Time for Happiness
The next train, number on route will be arriving on platform three at 2:15pm. I repeat came the smooth voice from the old tannoy speakers that was Emily Collins. Shed been working in the signal room for two years now, sending off and welcoming in trains at this modest little rural station, urging passengers not to dawdle, wishing them a safe journey, and reminding them not to forget their tickets. Just a job, but someone had to do it.
Emily, as it happened, had caught the eye of the stationmaster, Richard Bennett, right from the startthat very day they nearly bumped into each other at the entrance to what everyone grandly called the station but was really a two-storey cottage with a small annex for the staff, a public loo, and a snack counter. Emily hadnt set out to be the voice; shed wanted office work, maybe something quiet and tucked away, since being centre stage wasnt really her thing. But it had been decided for her she became the dispatcher.
After a month or two, Richard seemed to be everywhere she waswhether sharing a table in the canteen quite by accident, bumping into her at the local co-op, or just walking alongside her down the street. Always hovering and always a little sheepish, trying to start a conversation, make himself a friendly fixture. She wasnt exactly discouraging, but kept him at arms length. Maybe it was shyness, maybe caution, or perhaps a puzzle even she hadnt solved.
Richard lost sleep over it, tossing and turning because every time he closed his eyes, there was Emily in his dreams, tempting, smiling, teasing him from afar. A man needs rest, but how do you wake yourself from such a bittersweet dream?
When Richard finally snapped, he called Emily into his little office, clasped her hand, and blurted out what she most dreadedand most hopedto hear: he proposed to her. And she well, she turned him down.
What do you mean, Emily? Richard stopped short, down on one knee. It wasnt easy for himhe groaned and his back twinged, but he reckoned she was worth any amount of discomfort. Holding his breath, he waited for hersurely shed shine with happiness, her eyes glint, and say yes. But she didnt. She just shook her head.
But Em, love, Im serious. Ive even gotten us a flat sorted, found just the kitchen set you like, with those curly handles Heard you mention them with Grace over at the snack counter, didnt I? Emily, I cant go on like this, Im not a young man, weve got to make a choice! Why are you doing this to me?
What do you mean? Emily shrugged, shaking her head, her chunky amber earrings clinking. Im not sure I follow, Mr Bennett.
Oh, come off it, Emily! I love you, you know, lets not leave happiness till its too late. Arent you tired of doing everything alone? For you, Id move mountains! Emily!
She just sighed, said shed think about it, and left.
Ive work to do, Mr Bennett. The drivers are waiting for me, people need me. Please Please let go She didnt really try to break away, though, and even let him kiss her cheek, brushing her own lips softly against his bristly chin. She was such a cat about it! She left, tying around her neck the scarf hed given her.
Outside, her cheeks burned and her heart thundered, louder than any sledgehammer, impossible to calm. The cold stung like a hundred icicles, with the wind lashing snow sideways. It was the classic British December, thick as flour, hiding the rough ground, the scattered bits of litter, all the miserable shrubs soon it would all be blanketed like a featherbed, making you want to throw your clothes off, dive in and float about.
Emily pressed her hands over her face, and with a quick glance upward to Richards window, saw him still peering from behind the curtain. Suddenly she flung her arms wide and spun around in the whirling snow, throwing her head back, grinning like a child.
Em! What are you doing? Scarlett, the assistant dispatcher, passed by in a hurry, gaping. Gone doolally, have you?
Yep! Off my rocker, Scarlett, completely off my rocker! Im tipsy, wont make it home! Emily broke into song, swaying from side to side.
Alright, love, Ill be off, Scarlett shook her head, picking up a dropped mitten. Then as she walked away, she muttered, Theyre all at it, making a right palaver! Tipsy and straight back to work just cos shes the bosss fancywoman! She gets away with anything! Blushing like shes just had a snog Tch!
