Month: June 2023

Part One

As the train approached, Geoff joined the crowd on the platform.

‘Come along, Susan,’ he said.

By the time the train had stopped, he had positioned himself strategically. He glanced around, evaluating the opposition.

‘Come along, Susan,’ he repeated.

Susan politely tagged onto the rear of the line congregating by the door of the carriage and waited to board.

The final passenger had barely exited the train when Geoff sidestepped into the doorway, he and his luggage squeezing through as he elbowed his way aboard.

‘Where are you, Susan?’ he asked, turning to yank at an uncooperative suitcase. ‘Christ, what are you doing back there? We don’t want to lose our seats!’ He disappeared out of sight as he moved down the train.

After Geoff’s rudeness, geniality blossomed between the remaining passengers, with some sympathetic smiles flashed towards Susan. She was encouraged to move up the line by a couple of elderly gentlemen escorting their wives. ‘Thank you,’ she said, as her suitcase was lifted aboard.

She was disappointed to see that Geoff had only reached as far as the luggage station positioned just inside the carriage. He appeared typically agitated, grappling with suitcases and baggage already stowed in the rack. He glanced at her as she approached, his face contorted by effort.

‘Can you believe this?’ he said. There was no need to answer; Susan knew he wasn’t expecting one. ‘What kind of idiot thinks of putting their luggage in like that?’ he continued. ‘Just how on earth are the rest of us supposed to get ours in?’  

Susan felt a flush of embarrassment and leaning into Geoff, whispered, ‘Please, Geoffrey, people are staring.’

Geoff continued until he believed that he had solved the puzzle of finding space for his suitcase. He rested, bending over the top of the luggage to catch his breath. He turned to his wife, now aware that he was being observed by several other passengers. He forced a smile. Susan watched it slowly dissolve as he spotted her suitcase still resting at her feet.

He looked up, breathing in deeply, then exhaling loudly. He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out their tickets. He glanced at them, and handing them to Susan he said calmly, ‘There you go, dear, seat reservations: nineteen and twenty. Leave your case with me and go and find our seats.’

No sooner had he started to reshuffle the luggage to try and make room for Susan’s suitcase, she reappeared looking a little sheepish. ‘What’s the matter?’ he asked.

She hesitated.

‘Well?’

‘It appears somebody else is sitting in our seats.’

‘We’ll soon see about that!’ He threw her suitcase on top of the others, and pushing past her, marched down the carriage.

‘Seats nineteen and twenty, seats nineteen and twenty,’ he repeated, until stopping abruptly in the aisle. ‘Excuse me,’ he said, tapping an unsuspecting passenger on the shoulder.

The man looked up from his newspaper, ‘Is there a problem?’

‘I should say so,’ replied Geoff, his voice trembling. ‘Seats nineteen and twenty. Look.’ He leant over the man and jabbed a finger towards the numbers displayed above the window. He stood back, hands on hips. Geoff swayed with the motion of the train and was forced to shuffle and reposition his feet. With reddened face and unsteady stance, he might have appeared drunk.

The seated passenger put the newspaper down on his lap. ‘Yes, I can see the numbers. What of it?’

Susan had walked part way down the carriage but retained a little distance from the confrontation. After twenty-seven years of marriage, she had learnt to expect the occasional incident whilst out with Geoff, but they seemed to be occurring far more frequently.

‘You’re sitting in our seats,’ said Geoff.

‘You have a ticket reservation I take it?’ asked the man.

‘We do,’ said Geoff.

‘Let’s see them then,’ said the man.

‘Right. As you wish.’ Geoff put his hand inside his jacket and reached into his pocket. He felt around inside. Finding nothing, he frantically began checking his other jacket pockets, and then his trouser pockets.

‘Geoffrey… Geoffrey.’

‘What, Susan?’ snapped Geoff. ‘Can’t you see there’s a problem?’

‘I have the tickets,’ she said, holding them out in her hand.

‘Christ, Susan,’ barked Geoff, snatching them from her. He returned to the seated passenger and held the tickets in front of the man’s face. ‘There,’ he said triumphantly, ‘seats nineteen and twenty.’

The man gazed at them for a while. ‘Oh, yes,’ said the man. ‘Right seats, wrong coach, mate.’ He held his gaze on Geoff briefly as he slowly lifted his newspaper and started reading again.

