Can you give me a child as a present…
People crowd around the ticket windowits finally opened, and tickets are being handed out. The queue immediately dissolves into confusion: everyones arguing about who was next.
Williams unruffled. Hes not one for shoving, so he joins the end of the line again. His trains passing through in an hourplenty of time. Hes just approaching the window when someone brusquely shoves him aside.
A young woman, her scarf slipped over her shoulders, hair messy and coming undone, bags slung over each arm, elbows her way up. The crowds indignant. She manages to squeeze to the window, stretches out her hand full of coins to the clerk.
One to Norwich, please.
Then her hand, holding the ticket, floats over the grumbling heads.
Well, shes got a nerve!
Our trains earlier, and were still waiting. The cheek of some people!
Unbelievable! Greedy cow!
But the woman, as if nothings happened, checks her ticket at the board, consults the timetable, and then heads into the main hall. William gets his ticket too, but loses sight of her.
Wills been to visit his parents in a Norfolk villagea rare trip these days. Everything here seems unchanged; even the bustle at the station is just as he remembers.
Hes lived in Brighton for years nowworks as a vet at the big poultry farm. The jobs important, and its difficult to get time off to visit.
His mum, small and stooped and older, meets him with tears and hugs him in the corridor. She cant stop repeating:
My boys home, my boys come home
It feels so good to be home. Unbelievably comforting.
Mums back and forth between Aga and table, chattering endlessly. About dreams, about omens…
Eat, son, eat! Youre nothing but skin and bone!
Then Dad comes home knackered after work, and theres another feasttime to celebrate. The chat is more serious: life in the village, politics, day-to-day struggles.
As usual, the conversation comes round to how everyone his age seems to have families, their friends bring grandchildren to visit. Its a gentle reproachWills single life dragged on too long.
Will laughs it off but feels guilty. It would be nice to turn up here with a family of his own. Hes nearly forty, after all.
He thinks about Lily, the girlfriend he lived with for three years but split from a few months back. He tries to imagine bringing her here, but it doesnt fita warm, lived-in cottage, the kind that soothes Will, just wouldnt suit Lily at all. She was sharp-tongued, proud and rather aloof.
He pictures the meetinghis mum hiding her eyes, his dad slipping outside for a cigarette, tight-lipped.
No, its probably for the best they split up. Those years with Lily were stressful and exhausting. Sad, really
Now hes on his own again. Not that his parents know anything about his relationshipstheyve always thought hes been alone.
Ill get married, Mum, I will, one day, Will laughs.
About time, son. There arent enough lads in these parts, and where you are, dont tell me therere no girls? Dad says sternly.
Its clear his parents take this very seriously.
Will heads down through the tunnel, out to platform two. And there she isthe woman who elbowed everyone at the ticket window. Shes on the platform, tugging at her floral dress (its a bit shorter at the back), jacket open, scuffed shoes, bags packed with goodness-knows-what at her feet, scarf still dangling on her shouldersits a mild evening.
A dog races over and starts sniffing at her bags. Will expects her to shoo it awayshed proved shes got a strong armbut instead she glances at it, bends down, finds something in her bag and offers it. The dog grabs the snack and drags it away to eat.
If she wasnt so carelessly dressed, a little too heavy, and so brash, shed be quite an attractive young woman. But its obvious she isnt much bothered what people think.
The train clatters up, sighs to a stop. She grabs her bags, bustles towards carriage fivethe same one as Wills. He puts down his suitcase, helps her get onboard.
Its a sleeper carriage. Turns out theyre in neighbouring compartments. An older womans already stretched out on the lower bunk, the others free. Their tickets are for the two upper berths.
Will doesnt bother much with introductions, climbs up and soon falls asleep. He wakes as the carriage shudders.
Its getting dark out. The women are chatting softly, having a bite to eat. The train passes into woodland, the gloom thickens. Will turns, trying to drift off again, when he overhears:
They tried to set me up with a widower, but I dont want a husband. I just want my own little one. A boy, or a girldoesnt matter. Then I wouldnt care about the rest. Menwhat for?
The drone of the train and the engines sighs fill the space.
Its not hard to have a baby, after all.
You say that but I need to do it properly. I wont trick anyone. Married menId keep them far away. Id have to face their wives! No, not for me. And everyone in the village knows each other anyway. The young ladstheyve got their own lives to start.
What about working on a building site? Youd find someone there easily enough.
Maybe, but my nan relies on me. Mum died young, so I look after her. I got her into hospital nowbut I had to chase the staff up. No one keeps an eye on things. They all moved faster when I banged the desk! But Ill fetch her back as soon as shes better. Theyll fix her up, I hope. Otherwise sometimes, you have to make a fuss.
Maybe the countrysides better these days. Everyone wants to escape the city, build a cottage.
