Platform Souls

Chapter Seventeen - Crisis

Friday, October 26th - The Crisis

With all due respect to the University of York, and a dose of hindsight, the Friday before half-term wasn't the greatest choice for an open day, as I discovered when entering the station to find it totally mobbed. Everyone was on the move long-distance, north or south, or so it seemed. Multiple incidents meant trains were running late and out of sequence, sowing confusion.

The train I was booked on had started its journey only in Newcastle rather than Scotland, but was already busy as it drew-in. Seat reservations had been cancelled because of the disruption, and my allocated hidey-hole in the quiet carriage had been squatted by a Geordie hen party I definitely wasn't going to argue with, in case they slapped me with their pink feather boas. These angels of the north were impressively drunk already, but the same was true of a quarter of the train.

I tried a few more carriages but, not finding any empty seats, decided the best I could do was to sit cross-legged in a doorway, huffily. Fucking railway! I should learn to drive, like Evan.

I put my reading glasses on, took out my phone, and considered the masterpiece of emotionally resonant concision Evan deserved in response to his text:

Best evening ever! No. Far too gushy. We're not fourteen. Contain yourself, Jack!

I couldn't sleep with excitement! No. True, but too much information. Again, too childish.

The right words were eluding me and that was frustrating, but a paralysing dark tiredness had swept over me since I'd boarded the train. My sleepless night was, finally, making itself felt.

I noticed the train was motionless alongside a field, and had been for several minutes.

'If I could please have your attention, ladies and gentlemen,' the train manager broadcast.

Uh-oh. It's never good news when they start with that line, in a particular 'listen very carefully!' grave tone of voice.

'Sorry to say, I've just been advised we have an incident at Ranskill, about ten miles ahead of us. A garden trampoline has been blown into the overhead electrical cables, causing some damage, and it's been necessary to turn-off the power so that engineers can remove the object and make repairs. I'm afraid we're in a queue of four trains, so when the line does re-open there will be a further delay in moving forwards. I regret to say, we're likely to be here for at least ninety minutes. Obviously, I'm very sorry for the delay to your journey, and the inconvenience this will cause. I'll keep you updated.'

The hen party in the quiet carriage would be an absolute riot at this stage, I guessed. Though uncomfortable on the floor, my legs bristling with pins and needles, I was glad not to be hemmed-in by drunks becoming hostile.

It was time to text Mum with the latest news and 'don't wait up' guidance.

The powered door into the next carriage swooshed open and a weary-looking train manager ambled through, sixty-something and planning retirement, if he had any common sense.

'You alright down there, young man?'

'Well, getting a bit achy, actually,' I said. 'I should probably stand-up for a bit.'

'Yeah, it's a pain in the backside, this. Especially for a Friday night. My dinner will be in the dog again!'

'Well, so long as there were no onions in it, because they - and the rest of the allium family, actually - are toxic for dogs,' I cautioned, but he didn't respond.

'Anyway, it's not your fault,' I continued sympathetically, because I knew he'd be taking a load of grief as he patrolled. 'My dad works on the railway, so I know these crazy things happen too often.'