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

Iris’s eyes flew open and she saw a young Chinese woman looking at her. Disorientated momentarily, she blew her nose to give herself time to think.

‘Yes, thank you, dear. I think so.’

The woman didn’t look convinced. There was a frown line between her eyes. And now Iris saw she wasn’t so young after all – she had light crow’s feet developing, and creases either side of her mouth. She’d have jowls in a few years. Shame. She was a pretty little thing now. She put her hand to her own face without thinking, felt the soft skin draping over her cheekbones and jaw. Ageing was a cruel trick.

‘Can I get you anything?’

‘No, dear. Don’t mind me. I’m just a silly old lady feeling a bit sentimental, that’s all. I’ll be right as rain in no time.’

She wondered if that was true. Would she be all right? She had no idea anymore. She’d thought her life was sorted, but the last few days with her daughter had thrown everything into the air, and she didn’t feel she had any control over where it would all land again. It was a new feeling for her, and terrifying. She’d always known what she wanted and worked out how to get it. It was another thing Reg had admired in her – perseverance. Now she worried she was getting senile. It was her worst fear, going doolally and everyone laughing at her behind her back and resenting her for having to do things for her because she couldn’t remember how to do them for herself. Like getting dressed and wiping her own bottom after she’d been to the toilet. She wouldn’t let that happen.

‘Take deep breaths,’ the woman said.

Iris realised she’d been shredding her tissue. She looked at the mess in her lap and swallowed a wave of fear. Surely one of the first signs of senility was not knowing what you were doing, and she hadn’t even remembered getting a tissue out. She looked and saw her panic reflected in the Chinese woman’s deep-brown eyes.

An announcement came over the tannoy: ‘We are sorry for the delay which is due to unforeseen circumstances. At this time we cannot say how long it will be. We will keep you posted. Sorry for any inconvenience.’

Iris shook her head. ‘How awful. What a terrible way to go.’

‘Yes, very sad.’ The Chinese woman looked at the floor and back at Iris. ‘My name’s Mei-Ling, by the way.’

‘Oh, that’s a pretty name.’ It was also a strange name, thought Iris. She liked the fact that England was multicultural, it made things interesting and colourful, but sometimes found it difficult to get her tongue round the different names. ‘I’m Iris.’ In saying her name, she felt she’d anchored herself back into her life again. She smiled. ‘Thank you, dear. You’re very kind.’

Mei-Ling inclined her head. ‘I haven’t done anything.’

‘You have – you’ve made an old lady smile.’ Iris took her hand but didn’t know what to do with it. It felt too intimate a gesture for what had passed between them and yet to shake it would seem awkward. She let it go again and looked away, embarrassed.

‘I’m glad,’ said Mei-Ling quietly and sighed.

Iris waited.

After a few moments, Mei-Ling said, ‘I’m going to see my parents tonight to tell them I’m expecting a baby, their first grandchild. And at my age and in my circumstances, probably their only.’

Iris peered at her more closely. How old was she? She only looked to be in her mid-thirties. People had babies well into their forties these days. She’d even read about an Italian woman who’d had sextuplets at sixty-two, which was immoral, as she would have told anyone had they asked for her opinion. Which, of course, no one had, because what would an old woman know?

‘I’m sure they’ll be pleased.’ Iris would have liked grandchildren.

‘They wanted me to have a large family so that in their old age they’d be looked after, and surrounded by noise and laughter.’

Iris didn’t know much about China, except it was communist. And big. And until recently people were only allowed to have one child, which seemed like a shame to Iris. Children needed brothers and sisters to round the sharp edges of selfishness off them. There’d been a girl at her school all those years ago who’d been an only child and she never shared her lunch with anyone, or helped with homework.

The other thing she’d learned about China was when her daughter flirted with Buddhism in her late teens – she’d said something about the Chinese making the Dalai Lama leave Tibet when they decided it was part of China rather than its own country. She’d gone on to give her a long lecture about Buddhism. Laura would have called it a discussion, but Iris knew a lecture when she heard one. Discussions meant two people were talking.

‘Well, one grandchild’s better than none,’ she said.

Mei-Ling gazed into the distance, and Iris turned and looked too, almost expecting to see two elderly Chinese people in the cow field. Instead, there were now police vehicles, a fire engine and an ambulance, lights flashing, and people in boiler suits wandering around looking at the ground.

‘I’ve let them down.’ Mei-Ling shrugged.

‘I’m sure they’re proud of you.’ Iris wasn’t sure of anything of the sort, and kicked herself for saying something so trite. She had a rule – if all you can offer is a platitude, better not to say anything.

It seemed Mei-Ling hadn’t heard, however, because she was still staring into the middle distance, a sad expression on her face. ‘I really don’t know why I’m telling you all this.’ She smiled.

Iris nodded. ‘Maybe it’s because a life has ended here today. It focuses the mind, doesn’t it? We spend our lives avoiding death but it comes to find us and we can no longer pretend our lives will go on forever.’ She was talking as much to herself as to Mei-Ling.

‘You’re right – death