by Jane Frances
The coffee was quickly going cold and its use as a hand-heater obsolete. Ally rose from the bench seat on the platform and went in search of a rubbish bin. She checked her watch against the large station clock and noticed with satisfaction that they were in sync. It was nine forty-nine. Technically, the train should be arriving in one minute.
No sooner had Ally deposited her cup and its contents into a bin than she heard the rumble of the train’s approach. Impressed that it could be so punctual after leaving Perth nearly ten hours prior, Ally decided it was yet another reason why trains were infinitely preferable to planes.
She was very, very pleased to be taking this method of transport home and considered herself extremely lucky to have the opportunity. This train trip was pure indulgence—three nights and two days to traverse the Australian continent instead of a five-hour flight to cross the same distance. After scheduling the Kalgoorlie-based meeting, Ally had presented Josh, her boss, with what she thought was an outrageous request. Since she hated flying, and since she had been putting in such long hours lately, could she fly one way and take the train back? She had to try extremely hard not to throw her hands in the air and yell “woo-hoo” when Josh agreed, calling the journey a well-earned, brain-expanding break from the mind-numbing concrete jungle of Sydney.
As soon as Josh left her office Ally did a little victory dance around her desk. Then she called the train-booking office. She knew it was a long shot trying to get a place at such short notice, especially since she wanted a sleeper. But there was no harm in trying.
“We have one space available in our Red class sleepers, madam,” the young man on the end of the line announced after Ally heard much tapping of keys on what she supposed was his computer keyboard. “It’s a two-person compartment. Wait one moment, please.” There were a few more key taps and the young man spoke again. “You would be sharing with another woman. Is this okay?”
“I’ll take it,” Ally said immediately. A compartment of her own would be preferable but she wasn’t going to quibble. Goodness knew when Josh would be feeling so generous again. Ally pulled the company credit card from her wallet and in a few minutes and lots of tapping from the young man, the transaction was completed.
Ally stood back as the train approached and ground to a slow halt. She watched as those waiting on the platform surged forward, leaving little room for those who wished to disembark. While also a little impatient to discover the train, and her sleeping quarters in particular, Ally did not understand this desperate hurry to alight. After all, the train would not be leaving Kalgoorlie station for nearly three hours and everyone had an allocated place, so it wasn’t a case of first come, first served.
Ally mulled over this quirk of human nature as she watched the activity taking place on the platform. Passengers who wished to take the train-operated one-hour bus tour of the city were herded from one form of transport to another and trolleys of suitcases and bags were being both loaded and unloaded from the baggage compartment.
Her attention was temporarily caught by a man and woman who passed immediately in front of her. The woman looked like she meant business, striding with a purpose and a “don’t mess with me” expression. In contrast, her companion, a lean and lanky man, walked with a much less sure gait and chewed on the nail of his little finger. The pair stopped at the baggage carriage and the woman summoned one of the baggage handlers. The lanky man hung back, still chewing on his nails, while the woman stood with hands on her hips, shaking her head, obviously disliking the baggage handler’s response. Next, a suited man came rushing over from the station, and even from her distance Ally could see he concurred with whatever the woman had to say. Within a few minutes the now very displeased baggage handler had retrieved a black case from the baggage compartment and presented it to the nail-biting male. He looked wildly relieved as he and the woman passed by Ally again.
With no one left on the platform except a gaggle of smokers furiously puffing and exclaiming how good it was to be back in the fresh air, Ally decided it was time to make her move. She ascended the two steep stairs into carriage number eleven and headed down the corridor, counting compartments as she went.
The door of her compartment—number five—was closed. Ally hesitated. Was the other occupant there? If she was, was she asleep? Given the hour that was a distinct possibility. Should she knock or should she try to open the door? Come to think of it, what if the door was locked? She had no key. Was she supposed to get one from the guard?
What to do?
Muffled sounds from behind the compartment door broke the silence of Ally’s consideration. Listening a moment, she figured the sounds for what they were and stifled a giggle. It seemed a couple had taken the supposed romance of train travel to its extreme and the woman, at least, was thoroughly enjoying herself. Obviously this was not her compartment. Or rather, it was not her carriage, since the compartment number was definitely correct. She walked back down the corridor and carefully tackled the steep steps that took her back to the platform.
She checked the carriage number against that written on her ticket three times. It matched. She could only suppose that one half of the couple—maybe he was a miner?—was disembarking at Kalgoorlie and so they were making the most of their last moments together. Well, that’s just great, isn’t it? Ally thought. What the hell am I supposed to do while Romeo and Juliet do their thing?
Five minutes later, Ally was still standing on the platform, slowly beginning to seethe. Even if they were parting lovers, they’d had nearly ten hours since leaving Perth to say their good-byes. Did they really have to continue while the train had stopped and, more importantly, while Ally was waiting to get some sleep.
