The rain had cleared by the time Jonathan woke up next morning and the London streets had a freshness in the wintry morning sunshine. Jonathan thought that it would be a great day for travelling. He got showered and dressed and packed his suitcase, and then he left his hotel room and went downstairs to the small dining room where the smell of breakfast bacon and sausages persuaded him to indulge himself in a full English breakfast.
After breakfast, he collected his suitcase from the room and checked out of the hotel. He planned to catch the train that left King’s Cross at noon. It was only just gone ten o’clock so, rather than call a cab he went down into the London Underground station at South Kensington. From his college days, Jonathan knew the main routes of the London Underground system like the back of his hand and he caught a Piccadilly line train, which would take him directly to King’s Cross.
As Jonathan stood on the platform at South Kensington station, his mind went back again to his college days in London, years before his American adventure and it seemed almost as if he had never been away. Superficially, many things had changed in Britain while he was gone. Everybody seemed to be constantly chattering on their mobile phones or pecking away typing text messages with their thumbs. How had we organized our lives back then? Perhaps we planned our days better in those days or maybe we weren’t so spontaneous. Maybe life was slower, maybe we thought more about things. Was it better then, is it better now? Who knows?
Jonathan’s’ musing was suddenly interrupted by the rush of air from the tunnel to his right and the roar of the train as it pulled into the station three hundred and fifty feet below the streets of South Kensington.
He boarded the train, the automatic doors hissed shut and with a jolt and an electrical hum, the train plunged into the tunnel at the end of the station.
The train worked its way through the tunnels deep under central London. Knightsbridge. Hyde Park Corner. Green Park. Piccadilly Circus. Leicester Square. Covent Garden. The names sounded romantic to Jonathan, probably because he didn’t have to struggle through the rush hour every morning and evening. It was mid morning now and even though it was a weekday, there were few passengers in his car. A lady got on at Knightsbridge carrying a large green Harrods bag stuffed with purchases, presumably Christmas presents. A couple of teenage girls got off at Covent Garden, giggling irritatingly. Covent Garden had been a flower and vegetable market in Jonathan’s college years but now it had been converted to trendy boutiques and bistros.
Finally, the tube train pulled into Kings Cross and Jonathan picked up his suitcase and got off the train. As he navigated his way through the station and up the long escalators to the street level, he started thinking once more about his difficulty in finding a mental challenge to occupy him in his retirement. He had hoped that a few days away from his usual surroundings might help but he felt no clearer in his mind now than when he had arrived in London a few days ago. If anything, he felt even more at a loss. Still, he had a few hours train journey through the English countryside, it was a cold, clear, sunny day and perhaps inspiration would strike before he got home.
Jonathan checked the departure board at the Kings Cross main line station concourse and saw that his train was scheduled to leave on time at noon from platform seven. He had about twenty minutes before the train was due to leave so he made his way to platform seven and walked alongside the train until he found a fairly empty coach just ahead of the buffet car. He climbed aboard, put his suitcase into the overhead rack together with his overcoat and settled comfortably into his seat. He placed his book on the table in front of him and checked his watch against the digital clock above the platform outside his window.
Twelve minutes to departure. The train had been fairly empty when Jonathan came aboard but as he waited for departure, the carriage that he was in began to fill up. He stood up, pulled his overcoat from the luggage rack and placed it folded on the empty seat beside him to discourage anyone from sitting right next to him. This lunchtime departure was popular on a Friday, because it was the last departure that would finish its run in daylight. The later Friday departures would probably be standing room only as long distance commuters finished their workweek and headed back to their homes in towns like Peterborough and Grantham for the weekend. Jonathan looked around and felt guilty as he sat next to his folded overcoat, but apart from one old woman across the aisle who gave him a strange look, everyone else seemed preoccupied with his or her own affairs. They were reading newspapers, calling and texting on their mobile phones, an elderly couple were nodding off to sleep. Jonathan decided to bury his nose in his book.
Three minutes to departure. Jonathan had barely finished reading the table of contents when he heard a crashing and banging coming from the far end of the carriage. He looked up and saw a woman struggling into the carriage, carrying two suitcases. They were not unusually large but from the way that the woman was struggling with them, they were clearly quite heavy.
“Excuse me!”
“Oops!”
“Sorry!”
The woman made her way down the carriage with her suitcases, bumping into people on the way. Jonathan shrugged his shoulders and went back to his book.
“Excuse me.”
“Excuse me.”