Richard Bennett was rather a favourite with the local womenfolk. He played it down, but they were forever baking him cakes and pies for no special reason, dropping off gifts with shy expressions, holding out Tupperware as if in worship. Richard would fuss and grumble, while taking the offering anyway as long as he could share it with everyone. The women would wrinkle their noses but agree. At least, Richard was properly appreciated.
He almost never ate those homemade treats himself, too busy hed hand them off to the workshop lads, who were always hungry, wolfing it all down in minutes and singing Richards praises.
But why dont you eat them? asked old Mr Wilkinson, the track inspector, one day, when Richard brought yet another casserole. Not right, is it?
I know its not, George, truly. But how do you stop them bringing it? They just turn up with more! But I cant eat itEmily would never forgive me! Shes terribly jealous but thats between you and me, and hed lean in, whispering conspiratorially. Wild curly white hair stuck out from under old Georges cap and tickled Richards cheek. Ive tried and tried, but she wont budge. Even got down on one knee, twisted my back so bad I couldnt stand straight after! Got a ring and all, my nans old one look! He opened a battered red box; inside was a dulled silver ring set with cloudy stones sparkling gently on their red velvet bed.
Blimey! Lend us a look, go on! George reached out with sausage-fingered hands.
Youd get that stuck what then? Absolutely not. I havent even shown Emily yet, didnt dare. Maybe its just not meant to be Maybe Im not good enough for her anymore. Cant be much use to anyone now, can I? But Emily well, shes
A diamond of a woman, she is! George nodded. Not just any womana real queen! Like, whats her name, the Egyptian one?
Nefertiti? Richard offered.
Thats it! Bit plumper, mind, George cackled, nudging Richard in the ribs, before stubbing out his fag and heading off, not even saying goodbye, too busy.
Minutes later, Richard saw George coming back round the old red-brick outbuilding. Forgot something, George? Richard called.
No! Just had a thought. Classic as time. Try the old switcheroogive Emily a nudge. She likes to keep a chap on his toes, make him sweat, so now, let her stew a bit! Anyway, see you round, Bennett.
Richard stomped about in the snow for a bit, shoving it into little mounds with his boots, then pressing his foot into the peak, examining the imprint, almost lighting a cigarettebefore remembering Emily hated the smoke, and hed quit for her. There were no cigarettes on him, and George was gone.
All this for her He gave a moss-covered rock a bitter kick. Got us a flat, cos she must be sick of life in the bedsit. Found the perfect kitchen set, even started holding my breath around her, and what does she?
He was mumbling to himself, but he stopped short when he heard her voice again over the loudspeaker, that honey-deep tone meant just for his ears. He stood and listened. A crow landed on the stone nearby, searching the snow for any morsel, pulling at a sweet wrapper before Richard shushed her away. The crow gave him a beady-eyed glare and fluttered off in disdain, leaving the wrapper shredded in the snowjust as battered and unwanted as Richards own heart.
The rest of the day blurred past in paperwork, scolding calls to head office about timetable mix-ups, passengers shouting. Some chap, a tall and bony professor with skis and a bright red bobble hat, burst in frayed, waving his ticket and blustering about a lecture tomorrow, students waiting, People arent trains, you know! People arent machines, theyre human beings! he cried while his pompom danced, clattering his skis on the floor until the bindings came undone and dropped in a heap.
Richard scrambled to gather his skis and placate the professor, agreeing that students arent locomotives, indeed not. The old man wouldnt settle, stamping about, then suddenly slumped with a soft sigh.
In half an hour, the professor was travelling down the snow-dusted A-road in Richards precious Rover. The driver, Barry Hawkins, kept peering through the blizzard, squinting ahead at the wipers.
Handle him like fine china, Barry. Dont let the old man rattle, alright? Richard told Barry, who just eyed the professor in his daft hat, nodded, and pried the skis from his grip to go warm up the car.
Follow him, hell get you to town, Richard told the professor. Sorry, were all a bit rattled round here ourselves. Fancy a cuppa? Your hands are blue
No, son, Im alright, the old professor replied. And sorry myselfsince the wife passed well, I stay at the university, cant stand the house empty. Pop round for tea with the missus one day. Ill write the address. He scribbled it down.
