Girl on a Train

by A.J. Waines

and failed to notice the terra wasn’t firma). Was it too much to ask for a seat that wasn’t surrounded by dangling wet socks, Indie band posters or discarded soya-milk cartons? I clambered over several three-storey rucksacks, complete with sleeping-bags and rolled up foam mats piled high in the gangway, and settled for an empty airline seat next to a woman looking out of the window. I slung my overnight

tickets. My shoulders dropped. Little Ms Fidget was going to be beside me all the way to the end of the line. As if to confirm my fears, she wriggled in her seat, drummed her fingers on the edge of her bag, sniffed, pushed up her glasses and then started the cycle over again. I remembered I’d bought a Sunday paper at the station, so I pulled down the supplement from the rack and offered it to her. Her hands were shaking as she took it and she made an attempt at smiling, but I noticed the magazine stayed rolled up beside her seat. I saw, too, that she hadn’t removed her anorak even though

Rothman.’ ‘She never mentioned you.’ She played with a toggle on her hood and I could tell from the agitated flicks that she was a smoker. ‘I hadn’t known her long…’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘You just turned up today?’ ‘It’s my first time at the church. Elly mentioned she came here. I wanted

Fy