Leaving her bag in the luggage rack at the end of the carriage, she chose a seat and settled down for the long night ahead. She'd briefly considered booking a sleeping compartment but had decided against it. In her, admittedly limited, experience Sleeper was definitely a misnomer for the night train. The last time she'd tried it not much sleeping had been possible on the narrow bunk with its scratchy blanket, slithery undersheet and the vaguely nauseating sway of the train. No, this time she'd decided to save her money and take her chance with a seat. It's not like she had to worry about work tomorrow – or for the foreseeable future come to think of it. And in any case, although not strapped for cash, she did want her money to take her as far as possible before she needed to think about being sensible again.
It was the biggest risk she'd taken in her life so far. Giving up her well paid, but ultimately unsatisfying job, selling her cosy flat and heading off into the unknown. She knew where she was going but that was about it. She was headed somewhere she didn't know, where she knew no-one, and more importantly, no-one knew her. She would be forced to rely entirely on herself, to stand on her own two feet with no-one to help. But equally, with no-one to second guess or judge her, or even, she smiled wryly to herself, to even notice she was there.
Anyway, relying on herself was something she had got good at. It was, after all, pretty much what she'd been doing for some time now anyway. Sure, when she'd arrived 5 years ago, Tim had been with her and in theory they'd been a couple, looking out for and supporting each other. But the ability to be relied on had not been one of Tim's strengths. More often than not, it had felt like she had a demanding dog instead of a partner – something that needed to be fed, entertained, cared for, exercised (oh, he'd liked his exercise all right!), stroked and petted. There'd been love and affection in return, but always on his terms and only if his needs had been met. And the concept of mutual help and support had been a mystery to him.
It was the day two years ago that she'd referred to him as her 'other half' and had been pulled up by a friend that she realised things needed to change. “He's not your other half. That suggests a relationships of equals and Tim is most definitely not, nor does he really want to be, your equal. And in any case, you are a whole and capable person in your own right. You don't need someone else to complete you. Don't ever forget that!”
And she hadn't. In fact she'd gone one better, and that weekend she'd moved out. It had been the biggest step in her life up to that point. And now here she was striking out again. It almost seemed inevitable now looking back, as she'd shed one tie after another until she found herself now with the freedom to go wherever the mood took her and be whoever she wanted to be – if she only had the courage to do it. The midnight train was the first step.
Of course, she hadn't been entirely on her own these past two years. She'd had her friends, good friends who'd been there whenever she asked. And probably would have done more if she'd let them or if they'd known she needed it. But there was the thing, what she really wanted was someone who knew without being told, someone who cared enough for her, and about her, to sense when she needed something more - without needing to be told or asked. Maybe she was naïve, or unrealistic. Maybe that kind of relationship didn't exist. Maybe what she'd had with Tim was the best it got, and she'd given it up. Maybe she was a fool to have thrown it away.
Slowly, like they always did, the doubts crept back in. And like she had learned to do, she shook them away. She had no time for them now. She repeated her mantra that had kept her going since Tim. Even if I am lonely now on my own, it's nowhere near as lonely as I was when I was in a relationship with someone who didn't love me enough to care if I was happy. That thought had kept her going through the difficult months on her own and it worked again now. The real beauty of it was that it was true.
Her mind suitably cleared, she settled back in her seat and prepared to lose herself in her music.
Only for her thoughts to be invaded again, this time by Him. Now this, she mused, I do regret. Why didn't I ever make more of an effort. I saw him every day after all, and I still don't know his name, or anything about him. Other than I like the way he walks with that quiet confidence about him and an air of being interested - and interesting. She reflected, over the last 24 months, they'd progressed from passing in the street oblivious of each other – well he'd been oblivious of her, she'd been only too conscious of him – to now being on nodding terms, and on a good day with a smile thrown in too.
She liked it when he smiled. His eyes had a mischievous sparkle to them then and his face warmed. Was it her imagination that he'd been smiling more often recently? Was it maybe her that made him smile? What would he think tomorrow when she wasn't there as usual on her way to her work and, she presumed, him to his?
She caught herself in her daydream and laughed. All this, and you never had the courage to ask his name or even say hello. It was true, she was an incurable romantic. Good job she was leaving really before she made a fool of herself. He's probably just being friendly, if he's even noticed you at all. And I doubt he lies awake at night thinking about you.
She settled back for a second time and doing so, caught a glimpse of her reflection in the darkened train window. She put a hand to her hair. It still caught her by surprise, this new colour, so different from what had been before. She barely recognised herself. Just right for a new start, she thought, as she closed her eyes and lost herself in her music.
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