The Sunday Post (Inverness)

Two heartwarmi­ng short stories

For Marcia, this is the most relaxing trip she has ever taken. Indeed, it’s the journey of a lifetime

- WORDS LEONORA FRANCIS

Marcia opened her eyes. She was in a train carriage that was packed with people and she felt relaxed and excited. She adored train journeys.

Next to her sat a man who was intently staring out of the window so she couldn’t see his face.

Across from her sat an old lady. She was so tiny that the table just about came up to the top of her chest, and so old that Marcia couldn’t guess her age.

The old lady caught her eye and smiled. “I’m 106 years old, you know,” she said. “I’ve had three birthday cards from the Queen so far. Yes, I know I don’t look it but I’ve never looked my age, even though my daughter says I’m decrepit. She’s 80 and more decrepit than me. How we laugh about it! But I’m not decrepit now, look!” She raised her arms in the air and moved them around.“couldn’t do that a while ago. If this table wasn’t in the way I would show you that I can raise my legs, too, like a can-can dancer.”

The lady laughed. Marcia knew she was in a dream. She’d had dreams where she was falling and had almost reached the ground. Dreams of pain and awful creatures that wanted to rip her tummy out. At least this wasn’t a scary dream. Marcia liked trains.a dream about trains would do nicely. The old lady continued talking.

“I’ve liked trains since I was a girl. My husband, Norman, had a love of trains, too, that’s why we were made for each other.we met on Paddington train station, you know.

“We’ve travelled the Trans-siberian and the Bernina Express and the Siliguri to Darjeeling! Most of it was done after we retired, of course.

“I’m on my way to see him now.at least . . .” The woman paused and looked out the window, what she was about to say forgotten.

There was a young boy sitting facing Marcia and he looked like he was ready to cry. How come she hadn’t noticed him before? His dark hair was in a puddingbow­l cut and his eyes were dark and full of tears. He had a bruise on his cheek that looked quite painful.

“Are you all right, love?” Marcia asked. “Mam’s gonna be mad at me.” He sniffed.

The man turned away from the window and stared at the boy. He was in his late 30s or early 40s, Marcia noticed.

He was quite handsome but looked tired and red in the face, as if he’d been holding his breath while staring out the window.

“Why is your mother going to be mad at you?” the man asked the boy.

“I thought it would be fun to ride the train, but now she’ll be worried when I don’t come home for tea.”

“She won’t be mad for long,” the man replied.

Marcia caught the view over the man’s shoulder.the sun was shining beautifull­y. Hills and valleys rolled by, some with sparkling waterfalls.

Stretches of fields of wheat trembled in the breeze. Fat cows grazed on impossibly green grass. Sheep grazed, too, while little lambs frolicked. Now Marcia could see why the man was so engrossed.

But wasn’t that odd, to have lambs and fields of ripened wheat at the same time of year?

“Don’t worry, son,” the old lady added. “Mams are very good at forgiving.”

Marcia turned her attention back to the boy. The old lady placed a now-supple arm around the boy’s shoulder.

“Ahh, bless,” she said while he sniffed into her pink hand-knitted cardigan.

“I’ve got a son your age,” the man said. “He can be very naughty, but I love him just the same. It’s funny, I always wanted to get on a train and ride away into the sunset, but now I’m here, I’m not sure.”

“There’s nothing like a train ride to still your mind,” the old lady told him.“at least, that’s how it used to be. In my day you had two choices; look out the window and enjoy the scenery, or sleep. Sleeping on a train is the best sleep you’ll ever get.”

“That’s true,” Marcia agreed.“once or twice I’ve nearly missed my stop, especially on long journeys.”

As she looked out the window memories of her life as a wife, a mother and a lover came flooding back to her. Oh, she’d been so happy.this was the type of

dream that Marcia didn’t want to wake up from. She looked over at the boy still cuddled in the old lady’s arms. Instead of being tearful he was smiling. “Feeling better?”

“I’m thinking about my dog.” “Your dog?”

He uncoupled himself from the old woman and sat up straight.

“His name is Fluffy. I named him after the dog in Harry Potter. He’s my best friend and makes me laugh. He licks my face and eats my shoes, and my homework. Honest!

“Mam says he’s a menace but she doesn’t mind him sitting next to her on the settee while she watches Eastenders. Fluffy likes Eastenders.”

