One
Trains remind me of angels. Precisely, fallen angels. They’re a necessary evil; they take people from one place to another; they light up in the dark and have halos when trying to get somewhere or escape something. As I settle down in the deep green seat of the last train out of Southampton, headed to Cardiff, Wales, I sigh. The dark outside as the train pulls out of the station makes me smile when it should make me frown.
The white snow is like pixie dust, taunting me. The only time I’ve seen snow in Southampton for at least five years, and it starts on the day I’m running.
The lights of the marina and the whizz of city life all begin fizzing away like a bath bomb as it rattles through the outer-city train stations. I suppose the beauty of being on a train at ten-forty-five at night is that it’s quiet. I see one guy on the other side of the aisle, staring out the window, but that’s it. Just two of us in the grey and bottle-green carriage.
Home. They say home is where the heart is. For the longest time, I thought my home belonged back there, with him and my family down in the big maritime city. But it turns out it didn’t. My heart was stolen, stabbed, and thrown to the wolves, humiliated and ridiculed. My home is back in Wales, where I never should’ve left.
I should’ve kept my suitcase with me, but I put it in the front of the carriage with what I assume is the other guy’s two small black matte cases. I figure he must’ve come from the airport with the white and green tags around the holdall part.
The music dances into my ears from my earphones, filling my mind with many years of memories as my temple rests on the freezing window. We plunge into the darkness of the short countryside between the city and the next stop.
Years of loving Bruno on the sly, thinking one day he would wake up and see what we had was meant to be and all that bull crap, until he took a job in the army and left everyone broken-hearted. When he called me a week ago to say he was home for Christmas and I should come home, I was overjoyed. He wanted to talk to me, hyped me up with flirty messages like he used to.
And then when I do come running like a lapdog, thinking if we would finally move from friends to something more, he admits he’s actually getting married to a girl from his regiment, in a month. After what happened the day before we met, I thought he was joking at first.
I snort and switch the song on my phone. Fucking break up songs. Is that a joke?
How much of an idiot am I?
‘I thought you should know, Lily-kins, I met this girl, Kim. She’s in my regiment. We get married in a month. I know it’s been a while, but I could think of only you to be my best woman.’
I watch the white flecks flow past the train window, getting quicker, though I’m not sure if it’s just the speed of the train or if the snow is getting quicker.
My phone buzzes. ‘Lily-kins, where are you? Your mum said you didn’t come home. When you ran out, I assumed you went home. Are you okay?’
I roll my eyes and leave Bruno’s message unread before pulling my cardigan around me a little more. To my right is the only other person in this carriage; his brown hair is ruffled, he’s wearing a black shirt and dark blue jeans. He looks exhausted, but he’s wearing headphones and I see his laptop up and running. He looks enthralled in something.
It always intrigues me what people are travelling for, especially at this time of night. I wonder if anyone else on this train is escaping like me. I wonder if this guy is just working, and travelling late, or whether he’s running from something.
As usual, I’m overthinking.
My phone buzzes yet again. ‘Lily, where are you? Mum.’
I could reply to her, tell her what happened. But it would be absolutely ridiculous, and she would just tell me I’ve ruined Christmas for everyone, despite it being the twenty-third of December. She was the one who gave Bruno my number, told me he was visiting, put the seed of excitement into my head. It’s my fault for getting excited.
I sigh and dial Thea’s number.
“Lily, you okay? It’s like, nearly midnight,” she answers.
I sigh. “I’m on my way back home. I’ll be back at the flat at like, two-thirty in the morning.”
“Shit, what happened?” she asks.
I groan. “So… after everything? Turns out Bruno’s getting married in a month to some girl he met in his regiment. Didn’t contact me, didn’t tell me on Facebook, or anything. Just… got my number from my mum and hyped me up and let me down. In the middle of his dad’s Christmas party. Like… I was humiliated, Thea.” I leave out the few extra details for when we’re nursing a bottle of wine or even better, prosecco. The very expensive one I took from the party earlier.
She hums sympathetically. “Oh, sweetheart. It’ll be okay. Look, I’ll stay up till you get home. Make a hot chocolate and we can sob to breakup songs. Then tomorrow we’ll go out and get drunk for Christmas eve. You’re on the train now?”
“Yeah, says it’ll be into Cardiff Central at like two. It’ll take me half an hour to walk; quicker if there’s a taxi outside. Honestly, you don’t have to wait up. I have my keys.”