Oh, Im not married Richard replied, surprised.
Not yet you arent. Today a bachelor, tomorrow married. The nights young! The old man smiled, and drove off in the Rover, leaving Richard thinking about those words, the night still being young.
Emily was also on edge, calling for timetable updates, and her voice would echo through the old tannoy, finding its way to Richards ears, making him sigh and move his paperwork around, ears burning all the while.
They crossed paths in the canteen. Emily shook snow off her coat, smoothed down her skirt, and slipped into the tiny room. Richard was already there, finishing his juice.
Whatll it be, Emily? asked the canteen lady, Grace, glancing over at Richard, who tried to act indifferent.
Oh, Grace, just something quick. A roll and a bottle of milk, please. Theres a fast train soon, Ill need to do the announcement, Emily said, quickly eyeing Richard, nodding towards a brioche bun.
Snowing properly out, isnt it? Can hardly see a thing! Grace poured the milk, set the bun on a plate.
Absolutely wildby new year well be snowed in. Has your dad brought the Christmas tree yet, Grace? Emily paid, lingered.
Going tomorrow. Why?
Could he bring one for me, too? I checked the market, but the trees all look so scraggly, battered by the journey here. Tell your dad Ill owe him, yeah? She winked and Grace smiled, nodding, Consider it done.
Just then Richard, with his own empty glass, walked over, trying to be casual.
Grace, sorry to bother you. Top me up, would you? This apple juice is delicious tonight! And those earrings are lovely on you, dear! he said far too loudly, not looking at Emily. Shall I bring you a tree, Grace? Ive got contacts, Ill pick you a beauty myself.
Grace shot a bewildered look at Emily, who watched with a subtle smile.
No, really, Mr Bennett, honestly! Well get our own, dont fuss, Grace was blushing now, nearly spilled the juice, wiping at the counter with a cloth. The apple drink puddled at Richards boots, and he stepped aside.
So no, then? Right, suit yourselves, enjoy your drinks on your own then! Richard snapped, spinning on his heel and storming out.
Grace looked after him, mouth agape, while Emilys appetite vanished. She finished her bun in silence, forgot her milk, and went off to announce the next train.
Hell chop down a tree, will he? Thinks hes got contacts in the council! Well, well see about that, Richard Bennett she thought, slipping and sliding on the icy platform, pulling her scarf tight. Her hair, black as a ravens wing and tied up in a neat bun, got soaked by the melting snow as her scarf kept falling off. She leaned against the cold brickwork outside the signal room, digging her nails in, and suddenly broke into tears.
Richard She thought of him the first thing in the morning, last thing at night, catching her on the station stairs, peering in his office window. She was tired of waking up alone, wishing herself good morning, making the bed for one, and howling inside from the loneliness. Tired of it all! Now someone had finally asked herwhat was she waiting for? Goddess complex, too proud? Take a look at your passport, girl, remember how old you are! Dont let pride steal away your chance at happiness. Again!
No, its not pride! No! Emily sobbed, forgetting the fast train, Grace, her spilled juice, and Richards Christmas tree. God, its just what if I lose him like before? What if I cant keep him safe, and hes gone, and Im left with nothing but cold and emptiness again? No. Id rather stay alone. Thats enough heartache. Just be thankful youre breathing and can still walk, forget the rest.
She wiped her tears with a harsh swipe, leaving red scratches on her cheeks, put on her best stoic face, and marched back to her tiny staff room. Proud and unreachable. Nobodys.
Darkness fell early, not even clear whether it was sunset or simply the storm folding Bakerford into its icy wrap. Streetlights floated like fireflies, the wind whipped the poplar trees around so they groaned and rattled.
That same crow from earlier sat hunched on the branch outside, eyeing the world with a sulk. The wind made her feathers stand up, shivering, tucking one cold foot into her belly fluff.