The boy gave a little shiver of pleasure. “I can almost feel him licking my face now!”they all laughed a little, even the man, who seemed so morose and tired and sad and still red in the face. “Where’s Fluffy now?” Marcia asked. “I left him by the train track. I thought he was right behind me.”

“Don’t you think you should go back and find him?” the lady asked.

“Yes, I should. He won’t know where I am. He’ll be crying for me.”

The man coughed into his hand and began to struggle with his breathing. Marcia patted him hard on the back.the back of his jacket was damp.

He gurgled in his throat.

“Are you OK?”

“I’m fine,” the man said.“thanks. It’s just that, well, I have a son that age and he’ll be missing me, too. I think I should get off and go back home.”

He stood up.

“Yes, I think you both should,” the old lady said, chuckling under her breath.

Marcia stood up to let the man pass and realised she was in her nightdress.at least she wasn’t naked, as she had been in some dreams! “Goodbye,” she said.

As soon as the man took hold of the boy’s hand the train started to slow.“look after yourselves, boys,” the lady called. “We will,” they replied in unison.

“I hope he finds Fluffy,” Marcia said. “We had a dog once. Got run over.the children were devastated. My husband, Rodney, bought another one some months later but it was never the same.”

“Dogs are special. Better than humans, in my book.”

“I wouldn’t go that far!” Marcia laughed. The lady looked out the window. “Beautiful,” she said.

“Yes,” Marcia agreed.“so bright. So clear, so...”

“Hard to describe?”

“Yes. Hard to describe.”

The lady settled herself back in her seat. “Looks like it’s just you and me now.”

Marcia eased herself into the man’s vacated seat and stood up abruptly. “Oh, the seat’s wet!”

“His clothes were sopping. Didn’t you notice?”

“I noticed he was a little damp.” Marcia sat in her original seat and looked under the table.the floor where the man had sat was flooded with water. Still, from where she sat she had a good view out the window. The train came to a stop. Not at a station, she noticed, but in the middle of nowhere.

“I hope they’ll be all right,” she said. Then she stopped herself. Of course they’d be Ok.this was a dream, after all. Another reason why she knew it was a dream was because the carriage was now empty, when before it had seemed fairly full of people.“they weren’t ready for this journey,” the lady commented.

“No. I don’t suppose they were. I’m not ready to get off myself yet. I’ll wake up wanting to know where the journey ends. And this is lovely. So relaxing.”

“It is, isn’t it?”the lady smiled. Marcia leaned back in her seat, totally tranquil. “I’m a bit tired, to be honest.”

“I know what you mean. Not been well?”

“Not been well at all,” Marcia admitted. “Well, just sit back and enjoy it while you can.”

The train moved off again and picked up speed. The old lady beamed, leaned back in her seat, wriggled herself into a comfortabl­e position and closed her eyes.

Soon, Marcia felt compelled to close her eyes, too. For months her sleep had been drug induced, so she intended to take advantage of this, even if it was in a dream.

“I love you, Marcia.always will.” Startled, Marcia’s eyes flew open at the sound of Rodney’s voice. He was nowhere to be seen but she sensed him as if he was sitting right next to her.

The old lady had gone. Had she gone to meet her husband, Norman?

Bless Rodney, she thought, as she imagined him as he was now. Oh, how handsome he still was, despite his middleage spread and the hairs that grew out of his ears and the thickness of his nose hairs.

How wonderful were his eyes. So dark you could drown in them if you looked into them too long.

His dark-lashed eyes had never changed. They had been what had attracted her to him in the first place.

“I love you, too, Rodney.” Marcia closed her eyes tight. She didn’t want this moment to end.

She felt her body relax, her legs, her arms, her torso, her face. She sensed Rodney drift away but she wasn’t unhappy.

She knew he loved her. He’d told her so many times.

As she relaxed even more, she felt a change come over her, and what a beautiful change it was.

She became a mote of dust riding the currents of the air; a star that shone bright in the sky; a blade of wheat waving to passers-by.

She was every colour of the rainbow. She was a drop of water careering over a waterfall; a dandelion seed floating away from a child’s breath.

Her journey through a life she once knew had ended, and oh, how beautiful this new life was.

For more great short stories, don’t miss the latest edition of The People’s Friend

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