Carlisle


Iain’s silence spoke volumes and Adam suddenly felt guilty for having asked.

“Ahh, I’m sorry.”

“No, no, there’s no need, please. You’re right, she is my first.” Iain would have rewound time for a few seconds if he could, just to check he’d made that admission. He had never been ashamed of his complete lack of experience, though it did make him slightly uncomfortable at times. It was never a dead weight around his neck, but nor did he make it a habit of letting everyone know. Yet here he was, confessing it to a complete stranger.

“And here you are so far from home, in a strange city, just to meet this woman.”

Iain blinked in the darkness. “Sounds weird, doesn’t it? I keep telling myself that things like this don’t really happen, that you don’t travel hundreds of miles to spend a day with someone you really shouldn’t be with…”

Adam stirred uncomfortably. Iain’s story was awakening memories in him he thought he had put away for good. He’d tried to ignore them, but the plaintive note in Iain’s voice ensured they bore down on him again. He recalled his own youth, his years of training in Edinburgh and her face was before him again. Eilidh, Eilidh… He had come home with that precious letter, so excited that his final 3 years’ of training would be spent in Canada that he didn’t notice the way she gripped her mug, or turned her head away slightly. The fading light in her eyes was only visible as he whirled her around at the ceilidh on his last night in Scotland. He saw it again as she danced with one of his friends, snatching glances at him while he stood alone beside the fire. After this damned early-morning meeting in Carlisle, Adam would return to that very same flat in Edinburgh he had once shared with her – fifty-four, alone and nothing to show for his life but a string of qualifications. Here he was, listening to a story which brought back all his own bittersweet memories. He wondered where she was now, who she was with and whether she still had the occasional thought for him. Adam thought of poor Iain, and his heart went out to him. He tried to think of something to say, something to ease the young man’s pain a little, let him know that it would work out in the end. He wished he could offer Iain that comfort at least. Instead he attempted to change the subject a little.

“So you checked into the room, I presume?”

“Aye, I went to check in, then went back to the pub to sit down for a few moments. We spoke some more, I bought myself a drink despite insisting manfully that I wasn’t thirsty and then we got ready to go.”

“And how were you both?”

“Pretty nervous. I could hardly believe that I was there, it all seemed faintly unreal. But when we finally made it to the room, it all became very real, very quickly.”

Iain remembered opening the door to the room for Frida, slightly disappointed that the room didn’t look as nice as in the promotional material. He started doing little things, emptying his pockets and setting things aside on the desk, anything to keep him calm. She coughed quietly, and Iain lifted his head. Frida was sat demurely on the bed, gazing at him and drawing him towards her. Iain found that he couldn’t resist and sat next to her as she lithely stretched herself out on the bed. They kissed once more, and Iain found that his mind had become a mess. Nothing made sense, nothing at all, until they began to undress each other. Things started to make sense for him the moment he gently held the smooth skin of her hip, and pulled the reassuring warmth of her body against him.

“I was scared.” Iain broke the brief silence.

“Scared? Of what?”

“Of making a fool of myself. I had no idea what I was doing – I shouldn’t even have been there, for Christ’s sake!” Iain voice had risen in pitch slightly. “All this feels like it’s happening to someone else. It’s like someone has taken me over for a couple of days, because this isn’t me. I just don’t get close to people, I keep my distance. Why should this be any different?”

“And why would you do that, my friend? It’s taken a hell of a lot of nerve to go down there, especially given the circumstances, to meet this woman.”

“I know. The trouble is, now I just can’t forget her, just like that. These past few months have opened my eyes, and I don’t think she knows quite what she’s done to me. I know I should do the noble thing – the right thing, whatever the hell that means – and let her go, but I wonder if I’ll be able to.”

Adam’s own heart sank. This was exactly what he didn’t want to hear from Iain, that his feelings had such depth. Adam instinctively knew he was telling the truth, that this had become more than a fantasy for Iain.

“I don’t know what to do.” Iain’s voice was barely a whisper above the sound of the slowing train. There was a bang at the door, and a gruff voice announced “Carlisle!”

Almost back in Scotland, thought Iain. Far away now. Adam swung himself out of the bunk below and dragged his bag along the floor towards him.

“My stop, Iain. I hate this town, but I’ve got a meeting before I get to go home.”

“Thanks for listening,” Iain said quietly. “I’m not going to be able to speak about this with anyone else, and it’s helped being able to tell someone.” Iain’s voice cracked slightly as Adam stood up in the tiny berth, clutching his bag as the train ground to a halt. He heard the tremors in Iain’s voice and pressed his hand to the younger man’s shoulder.

