Rugby


“Shetland, eh? Why there?”

Iain groaned at the memory of his back-breaking visit north. “Oh, it’ best not to go into that, to be honest. I think of it as a necessary evil, just to make a few pennies. Though when I was away, I still wondered if she had replied.”

“Had she?”

Iain smiled to himself in the darkness, pulling the itchy blanket around his neck. “She had. I only arrived back into Aberdeen early on a Monday morning. There was a message for me, hoping that I’d got back alright and had enjoyed myself, though written in that same slightly distant tone. I replied, of course, then went to buy some food before I had another chance to sit down.”

“I take it there was another message?”

“There was indeed, saying that she was around if I wanted to catch up again. I didn’t need telling twice!”

Adam could hear the quivering excitement in his companion’s voice now. He expected to hear how these two strangers had been reunited despite the distance and the age difference between them, so all this talk of ‘complications’ baffled him slightly. Before his brain could continue to think about this, Iain began to speak again.

“It was as though we’d started where we left off from that night in July, as if we’d never been away. It was that natural. I don’t know what I was expecting at that point, other than to enjoy chatting to such a wonderful, kind and funny person as Frida. We kept in touch, chatting long hours, for a whole week. Each time we said goodbye at the end of each day I ended up sitting quietly for a while, looking out over Aberdeen.

“It’s not much of a view, is it?”

Both men laughed, when there was a knock on the door. Since he was on the bottom bunk, Adam flicked the catch on the door and allowing the guard to poke his head inside.

“Tea or coffee when we arrive, lads?”

Iain asked for tea, and Adam told the guard that he was getting off at Carlisle. The guard nodded, scribbled something onto a mangy notebook and moved onto the next cabin.

“Have you ever used the sleeper before, Iain?”

“First time, I’m afraid. There have been a lot of firsts recently…”

Adam chuckled. “You’re in for a rare treat in the morning, then – a free cup of scalding tea, a muffin, a croissant and some kind of muesli yoghurt thing, not to mention your free dental kit to tidy yourself up with. Don’t go wasting that inch-long piece of floss! You don’t get that kind of service on a plane, do you?”

“I can hardly wait! At least it’ll be some kind of souvenir.”

The train was slowing to a halt, somewhere near Birmingham Airport, waiting for the connecting service to bring a new set of passengers for the long journey to Scotland. Iain wondered for a moment who they might be – businessmen heading for Edinburgh, football fans returning from seeing their team’s now usual continental drubbing and needing a cheap way to get back to Glasgow, or lovers heading for a break in the Highlands. Iain sighed and when he spoke next he was quieter, as if making a confession. Adam had to strain to hear.

“There was a mutual attraction, we both just had fun talking for hours like that, and it was like someone had opened a door to somewhere I never knew existed. I remember, so clearly, trying to work away in the library one Wednesday and having an argument with myself. Part of me was doing what I always do, shying away from contact, wondering why I would want to get involved, but a little voice was screaming at me, asking me if I could throw away a chance to get to know someone very special indeed. I didn’t get much work done that day. None in fact.”

“And which side won the argument?”

Iain hauled that memory out of the recesses of this mind. “Well, it was only towards the end of our conversation one evening that I asked Frida out, for real. I nearly hadn’t said anything, but somehow I worked up the courage to ask Frida if she would like to go away somewhere for a weekend. I don’t know where it came from, because I’ve never asked anyone else that in my life.”

Adam tried to be as gentle as possible. “How did she reply?”

“After having built myself up for it like that I can’t deny I was disappointed with her answer. She told me that she liked me only as a friend although I shouldn’t take that as a rejection.”

“But you did?”

“Oh, of course I did. I cursed myself. I thought I’d made myself look like a fool, and perhaps had ruined what was becoming a good friendship.” Adam could hear Iain’s fingers drumming on the wall. “You should know that there were a few things that she said that didn’t make sense at the time. I suppose my pessimistic side thought that she was going to gradually disappear, but she didn’t. Later in the evening she wrote again to say that if things were different she would have gone away with me. I was a bit confused at the time, but I understand now.”

“Now?”

Iain sighed heavily. “That evening Frida sent me a long email. It read like a confession and I think for her it was. I have no idea how hard it must have been for her to write.”

“I take it this is where it gets complicated?”

“Aye, it doesn’t get much easier from here on in. It was such a beautiful, heartfelt letter – and upset me for those reasons more than anything else. I don’t know how she could have thought I wouldn’t want to speak to her again, though I suppose I had no right to be upset, really. I was no one special.” Iain closed his eyes tightly, recalling that Saturday night when he read Frida’s message over and over again. “She told me that she was married, and had been for three years. Why was I upset? I wasn’t angry at her, that’s for sure. How could I be? I couldn’t hate her – I couldn’t hate anyone, least of all as someone as special as Frida. Strange to say, that was only the beginning when by rights it really should have been the end – we had quite an intense chat that night, and I wrote her a letter back. Emails began to be exchanged and soon afterwards we had our first phone conversation.”

Adam raised his eyebrows in the darkness as Iain’s voice tailed off. He could sense that Iain was anxiously awaiting some kind of reaction. “Married, then. I had begun to wonder when you were explaining things … which means that she is cheating. With you.” The emphasis was immediate and stung Iain. Both men remained quiet for a while, with only the predictable rattling of the tracks preventing an uncomfortable silence from settling.

“When you put it as bluntly as that, it sounds awful. And believe me, I have moments when I wonder what I’m doing, how I could even think about it and how I would feel if it happened to me. I don’t want to hurt anybody. Then I think about how I make her smile – not just a simple lusty smile, but genuine, giddy happiness – and things make a little more sense. I curse myself everyday for having met her.”