The woman’s voice was louder and when Jonathan looked up, he could see that she was talking to him.
“Excuse me.”
“Yes,” said Jonathan.
“Could you help me, please?”
Realizing that he was cornered, the courteous side of Jonathan’s nature kicked in.
“Sure,” he said and he stood up.
“Could you help me get these suitcases up onto the luggage rack, please? I’m afraid they’re a bit heavy!”
Jonathan lifted one of the suitcases and quickly put it down again.
“I see what you mean!”
“Sorry!”
He tried again, grabbing the handle of the suitcase with both hands and with a grunt, he managed to lift it onto the table. It must have weighed fifty pounds. He paused for a moment to catch his breath then lifted the suitcase over his head and managed to slide it onto the luggage rack next to his own suitcase. Red faced from exertion he looked around at the woman who was still standing in the aisle of the carriage.
“You’re so kind,” she said and her face had a look of gratitude and embarrassment all at the same time. “The other one is not quite so heavy”
Jonathan managed a smile and lifted the second suitcase onto the rack.
“Thank you so much. You are so kind”
Now it was Jonathan’s turn to feel embarrassed. “No problem,” he mumbled and he sat back down in is seat.
At that moment, the train started to move out of the station and the woman, who was still standing in the aisle half slid, half fell into the seat opposite Jonathan, facing him across the table.
“Phew! Just made it!” she gasped.
Jonathan grunted and picked up his book.
“Thank you so much,” the woman said again.
She did not seem to expect a reply so Jonathan shrugged his shoulders and turned his attention back to his book.
The inside of the carriage was briefly illuminated by the bright winter sunshine as the train rolled slowly out from the shade of the station canopy but almost immediately the carriage was back in dim light again as the train accelerated into the tunnel which carried the tracks beneath the houses just to the north of the station. A minute later and the carriage was brightly lit again as the train emerged from the tunnel and picked up speed through the northern suburbs of London. Jonathan checked his watch. As usual, an on-time departure. Jonathan smiled. The train was now at its cruising speed of one hundred and twenty five miles an hour.
“It’s Karen, by the way. Karen Wilson,” said the woman with a smile as she extended a hand across the table towards him.
Jonathan looked up from his book.
“Jonathan,” he said, lightly shaking her hand and then withdrawing his hand as quickly but
politely as he could. He thought that Karen had a pleasant mature voice. He usually didn’t like engaging in conversation while travelling but Karen seemed pleasant enough and she seemed to want to talk.
“Are you going all the way through to Leeds?” said Jonathan, trying to make polite small talk and secretly hoping that she might be getting off at the next stop in just over half an hour.
“Yes. You too?”
“Yes,” he replied, then after a short pause he continued.
“Yes, I change trains there. I get the train over the Pennines.”
Jonathan looked out at the wintry sunshine, bright but cold and the sun was low in the south western sky as the train sped on through the most flat countryside to the north of London. They had been running for about fifteen minutes but they were already about thirty miles out and were well clear of the northern suburbs of London.
The doors at the end of the carriage hissed open and an attendant in uniform came in and started taking passengers orders for snacks and drinks. There were a couple of menu cards lying on the table and Jonathan picked up one. Karen picked up the other and they studied their lunch choices.
After a few moments, Karen looked up from her menu and said, “Could I buy you lunch? It’s the least I can do after the way that you helped me.”
“There’s really no need,” said Jonathan.
“It’s the least I can do.”
Jonathan thought that one refusal was polite but two would be churlish.
“OK,” he said, “I’ll probably just have a sandwich and a beer. Thank you.”
“Oh good!” she said.
The attendant arrived at their table and looked at Karen, waiting for her order. She waved him over to take Jonathan’s order first and the attendant turned to face Jonathan.
“Sir?”
“I’ll have a toasted ham and cheese sandwich please. And a lager.” He put down his menu and smiled at Karen, nodded towards her partly as a way of indicating his appreciation and partly to invite her to place her own order.
“I’ll have a Chicken Caesar Salad.” She paused for a moment. “And a glass of white wine, please.”
The attendant moved on to the next pair of seats and, unsure of what to say next, Jonathan picked up his book again and started reading.
“That book looks very interesting,” said Karen.
Jonathan looked up. “Excuse me?”
“Strange title.”
He turned the book over and looked at the cover.
“From Méliès to CGI?””
“Who or what are Méliès and CGI”
Jonathan chuckled.
