by Pamela Fudge
We talked for a while about what they had been like and I told Will how much they would have loved him. While I was talking I was reminding myself that we – Jon and I – were all that Will really had when it came to blood relations. We hadn’t come from big families. I was an only child and Jon had one much older brother living in Australia. They weren’t at all close and contact was confined to the exchange of Christmas cards. That being the case, did we really have the right to break up the only real family that he would ever know?
The grief of suddenly losing our parents all those years ago had brought us together but, unfortunately, we had let the difficulties we faced trying to start a family of our own tear us apart. We had been so happy at the start of our marriage and I’d have sworn we could have weathered any storm. Other couples faced infertility and survived – with or without the eventual arrival of children – why couldn’t we?
The half-formed thought never reached completion because the train unexpectedly lurched to a halt with a squeal of brakes. There were few passengers left in the carriage by then, with it being Sunday afternoon, but we all stared at one another, puzzled by what was obviously an unscheduled stop. It was no use looking out of the window because we were in the middle of the one longish tunnel on the journey home.
I expected William to be scared – as he might well have been if the lights had failed, which thankfully, they didn’t. As it was he was bouncing with excitement and wondering aloud whether the train might have run out of petrol. The childish comment, said loud enough for the whole carriage to hear, made everyone smile and we waited in relatively good humour for an explanation of some sort to come though the tannoy system.
As one gentleman said, ‘It could be worse – during rush hour for instance there’s often not a seat to be had.’
The message when it came through was very apologetic, but rather vague. ‘An incident on the line’ could mean anything from a fallen tree or branch, to an animal that had strayed onto the line or a vehicle that had driven through a crossing barrier, with any other variation in between and some that really didn’t bear thinking about.
To start with we all stayed in our own seats but, when it became clear that we might be stuck where we were for quite some time, we went from calling comments across the carriage to one another to moving to congregate in the centre seats with tables.
There was a middle-aged couple travelling home to Weymouth after spending a couple of days with their daughter and her family, a Bournemouth University student returning to his studies after half-term with what was probably a backpack full of clean washing courtesy of his Mum, a young couple, the wife obviously pregnant, taking a short break together before the baby was born, and then there was William and me.
We were as diverse as we could be, and yet once we started talking it was quite amazing how many similarities we had between us and Will was the common denominator. He reminded the middle-aged couple of their youngest grandson, reminded the student of himself when he was that age, and the young couple, who were expecting a boy, were hoping he would be as bright and beautiful as my son was.
Paper and pencils were found and noughts and crosses taught, and then pictures drawn to help pass the time, flasks, sandwiches and snacks were produced and shared. No one bothered to consult their watches and there was no signal for the use of mobile phones so they offered no distraction.
When the drawings became rather technical, courtesy of the men, I found myself sitting apart with the two wives and was astonished to find myself confessing that Will’s father and I were going through a difficult patch and that I didn’t quite know what to do about it. I then discovered that the older couple had been on the verge of divorce more than once during their long marriage, and that the young couple had almost never married at all, because the baby they now wanted so much had been a mistake that shouldn’t have happened.
‘Often things happen for reasons which at the time make little sense, but we should try to remember that we have made a commitment to one another. We’re human, we make mistakes and should face up to them and not run to a lawyer at the first sign of trouble,’ the middle-aged lady said wisely, adding, ‘though I’m ashamed to say that I did just that. If I hadn’t come to my senses we wouldn’t be together now – and look at what we would have missed.
‘People used to marry for life, facing up to difficulty and sometimes real hardship by pulling together. Giving up isn’t always the easy option it might appear to be.’ She suddenly looked horrified and put her fingers over her lips, before apologising. ‘I’m so sorry. I’ll get off my soap-box now.’
The girl and I laughed, and then we talked about other things, like the fact the new baby was going to be called Harry after an uncle, and the middle-aged lady was having a new kitchen fitted before Christmas and wasn’t looking forward to the mess. I listened and even joined in, but my mind was elsewhere.
