Waiting For a Train That Never Comes

by J A Henderson Henderson

  But, tomorrow, they would go to the doctor and the doctor would cure his father. Bobby hoped that some part of Gordon would remember that he really could have a good time with his son.

  As he drifted off, he heard his father call from the next room.

  “Goodnight Bobby boy! Thanks for everything pal!”

  “Goodnight Dodd!” he called back, then turned over and fell asleep.

  Gordon pulled off his T shirt and went to close the curtains. As he grasped the drapes there was a ping of a small stone hitting the window. He shielded his eyes and squinted through the pane.

  There was a shadowy figure in the front garden.

  He opened the window and stuck his head out. A man in an overcoat stood on the lawn, smoking a cigarette.

  “What you doing out there, mate?” Gordon said in a stage whisper. “Office party get a little out of hand? You’re standing in my garden.”

  “You don’t know me,” the stranger replied. “But I know who you are.”

  “I’m glad somebody does.” Gordon’s flippant reply barely masked the unease in his voice.

  “I’m here to warn you, Gordon. I think the Lazarus Project has gone wrong.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You don’t have to be coy. I’m on my own. I shouldn’t even be here.”

  “Then get the hell off my lawn.”

  “Gordon.” The man looked warily around. “Tomorrow, I’m going to tell the authorities about you. I can’t live with myself unless I do.”

  “Oh yeah?” Gordon blustered. “Want me to come down and give you a smack in the teeth?”

  “I know you’re bitter, but you have to trust me.” The man nipped the end of his glowing cigarette between two fingers and slid the butt into his pocket. “I’m serious. You’re a danger to too many people and they know exactly where you are.”

  He backed down the path, holding up his hands.

  “If you want to live through the next few days, you need to either go to the police yourself or get out of here.”

  Next morning, Bobby woke refreshed and full of hope. He showered and dressed and took the stairs two at a time.

  “Morning dad! Want a bagel?”

  There was no answer.

  In the living room, he found a note under the remote control.

  Had a long think after we went to bed and I decided that I have to work this out myself. I know you don’t believe it - but there really are people after me and I don’t want you getting hurt. You can call the police or tell Angelica, whoever she is. I don’t mind. You need someone proper to take care of you. Sorry Bobby.

  Dodd. Your dad.

  The teenager sat down on the floor, the note dropping from his fingers

  His father was gone.

  Sunday

  Helicopters over Fife

  Pack up my suitcase, give me my hat

  No use to ask me babe, because I'll never be back

  I can't be good no more, once like I did before

  I can't be good baby, honey because the world gone wrong

  World Gone Wrong - The Mississippi Sheiks

  -25-

  Mary was having breakfast with her grandmother when she heard hammering on the front door. She opened it to find Bobby Berlin bent over on the step, hands on his knees.

  “My dad’s missing,” he panted. “I looked all over and he took my mum’s camping equipment from the attic and food out of the fridge. He’s… he’s run away from home!”

  “Camping equipment? Why didn’t he just take a bus?”

  “He doesn’t have any money.” Bobby took a deep breath. “Anyway, he thinks like a fifteen year old.”

  “So do you. You’d take the bus if you were running away.”

  “Yeah, but he’s totally paranoid. Like I said. Thinks the authorities are after him, even though they’re not.” Bobby shook his head. “He’s trying to walk to Dundee, I just know it.”

  “What’s all the commotion?”

  The children whirled round. Baba Rana was standing in the kitchen doorway wearing a grubby pink robe, her wispy hair up in curlers. She held a mug of coffee in one hand and a lit cigarette in the other.

  “It’s… eh… difficult to explain.”

  “I got time, dearie.” The old woman patted her white hair daintily. “I’m not due to meet the queen ‘till my hundredth birthday. Got nothing to do in between.”

  “We have to tell someone.” Mary said. “We can trust my gran.”

  “I suppose so,” Bobby replied reluctantly.

  Baba Rana smiled pleasantly.