It suddenly occurred to Iain that Fate was up there somewhere, having a good laugh at his expense while giving and taking away all at once. I’ve been shown this wonderful woman, a taste and a glimpse of something I’ve never had before, but that’s it, isn’t it? Just a look, then Fate snatches it out from under me, taunting me. I can’t think of anything more cruel.

Adam could hear the tremors in his companion’s voice, thinking of how many people had attended his sessions. Nothing surprised him any more, not after the stories he had heard. Especially that one involving the plumber…. He shuddered, and erased that memory very quickly and tried to offer Iain some advice.

“Try not to judge yourself too harshly. I’ve heard far worse, but this is one fine mess you’ve got yourself into. Aside from the rights and wrongs, what would you do if she told you tomorrow that she is leaving her husband to be with you?”

Iain smiled grimly. Adam had hit him there, and he closed his hands together tightly, and contemplated the question that had tormented him for weeks.



Woking

“So you broke the deal with yourself and chatted with him again?” Becky’s eagerness was obvious; she seemed desperate to find out how such an apparently strong-willed woman as Frida had succumbed to temptation. For a moment Becky felt glad that Frida had given in, and felt a brief vicarious thrill shoot through her.

“I’m afraid I did.”

“Was the relationship with your husband deteriorating?”

“No, not at all,” Frida replied. She ran a hand through her hair, ignoring the insistent ache at the back of her skull. “I honestly don’t know the reason why this, or anything else, is happening. But I can tell you that I got in touch with Iain again because I was alone.”

“As in lonely?”

“Not like that, although England can be a bit of a strange place sometimes. My husband had to go to France for a week in September, and that same day I got Iain’s email to tell me that he was back home. My juvenile mind kept telling me that this was no coincidence. I knew it was naughty and that I shouldn’t have given in, but I missed him. I missed Iain terribly. I had thought of that night in July so fondly and so often, that when the opportunity to get in touch with him came along I just couldn’t … I couldn’t say no.”

Becky gazed sympathetically at the young Spanish woman opposite her. “You don’t have to justify yourself to me, sweetheart. But why did you tell him about your marriage? Couldn’t you have kept that as a secret?”

Frida sighed deeply and found herself staring at her hands while she explained. “That’s a good question. I’d thought about it a lot during the course of the week, and while I hated myself for lying to Iain, in my mind it was still a bit of a game. Like it was my alter-ego ‘Sarah’, and not really me, who was getting to know him and flirting with him. And since Sarah was single, no one was being hurt. But finally the moment came when I realised that it wasn’t a game any more, and real feelings were beginning to emerge. For both of us.”

Frida sat back in her seat, thankful for the support of the arm-rest while she recalled that week. I felt peaceful, didn’t I? Serene. It was a true comfort having Iain around that week; he was the one who greeted me in the morning and asked how I was, and the one who wished me goodnight. It felt good, so good! I always thought I could let poor Iain go at the end of the week, and let things return to normal. But Thursday came, and then I knew … when I realised that I couldn’t stop thinking about him. And I wasn’t just Sarah who was yearning to be with him; it was me.

Frida returned her gaze to Becky. “If I didn’t tell him the truth then I could keep this image of the sexy Spaniard alive, let him go gently, and he would never find out how mean I had been. But he kept being so nice, so insistently lovely every single time we spoke, that I found it so hard to keep lying to him. And then the inevitable happened.”

“What?”

“It took him a while to get to the point, but he asked me to meet him.”

Becky took a sharp, whistling intake of breath.

“I suppose I saw it coming, but it was still a shock.”

“Was it then when you told him?”

“Almost. It was only on Saturday that I realised the game was over and I had to tell him the truth. I knew that unburdening myself could have big consequences, because I had no idea how he would react.” A faint whistling noise from Frida’s ‘phone made her jump a little, and it took her a couple of seconds to realise it was a message from the man she thought she had hurt so much. She read it, biting her trembling lip. She almost dropped it, and resumed her story only after it was safely in her pocket.

“When Iain read my letter, he didn’t get angry, didn’t hate me and didn’t call me all the names under the sun for having played with him. He didn’t even seem to get angry whereas I still don’t understand why he’s still speaking to me.”

“You must have been confused!”

“Confused? It was more surprise than anything else. I’m sure most men would have been upset and damned me to hell, but Iain didn’t. He just accepted me the way I am.”

“And that only made you want him more, right?”

“Right.”

Iain’s message made Frida stop talking at once. Thank you for everything, it had read and had brought memories of earlier that day back to her head. She tried to think of something else but failed. She thought of how vulnerable Iain had seemed that afternoon when he was lying down beside her and how she pretended that she couldn’t see one of his tears glistening in the candlelight. All the little details – the smells, the touch, the warmth – were all still so fresh. She remembered the tears and the sadness; the lament of the homeless poet they had shared; the rain thumping off the window; the sense of peace and lightness associated with that hotel room, and she couldn’t seem to understand why that feeling had to stop.

Why is this happening to me?

Becky’s warm, sweet voice stirred her again. “Judging by the fact you’re on this train, I assume that you decided to meet him after all.” Frida could only nod at first, ignoring the ache in her chest. She could imagine Iain touching her cheek, kissing her softly and making it go away. When she opened her eyes and looked back to Becky, Frida noticed that she seemed moved. They stared in silence for a few moments until Becky reached over and placed her hands around Frida’s.

“I met Iain in person for the first time last night.” She laughed quietly.

Becky grinned, clearly excited at getting to the most exciting bit of Frida’s tale. She tensed the muscles on her neck and looked at Frida with open wide eyes. She hoped with all her heart that Frida would continue with her story. She had to know everything now.