“It’s a book about special effects in the movies. Méliès was Georges Méliès, a French filmmaker in the late nineteenth century who practically invented movie special effects. CGI is Computer Generated Imagery, which is how most special effects are produced now. Actually it’s a fascinating subject.”
Jonathan could see from the doubtful look on her face that Karen was not entirely convinced.
This will bore her to tears and maybe she will leave me alone.
The attendant arrived with their lunch, breaking what Jonathan thought was a rather tense moment. Jonathan smiled as he unfolded his napkin and placed it on his lap and Karen smiled back rather sweetly. Jonathan put his book aside, opened his can of beer and poured it into a glass. Karen picked up her glass of wine, raised it and said, “Cheers!”.
“Cheers!” said Jonathan and he took a sip of his beer.
“If you don’t mind me asking,” said Jonathan, “what on earth was in that suitcase that made it so heavy?”
“Books,” said Karen.
”You must do a lot of reading.”
“Actually, I do,” said Karen. “It’s part of my job.”
“Really? What kind of job is that?”
“I work for a publisher in London.”
“You have to proof read the books, or something?”
“Yes, that’s part of it. I read the stuff that writers send in to see if it might be worth publishing.”
“Always looking for the next Harry Potter, right?”
“There’s always a chance. You never know. But the part of the job that I enjoy the most is working with the writers.”
“Do you have to travel round to see them?”
“Sometimes. That’s what I really enjoy. Of course, sometimes I have to meet them in the London office but if I can I’d much rather meet them at their homes, where they write.”
“It sounds very interesting,” said Jonathan.
Jonathan took a bite of his sandwich. Karen took the cue and started on her salad. They sat in silence for a few minutes, eating their lunches and looking out at the scenery as it flashed past the window. The countryside for this part of the journey was mostly flat farming country. The winter sun was getting lower in the sky to the southwest, illuminating the carriage brightly. In winter in England, the sun didn’t rise very far above the horizon because of the northern latitude at which Britain lay. As a result, it shone through the window very brightly, making the most of the limited winter daylight.
Karen paused from her salad and looked over at Jonathan. He rather nervously swallowed the piece of toasted sandwich he was working on.
“What do you do for a living, Jonathan?”
“I don’t,” said Jonathan. “I’m retired.”
“Retired?” said Karen, a hint of disbelief in her voice. “You look a bit young to be retired.”
Jonathan could see from the quizzical look on her face that she wanted to know more but he did not feel at all sure about how much he wanted to tell her.
“I was fortunate to be in a position to retire early. I don’t really look on it as retirement., more as an opportunity for a second career. You know, do something different for a few years.”
Jonathan took a sip of his beer and nervously looked out of the window as the train started slowing down for Peterborough, its first stop since leaving London.
“I’d love to have the chance,” said Karen.
“Well, I thought I would too and I really enjoyed it to start with but I must admit that I sometimes have difficulty keeping my mind occupied.”
This was getting a bit deeper than Jonathan wanted to go but Karen seemed to be genuinely interested and one of Jonathan’s problems was that he rarely got the opportunity to bounce ideas off other people. He suddenly realised that he was sounding sorry for himself.
“Don’t get me wrong,” he said, “life is pretty good. It’s just…”
“You’re stuck in a rut?”
“Sort of.”
“I see writers all the time who are stuck like that. They call it ‘writer’s block’ but it’s just that they can’t get their minds focused on finishing their stories. What I try to do is to get them to focus and finish the job.”
“Does it work?” said Jonathan, “I mean, do they get their books finished?”
“Most of the time. Sometimes I get cursed at and sworn at and there’s often a lot of screaming and shouting but we usually struggle through!”
“Sounds like an ugly business.”
“It can be. But the sense of satisfaction that I get when I see the finished book on the shelves of a bookshop makes it worth all the trouble.” Karen had a genuine sound of pride in her voice.
“I think I know what you mean,” said Jonathan.
The conversation paused for a few minutes. The train was back up to speed now, after its stop in Peterborough and Jonathan checked his watch. The train was due to arrive at Leeds at two thirty in the afternoon and Jonathan had about twenty minutes to make the connection with his train through the Pennines to Ravensgill Bridge. This train to Leeds had left the previous station exactly on time so he thought that he would make his connection without much problem. If he missed the connection, he would be stuck in Leeds for three hours waiting for the next train.
“Do you think we’ll be in Leeds on time?” said Karen.
“I think so. We
seem to be keeping pretty much on schedule.”
Jonathan saw that Karen had finished her glass of wine.
“Can I get you another one?”