“Don’t be stupid, girl, I’ll be there. Now, go and be safe. Love you, girl,” she says.
“Love you too, my friend,” I reply. She hangs up and I smile as the music starts back up in my earphones.
I wish I’d not packed my book in my suitcase. I can’t be bothered to get up and undo all of my stuff to get it. I suppose it won’t take too much of my battery to do something on my phone. It’s not much of a journey, but it is three and a half hours. No wonder the last train out of there leaves at half-ten. Poor train driver.
I stare out of the window as we leave Romsey station, on the way through the fields as the snow starts getting thicker. I used to wish and beg for a white Christmas, just like the song, but it would never happen. We’d always get snow around January or February. I’d spend snow-days off school with Bruno, throwing snowballs, making snowmen and snow angels.
The fields are completely covered as we whizz past, it’s like a blanket of white snow across the whole world, the sky is that precious, weird state of dark and yet grey at the same time. I remember knowing that colour when I woke up would mean I’d see snow everywhere when I looked out of the window growing up, and now is no different.
Knowing the vast English countryside as we get further towards Wiltshire, through Bath and Bristol… I’m nervous. Snow wasn’t even forecasted this morning; I remember checking the weather on TV while I was getting ready. Typical British people get under-prepared for this kind of weather, even when it is forecast.
I dread to think what people are like when they see the first snowflakes and they haven’t prepared for it.
My eyes feel heavy, and we’re only in Salisbury. It’s only been thirty-five minutes since I got on the train at Southampton. I’ve got a long way to go yet. Tons of fields, tons of sheep, tons of random stops for army barracks; all of which remind me of Bruno. I remember the first time I could visit him, I took this train route. Got off on the next stop, and I remember the weird town-like feel of the army barracks. It was situated in a town itself, which prides itself on being The Army Town of Britain or something, despite me never hearing about it before he left.
My earphones are taking a hit on the battery, but I wasn’t expecting this trip this morning, so they weren’t at full charge when I left. I glance around; no one got on at any of the stops so far, so it’s still just me and the working man to my right. He’s shed himself of his blazer since I last looked over, but his laptop is still on. He glances my way and gives me a small smile.
His dark hair looks a little more ruffled than before, he has blue eyes and when he smiles at me, I can see dimples in both cheeks.
I quickly smile back before glancing forward to the stupid grey table in front of me. I’d bought a coffee from the little cart that travels up and down the carriages, and though it tastes completely bitter, and not worth the inflated cost of three-pound-fifty, it’s been doing its job so far.
I run a finger over the back of the seat in front of me, its velvet-come-carpet material feels weird under my finger. I remember learning about the dark green colour being popular in history as I was growing up. I wonder if this is where the train company got it from. Green was popular in Egyptian and Greek times and is used in the House of Commons. I remember reading that green was a restful colour in the 18th and 19th centuries. Right now, though, it just makes me want to puke. I’m running away from the colour green: the green of Bruno’s eyes, the dirty-blonde hair, the deep green of his shirt. It’s like the train company is taunting me. You run away; you have to put up with a reminder of your actions.
My phone buzzes again. Three messages at once thanks to the train wi-fi kicking back in. The first one is from Bruno himself: ‘Lily, come on, where the hell are you? We’re all worried about you.’
The second one is from Mum: ‘Lils, don’t do this to me. Just tell me you’re safe.’
The third one is from Thea: ‘Girl, your family is on the phone. Do you want me to tell them?’
I tap out a reply to Thea: ‘I don’t mind. If they’re bothering you, sure. But I don’t want to speak to them. They all humiliated me.’
She must know there’s more to the story than what I told her, but I don’t even want to go there.
One more from Bruno: ‘Lily. Look, if this is some joke because of what happened earlier, I get it. But don’t play us all like this. Just tell us you’re okay. I won’t even mention what happened. I get I hurt you. Where are you?’
The train stops.
I furrow my brows and look at the time. Not even twenty minutes after we stopped in Salisbury, which means we’re nowhere near the next stop yet.
I glance out the window. Blankets and blankets of white snow. Not a clear path in sight.
There are only two reasons trains stop in England: you’ve come to a station, or there’s been an incident or fault on the line. Trains don’t just stop. I’ve been on enough of them in my time to know that fact.
Seeing as there is no platform on either side of the window, it leaves one option: we’ve stopped because of the blizzard. I glance to the guy to my right, who quickly gives me a furrowed brow. We’re stuck here, and it’s just the two of us, alone, in this carriage.
