Follow You Home

by Mark Edwards

backpacks. A gang of teenagers hung about nearby, shouting and posturing and badgering passers-by for cigarettes. A middle-aged man approached us, asking if we needed a hot meal and somewhere to stay, his oily smile vanishing as we shooed him away. Armed police strolled about in pairs, scrutinising us suspiciously as they passed by. So we were relieved when the train finally pulled into the platform and more travellers, though fewer than I expected, appeared as if from nowhere. As we were about to board I pulled Laura against me and said, ‘I love