Weve got space, and a nice house. If I had a child, Id never want to leave. The big schools in the next village. But to have a childyou need two people. Why did they make it work that way?
Soon after, they say their goodnights. The woman gets off at the next stop. When the train pulls away, Will decides its time for a little walk and a cuppa.
Care for some homemade pickled cabbage? I made it myself.
No, thanks. Not hungryjust some tea.
Suit yourself. You’re as skinny as a rake, though, you know, she notes, just as his mother had.
Not from lack of foodjust built like my dad, Will smiles, keeping things friendly.
Ive got some pasties for the tea, toohere you go.
Alright, but only if youll have mine in return. He rummages in his bag for the pastries his mum packed.
Hes not hungry, but takes one to please her.
Lovely, he says.
Course they areeveryone says so. My nans recipe, she says, sampling his mums. Ooh, not bad at all. Yours are sweet, mine are savoury. I like all sortsthe reason Ive lost my figure! My nans strict with baking, though: step out of line, youre in trouble.
She sounds tough. You live with her still?
He hopes she hasnt caught him eavesdropping, but shes not bothered.
Of course. Who else would look after her? She can see well, but cant move around much, and shes half-deaf. Ive left her in hospital while I run some errands. Escape for a bit, you know. What about you? Where are you from?
Me? Just been to see my parents in Sedgeford. Theyre getting on a bit too.
Sedgeford! Im not far off, from Tatterby. Heard of it?
Maybe. Ages ago, though.
Used to be a big village, but now hardly anyone left. The dairys shut, I work at the factory there. And you?
Im in food production toovet at a poultry factory.
Knew you werent just any old worker! Its obvious.
Hows that then? Will grins.
Hes in tracksuit bottoms and a checked shirt, nothing fancy.
Just is. Youre different. Our lot would be flirting by now, but youre just well, different.
Her earlier conversation echoes in his mindthey needed attention, but here
Do you have to fend off men a lot? He laughs.
No, not now. I used to, when I was younger. Now she shrugs, tucking her hair behind an ear.
Youre still young.
She snorts, Hardly. Id like well, she hesitates, looks down. Will notices again how pretty she isif she wasnt so brash, a bit neater, he mightve paid more attention.
She has strong brows, thick lashes, heavy hair, a beauty thats a bit gloomy and hidden. Maybe her brazenness is a sort of shield.
I got married at eighteen. Loved him so much. We had the proper wedding, he left for the army, and three months laterthey brought the telegram. My Will died. I lost myself then, grief took me completely. I miscarried soon after. That was the end of itall gone.
Thats rough. But youve got so much life ahead of you. Try not to grieve, Will says gently.
She waves it away.
What about you? Married?
No, never did. My parents keep pestering mewant grandkids.
Im not surprised, she says evenly. I want a child too. Not a marriage, just a child.
Your luck will change. Just look at how you bulldozed that queue, he teases.
I got muddled, thought the train was leaving, she laughs. You were in that crowd?
Sure was
Im good in a crisis. Im chair of the union at the factorystand up for our lot.
Arent there men at your work?
Plenty, but as soon as you mention babies, the married ones back off, the young ones want someone slimmer. Im tired of it. Home from work, dinner and straight to bed. Weekends and holidays are the worst; it gets lonely.
I get it. Im on my own too.
Its different for blokesharder for us.
They chat more about the countryside. The train pulls in and out of lit-up stations, and heads back into the night.
We wont stop now for ages, she says, tidying up, Why not come down here? Why sleep up top?
No, thanks. Someone might join us. I like the upper bunk, to be honest.
But its two hours without stopping! Who could join? Itll just be us
He clambers up anyway, smiles to himself. Shes lying on the lower opposite bunk.
The train thunders through the cool summer night. Wills wide awake, over-rested.
She shuffles about for ten minutes, then goes quiet. He assumes shes asleep, when suddenly she sits up and peers at him.
Whats your name? She asks, suddenly.
Me? William. He pauses, a little awkward. And you?
Good name. Im Jane. Jane Grant, she says, swinging her legs down, standing up so her face is right beside his.
Will, dont be startled but, will you give me a child? Just like that, a gift, you know Her words leave Will stunned. She pauses, then whispers, I was just lying here and thoughtmaybe its fate. The doors lock, everyones asleep, plenty of time and Ill never see you again A mans desire appears quickly, even without love.
What? Will sits up, bewildered.
A flicker of pain passes over her face.
Dont worry, youre not the first since my Will. Im healthy, factory checkups and all that. And what does it cost you? One night, and its over. Ill be gone by morning. I wont tell anyonejust have the baby for myself, thats all. And if it doesnt happen, well, at least youll have had some fun. Youre tossing and turning; so am I
Wills world slips a cog.
Jane, what? You hardly know me. Thats not right, is all he manages.