Geoff stood, confused. He swayed like a pummelled boxer whilst trying to focus on the tickets. He spun around, checking for verification, and found above the carriage doors the clarification. They were in ‘Coach E’.

He barged past Susan and up the aisle. He pulled furiously at their luggage in the rack. She made her way towards him, saddened by the realisation of yet another dismal holiday together.

Geoff shot through the sliding doors and into the adjacent carriage. Susan dutifully followed. He paused in the space alongside the toilet and waited for her. ‘For God’s sake, did you not think to check we were in the right carriage? You’ve made me look a right bloody idiot.’ She considered a response but reasoned against it. ‘No? Well, I guess I must think of everything,’ he said.

Geoff reached the next set of doors, pressing manically at the button till they opened. ‘Just sit down,’ he ordered, starting to fuss at another luggage rack. ‘Leave your suitcase and sit down. Nineteen and twenty. Coach D!’

Susan hurried down the aisle, desperate to hide. Mercifully, their places were vacant, and she quickly tucked herself away, sliding her frame as low as possible in the seat. She felt a film of moisture coating her eyes, but it was unlikely to well into tears. She was finding it increasingly difficult to feel anything other than resignation.

Susan tried to lie against the seat to make herself invisible to a new set of spectators. She closed her eyes.

After a few minutes, Susan felt Geoff land in his seat. ‘A right bloody performance,’ he said.

She kept her eyes shut. She could feel Geoff fidgeting, accompanied by a litany of grunts and groans as he rummaged around his pockets. She felt compelled to watch the ritual of Geoff locating his personal items, and then logging their location: house keys, left trouser pocket; mobile phone, right trouser pocket; wallet, rear trouser pocket; train tickets, top left, inside jacket pocket. Quietly observing, she felt some sympathy. Maybe he’d always been like this, and she hadn’t noticed – or chose to ignore it – at the beginning of their relationship? Maybe his condition had worsened over time? Susan only wished something could be done to help him. To help them.

She watched Geoff settle, checks over. He placed his hand on the armrest and Susan reached out and gently rested her hand on his. She eased herself a little closer to him and rested her head on his shoulder.

A voice called from behind them, ‘All tickets, all tickets. Have all your tickets ready for inspection, please.’ Geoff pulled his hand away and leant forward in his seat. Susan was forced to sit upright.

Geoff restarted the frenzied search of his pockets, having forgotten the results of his recent audit.

The conductor stood above them, ‘Tickets, please.’

‘Yes, one moment,’ replied Geoff. He pulled out the tickets, his hand trembling.

Geoff looked up at the conductor, ‘Here,’ he said.

‘Thank you, sir,’ replied the conductor, smiling as he took them. He studied the tickets for a while. ‘Do you have another ticket, sir?’

‘What?’

‘Another ticket. You’ve given me an outward journey and a return.’

‘No, I haven’t. Two returns,’ insisted Geoff. He snatched the tickets from the conductor’s hand.

‘Geoffrey,’ interrupted Susan.

‘What now?’ he asked, as he quickly scanned the tickets, holding them out side by side.

‘There’s one on the floor,’ said Susan, reaching down to pick it up by her foot. Geoff snatched it from her.

‘There,’ he said, glancing at it as he passed it to the conductor. ‘Another return. Two returns.’

‘Thank you, sir,’ he said, handing them back to Geoff. He smiled at Susan and said, ‘Have a good day, miss.’

Geoff looked up as he attempted to stow the tickets back in his jacket pocket. ‘Excuse me? Have a good day, miss?’ He leant over the side of his seat and peered down the aisle after the conductor. ‘No wonder the service here is so bloody poor, staff too busy flirting with other people’s wives. Have a good day miss, indeed!’

Susan felt her cheeks flush, turning her face away from Geoff and looking out of the window.

Perspiration pooling on his forehead, Geoff loosened his tie and unbuttoned his collar.

His fresh fidgeting alerted Susan. ‘Geoffrey, do you think you should have another one of your tablets?’

He didn’t answer. He was feeling unwell: sweaty, strangely cold, clammy.

‘Geoff, have you got your tablets? Where’s your medication?’

He sat motionless in his seat with his arms draped over the armrests. ‘In my suitcase… I think.’

She pushed past Geoff and ran towards their luggage. He closed his eyes.

© 2023