“Put the book down Jo. Are you listening to me? Will you quit reading that shit? I’m fed up with you! Every time we come on a dam trip you bury yourself in your books. What is it this time, another guide to setting up a bar? A real life story? What is it god dammit? If you’re gonna read on my trips I suggest you read something good, not your non-fiction crap. Ah I can’t be arsed with you. I’m going to the men’s room, when I get back I expect you to talk to me, and a little bit of decency to boot. Comprendé? Good.”

Paul slid out of the seat into the aisle and strode down the corridor, past a couple of kids playing paper, scissors stone and out through the door at the back of the carriage. The train was going slow, far too slow for everyone’s tastes. Half the passengers stared out the window at the slow blur of trees and fields, then at their watches. They were already planning how they’d make up their time in their heads. Nothing was interesting about this journey, except Jo’s book. His book had captured his imagination and given him an excellent idea. Paul didn’t give a toss about Jo’s ideas anymore. As far as Paul was concerned Jo would be best off never having another idea in his life, or he could just keep them to himself, either would work for Paul.

Jo placed the book facedown, spine facing upwards, keeping his page. He looked around, observing the people in the carriage first. They were average, or as close as you can get. The carriage itself was old, far too old to accommodate him, or so he thought. There were ash trays full of cigarette butts, and the windows had finger prints and greasy smears all over them. Even the non-smoking sign was tatty and half hanging off the window. The sooner this journey was over the better, for everyone. Jo lounged back in his chair again, this time thinking about where they were going. He had been intrigued ever since Paul had given him the phone call. The trips were rare and often costly, but they were always worthwhile.

The train sped up again, only a little. As the noise grew slightly in volume everyone’s ears pricked and gazes turned to outside the window. Jo found it amusing to watch people’s reactions to events, and silently chuckled. The kids looked at him and laughed to each other loudly, wiping the grin off his face and restoring normality to him. He picked up the book and continued to read. They kept turning round and peering at him over the back of the seats in front. He ignored them for the first few times, but he was fed up of feeling their eyes on him by the fourth time. He smacked the book on the table hard, and glared at them. They looked at each other, pupils dilating wide in fear, then turned round. Not a sound came from them for at least ten minutes.

Paul returned through the door with a box of Benson and Hedges in his right hand and a newspaper under his left armpit. He grinned when he saw the little kids staring straight ahead and thought of Jo. As he walked down the aisle he ran his fingers across every surface, tapping lightly. He had a swagger to his walk. The swagger usually meant an idea but just this once it was different. He was excited about the trip, though he didn’t let on much to Jo about the details.

He slid back into his seat opposite Jo, who still had his head behind the book. He peered out the window, at his watch then shook his head and took his lighter from his pocket. It was like a siren to a thief, as the lady across the aisle glared on in horror. It was a transparent blue liquid lighter. He clicked his fingers across the top, missing by half an inch and failing to ignite the lighter. He peered round the carriage to check that he’d had no spectators for his embarrassing failure. The little kids turned in their seats and stared over his shoulder as he attempted it again. This time he struck the lighter top but failed to strike up a light again, much to the amusement of the two boys who burst out laughing again.

Paul smiled and rotated in his seat to face them; they were still laughing but trying to contain it. He smiled and said to them,

“I don’t think you two could do any better boys, it’s a tricky business getting the flick exactly right you know.” He turned back and lit the lighter the regular way, with his thumb.

“I reckon I could do it Mister. I’ve seen it loads of times, my dad does it,” plucked up the older of the two boys.

Jo peered over the top of his book, giving Paul a serious look implying responsibility. This was all the fuel Paul needed to go through with it, as he loved to provoke shock in Jo. He believed it brought out the best in his character, a little fire.

“Ok boy, you’re on.” He clicked the lighter off and passed it over into the young boy’s hand, who wasn’t a day older than ten. He turned around to Jo, longing for disapproval. Jo lowered his head beneath the book, not giving Paul what he so desired.

“Are you ready Mister?”

“Yeah go for it kid!” Paul laughed.

The boy smiled and looked in amazement at the lighter, his responsibility, then around the carriage for more spectators. He licked the tip of his flicking finger, milking the attention. He held up the lighter with his left hand and flicked with his right hand.

“Sebastian, what is that in your hand. You little terror! Put that light out immediately, where did you find that?!” Vanessa demanded, the young boys’ mother, who had returned from a lengthy trip to the toilets at the front of the train.

As all young boys do when caught red-handed, he cried wolf. For the first time, Jo placed his book down and gave a broad smile to Paul who was receiving a classic rollicking off Vanessa about responsibility. She made a point of the non-smoking sign on the window, to which Paul simply replied,

“Oh it says non-smoking?! I couldn’t read that, it’s half hanging off. It says ‘non-s….’ I thought it said ‘non-spitting’.” He gave her a cheeky grin, and turned in his seat once more. He picked up the paper and buried his thoughts in it, before Vanessa could reply. She ended up tutting and turning her attention to her mobile phone, which started ringing, distracting her attention from Paul.