‘It was Brian, the train driver. He’s in a bad way.’
Alice was annoyed. They’d been getting on so well, and now this. But his friend needed him.
After he’d gone she pulled her phone out and read his number in her contacts
list. He’d really given it to her. He wanted to see her again. She smiled and texted Maddie.
Just met v sexy guy
Maddie responded immediately.
OMG! Send pics
No u’ll have 2 wait 2 meet him
Pleeeeez!!!
Can’t – don’t have one
Take 1 now!
He’s gone
?????
Had to see a friend in need
