The Station

The train arrived at the station with a lurch and woke her from sunny dreams of cream teas and beaches that the next few days would bring. Only one more train to go and she’d be there, far away from him and all the arguments. Aunt Mary would be glad to see her; she had always been her favorite. Grabbing the coat from the rack above her, she slipped her bag over her shoulder and stepped onto the dark platform.

The warmth of the train was instantly a distant memory as the cold wind cut into her bare skin. Pulling up the collar on her coat she headed across to the bright lights of the platform café, pulled open the glass door and stepped inside. Silence and stares opened their arms in welcome to her. A squeaky little giggle escaped her and she could feel the heat rising rapidly through her face. As one, they turned back to what they were doing and the steady hum of conversation resumed.

“Coffee please” she asked the red haired girl at the counter as the flush slowly receded. “Are they always like that?” she whispered with a conspiratorial smile. The scowling girl hobbled over to the kettle, poured the coffee and slammed the cup down on the counter without a word. And she thought people in the city were rude! Dropping a pound sixty on the counter, she found an empty table by the window and sat with a sigh pulling out her book. Wiping the steam from the window with her sleeve she peered out into the night. A single bulb danced in the wind occasionally lighting the platform, each blink of darkness reflecting back to her the dozens of eyes boring into the back of her head. She turned sharply almost toppling her drink. A few people looked up from their newspapers at the sudden movement but otherwise all was as it should be. Jumping at shadows, she chided herself and took a sip of the tepid sludge to steady her nerves.

She tried to concentrate on the book but the window had spooked her. She found herself peering over the top of the pages to make sure they hadn’t all stood while she was distracted with tales of passion and were lumbering towards her hands outstretched, eyes dead and glassy. Annoyed with the way her imagination was running away, she put the book away and looked around at the odd assortment trapped in the room with her. An old man with skin stretched thin across his face sat with his eyes closed, puffing on a pipe. The smoke swirling upward, sucked greedily into the bank of cloud hovering above us. A carved bird sat atop his gnarled walking stick at his side. A group of teenage boys, caps down low over their eyes were huddled together, a plastic bag at their feet. The bottles and cans spilling out onto the dirty tiled floor. A couple opposite were arguing about someone called Max and a variety of men in orange boiler suits sat in groups of two and three.

One of the teenagers eased himself up from the group and moved towards her, crouching down in front of her chair and leaned in close. She had to move her head back from the alcohol fumes that swept over her. His cracked lips parted to stained yellow teeth and she caught a fleeting sense of something hidden deep beneath the alcohol. Something sweet, something rotten. “Going somewhere nice?” he asked, eyes crawling over her chest, undoing her blouse. She crossed her arms and scraped her chair backwards on the tiled floor. “Just waiting for my husband” she said looking casually at her watch. “Tut, tut” he said wagging his finger at her. “Pretty thing like you shouldn’t be out on your own. If there’s anything I can help you with…?” he ran his calloused hand up the back of her calf, higher, higher. She kicked out at him and he leapt back with a laugh. Eyes locked to hers; he sniffed at his palm and slowly ran his tongue across it. He returned to his laughing friends with a swagger.

“Did you see that?” she asked one of the men sat closest to me. “Did you see what he did?” The man just stared at her, smiling. “Anyone? Is anyone going to do anything?” she asked the room. Smiles, smiles and more bloody smiles countered her glare. Freaks, she thought grabbing her mobile to call the police. No bars. Damn the bloody countryside. She could feel the adrenaline running through her as her heart started to speed, her head ached and the heaviness grew deep in her stomach. She caught a glimpse of blue in the flicker of light on the platform and remembered the guard. He would have a radio! She picked up her stuff and ran back out into the cold. “Excuse me. Excuse me!” she shouted after him. He turned just as she caught up with him and almost toppled him over as she grabbed hold of him. “Radio. Do you. Radio?” she said looking back towards the café. “Sorry miss, out here it don’t work see. Don’t worry, though, we’ll take care of you. Nice and friendly we are, always sit down to eat together like one big family”. A long black tongue darted from his lips.

One by one she could see them leaving their seats. The old man leaning heavily on his stick, pipe still stuck in his mouth pushed open the door. The teenagers followed, the redhead at their heels giggling. They emptied out onto the platform and stood side by side in silence, watching her.