Moonlight

by Tim ORourke

Page 4

 

  He now stood on the concourse at Paddington Station, a little before seven o'clock. The carrier bag with the clothes and his own leather suitcase sat neatly by his feet as he waited for Winnie to arrive. He watched the throng of commuters who waited restlessly, looking up at the luminous displays, checking to see what platform their train home that night would depart from.

  Others seemed more relaxed and sat on heaped mounds of luggage, drinking from soda cans and chewing on cheaply-made sandwiches. The homeless continued to beg, and pigeons circled above in the diesel fumes which belched from the engines of departing trains. Thaddeus had no love for the city, and he longed to be back at home in the clean air and the safety of his sanctuary.

  Without even noticing her arrive, Winnie had crept up beside him.

  "What time does our train leave?" she asked him.

  He smiled with his eyes and replied, "Seven-thirty. "

  Winnie stood, arms wrapped about her fragile frame which she hid beneath the same dirty sweater. She also wore the same faded denims as the previous night, which were covered from thigh to calf in grime and dirt. Her feet were clad in worn trainers, which flopped loosely about her feet, due to oversize and lack of laces.

  Thaddeus could see at once that Winnie appeared disturbed in some way, and he wondered if she was going to turn and run at any minute. “Are you okay?” he asked her.

  Winnie thought of Ruby, the last she had seen of her was being slid into the back of the hearse, zipped tight in a black plastic body bag. The police officers had asked her questions, but not many. It was obvious what had happened. Winnie didn’t want to think about that - that was in the past now and she didn’t want to go back there. So brushing aside her long, unruly fringe, she looked at Thaddeus and said, “I’m just a bit nervous, that’s all. ”

  “You have nothing to be nervous about,” he smiled. “I promise. ” Then, picking up the carrier bag in a quick movement, he handed it to her.

  Winnie looked confused.

  "It’s okay, I bought you some new clothes to travel in,” he explained.

  "Look, I ain’t no charity case. I got my. . . " she started.

  Thaddeus cut across her with a gentle smile dancing over his lips and in his eyes, and said, “Call it an advance on your wages. "

  Winnie looked down, and pulling open the bag, she peered inside. She raised her eyebrows, and closing it she looked up at him.

  "You were that sure that I'd come, you went and bought these clothes?"

  Without taking his eyes from her, he said, “I wasn’t sure you would come, but I kind of hoped you would. ” He then took a metal comb from his back trouser pocket and handed it to her. “Go freshen up. ”

  Without looking back, she headed across the concourse in the direction of the female bathrooms where she could have a wash and put on the clean clothes. She had become used to washing in public bathrooms, but at least now she had some decent soap and shampoo to do the job properly. Winnie had also become accustomed to the stares that you got, but today she didn’t care. Today she would leave the bathrooms looking as good as any of the other women who stood and preened themselves in the long mirrors above the sinks.

  Winnie found the cubicle for disabled people and slipped inside, closing the door behind her. She chose that particular cubicle as they were bigger than the others, and they had their own sink and hand dryer. She could wash and change without others looking at her. Filling a basin with warm water, she leant forward at the waist and wetted her hair the best she could. Winnie squirted some of the shampoo into the palms of her hands and then massaged it into her hair. Leaning forward again, she washed the white foamy suds away. The smell of the shampoo was sweet and almost intoxicating and at once she started to feel better about herself. Then stripping down to her grey underwear, she refilled the sink with clean water.

  She washed as best as she could, splashing her arms, legs, and face with water and soap. It felt as if she was washing away the last few years from the pores of her skin. Turning on the automatic dryer, Winnie angled the nozzle so as to dry her hair, face, arms, and legs. Then snatching up the bag of clothes Thaddeus had given her, she pulled them out and dressed.

  Alone again, Thaddeus purchased Winnie a ticket from the automated machine. He knew the bag he had given to her contained one of the violet tops, with the black jeans and boots. A fire burnt in his stomach with anticipation as he waited for her to return. He wanted to see if she would look as good as he hoped. After waiting patiently for some time, Thaddeus looked up to see Winnie appear from the ladies bathroom. She came towards him, and his heart beat loud and fast in his chest as he looked on in wonder at the transformation. She was going to be perfect, he thought secretly to himself. The top hung loosely about her frame, shifting and whispering like a violet haze as she moved towards him. He figured her height to be about five-two without the boots, but now she appeared to be much taller. That was good, he thought - it was perfect. He noted that she had put his comb and the shampoo to good use, for her hair now hung in thick, fiery locks about her face and shoulders.