Thats the point, Will! If I dont know you, I forget you and this whole train ride. Only the child would be real. A boy, or a girl. Youd be doing a good deed. Its a happiness, really. Why not? Eh?
Will swings off the bunk. This conversation is surreal.
Jane, looklets just have some more tea. This is ridiculous. Its the middle of the night, youre tired, the trains affecting you. Dont lose hopeyoull meet someone
She jumps onto his seat, grabs his hand.
Please, Will, this could be my chance. Just this once. Dont I even appeal to you a little bit?
She starts pulling pins from her hair. Her heavy curls fall around her shoulders as she shakes her head.
What are you doing, Jane?
She drops the pins, starts undoing her cardigan. Will grabs her shoulders, sits her down opposite.
Button up. No! Not happening.
Her hands fall still, she looks at him with dark green, sombre eyes.
You really cant stand me, can you?
He looks at her, and as a man, finds her attractive in that hungry way of hershair down, bare legs, dim compartment. The sound of the rails would mask anything.
Its real, but impossible. Will cant accept a fling like thisit would feel wrong, a failure of his own self-respect.
No, not at all. Youre lovely. Your hair…
Just my hair, then?
Youre the sort a man could fall for, Jane. Youre so young. How old are you?
Thirty-fourover the hill, really.
She looks younger now than she did at the ticket window hours back.
Still young. Look after yourself, Jane. How about I go fetch more tea? Will carries off the glasses, taking his time at the water heater.
When he returns, her hairs up again, shes unpacking food.
When I get worked up, I want to eatcant help it.
Will realises hes hungry now, too. He brings out eggs and cold meathis mother always sends too much.
How about a midnight feast? Since we cant sleep.
She laughs softly. The tension drains from the compartment. Maybe, after the truth she spilled, or just because he wants to keep things light, Will starts telling Jane about his rocky time with Lily.
Jane chews, listens, tutting and shaking her head.
Thats sly, she says through a mouthful of chicken. Right snake, that one! She slices up a tomato. Women can be such pests, she says, munching a biscuit.
And Wills glad to talk so openlyhe hasnt done that in years.
You did the right thing, leaving her. Not the sort for home and kids. Shed never have done for a family, and you know it.”
The comment is spot on. Lily just wasnt cut out for home life.
The two hours pass quickly. The train draws up to the next station, and sounds fill the corridora deep mans voice, conductors laughter. The compartment door opensa fit man in his forties appears, moustached and sporting a wide smile.
Well then! Caught youthought youd be sleeping. Thats my bunk there. He waves at Janes seat.
Of course, Ill shift, Jane says, but before she can move, the man plops down beside her.
I dont mind! A pretty lady for company all the way to Newcastle! What do you say? he winks, overly familiar.
Oh, behave, Jane says, uneasy.
She changes her bedding, settles under Wills bunk. Will slips into the corridor until the boisterous new neighbour is set up.
Lets have a proper introduction. The man smooths his hair, blows into his comb and stashes it away. Im Steve.
They exchange names, and he rubs his hands.
Tea?
No one really wants more. Steve must be the life of many partiesquick with a joke, never missing a chance to wink at Jane. She colours up, laughs, but sometimes glances at Will, as if embarrassed. Steves stories are borderline, but he skirts the line.
Before long, hes got his arm round Jane, acting too familiar.
Will realizes thats probably exactly Janes typeready to accept her earlier offer. Steve would see it as a stroke of luck.
Will wanders offhalf the carriage is empty. He locates an empty cabin, tries to ask the guard, but her door is locked, so he moves without asking. As Steve heads to the loo, Will quickly says to Jane:
Jane, Ill move to another compartmentneed some proper rest.
Why? she stares, alarmed.
Feels like this is what you wanted. Youre after a baby, arent you? Looks like youve got your chancea cheery chap who likes you.
Well, yes, hes lively Shes a little dazed.
Will rolls up his bedding, shifts out. Steve appears.
Whats this, then?
Im shattered. There are empty bunks all over. Jane and you can keep chatting. Ill sleep.
Alright, then. Ill help, Steve says, grabbing Wills suitcase.
Jane sits at the window.
Sleep well then, Will says, finding his own bunk in an empty compartment. Theres no sleep, thoughtoo many thoughts swirl. Jane, motherhood, meaning. Lately, everyones been on about having kidsmum wants grandkids, so does dad, and now Jane is so desperate for a child shed take anyone.
The very phrase to have a child seems off. Like getting a puppy. Ill just get myself a child
But a child isnt for comfort. Its a person, drawn into being for a destiny of their own. Their whole life depends on whether theyre born of love, or just because their mother wanted one. Is it different for a child, if thats how it all began?
Now Jane’s flirting with some random, empty-headed bloke, just for a babyno father, no family story, just her wanting it.
The monotonous clatter of the rails is irritating.