  “My dad’s had some sort of breakdown, Baba Rana, and he thinks he’s my age. He’s run away and I have to go after him.”

  “Wait. Let me get this straight.” Rana’s brow wrinkled even more than usual. “Your father thinks he’s a fifteen year old boy?”

  “It’s worse than that, Gran,” Mary added. “He thinks he’s a completely different person. Somebody called Dodd Pollen.”

  “When did this happen?”

  “We saw an accident on the rail bridge the other night. Then suddenly he just…. changed.”

  Baba Rana paled.

  “Bobby? What did your father look like when he was your age?”

  “Eh? I don’t know.” Bobby wasn’t about to mention that all the photographs of his father as a teenager had been obliterated. “Point is he’s missing.”

  “Why don’t you call him on his mobile?”

  “He left it on the living room table.”

  “That was clever.” Mary nodded approvingly. “The police can track mobile phones. I saw it on some cop show.”

  “I bet he’s going cross country so he can stay hidden. It wouldn’t take more than a couple of days to walk right across Fife.” Bobby shuffled impatiently on the spot. “But there’s thick frost on the ground, and it’s still freezing, so I can follow his footprints for a few hours till it melts.”

  “Since when did you become a big game hunter?” Mary snorted.

  “You really need to call the police, sonny.” Baba Rana stubbed out her cigarette in a nearby plant pot. “This isn’t something you can handle on your own.”

  “I can persuade him to come back. I know I can.” Bobby backed towards the front door. “He’s just frightened and confused.”

  “The police will have a better chance of finding him.” the old woman said sharply.

  “I haven’t got time to argue. I have to go after him. I’m sorry. I just wanted to let someone know where I’d gone.” Bobby shot Mary an apologetic look, then turned and bolted out of the front door before Rana could talk him into staying longer. Mary ran into the garden and watched him vanish down the lane. Baba Rana followed and put a hand gently on her granddaughter’s shoulder.

  “Gran?” The girl looked utterly miserable. “I have to go with him. He’s my best friend.”

  “Absolutely not, Mary.”

  “Bobby needs me. I can… I can feel it.”

  “And I can’t let you go chasing some deranged man across Fife. Nor Bobby for that matter. I’m going to call the police.”

  “Gran? I think that there’s something wrong with Gordon that the police won’t understand.”

  “What do you mean?” Rana began. But before she could continue she heard an urgent tapping above her head. Looked up, the woman gave a sharp intake of breath.

  There was a figure at her bedroom window. The old woman glanced quickly at her granddaughter, but Mary was still staring down the lane.

  “You wait here a minute.” Rana put a finger to her lips and backed into the house. “I’ll be right back.”

  When she got upstairs, the boy she had met the day before was sitting on her bed, reading Chat magazine. Rana glared at him.

  “How exactly did you manage to get up here?”

  “I was hiding under the bed.” The boy lowered the magazine and went to the window, peering out from behind the curtain. “You won’t tell will you?”

  Through the win
dow the multiple chimneys of the Ethylene plant were visible in the distance. Baba joined the boy in time to see Mary coming back up the path and disappearing indoors.

  “But how did you get in?” She lowered her voice so Mary wouldn’t hear. “You might have scared the wits out of my granddaughter.”

  “Doesn’t sound like it’s me Mary has to worry about.”

  “I’m a little… disturbed by this turn of events.” Rana sat on the bed and patted her bony knees. “I was walking along and thinking about the newspaper headline I’d seen. About the mishap on the bridge. Then suddenly you appeared.” The woman rubbed her temple. “Now Bobby says his father changed right after the accident….”

  She looked sideways at the boy.

  “Is it possible?” Rana could hardly believe she was even entertaining the notion. “Are… you Gordon Berlin?”

  “I don’t know,” the teenager replied miserably. “Do I look like him?”

  “No. You look like a young boy, not a fifty five year old man. Then again Gordon Berlin certainly doesn’t look like a fifteen year old called Dodd Pollen.”

