It was an old train. The fabric on the seats was thin and coarse to the touch and brittle and sharp where the manmade fibres had been scorched by cigarette lighter flames. Its only redeeming feature was the layout of the carriages. Compartments walled with battered and dark-stained wood separated the passengers.
When the train was pulling slowly over a level crossing past the hunched impatient faces of motorists and a man holding the leash of a black dog, Carmel Greening plucked up the courage to do something she'd been wanting to do for half an hour.
"Excuse me," she said. "Would you mind terribly if I read one of the other sections of your newspaper?"
The only other person in the compartment, an elderly military-looking man in a tweed jacket, looked at her blankly.
"It's just that I didn't bring anything to read, you see, and I'm a little bored."
The man frowned. Carmel pointed at the pile of newspaper sections next to him.
"I don't mind what it is, gardening, politics...anything!" she laughed awkwardly and wished she hadn't spoken.
The man smiled suddenly and handed her the pile of newspapers, urging her to pick.
"Please, please," he said, and Carmel gratefully took the papers.
"Habla usted espanol?" asked the man.
From the other side of the carriage the crest at the head of the newspaper had looked just like The Times.
"Oh," said Carmel, "I'm sorry, I don't speak Spanish."
She slid the Sunday supplements of El Pais back to the man, who shrugged and went back to his reading. Carmel went back to looking out of the window as the train accelerated into open fields dotted with sheep.
-
Sheep. They had it all right. Stand around and eat for a year and then get serviced by a ram just once, bear the kid and go back to standing around and eating. Oh to be that ram. I can't believe she said that.
Unfeeling bastard. How can he just sit there? I didn't mean to say that but you'd think if he had any balls at all he'd react. I just don't get him sometimes. He's all talk and then when you stun him he goes quiet, just when you want to have it out with him and sort it out, get it over with.
She's too aggressive. But what kind of man does that make me? I don't want to fight with her. It's not right. But she's aggressive, she won't back down. We should just leave it, let it be. It makes no sense. It's not like we've stopped loving each other.
I just want to talk about it, it's not fair that we sit here in silence. We've got this whole compartment to ourselves and yet we're sitting here like strangers.
Let it be. Was John Lennon religious? He and Yoko used to fight, I bet. I can't believe she said that. Let's just get past Petersfield, let the heat of the moment subside a little, and then we can talk about it reasonably.
He makes my blood boil. Just sitting there. It's not good. This is happening a lot. If it's not sitting on a train saying nothing it's walking into the other room, reading a book or going out for a walk. He just doesn't want to deal with anything.
That's right, just count to ten, metaphorically speaking. Let it all quieten down a bit, then we can deal with it without being emotionally fraught.
I can't go on this way. It has to end.
Ah, this is Petersfield, isn't it? It's been about ten minutes now.
-
David Burrows had his eyes closed and his forehead against the glass. His mind was a kaleidoscope of rolling sound. The band was new and they'd only just started playing the bigger venues and started to get media attention off the back of the unique gravelly voice of the lead singer. David liked them a lot.
"What did you think?" said Alice Burrows, David's mother, from the opposite seat.
David opened his eyes as the train slowed and slid brakes screeching softly into a station. He couldn't see a name for the stop. How long had they been travelling?
"David, what did you think?" said Alice.
"S'all right," said David not removing his headphones. He was looking into the back garden of a house next to the train station where drying clothes on a line flapped in the wind.
"Well, I wasn't sure. It was very.." Alice was looking for the right word. "It was very urban, David. I'm not sure that's the right university environment for you."
David shrugged and began to nod with the music.
"This is very important, David," said Alice. "I wish you'd talk with me."
David watched a woman with a rolling suitcase walk along the platform.
Alice sighed and sat back heavily against the seat. The train started with a shudder and began to move slowly out of the station.
Petersfield, thought David. Only forty minutes until we get home.
It was an old train but it was quiet on the tracks and Alice listened to the tapping of her son's fingers on the aluminium window frame and watched the roofs of the town go by.