It suddenly occurred to her that maybe she had been issued the wrong ticket number. She looked around for a guard or some other staff member she could ask, but the platform was empty. Just as she had made up her mind to do a carriage-by-carriage search for staff she saw a tall, well-attired man descend the steps of “her” carriage. He whistled softly as he straightened his tie and confidently shot his cuffs. In fact, if you swapped his head for that of James’s and trimmed down the belly a bit, Ally would swear it was her partner on the mornings after they had made love.
Maybe Romeo was exiting the castle?
Ally watched him leave. She walked the entire length of the platform and back—to give the woman she would be sharing with time to do whatever she now needed to do. Then, her irritation gone and again expectant at the prospect of her journey, Ally reascended the steep steps and headed back to compartment five. She raised her hand to knock but stopped short of her knuckles making contact. She swore under her breath as she heard more muffled love coming from the other side of the door.
“Can I help you?”
Ally turned. At the far end of the corridor was the woman Ally had seen at the baggage carriage. She was approaching fast and walked with the same purposeful manner that Ally had witnessed earlier. Remembering the effect the woman had on the station representative, Ally surmised that, even though she wore no visible signs of identification, maybe she was associated with the train.
“Actually, I was looking for a guard,” Ally said. “I seem to be having a bit of trouble getting into my room.”
The woman arched her eyebrows. “This compartment?”
Ally didn’t like the suspicious look the woman gave her. What did she think, that she was a burglar trying to break in? “Yes. This compartment.”
“You must have made some mistake.”
It seemed forever since the train had pulled into the station. Ally was tired, her patience was wearing very thin, and despite having only had contact with her for less than a minute, this woman was already beginning to grate on her nerves. “Look.” She tapped her ticket. “Carriage eleven, compartment five.”
The woman studied the ticket for what seemed a very long time. “There must be some mistake,” she repeated. “This compartment was booked for one person only.”
Ally
had been on the verge of being convinced the woman was not staff. If she was, then surely she would be doing something to help Ally find her quarters instead of standing around being argumentative. But then, if she wasn’t staff, how did she know the booking status of this compartment? “If that’s the case, could you please check the passenger list and tell me where I’m supposed to be?”
“Oh, I’m not with the train.” The woman waved away the idea and smiled for the first time. Ally saw through the smile and sweet tone in a second. “But I’m traveling with Morgan and I can assure you, she is not sharing this compartment with anyone.”
“Then can you please tell Morgan,” Ally replied just as sweetly, “that she should do what she’s doing . . . alone . . . a little more quietly.”
“Excuse me?” The woman’s smile fell from her face.
Ally tipped her head in the direction of the door, shrugged and turned away. “I need to find someone who can tell me where I am supposed to sleep tonight.”
She didn’t look back as she retraced her steps, but even before she was halfway to the carriage exit, Ally heard the woman hiss urgently, “Morgan!”
Five minutes later and Ally was beginning to wonder what sort of weird ride she’d booked herself on. Once the guard she found a few carriages farther down had checked her ticket against the passenger manifest he turned bright red and told her that he “needed to speak with his superior.” He then mumbled into his walkie-talkie and within a minute the chief guard had arrived. The chief also scrutinized her ticket then hurried away to the station. He returned quickly enough, his face impassive and unreadable.
“My apologies for making you wait, Ms. Brown,” he said, nodding a dismissal to the other guard, who looked immensely relieved to make his escape. “It appears there has been a little mix-up with your booking.”
“What sort of mix-up?” asked Ally, alarmed.
“Well, it seems the place you were assigned was not actually available.”
“What!” Ally spluttered. “But I was told . . .” An image of having to again board that outrageously small plane made Ally’s stomach turn. Surely this was not happening to her. “How . . . ? The man I spoke to said there was a vacancy in one of the sleepers.”
The guard cleared his throat. “I’m dreadfully sorry, Ms. Brown. It was a mistake by our booking office. The compartment you were booked into is for single occupancy only on this trip. There are, however, a few upright seats available, of which you can have your choice. Of course you will be fully refunded and all your meals will be paid—”
“Of course.” Too tired and too dazed by the news to put up an argument, Ally just nodded and said, “I’ll take that one,” to the first seat the guard mentioned. He wrote the carriage and seat number on the back of her ticket and also pressed a sheath of white slips into her hand.
“They’re drink vouchers,” he explained. “You can redeem them in our Red lounge car. Now, Ms. Brown, may I show you to your seat?”
Ally shook her head and held up the white slips. “Just point me in the direction of the bar.”
“I’m sorry, Ms. Brown, but the lounge bar is not operational during this stop. It will open again at ten tomorrow morning.”
Ally hoped her expression told him how much she hated him at that very moment. “I’m guessing carriage three is this way?” she said glacially as she pointed to the front of the train. He nodded and she stalked off without another word or a glance. Refund or no, the train company would soon be receiving a scathing letter.
