The Train, Sarah Bourne [dark books to read .txt] 📗

‘So where do you live now?’

‘Battersea. I share a house with two friends.’

Sandeep wanted to ask about her life, every detail, but what was the point? Tomorrow, after work he would go back to Milton Keynes and see Abby who would hold her breath when he put forward an opinion in case he got it wrong and she had to correct him. He often felt her tense beside him, as if readying herself for an apology or an excuse. He had never sat with her in a park talking about first kisses and childhood dreams of ballgowns and servants and ice cream.

‘What do you want out of life, Sandeep?’ Abhi interrupted his thoughts.

This was the time. He must tell her he had what he wanted – a good job, a good fiancée, a community that welcomed him. But when he thought about those things and about Abby, his heart sank. His job was mundane, his church community hadn’t been terribly welcoming until Abby showed an interest in him and Abby herself was more interested in pointing out his shortcomings than in finding out what made him tick. She had never asked him what he wanted in life, although she had told him what she wanted. What they wanted. And he had gone along with it because he was grateful to her for saving him from loneliness. He saw it all now. They didn’t love each other. Now he even doubted his interest in her religion. He had sought out a religious community because he had been raised to believe in something outside of himself, but he’d never really had a faith, had never really come up to the mark. He spent a lot of time trying, praying he would one day feel the hand of God, or hear His words, but it had never happened. He finally realised that he was Abby’s project and had gone along with it because he needed to be accepted, to feel a part of something. It was a harsh assessment, he knew, but suddenly he saw it for what it was. And now he had to tell her. He would have to sit her down and try to explain it all. He cringed inwardly. The thought of hurting her caused him physical pain but his eyes had been opened here tonight and they wouldn’t be closed again.

‘You have a strange habit of going quiet on me,’ said Abhi. ‘Have you got a secret?’

Sandeep sighed and clamped his mouth shut against the words that leapt to his lips. He wanted to tell her all that he had been thinking but he couldn’t even look at her. He didn’t want to be disloyal to Abby who had been a good friend to him, who wanted to marry him, and whom, if he hadn’t met Abhi, he would have spent his life with.

‘Hey, you there.’ Abhi put her hand on his arm, softly.

He turned to her and her mouth was on his, her tongue parting his willing lips and he responded, his whole being aching for her. He wrapped her in his arms and felt their bodies soar through the night sky, dipping and weaving amongst the stars.

‘Better than Arun?’ he asked when they landed on earth again.

‘Just let me double-check.’ She smiled and leant in to kiss him again.

7

Iris

The sudden stop made Iris’s heart beat fast so she forced herself to focus on her gnarled hands in her lap to distract herself. When had they got like that? She minded more about them looking old than she ever had about going grey or getting wrinkles. Hands were meant to be busy, useful. Not these ugly old things. She used to have such beautiful hands – long tapered fingers, nails always painted, even when the children were small. Reg had loved her hands, said they were one of her best features. Them and her big blue eyes, her cooking, her flair for putting people at their ease, her ability to stretch his meagre income as a clerk for the water board and provide for the family. She sighed. Reg had been a good husband, she couldn’t have asked for better. They’d scrimped and saved and bought their own house and paid it off as quickly as they could, neither of them comfortable with owing money to the bank. Yes, they’d had a good life together. She felt tears gather in the corners of her eyes and wiped them away with her finger. She missed him, that was for sure, but she had Charlie now and most of the time she was happy.

She looked out at the field they had stopped in. The grass was long and tussocky, ready to trip anyone walking through. She thought about how her slender ankle had snapped when she lost her footing on the street outside her house. One minute she was fine and steady, limbs intact, and the next, she was lying on the pavement clutching at her leg, clamping down on her lips so she didn’t scream out loud. While she was in hospital she’d wondered why the council had men going about with noisy leaf blowers, swooshing the autumn leaves into piles where they waited until a lorry came along to vacuum them up – or until someone tripped and fell on them. When had brooms and wheelbarrows gone out of fashion? She still had bits of metal in her leg from where they screwed it back together, and it ached something awful in the cold weather. No good dwelling on it though.

She turned her attention to the field again. There wasn’t much to see. The farmer had taken the cows in for milking and now there were just a few birds picking at the ground hoping to catch a worm or an earwig or whatever insects lived in fields. She closed her eyes for a moment, and suddenly there were silent tears pouring down her cheeks.

‘Are you all