THE TRAIN JOURNEY

by Phyllis Owen                                                                                                        

  Lucille boarded the evening train at Johannesburg, South Africa.  As it pulled away from the station she waved to Taryn, her flat mate, who called out, ‘Have a good time on the farm.  Hope the weather’s kind to you.’

  She smiled, nodded and settled herself into the compartment.  ‘This is the beginning,’ she murmured, determinedly, ‘of the rest of my life.  I’m going to enjoy the next ten days.’  She took out the letter and read it again.  ‘Please spend your leave on the farm with us.  You’ll love it here,’ Jeanette had written.

  Dear, thoughtful Jeanette.  They had been friends since their school days.  Then, a year ago, Jeanette married a Kimberley farmer she had met at Wits University and Lucille had missed her terribly.  It would be wonderful to see her again.

  With a smug look on her face she lay back on the seat and closed her eyes.  It was so peaceful.  She looked forward to tomorrow and many more tomorrows.

  The door burst open and a young man gaped at her in surprise.  ‘What are you doing in my compartment?’ he wanted to know.

  Lucille jumped to her feet, eyes blazing.  ‘Your compartment?  There must be some mistake.’

  ‘Yes, your mistake,’ said the young man rudely.  ‘This is carriage 1423, is it not?’

  With a tilt of her chin she answered, ‘It is.  The whole carriage is 1423.  My compartment is E,’ she added, haughtily, ‘and this is it.’

  ‘Oh!’  Realization dawned on him.  ‘Sorry!  The inspector did mention D.’ He grinned sheepishly.  ‘First time in years I’ve caught a train.’  He slammed the door closed and was gone.

  ‘Well, really!  It takes all types!’ Lucille said aloud.

  At that moment there came to her the sound of a rattle at the door.

  ‘This place has become a hive of activity,’ she muttered.

   The door opened and the ticket inspector, an elderly, heavily built man with deep set eyes and a moustache that twitched like a living thing, walked in.  After punching her ticket he said with a quick look of concern.  ‘In a few minutes someone will come to make your bed.  After he’s done this, keep your door locked.  There’s a very unpleasant character in the compartment next to yours.’

  She wanted to add, ‘Yes, I’ve met him.’  Instead she smiled and nodded.  ‘Thanks.’

  What a caring old chap, she thought, a real fatherly figure.

  He chuckled.  ‘You’ll be pleased to know there’s no one to share your compartment.  If we should pick up another passenger on the way I’ll put her somewhere else.  The train’s not fully booked.  You should be able to get a good night’s sleep.’

   ‘How kind of you.  Thanks very much.’

  He nodded and left.

  It wasn’t long before the bedding man arrived.  Once the bed was made she locked the door and lay back on the pillows intending to read.  But the rhythm of the train made her sleepy.

  Clickety clack………clickety clack………hummed the wheels.

  Dozing off, she was awakened later by an acute attack of nausea.  Dragging herself from the bunk, she fumbled with the door.  After pulling it open she slipped out noiselessly into the dimly lit corridor.  Relieved no one was about she tiptoed to the toilet at the end of the carriage.

  It was locked!

  With quivering lips she pleaded, ‘Oh, please, whoever is using it, hurry.’

  The door burst open and a bearded man looking rough and loutish with a potbelly, rheumy eyes, and wild hair, stepped out.  He grinned maliciously.

  Lucille flinched involuntarily.  Her eyes widened in alarm and she caught her breath in horror.  He wore a thin see-through vest, dirty white shorts and untied shoes with no socks.  His beady eyes brightened as they met hers and his large twisted mouth broke into a smile revealing uneven nicotine-stained teeth.

  Shuddering, she slipped past him and slammed the door shut.  With pounding heart she heard him chuckle as she became violently ill.

  ‘Must have been the orange juice I had on the station,’ she muttered.

Hanging over the basin she groaned and splashed water over her face, patting it dry with a strip of roller towel.  How long she stood there she couldn’t tell.

  Finally, and with great effort, she made her way back to the compartment.  At the door she was conscious of a chill of apprehension and her scalp tingled.  Someone was inside.  She swung back as the door slid open.  A powerful arm was clamped round her waist and she let out a scream as she was whisked inside.

  Before the door closed she saw the leer of that dreadful man at the toilet as his face loomed closer.  His thick lips came down to meet hers and she was aware of the most disgusting stench of liquor and perspiration.

  With a lurch, she struck out, but was no match for him.  Paralyzed with fear and weak from the nausea, she felt herself slipping into oblivion.

  Suddenly the door was flung open.  In the half-light she could make out a young man in red running shorts and t-shirt.  His fist caught the intruder full on the jaw rendering him unconscious.  Dragging the limp figure from the compartment, he dumped him in the corridor.