After her shift, Emily hurried back to her digs, locked the door behind her, relishing the privacy. Her flatmate was away up north with family till the weekend. The little roomcosy but sparse, with flowery curtains, plastic tablecloth, books, and Emilys favourite cushionfelt heavy and airless tonight.
She cracked open a window. The curtains billowed, threatening to tear free. The cold chewed at her ankles. Emily wrapped a scarf round her shoulders and sat at the table. She should eat, but couldnt. For years, shed done things simply because she had toget up, go to work, put on a smile and lipstick, wear pretty blouses. Had to, for the sake of others. Best not let the world see your sadness; nobody deserved that. She forced herself to join in at work and cinema, always joking, keeping up the act, but staring at nothing, lost in thoughts of Richard. Then shed sit up straight, call herself silly for mooning over a man at her age, sweep the hair from her brow, and try to focus on the filmwhere, inevitably, the characters had a happy ending. Lucky them.
She might have sat there all night, but then chaos erupted in the hallvoices, footsteps, knocking on her door.
Emily, love! Open up, come on! They were all out theresome in towels, some in dressing gowns, some already half-asleep in their nightiesall looking worried.
Whats happened? Emily asked, opening the door in alarm.
Old Mr Wilkinsons gone missing, sniffed Tessa, a teenager whod got the job at the station through her grandad. He went to check the tracks and he hasnt come back. His radios dead! And
She broke down in tears, clinging to Emilys shoulder. Skinny as a rail, shaking like a leaf.
Does Richard know? Emily said, prying the girl off. Nows not the time for tearswe need to find him. Hell freeze out there!
A cold pit formed in her chestwhat if he really was lost in the snow, and she couldnt save him? The old fear again.
Without even zipping up her coat (shed grabbed some other womans padded jacket on the way out, just to have anything), Emily ran to the caretakers shed, where the men were already gathering, discussing plans. Peter, the night watchman, began handing out torches.
Richard was there, wrapped up in a greatcoat and wellies, one mittenless hand poised over a crumpled map. Barry was back from town, shining his torch and blinding the boss every time he gestured. Richard flinched and scolded him.
Keep still, Barry! When did we last hear from George? Why did he go out there alonewhose idea was that? Right okay hold on He listened to confused explanations, ran his finger along the map, then saw Emily running up.
Go home, Emily, he ordered quietly but sternly, not meeting her eye. Well handle this. Dont get in the way, yeah?
Emily held her ground, replying with equal steel.
No way, boss. A mans missing Im not getting in the way, Im helping you. And you you She wanted to mention Grace in the canteen, and the Christmas tree Richard offered her, but bit her tongue, snatched Barrys torch, and headed for the railway.
What a woman! On fire! someone said behind, stopping at Richards glare.
In an hour, a goods train would rumble through, then the express. There was no end to the whiteout. Under the torchbeams, the rails were two slick black ribbons moaning at the distant approach of something heavy. The silvery reflection faded into the milk-white mist. Emily trudged the barely-there path, swinging her torch from side to side. Footprints! Faint, snow-filled, but there. She flashed her torch, saw the mens signal in reply, and they all hurried forward. Richard hobbled along behind, lopsided.
Go home, Emily! I cant have you lost as well! he shouted, but she turned a blazing look at him. She wasnt going anywhere, and shed do as she pleased. When theyd finally find Mr Wilkinsonwho last Easter gave her a handful of tulipsit would all be clear. When he was back in the warm, safe and well, Emily Collins would tell Richard Bennett that he could carry on all he liked with Grace from the canteen, but shed made up her mindhe would be her husband, like it or not. End of.
