On the right track

A sighting on a rail platform makes Kathryn wonder if life could have been a very different journey

Kathryn scowled at the display board on the platform. Her train was 10 minutes late. Maybe it didn’t matter. It wasn’t as if Michael would notice. But her daughter, Helen, was meeting her there and she definitely would notice – always on time, that girl.

The air was cold between her teeth as it hissed from her mouth, forming a mist before disappearing into the chaos of the station. October, and already the winter chill was announcing its intention to stay.

Kathryn rolled her shoulders. She could feel a headache on the outskirts of her temples. She was trying to take the day as it came, as one of the nurses had advised her, but the thought of seeing Michael was causing more and more stress. It wasn’t just the panic in his eyes, the confusion. It was the flare of hope she had, each time, that things might be a little better today.

Hope, only to be followed by crushing disappointment.

Kathryn watched as another train arrived, passengers tumbling out onto the platform.

It was the way he walked that caught her attention. The long, effortless stride, his shoulders – broad, still now, even if he was a little more hunched than she remembered. Thirty-seven years since she’d seen him.

His face was more hollowed out, the skin sagging off the cheekbones she’d once admired. But she was sure. It was him. James. It hit her straight in the gut. All these years and she’d never forgotten what it had felt like to be in love with him. It was almost instant from the moment they’d met, at a bar in Paris, both trying to order at the same time, both in broken, awkward French.

She’d been to France many times since then – Michael didn’t like to fly, so France had been their go-to over the years. But she’d never been back to Paris. Michael had suggested it once but she’d made up some excuse to do with the crowds, when really, it was because she didn’t want to return to the place where she met James.

She’d been on holiday with a girlfriend at the time but when her friend went home, she stayed in France with James. Then on to the rest of Europe. Her parents had disapproved but she had her savings and they couldn’t do much about it. She could still remember, in excruciating detail, the night she’d left him, the promises they’d made to one another at the airport.

Then she’d got a job. Her dream job – an assistant at a publishing house in London. By the time James had come back – come back for her – she was working, sharing a flat and entrenched in her London life.

They’d tried to make it work. But he’d hated the size of the place, the smell of it. And then he started making plans to leave again, off to America this time, unable to sit still, the energy that had drawn her to him now the thing to pull them apart.

“Come with me,” he’d said. But she was trying to build a career and even if part of her longed for the adventure – for him – she didn’t dare.

So he left and she said yes when Michael – kind, caring, sensitive Michael – asked her out and her path was set. What if she’d had the courage to go with James? She loved Michael – even now, even still – but it wasn’t the same as she’d felt for James, that all-encompassing, steal-your-breath passion. Would she have had the same mundane domestic arguments if it had been James she’d married? Would she have been so exhausted, determined not to give up her career, while trying to be a good mother? Would she be here, standing on a train platform in the cold, waiting to go and see a husband who wouldn’t recognise her? Would she be gearing up for another night alone – and beyond that, weeks, months, maybe even years, alone in her flat, feeling the emptiness around her?

James was still on the platform, his face half-obscured by the crowd around him. She could go up to him, she realised, with a flood of hot emotion, imagining that half laugh, the way his eyes would spark with recognition. The way her heart would tumble in response.

What if she’d had the courage to go with James?

The sound of her phone ringing made her jump.

“Hi, Mum!” It was Helen. “Where are you?” “Sorry, love, the train’s late. Actually, it’s just pulling in now.”

Her gaze flitted between the train and James. Opposite directions – a choice to be made.

“OK,” Helen said. “Dad’s doing much better today.”

Kathryn’s heart spasmed. “He is?”

“Yeah.” There was a smile in Helen’s voice. “He’s telling me all about the lasagne here.

It’s the best he’s ever had, though he told me not to tell you!”

Kathryn felt a smile pull at her lips as her daughter continued.

“He says we can play Monopoly when you get here and he’s promised you can have the dog.”

“Would it last?” Kathryn wondered. Or would he have faded by the time she got there?

Kathryn looked from James to the train and back again. The doors opened.

Maybe things would have been different with James, she conceded. Maybe there would be no difficulties and they’d still be together, holding hands on this very platform and smiling about their adventures.

Or maybe not. Maybe she’d have regretted it, not at least trying to have a career. Maybe she would never have had children – and there was no way she’d trade her daughter for anything.

And she realised, then, she wouldn’t trade Michael, either. Wouldn’t trade the life they’d had together – imperfect but still a life to be celebrated. They hadn’t had that initial flare of love but the love they’d shared was steady and no less beautiful.

Yes, the end was difficult and painful, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t worth it.

And so she boarded the train, turning her back on the doors as they closed behind her.

“Thanks, love,” she said to Helen, understanding the comfort she was offering.

“Tell him I’ll be there soon.”

The train and James. Opposite directions – a choice