  She took a deep breath and let it all out again in a trembling sigh of relief.

  The young man, his grey eyes flashing, stared at her with freezing disapproval.  It was the rude young man his face set in anger.  Yet she could not help noticing how good looking he was with his thick dark hair and big muscular body.  But his expression of contempt made her eyes sparkle dangerously.

  ‘Why did you leave the door unlocked?  Don’t you realize there are all sorts of characters travelling on trains?  I have the misfortune of sharing a compartment with that sleezeball, his smell is enough to put anyone off.’

  Lucille was about to give him a taut reply when he went on to say, ‘He woke me up with his fumbling about and I wondered what had happened to him.  Then I heard your scream.’

  A grey mist of nausea overcame her again.  She mumbled something unintelligible and dashed past him to the toilet.

  A few minutes later, weak and weary, she made her way back.  The young man was waiting in the passage for her.  Something, that could have been pity, came into his eyes.  For once he looked kind and gentle and said, awkwardly, ‘You’re really ill.’

  She suspected some tenderness beneath his arrogant manner, but the stupidity of his remark annoyed her.  ‘No, this is just a show for your benefit.’

  He smiled, obviously amused by her well-contrived snub.

  This was all too much.  She turned her head quickly to hide the tears that welled up in her eyes.

  ‘Don’t be like that,’ he almost pleaded.

    She saw the way he looked at her and it embarrassed, yet pleased her.

  Stammering, he said, ‘I…I’ve just remembered.  I’ve a coke in my compartment.  If you sip it slowly it’ll settle your stomach.’

  Before she could refuse he left and returned with a small soft drinks tin, which he gave to her.  ‘Try to get some sleep now,’ he said softly, giving her a lopsided grin.  ‘I’ll drag this monster to his bunk where he can sleep off his drunkenness.  Goodnight!’

  After he left, she locked the door and stood leaning against the window, soothed by the quiet darkness of the night and the persistent rhythm of the train. 

  Sitting down, she sipped the drink.  Gradually, she began to feel a little better and lay down.  Sleep finally dropped a curtain over her disturbed mind.  Through her sleep she heard the names of towns and the slam of doors as the train sped on its way.

  By next morning she felt completely recovered.  There was a fresh colour in her cheeks and a shine in her eyes.  Staring through the window she saw that the countryside had changed.  It had become flat and sparse.  All the unpleasantness of the night before seemed unreal as if it hadn’t happened.

  She looked at her watch.  In a few minutes she would see Jeannette.  Her heart beat faster.  She smiled as memory of the time when she and Jeannette had first met Grant, Jeannette’s husband, came to her.  Jeannette had whispered, ‘That’s the man I’m going to marry.’ 

  ‘How can you possibly know that?’ she had whispered back.

  Jeannette giggled.  ‘Trust me, I know.’

  Sighing, Lucille murmured, ‘I’ve not met that someone yet.’  She had been dating Rick, a young attorney at a law firm two floors up from where she worked for a firm of accountants.  Rick was nice enough but there was no spark between them.

  The train pulled into Kimberley station.  She heard quick footsteps outside, then a loud knocking on the door.  Lucille opened the door and there stood her rescuer, looking even more handsome in jeans and a blue checked cotton shirt, taller and broader than she remembered.  She became very aware of him and his physical closeness and chided herself for being silly.  She didn’t understand the nature of the sudden madness that had taken hold of her.

  ‘You slept well after all?’ he asked, smiling.

  ‘Perfectly, thanks.  I’m fine now.’

  His searching eyes made her uncomfortable and she fidgeted uneasily beneath their scrutiny.  Her cheeks began to sting with sudden colour and she stifled an absurd desire to giggle.

  He said mischievously, ‘By the way, your boyfriend got off at Christiana.’

  She laughed.

  The train stopped.  He picked up her suitcase.  She followed him from the train and he put it down on the platform beside her.  Before she had time to thank him she caught sight of Jeannette and flew into her open arms.

  ‘Oh, Lucille, it’s wonderful to think you’re here at last.’ Jeannette cried.  Turning, she called, ‘Grant…’

  Grant was shaking hands with the man on the train.  After welcoming her with a kiss he turned and said, ‘Lucille, meet my cousin, Alan Jarvis.  He’s also spending time on the farm.’

  Glancing up, she saw a twinkle in Alan’s eyes and an impish grin on his face as if he were laughing inwardly at a joke. He said conspiratorially,  ‘We’ve met.’

  She lowered her eyes as a wave of colour crept up beneath her skin.  Her heart raced.  Warning bells began to go off and a feeling of excitement swept through her.