“No, I’m fine thank you, but I wouldn’t say no to a cup of tea.”
Jonathan waved to the attendant who was standing at the end of the carriage and the attendant walked over to their table.
“Pot of tea for two, please?”, said Jonathan.
The attendant went off to get the order.
“Do you live in Leeds?” said Jonathan.
“No, I live in London but I’m visiting my mother for a couple of weeks. She lives in Leeds. I’ll probably take time to visit two or three of our writers who live in Yorkshire and I’ll probably pop down to the London office for a day sometime before Christmas.”
The attendant brought the tea.
Jonathan could see that Karen was about to say something but she quickly diverted her gaze and looked out of the window.
“Shall I pour our tea?”
“Oh! Yes, please.”
Jonathan poured out two cups of tea and passed one over to Karen.
“Thank you,” said Karen. She was biting her bottom lip and looking pensive. After a few moments she spoke. “You know, I think I might be able to help you, help you get focused and all. After all, it’s what I do for a living. I suppose you could call me a motivator, or something like that.”
Jonathan felt slightly awkward but this was too good an opportunity to pass up.
“I could use all the help I can get,” he said and he laughed nervously.
“I can’t make any promises, but we’ll see what we can come up with,” said Karen.
“I would really appreciate your advice. It’s very kind of you to offer.”
“Not at all,” said Karen with a smile. “Tell you what, why don’t we get together for lunch one day next week. Do you live far from Leeds?”
“It’s about fifty miles. About an hour on the train. In a lovely Pennine village called Ravensgill Bridge. I’m amazed it still has a train service, actually.”
“It sounds delightful,” said Karen, “Would you mind if I came out there for lunch? After a few days with my mother I could use a day out in the country!”
“Are you sure you want to come out all that way?”
“I spend too much of my time in the city,” said Karen.
“Well, my local pub, The Ravensgill Arms, is a lovely old country pub and they do great pub lunches.”
“That settles it then!” said Karen with a laugh.
She pulled a business card out of her purse and passed it over to Jonathan.
“That’s got my mobile number on it. And my office number in London. But of course I won’t be there very much.”
Jonathan pulled out his wallet and passed one of his own cards to Karen.
Karen looked at the card.
“The Old Station, Ravensgill Bridge,” she said. “You actually live in a railway station? Really?”
“Actually, yes. Really!”
“Oh! My God! Tell me about it! How do you come to be living in a railway station?”
“It’s a very long story and we’ll be getting into Leeds in a few minutes,” said Jonathan, looking at his watch. “I promise I’ll tell you the whole story next week over lunch.”
“Well, that will guarantee that I’ll show up. It sounds fascinating.”
Karen sounded excited.
“How do I get there?” she said.
“There’s a train about every three hours from Leeds. It takes about an hour. Ravensgill Bridge is a request stop so make sure you tell the ticket collector on board, otherwise the train will roll straight on through!”
“You actually mean to tell me that you have trains running through your house?”
“Well, yes, but you get used to it.”
The train slowed as it made the big curve into Leeds station.
“I can’t wait to see this station of yours,” said Karen.
Jonathan smiled and stood up to pull on his overcoat. The train came to a halt in Leeds station and Karen stood up. She looked up sheepishly at the overhead luggage rack.
“Would you mind?”
“Of course not.”
He carefully lifted each of her suitcases down, grunting slightly as he got the heavy one.
“I’ll take this one out to the platform for you,” he said.
“Thank you so much,” said Karen as she picked up her other suitcase and they made their way down the aisle and out onto the platform.
Karen walked over and retrieved an empty luggage cart then Jonathan loaded both of her cases onto it.
“There you go,” said Jonathan.
“Thank you so much,” said Karen. “How about next Thursday for lunch?”
“That will be fine,” said Jonathan. “Give me a call on Wednesday just to confirm that we are still on.”
“I’ll do that,” said Karen.
“I need to go back aboard and get my own suitcase,” said Jonathan.
“Yes, of course. Well, my sister will be meeting me outside the station so I’d better go. See you on Thursday!” and, with a jaunty wave, Karen pushed her loaded luggage cart off in the direction of the ticket barrier.
By the time Jonathan emerged from the train with his own suitcase, there was no sign of Karen. Jonathan looked at his watch. Ten minutes before his next train was due to leave. He started walking slowly to the footbridge that spanned the platform and shook his head. He muttered quietly to himself, “What have I let myself in for?” then he chuckled and started climbing the stairs.
Chapter 3