“You don’t have to say anything else, Iain. I know, believe me.” The door opened with soft click, and Iain saw his berth-mate for the first time in the half-light of the hallway. Adam was tall and lean, distinguished and greying slightly, his head slightly bowed and his face fallen with compassion. Iain had no time to ask him what he meant, as Adam left the room with two simple words: “Be happy.”

The automatic lock on the door snicked back into place, and the darkness returned. Iain was sorry to see Adam go, though part of him welcomed the solitude once more. As the train left Carlisle behind, he hopped down from the top bunk onto the thin carpet of the cabin and switched on the light above the tiny sink, greeted by a thin and weak smile, drawn with sadness. He leant forward and pressed his forehead against the cool surface of the mirror, closing his eyes.

What happens now?

He pursed his lips, convincing himself that he could still taste the kiss she had left him with at Waterloo. He clambered back into his bunk and pulled the thin blanket around him, but no matter how hard he tried, he found no warmth. Feeling the despair threatening to overwhelm him once more, Iain thought back to the first few moments together in that room. He had been happy then, lost in his little forest of joy, when he could hold her. For hours they had explored and caressed, and laughed together at Iain’s initial wide-eyed fear when they made love for the first time. He remembered looking at the clock at 3am, watching the minutes tick by, wanting to smash the clock to stop time. As they settled down to sleep and wrapped their arms around each other, Iain became acutely aware of his desire to live in that moment forever, because for the first time in his life he felt truly loved.


Winchester

When Frida entered the room she couldn’t help but feel slightly disappointed. It wasn’t the big, brightly-lit room she had expected after browsing the hotel website, though it was comfortable and nice enough. Such thoughts were soon dismissed. The door closed with a thump and she turned to see Iain standing in the half-light, smiling nervously and shuffling his feet. He dropped his bag in the corner and stole a few glances at her. Frida shivered with anticipation and finding herself drawn to Iain, finally became aware that her unlikely dream was coming true. She sat on the edge of the bed and beckoned him towards her, shaking her head almost in disbelief as she caressed his cheek.

I will never forget this, Iain.

She saw the way he looked at her. That shy, steady gaze was full of desire, full of longing, and her own eyes told Iain just how much she wanted him. She pulled him in and wrapped herself around him, holding him close and warm. Frida felt peaceful for the first time in a long time, as though nothing could touch her, nothing else was of any concern. Iain was all that mattered, the single thing that made sense to her. She took notice of nothing but his innocent kisses tickling her cheek, and his hand on her waist.

“You are mine,” she whispered, accustoming herself to the warmth of his arms.

Iain lay in the middle of the bed, looking slightly perplexed as they undressed each other. She smiled at his hesitancy and slightly shaking hands, watching his blinking eyes drink her in. She could make out the candle’s flame in his eyes, like a burning boat drifting in the most vivid of oceans. She held out her hands, kissed him and drew him into her, keeping him safe and small. In the face of this man, who had travelled so far to see her, Frida surrendered.

“It certainly sounds like you had a busy night,” said Becky, eyebrows slightly arched.

Frida nodded, smiling at the memory of it all. “We finally called it a night at about four in the morning.”

Becky’s spectacles were back on now, making her look a little more maternal. “You must have been quite some fantasy for him, you know – a slightly older, attractive and experienced woman, holding his hand and showing him the way.”

“I suppose I was. But he was as equally good a fantasy for me. To have someone so young and attractive desiring me in this way is just …” Frida dried up momentarily. “The fact he was inexperienced just made it all the better.”

Frida sat back in her seat and tossed her hair from her face, noticing the faintly envious look on Becky’s face. It was almost nine-thirty and tiredness was beginning to set in, and the aching in her legs refused to go away. How long until we get back to Southampton? For the first time she thought about what was coming next, imagining herself leaving the train and the station, walking through to the car park where she would meet Martin, like she always did. What will I do? Will I be able to look at him in the eye? Will he notice what a liar I’ve become? It was the only part of the plan she hadn’t thought through properly, a little scared to contemplate what was going to happen. Now the future was rushing towards her more rapidly than she expected, and gripping the arm of her seat like a vice offered little comfort.

I always thought that I knew what the future had in store for me. Now I don’t know. Why should I know?

She closed her eyes tightly, fighting back the sorrow and her increasing bewilderment as the train inched ever further south. The only things that comforted her now were her memories of Iain, and Becky’s reassuring and gentle touch as she took Frida’s hand.