  “I’m a young boy?”

  “Well, of course you are. How could you not know?”

  The child nodded towards the mirror.

  “I can’t see myself.”

  Baba Rana followed his eyes and her jaw dropped.

  The reflection showed nobody in the room but her.

  “I don’t feel young.” The boy stood in front of the mirror and stared at the empty image. “Just lonely.”

  “Join the club, dearie.”

  The front door slammed. Rana hobbled to the window and looked out. Mary was heading down the lane at a sprint, rucksack over one slim shoulder.

  “Stay there,” the old woman cautioned. “I’m not done with you.”

  She descended the stairs as fast as her legs would allow and opened the front door, but her granddaughter was already out of sight.

  Baba Rana cursed loudly in Polish. Something she hadn’t done in years.

  She ran back into the house and dialled 999.

  Rana tramped angrily back upstairs but there was no sign of the mysterious boy. Somehow she knew he would be gone. While she waited for the police she put on jeans, a bright purple sweater and hiking boots. She applied light makeup and lipstick and swept her wispy hair backwards into a pony tail, fastening it with the embroidered red ribbon she had found in her suitcase.

  She put on a thick sheepskin jacket and leather gloves, picked up her cigarettes and stuck them in her pocket.

  Then the doorbell rang.

  -26-

  Mary found Bobby at Pennywell Cottage. He was standing in the back garden, hood up, studying the ground.

  “Found anything?”

  “There are footprints heading in this direction. From the look of them I’d say they belonged to a middle aged man with a stupid hairstyle, carrying a tent and wearing engineer boots.”

  Mary studied the line of imprints heading away from the house. “Not bad for an amateur. On the other hand, they’re the only set of footprints in the garden.”

  “There is that.”

  “Well then. Let’s go after your dad.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m not letting you do this on your own.” Mary patted her rucksack. I’ve got carrots, celery sticks and two Mars Bars.”

  “No thanks.” Bobby pulled a face. “I don’t want to get attacked by a herd of rabbits.”

  “With your new found scouting skills you can probably trap one using shoelaces and eat it for lunch.” Mary straddled the garden wall and beckoned to him. “C’mon. No time to waste.”

  “Mary, you can’t go with me.” Bobby hung back. “I really appreciate this and it’s great that you want to help, but I have to go alone.”

  “I disobeyed my own grandmother to come here. I’ve never done that in my life.”

  “Then go back before you get into even more trouble.”

  “Trust me, Bobby. You need me on this trip. And every second you argue your dad is getting farther away.” Mary folded her arms, still astride the wall. “Plus my bum’s starting to freeze.”

  “You don’t understand…” Bobby seemed lost for words. “I think…”

  “Come on, Bobby.”

  “My dad’s changed.”

  “I had noticed he’s suddenly become a middle aged punk rocker.”

  “That’s not what I mean.” Bobby blurted out the words before he had time to change his mind. “I think he might be dangerous.”

  “I agree.” Mary slid off the wall. “For reasons you’d never understand.” She stepped up to her friend and tied the cord of the hood under his chin. “But for years, all we’ve really had in this wee place is each other. Whether you like it or not, we’re a team and I’m coming with you.”

  “You are so annoying.” Bobby tugged at the cord of his hood, trying to loosen it, before it cut off the blood flow to his head. Then he grinned.

  “I bet you put a couple of corned beef sandwiches for me in your bag.”

  “Chicken legs actually. I didn’t exactly have time to cook a pot roast.” Mary motioned at the footprints. “We going, or what?”

  “All right,” Bobby shouldered his own rucksack. “Mind you, he’s probably stuck in a well or something by now. He’s pretty clueless.”

  “I wouldn’t bet on that.” Mary said ominously. “We seem to have been doing exactly what he wants the last couple of days. Apart from my gran, nobody else knows about Dodd Pollen.”

  They climbed over the garden wall and began walking across the fields.