  Winnie reached him, feeling fresh and excited in her new clothes. She couldn’t remember feeling so good about herself. It was as if she was a person again.

  "How do I look, Thaddeus?" she asked.

  He knew exactly how she looked, and it was better than he could’ve ever imagined when he first caught sight of her a week ago, begging outside the Embankment Tube Station. Then as coolly as he could, and wanting to hide his own excitement, he looked at Winnie and simply said, "You look okay. " He then turned, snatched up his case and made his way across the concourse towards the platform where their train waited.

  They boarded a first-class carriage and took their seats. Winnie excitedly sat in the window seat, as Thaddeus took the seat beside her. The train pulled effortlessly out of the station at dead-on seven-thirty in a cloud of oily blue diesel smoke. Winnie reclined her chair and relaxed, letting her heavy eyelids slide shut. Thaddeus turned slightly in his seat and studied her profile for the briefest of moments, then turned away, and as he did, his eyes turned black with horror. Across the gangway sat a man, the Evening Standard newspaper held up before him. Thaddeus read the bold black headline splashed across the front: “Female student found savaged in bedsit. ”

  Chapter Five

  Their journey to the south west of England passed with little conversation. Winnie had slept most of the five hours away. She found the soft reclining chair just too comfortable. It was the nearest thing to a bed she had slept on for a very long time. She awoke occasionally as the train drew into stations along the route, and she would throw sidelong glances at Thaddeus. He seemed to be restless, strumming his long, slender fingers on the table before them. He stared deeply through the window and out into the night. The window threw back his own reflection, and he seemed to be staring back into his own dark eyes.

  At Exeter, Winnie woke with her bladder pleading to be emptied. She pressed the flat of her hand against her tummy in fear of peeing herself. Thaddeus had gone from beside her, and she peered along the gangway in search of him. The aisle disappeared narrowly away in both directions, but she couldn’t see Thaddeus. She spied his suitcase above her on the rack, and guessed he couldn't be far. Air whistled through her teeth, as she sighed and got up from her seat in search of the bathroom. The train seesawed back and forth as she passed amongst the rows of seats. There were only several passengers remaining in the carriage. Most were asleep, one or two were reading, and another sipped from a steaming cup of coffee.

  The door which separated the carriages slid effortlessly open for her as she passed through. The bathroom door was showing the engaged sign and she waited patiently outside, her hand pressed flat against her stomach. Her need to go was desperate now, as she squeezed her muscles tight and pressed her legs together. She bit into her lower lip, draining the blood there. Not knowing for how much longer she could ho
ld on, Winnie inched forward and rapped on the door with her fist, then tugged at the handle. As she pulled, the train lurched, throwing her forward as the toilet door was opened from the inside. Winnie tumbled into the waiting arms of Thaddeus.

  "Steady," he whispered, holding her tightly by both shoulders with his hands.

  "Sorry, I thought the door was jammed and I'm bursting. . . . " she groaned, her pale cheeks flushing scarlet.

  "Well I won’t hold you up any longer," he smiled, releasing his grip on her. He slid past, then turning, he smiled back at her and said,

  "Would you like a coffee, Winnie?"

  Returning his smile, she nodded. "That would be great, thank you. "

  He turned away from her and she closed the door. Winnie yanked down her jeans and panties, and hitching her top up about her waist, she sighed. Once finished, she pulled up her jeans and rearranged her top. She squeezed some soap from the container on the wall, and washed her hands in the warm water which tossed and tumbled from the tap. Winnie towelled her hands dry and turned to the mirror to straighten her hair, and paused. Several small drops of what looked like blood stained her top across her right shoulder, where Thaddeus had gripped her only moments ago. She dabbed at it with a wet towel, but the blood was sticky, and it just looked worse where she had tried to wipe it away.

  Raking her fingers through her hair, she tried to hide the spots of blood which covered her shoulder. Satisfied that they were hidden, she left the bathroom. Returning to her seat, she found Thaddeus with two small cups of black coffee. Once she had sat down again, Winnie glanced down at Thaddeus’s hands. He had tied a white-coloured piece of tissue around his right thumb.

  “Have you hurt yourself?” she asked, taking a sip of the hot, sweet coffee.

  “My cigarette case,” he said, placing his hand beneath the table and out of sight. “One of the edges is slightly serrated. I’ve been meaning to replace it for a while now, so it is my own stupid fault. ”

  “Does it need stitches?” Winnie asked, thinking of the blood that was now on her top.

  “It's just fine. I've covered it for the time being. I shall patch it up when I get home. ” Then, noticing the blotches of blood, he added, “I'm sorry for ruining your top. You look really pretty. ”