Hes startled when the door pulls back. In the corridorcommotion, Jane on Steves hairy chest, him trying to pull her close. She wriggles free and steps behind Will. Shes breathing hard, her dress buttons undone at the bodice, hair strands fallen loose.
Whats going on? Will says sharply.
Steve ignores him.
Jane, come on, I wont try again. Whyre you upset? he offers a big paw.
No. No, Im not coming… Please calm down, please! she pleads.
Will turns to her and sees shes trembling, tears streaming as she covers her face.
You idiot, Jane, Steve huffs, heading back to his bunk.
Jane slumps at the table, sobs into her arms.
Silently, Will brings her bags in. Steve mutters:
Lookdont blame me. Thought she was alright. I can tell. Didnt force her. She just up and changed her mind.
Goodnight, Will says.
He sits opposite Jane, pours tea. Doesnt want to ask.
She lifts red, swollen eyes.
I couldnt. Looks like Im meant to be without a child. She wipes her nose. Got a chance at last, and she gives up.
A child ought to be born of love, Jane. Maybe its for the best. Youll meet someone, you will. Dont put yourself downits not true. Youre not old, youre not unwanted. Therell be a father for your childhe matters too. Hes part of that responsibility. Dont cry. He gives her a little flick on the nose. Now, get some sleepyoure up early.
Jane listens, curling up to sleep, sniffling, turned to the wall. She no longer looks like the brash, shameless woman from the stationmore like a lost, lonely child, with her boldness just a covering for fear.
In the morning, Will helps her with her bags. Her eyes are sad.
Well, goodbye, Mr William Whats your surname again?
Fuller. And yours, Jane?
Grant. Jane Grant. Sounds alright together, doesnt it?
All the best to you, Jane, Will says, awkward at the farewell. Overnight, these near-strangers have bared their souls so much that it leaves him a bit embarrassed.
And you. Hope you find the wife you want, she says.
He steps forward, gives her a kiss on the cheek, tasting salty tears.
She walks along the platform, a bit plump, dress shorter at the back, scuffed shoes, bags over her shoulder.
The train jolts away, hardly stopping. Will steps on, glances back. She stands, watching him go.
She looks gloomy, the guard says, closing the door.
Rain spatters the misty glass as England rolls by. The skys heavy with clouds.
And Wills uneasyoddly restless. He stops at the next station, buys a pack of cigarettes (though he hasnt smoked in years), lights up, coughs, then realiseshe has Janes address.
Soon, a letter is flying from Brighton to Tatterby, addressed to Jane Grant. Before long, another comes back from her. About the weather, the garden, the factory. Later, about her nans death.
By spring, Wills back in Sedgeford with his parents.
Mumsmall, old, stoopedgreets him with tears and hugs.
My boys home, my boys come home
Im not alone, Mum, Will says. At the door stands Jane, thinner, prettier, hair softly curled.
Good heavens! Mum claps her hand to her chest. You have made me happycome in, come on in
How wonderful it is to be home. Really, how wonderful.
Dad’s home from work. Mum and Jane bustling between cooker and table, nattering away about dreams, about signs. Janes blunt, but not proud at all. The parents warm to her at once.
She fits here.
Eat, son, eat! Youre still nothing but a rake!
Well sort that out soon, Jane calls, waving a tea towel. Wait till you taste my bakingWill looks around the kitchen, flooded with the smell of baking bread, the rattle of teacups. His mother laughs at something Jane says and the sound is golden, brighter than hes ever heard before.
He catches Janes eyeshe smiles, shy but sure, lips soft and gentle. Her hand brushes his underneath the table, a fleeting brush of warmth that makes something bloom in his chest.
After supper, the garden glows in the late sunlight. Will and Jane step outside, dew silvery on the darkening grass. The quiet is only broken by robins calling, a dog barking far away, the warm clatter of dishes inside.
For the first time in years, Will doesnt feel alone or rootless. He stands beside Jane, hands buried deep in her own, her hair shining like honey in the evening light. He looks up at the sky, clouds drifting slow, everything newyet deeply familiar.
Sometimes you just need a nudge to change your path, Jane says softly.
He squeezes her hand. Or a push at the ticket window.
She laughsa bright, generous sound, full of hope.
They fall silent, sharing the gentle hush. Tomorrow, theyll take her to see the ducks on the millpond, show her the fields gold with rapeseed. There will be pasties cooling on the sill, brambles in the hedgerow, old stories to tell, new memories to make.
Will looks overJane is pressing a daisy into the palm of his hand.
Its nothing much, she says, voice trembling with pride and uncertainty, just a token, to remember today.
He closes his hand around it, heart full, knowing this is only the beginning.
And maybe, one day, there will be a childborn of laughter, kindness, and the unhurried growth of real love.
But tonight, under the vast Norfolk sky, that hope is enough.