  WPC Arnold and Constable MacDonald sat in Baba Rana’s cramped living room with their notebooks out. The air was thick with cigarette smoke. The Constables looked at each other.

  “Eh… this is an interesting a story, madam,” WPC Arnold said cautiously.

  “Sounds like the ravings of a senile old woman, you mean?” Baba Rana took an aggressive drag on her Capstan and the policewoman cringed. “But there are two kids out there with a large man who might well be mad as a hatter. Imagine the trouble you’d be in if you didn’t investigate and my story turned out to be true.”

  “Remember Berlin’s abandoned car?” Constable MacDonald nudged his companion. “I think we should get on this fast. It’s not like we have any actual crimes to solve.”

  “You any idea where Gordon Berlin might be going?” WPC Arnold asked.

  “Dundee. Bobby seemed sure his father was heading for Dundee, but he didn’t say why.”

  “All right madam.” The policewoman got to her feet. “You stay here and we’ll contact you as soon as we hear something.”

  “Eh? I’d like to come with you and help look.”

  “We’re professionals Madam. We know what to do.”

  “And you’ve done a fine job keeping down the murder rate in Puddledub. But I know these people and I know the area.”

  “I understand your concern.” Constable MacDonald looked suitably embarrassed. “It’s just that we’d be… eh… a lot faster on our own.”

  “We’ll find them,” WPC Arnold broke in tactfully. “Don’t worry.”

  Baba Rana raised a white eyebrow

  “Finding them might just be the least of your worries,” she muttered.

  “You take the car,” WPC Arnold said to her companion once they got outside.

  “Where am I going?”

  “Doctor Lambert’s house. He’s the only GP in the area. If Gordon Berlin had any previous mental health problems, Lambert may well know about it. Best if we knew exactly what we were dealing with.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to Pennywell Cottage. See if I can find any clues.”

  “What about doctor/patient confidentiality?” Constable MacDonald said archly. “What about a search warrant?”

  “This is Puddledub, not Los Angeles.” WPC Arnold removed her hat and swept a lock of blonde hair off her forehead. “Let’s just use a bi
t of savvy.”

  “You’re going to put on a pair of mirrored sunglasses any minute, aren’t you?”

  “Keep me posted, all right?” WPC Arnold set her cap back on at a jaunty angle and marched off down the road.

  “Woah! Who died and put you in charge?” PC MacDonald grunted, getting into the car.

  Baba Rana sank into her armchair. The boy’s tousled head bobbed up over the back of the couch.

  “They gone?”

  The woman nearly fell off her seat.

  “That is most disconcerting. You better not pull that trick when I’m in the bath.”

  “They had uniforms.” the boy said. “They frightened me.”

  “That pair?” The woman gave a throaty laugh. “I doubt they could find a flag at the top of a pole. They didn’t even ask for a description of Gordon Berlin.”

  “They live here, Rana. They know what he looks like.”

  “All right. But I can’t just sit here twiddling my thumbs. And there’s only one way to get to Dundee if you’re walking.” She stroked her chin thoughtfully. “You’ve got to go across the Tay Bridge.”

  “I’m sure the police will have that covered.”

  “I suppose so.” Rana tilted her head back and let out a sigh. Her eyes came to rest on the bookcase

  “What the?”

  She got to her feet, a feeling of dread building in her chest. The books on the top shelf were sticking out slightly.

  Rana pulled a chair over and stood on it, with no thought for her own safety this time. She pulled out The History of Poland and felt inside the lining.

  “Something missing Rana?”

  A book of Romany spells.” The old woman climbed down, holding her back

  “You don’t believe in that stuff, do you?”

  “That’s a bit rich, coming from an invisible wee lad.”

  She fetched her old rucksack and stomped round the house, throwing in some provisions and a blanket. The boy followed her, chewing on a knuckle.

  “You’re going to walk?”

  “Why not? Gordon and the kids are doing it.” The woman straightened her shoulders. “I’ve been tramping these hills for years and I know all the shortcuts. Maybe I can catch up.”