Go on, Em, Richard said more gently, touching Emilys shoulder. Yes, he was missing a hand. Hed always been embarrassed about it, afraid of being less than a real man, scared hed be pitied or found wanting. In his youth, hed been a right charmer, girls chasing after him, unable to choose a bride for fear of missing the best. Then after his accident, losing his arm at the shoulder, he shrank from womenalways worried about the gash, the nothingness where his hand should be. Still, the nightmares gripped him sometimes, shadows under the bed reaching out and stinging. Was there anyone who could chase them off? Maybe Emily could
Hurts to fall from so high, eh? hed thought, coming round after surgery. Feels like another life. The arm aches at night, even though its long gone
The women from work doted on him, perhaps out of sympathy, always feeding him pies, roast ham, all sorts. One, Mrs Simmons, constantly tried to clean his flat ever persistent, forever knocking with a mop and bucket, but hed never let her indidnt want to be seen as helpless.
Now Richard seemed half-mad, tormented by all his old fears. But love for Emily finally wonlet her turn him down, laugh if she wants; as long as he knew hed asked. It was like plunging into ice watershockingly cold, but bracing.
Emily was about to snap at him, but then someone called outthe faintest yell from down by the embankment, where the path vanished towards the woods.
George! George Wilkinson! Where are you? Were coming! hollered Richard, half sliding, half tumbling down, bashing his leg on something frozen, but jumping up, face set, moving toward the sound.
Emily stormed on, kicking out her legs like she was determined to outpace the cripple. Stop charging ahead, will you? Youll slip. Or showing off again? Dont bother. I know Im not good enough for you. And Grace at the canteen that was just to rile you, I was told to try that. Silly, innit? Lets forget it ever happened.
Now they walked side by side. Emily, almost unconsciously, grabbed Richards shoulder, trusting him in the growing blackness.
The truth is I didnt even lose my arm heroically, just being stupid. Youve every right to think less of me. Maybe I ought to leave when we find George itll be easier for you, anyway.
He got no furtherEmily had turned, he walked right into her arms, and she kissed him full on the lips, the rough, wind-chapped lips of a man more child than hero. She kissed him again, then smiled and put a finger to his mouth.
Well, at last! someone grumbled from the bushes. Thought you two would never get it together. Snogging in the middle of nowheregood for you! George Wilkinson wheezed, shielding his face from the torch. Turned my ankle, banged my head. Dizzy as anything. Richard, give us a hand, will you?
Emily held the light, Richard supported George nearly carrying him back.
What were you doing out here alone? Richard scolded. You couldve been a goner! At your age, too.
I know, I know, sorry, Rich. Still, youre a strong one, arent you! Emily, look at the chap weve got here, eh?
Emily said nothing. She simply breathed in, alive again. She let herself feel happy, let herself love.
She had loved once, long ago. Then she lost himput it off, played hard to get, danced round him, spun him dizzy. She had no real place at his funeral, just someone, not a fiancée, not even a close friend. The family barely acknowledged her, didnt even invite her to the wake. Because to them, she was nothing
It was terrifying to start again, to risk losing it all once more. Everyone dies, eventually, even Richard. It hurt. What if? What if she couldn’t survive losing him and live on?
But he was alive and beside her, stubbornly insisting they werent meant to be, clutching her hand and refusing to let go.
She wouldnt let go either. The past was behind her, nobody knows the future, and being afraid of it is pointless. Happiness is here, now. Drink it up. Feel it, soak it in, protect it. Now.
Richard did bring Emily her Christmas tree thick and lush. He gave her the ring as a present, that old silver band.
A month later, the skinny professor in the red bobble hat bumped into Richard and Barry in London, along with a certain lady. Theyd just come from a wedding shop, Emily peering in at a white gown on display. The professor introduced himself, and Richard remembered him straight away.
They laughed, catching up about the students (whod all passed the exam in the end), and Richard shared his wedding plans. Soon they were drinking tea in the professors big, empty house, telling the story of how theyd rescued George.
And thats when we got engaged, really, Richard said.
In the woods? clarified the professor.
Yes, Richard nodded.
Good, I knew wed meet again. And that youd have a wife. Nearly predicted it! The professors eyes twinkled as he poured more tea. Emily, Richard, and Barry were his first guests since his wife passed. Well, maybe she was by the window, watching the snow, smiling Happy too, here and now.