Carriage three was in semidarkness when she entered, the lighting lowered for those who were attempting sleep. Ally picked her way down the aisle. A man who had straightened his leg by placing it in the corridor grunted in his sleep when Ally tripped over it. Next to him another man snored softly. A little farther and she turned up her nose. Someone had farted. Two rows later and she found her seat. Ally sighed. The woman in the adjacent seat was rather large and had draped over into her space. Ally carefully pushed her bag into the overhead luggage rack and settled gently into her seat. Despite her attempts, the woman next to her awoke.
“I’m sorry,” Ally whispered as she arranged the thin blanket, which was supplied, over her knees.
“That’s okay, dear.” A well-padded hand patted Ally on the knee. “I was about through trying to sleep for the moment anyway.” The woman rearranged her seat, adjusting the back so it was in more of an upright position. “I’m Marge, dear. What’s your name?”
CHAPTER THREE
At one thirty-seven a.m., Morgan locked her compartment door behind her and headed in the direction of the Gold carriages. Not wanting to be delayed by anyone or anything, she walked quickly with her head down. By one thirty-nine she was standing outside Kitty’s room. Kitty was the only crew member to have Gold accommodation. Not that she was especially special. She wanted a room to herself: there were no more twin sleepers available in Red, and single sleepers were only available in Gold class. Morgan could have also had a similar room, but since she had access to all the Gold facilities anyway, she had opted for the extra space.
The second hand on her watch was just ticking over to the next minute when she felt the train slowly pull out. It was at that same moment she knocked on Kitty’s door.
Despite the hour, Morgan knew Kitty would be awake. After all, it was Kitty who had called this late-night rendezvous.
“I want to see you in my quarters the very second the train leaves” had been Kitty’s directive. She’d issued it after barging into Morgan’s compartment unannounced at a very inconvenient moment. At that moment—just like one of those sneezes that threaten and threaten but then disappear—Morgan’s approaching orgasm sucked itself back into her body and dissolved, leaving only a frustrating memory of what could have been.
That very inconvenient and also very embarrassing moment had been over an hour ago. Now, as Morgan waited for the few seconds before Kitty’s door slid open, her thoughts shifted from what could have been to what was. And what she was, was in big trouble.
Kitty glowered at Morgan, giving a tilt of her head to indicate that she was to enter. With the bed pulled down there was very little maneuvering room in the single sleeper compartment and Morgan had to shuffle past Kitty to claim a bit of the floor space. She had the sinking feeling that what already promised to be a very uncomfortable meeting would prove even more so at such close quarters.
Morgan watched Kitty as she stood for a long moment facing the door, her hand still on the latch. She also saw the slow rise and fall of Kitty’s shoulders, indication she was taking a deep breath. To calm her notoriously fiery temper maybe?
Morgan straightened her back and shoulders in anticipation of the onslaught. She wasn’t afraid of Kitty or her temper. But she really did not like confrontation.
Kitty spun around. “Just what the fuck do you think you were doing?”
I thought I was having some of the best sex of my life. Morgan didn’t voice this thought out loud but instead she met her producer’s angry eyes directly. In the time since Marie had left her compartment, Morgan had decided an upfront apology was the best plan of attack. It would likely be unexpected and hence throw Kitty off-balance. “I’m sorry, Kitty. I don’t know what came over me.”
Her tactic was not overly effective. If anything it served to further darken Kitty’s expression.
“Oh, for God’s sake.” Kitty threw her hands in the air in exasperation. “We both know what came over you, Morgan.”
Yes. A fabulous Frenchwoman . . . twice. Morgan felt a smirk threaten to creep over her face but she held it at bay, determined to keep her expression neutral. She would let Kitty storm it out and then, when she was out of steam, she could proceed with her explanations.
And so Morgan just stood there while Kitty ranted on about how—if she’d known that being a producer effectively meant having to be a mother to three supposed adults—she might have thought twice before signing her contract with the network. And how, if it wasn’t lo
st tickets or dead batteries or giving wake-up calls so airplanes wouldn’t be missed, then it was something else. And was she really the only one who cared about keeping the reputation of their show intact? And so on.
“What is it with you, Morgan?” Kitty stood with hands on her hips and looked over the rim of her spectacles. “Don’t you ever stop thinking with your clit?”
Morgan saw red. Kitty was getting far too personal.
“Only when I’m around you!” she shot back.
That was the first overt reference Morgan had made to the “Mai Tai Incident” since it actually occurred four months ago, back in February. It had been a steamy night in Chiang Mai and Morgan and the rest of the crew were sitting on the balcony of her hotel room, knocking back drinks. Morgan, having discovered mai tais a few days earlier, had declared them her new favorite drink and was on her fifth—or maybe it was her sixth— for the evening. As happens when steamy weather is mixed with little food and a lot of alcohol, the balcony talk turned rather lewd and she and Mark began comparing their tastes in women.
Mark, who had reiterated his well-known penchant for the busty blondes, stopped Morgan short from giving a description of her preferences. He put his arm around her shoulder. “Mogs likes them all, don’t you, Mogs?”