Blue Comes Through

Chapter Three

Five hours later, I'm standing in drizzly rain outside of Newquay train station, waiting for a taxi.

When I looked at that screen at Reading station, the next train had been to Penzance. Cornwall and the seaside appealed. I had a comforting wave of nostalgia as I thought about childhood holidays in Newquay and I thought we might be able to find reasonable accommodation as it's February and out of season. I don't know if my logic is correct. I had last been here over twenty years ago, but as a basis for choosing a destination, it seemed as good as anything.

To be honest, I had nothing else. My planning had got me as far as leaving and then I had a vague notion of Will and I living happily ever after. I haven't filled in the middle bit though. A prologue and a vague epilogue. I'll have to make up the rest as I go along.

I'm now standing in the rain and the wind is whistling around me. After the long journey, Will is fed up, hungry and tired. I'm not feeling comforted or nostalgic.

I had been recommended a hotel by some fellow travellers, guys around my age, carrying holdalls and surf boards who had been kind enough to help with the luggage, when I had to change trains at Parr for the Newquay connection.

They had already been on the train at Reading, sitting across the aisle from us, at a table seat, one sprawled either side. They'd drawn me into casual conversation, as travelling strangers often do. When they realised I was also heading to Newquay, they were happy to recommend a hotel. They seemed knowledgeable about the area and I was grateful for their advice. I wanted somewhere relaxing and child friendly where I could stay for a few days, whilst I planned the next stage of our new life.

Obviously I didn't share that last particular detail and if they were curious about my battered face, they were discreet enough not to mention it. They were also sweet with Will, who had started getting fed up after Taunton and was fidgety and restless. They had let him play with their phones and had taught him to fist bump and Hi five, which he'd loved. We all also played the 'Where's your nose game,' which Will can play for hours and hours. You ask Will where various body parts are and he'll point to them. They laughed when I asked where his eyes are and he almost poked them out. Will noticed them laughing and they were doomed. My flirtatious baby had an audience!

When Will finally gave in and slept, his head cradled on my lap as he stretched across the seat, they made a trip to the buffet car and came back with beers for themselves and a coffee for me and introduced themselves as Sam and Josh.It was then that the conversation turned to accommodation. They recommended the Headland Hotel, telling me it was close to a great beach and a little out of the main town, so I would avoid the hen and stag parties that made Newquay such a popular year round destination.

It's almost dark now and the holiday town doesn't feel particularly welcoming as the wind whistles around the damp, dark car park. There's no sign of a taxi, but one of the guys makes a call for me and is assured it's no more than a few minutes wait.

Whilst waiting for the train at Reading, I had called into the station M&S Simply Food, so I've added a bag of food and a bag of nappies to my luggage. I stand there, juggling a whining Will and a back pack and a couple of carrier bags and watch the pile of luggage get wet. I can feel my resolve start to flounder.

Headlights illuminate the rain, as a pickup type truck roars into the car park and screeches to a halt at the kerb just beside us. I glance across as the interior light comes on, bathing the driver in a yellow glow for a brief second. I catch a glimpse of sandy blonde tousled hair and an attractive male about my age, before he jumps out and closes the door.

Tall and lean, dressed in dark jeans and a hoodie, he jogs the few steps towards us, greeting his friends warmly, before glancing across at me. I'm not sure how much he can see in the semi darkness, but I see him look at me curiously, before a fleeting frown crosses his face.