The middle-aged lady had only confirmed what I knew in my heart, and that was that I wasn’t going to let my marriage end without putting up the fight of my life to save it. I somehow had to convince Jon that we belonged together – all of us – but first I had to find him.
Will had fallen asleep, curled up on a seat with someone’s coat over him, by the time the message came announcing that we would be continuing our journey very shortly and, when the train jerked forward, we all gave a muted cheer so as not to wake him.
Night had fallen when we emerged from the tunnel. The only difference was that the darkness there was broken up by twinkling lights from the houses at the side of the track, where people were busily getting on with their lives. Ours had stopped for a brief period of time that had turned strangers, who might never have exchanged so much as a word, if not into friends, then confidantes.
I wanted Jon and me to become like that middle-aged couple, returning from visiting our grandchildren, and I was gripped with a new determination to make sure that it happened.
Gradually, my fellow passengers left the train as we arrived at their destinations. We exchanged hugs but, strangely, not names, because we knew instinctively we would never meet again. As the middle-aged lady had said, ‘Often things happen for reasons which at the time make little sense.’
It all made sense to me, because the wise words that followed that remark had been the final wake-up call I needed. I touched the mobile phone in my pocket, certain that the signal would now be restored, but accepting that leaving messages for Jon was never going to work. To convince him of my love and commitment I was going to have to look into his eyes, and if he was to convince me that our marriage really was over he was going to have to look into mine when he said the words. I was as confident as I could possibly be that he wouldn’t be able to do it.
Will woke just as Brankstone station loomed, saving me the problem of carrying him, along with all the bags. The platform was deserted after the train pulled out and I was hoping there would be a taxi waiting outside, when Will suddenly pulled his hand from mine and sprinted away.
‘Will,’ I shouted, mindful of the edge of the platform and the electrified rails that lay beyond. ‘Come back here right now.’
‘It’s Daddy,’ he cried joyfully, still running.
My heart leapt almost out of my chest. I looked ahead hopefully, but there was no one to be seen, not even a member of the station staff was visible to me. Then I noticed that Will was running towards the steps leading up to the high bridge that spanned the tracks.
I looked up, and there he was, a lone figure standing in the centre looking down. I gazed up at him for what seemed like the longest time and he looked back at me. I couldn’t see his expression because his face was in shadow, but he was there and that was all I needed to know.
He moved first, but I was a close second, he scooped Will up into his arms as he hurried down the steps towards me and we met at the bottom. I dropped the bags and coats onto the platform and threw myself at him and was immediately pulled into a one-armed hug. Will in his other arm made the c
ircle complete with his little arm tight around my neck.
We might have stood like that forever if Will hadn’t suddenly demanded, ‘Did you know the train runned out of petrol, Daddy?’
‘No, I didn’t, son. For quite a long time no one seemed to know what had happened and I was very worried about the two of you.’ Jon was talking to Will, but that it was for my benefit was proved when he added, ‘I rang Tina for the train time and came to meet you both to tell you I can’t let you go, either of you. I came to tell you that if you can’t have my children we will adopt or we will foster. I will do anything you ask to give you the family you deserve.
‘When the train didn’t come I thought for a while that I was never going to get the chance to put things right. It was the worst time of my life.’ I believed him. He looked haggard, ill even and it was almost a plea when he said, ‘Can we go home, please?’
‘Yes, let’s go home,’ Will yelled right in his daddy’s ear and Jon didn’t even flinch, just pulled us closer.
‘Yes, let’s go home,’ I smiled up at the pair of them, ‘but first I have to tell you that I already have your children.’ I touched Will’s hair, ‘One here, and,’ I touched my belly, ‘one here,’ and watched his eyes widen, ‘and there is no doubt – no doubt at all about who the daddy is.’
If you enjoyed Least Said check out Endeavour Press’s other books here: Endeavour Press - the UK’s leading independent publisher of digital books.
For weekly updates on our free and discounted eBooks sign up to our newsletter.
Follow us on Twitter and Goodreads.