I glanced around the empty plush maroon seats, three of which faced another bank of three, and said, “No, not at all. I was just talking to myself.”
“I do that a lot, too,” the woman said, hefting a couple of suitcases onto the white metal racks arranged above the seats. She gave a quick look around the compartment, adding, “I haven’t seen a train like this since I was small.”
“From what the ticket person said, I gather they had some mechanical issues, and had to pull a few old compartments out of retirement. I think it’s kind of fun, actually. It’s very Agatha Christie, don’t you think? I half expected to find a body under the seat, and a box of stolen jewels hidden in the luggage rack.”
She gave a tight, brief smile and took the seat opposite me, pulling out her phone and moodily tapping at it before setting it on the seat next to her. Distantly, a metallic voice droned some instruction or information,wholly incomprehensible. “They are different, aren’t they? I suppose these old compartments let people talk more than the row seats we normally get.”
“Exactly. I’m Mercy, by the way. Mercedes, actually, but everyone calls me Mercy.” I didn’t offer my hand, not because I felt she’d spurn it, but because she was tapping at her phone again, clearly preoccupied.
“Janna,” she said abruptly, then looked up, a frown pulling her brows together. “Sorry, that’s my name. Are you Canadian or American?”
“Both, actually. My mother was from British Columbia, but my dad is a Californian. I was studying history of law here in London, but ran out of funds, so now I’m heading to Cornwall to start a new job.” I stopped, realizing I was doing the oversharing thing that caused so many Americans to be the butts of jokes by folks less willing to blab out every little nuance of their life to strangers.
“Oh?” She looked up from her phone. Her face was tight with some worry or concern. “Sorry, I’m scattered today. Geoff, my partner—well, ex-partner, I guess you could say—he’s gone off to Ibiza to work at a resort, and now he’s telling me that he made a mistake leaving me, and I should go out there with him.”
I settled back into the well-worn (but still oddly comfortable) seat, prepared to enjoy the human drama that never failed to intrigue. “Goodness. Ibiza sounds exotic and sunny.”
“It is.” She glanced out of the window, her lips a thin line. The train gave a lurch and then started forward, rolling us past the mass of humanity that filled the station. “I wish I knew what to do. We were together for four years, and one day it all fell apart....” She stopped and gave me a chagrined look. “Sorry. I’m babbling.”
“No, not at all. I don’t mind if you want to talk. I’m told I have a very sympathetic manner, probably due to the two years of psychology I took back at the University of Calgary.”
She looked a bit doubtful, but evidently the promise of a sympathetic ear was too much, because within five minutes, she was telling me about her life, her hopes, and especially her plans of life with Geoff, which had been dashed when he ran away from her growing demands of commitment. “And now,” she finished up some twenty minutes later, “now he says he can’t live without me, and wants me to throw away everything and go to Ibiza with him.”
“That’s a tough situation,” I said slowly, not wanting to give advice that wasn’t desired (or needed). “I suppose there’s pros and cons to consider.”
“Not so many cons, that’s the problem,” she said miserably, glancing at her phone. “I really have nothing keeping me here. My roommates will replace me without any trouble. I haven’t even started the job I’m on the way to, and it’s only for the summer. And the resort where Geoff works sounds like heaven. He said I won’t have any problem getting a job there.”
“Sounds like your mind is already made up,” I said.
She bit her lip. “I hate to leave Vandal in a lurch. That’s the only bad part.”
“Vandal?”
“The man who hired me for the summer. He’s nice, if a bit of a flirt, and I hate to run off and leave them without the help they need.” She eyed me for a minute. “You said you were going to Cornwall for a job, also?”
I made a face. “Unfortunately, yes. A friend set me up as tutor for a couple of spoiled kids with an impossible mother, and you’re not thinking what I thinkyou’re thinking, because if you are, I’m quite likely to take you up on it.”
She laughed. “Those must be some really spoiled children.”
“You have no idea. What exactly is the job you’re talking about?”
“General dogsbody, really. Taking tickets at a summer attraction, helping with costumes, fetching and carrying, that sort of thing. It doesn’t pay much, but you do get room and board, and can keep any tips that float your way.”
“How much is ‘doesn’t pay much,’ if you don’t mind my asking?”
Her phone chirruped again, instantly drawing her attention. She read the incoming text, and smiled. “He’s so sweet now that he realizes what an idiot he’d been to leave.”
I gave her a benevolent smile of my own. “Sounds like he’s seen the error of his ways.”
“He has.” She looked up, her expression solidifying into one of determination. “I can’t miss this opportunity. He’s absolutely right in that we only have one life, and to dally in might-have-beens is just a waste. Here, let me give you Vandal’s mobile number. I’ll text him that I’ve had a change of plans, but that I’ve found a replacement.”
“Hang on,” I said, panicking when she started tapping on her phone. “Much as I’d like to dump my job, I can’t do that without giving my employer a warning. She might be annoying, but I’d feel like a heel if I quit without giving notice.”
Janna made a face. “That’s terribly noble of you.”
“Not really. I’m just a firm believer in karma and treating people how I want to be treated.”
She thought for a moment, then scribbled out aphone number onto a torn bit of envelope that she extracted from her purse. “I’m going to give you Vandal’s info anyway, just in case you can’t stomach the family.” She looked up. “Where are you going?”
