‘Well... yes.’Obviously,her tone says as both dogs settle at her feet. Alice delves into her bag, pulls out a sort of collapsible dog bowl, and sets it on the floor. ‘Perhaps, when we’ve set off,’ she tells them, ‘Kate will be so kind as to go and fetch us a bottle of water—’
‘Erm, Alice,’ I start, about to explain that I’m sorry but there’s been a mix-up. I haven’t been booked through an agency as her companion on a trip to Scotland. I’m just a random woman who’s run away from her husband and doesn’t know what to do next.
I can’t stay with my mother because she’d think I’d lost my mind, walking out on thewonderfulVince. And although Tash said I’m welcome to stay, her life is so full and it wouldn’t feel right, landing myself on her. As I hover in the aisle, a harassed young couple tumble into the carriage, clearly having run for the train. I dip down onto the seat opposite Alice to let them pass. All around us, passengers are settling in for the journey with coffees, books and laptops.
‘So, Kate,’ Alice says now, leaning forward. ‘We have three weeks ahead of us. Don’t you have any luggage?’
I glance briefly at Tash’s tote bag on my lap. ‘Things were, um, a bit complicated at home,’ I start.
She grimaces sympathetically. ‘Poor you. I did hear a little, you know. Of your conversation, I mean. I didn’t want to eavesdrop but...’
‘No, no, it’s fine,’ I say quickly, wondering why I’m still parked here on this train when it’s about to leave. ‘But I left in a hurry...’
‘Nothing wrong with travelling lightly,’ she says with a smile. ‘You know, before I booked you, it was my son who was supposed to be coming to help me. But suddenly, he couldn’t do it. Too busy with work and running around after his children. Children!’ she exclaims loudly, causing the woman across the aisle to shoot her a bemused look. ‘You’d think they were little and still needing the tops slicing off their boiled eggs. We’re talking strapping teenagers. But he’s always busy, busy, busy...’
‘What was he meant to be helping you with?’ I ask hesitantly.
‘Everything I mentioned when I booked you,’ she says briskly. ‘Clearing out his grandma’s house. My mother’s, I mean. Only child syndrome. It all falls to you.’ Alice grimaces. ‘D’you have children, Kate?’
‘Just a stepdaughter. Edie.’I’m telling her this, yet I haven’t admitted I’m the wrong Kate?‘Has your mum passed away?’ I ask.
She nods, apparently noting my look of surprise. I’d put Alice at somewhere in her mid seventies herself. ‘I am sorry,’ I add.
‘Thank you, but she had a good innings, as they say. Made it to ninety-six. She was quite the character, living on her own and running her B&B...’
‘Really? That’s amazing—’
‘...With the help of her poor, long-suffering housekeeper,’ Alice adds. ‘Dear Morag. An absolute stalwart. Anyway,’ she adds quickly, as if catching herself, ‘that’s why I contacted the agency. I couldn’t face tackling the house on my own. But you don’t need to hear my woes, do you?’
‘I really am sorry.’
‘Thank you, Kate.’ Alice meets my gaze, and something flickers in me. There’s asparkbetween us; that thing that happens when you meet someone new, and there’s a connection – like you see something of yourself in them, reflected back at you. But what is it? I can’t imagine Alice being expected to cater for a party that she didn’t plan, or rush to the garage for oat milk in the middle of a wet night. With her assured manner and clipped speech – there’s the barest hint of a Scottish accent – I’m sure she’d tell them where to get off. Yet right now, bizarrely, I wish Iwasthis Kate-from-the-agency, booked to help this proud and elegant woman to clear out her mother’s house. It feels like it would make a difference – that I’dmattersomehow. Like I used to, when Edie still lived with us and I had a job I loved.
A tannoy announcement fills the carriage: ‘...Stopping at Preston, Lancaster, Carlisle...’
‘Sorry!’ I say suddenly, jumping up from the seat and barging towards the end of the carriage. But even before I’ve reached it I’m aware of movement behind me; of this seemingly determined woman, with the dogs trotting at her ankles, not ready to let me go.
‘Kate, is something wrong?’ We stop in the vestibule.
I bite my lip, picturing Mum and George and me on that wet afternoon at Buchanan Street bus station all those years ago.
She didn’t have a plan. She just did what felt right.
Alice is looking at me expectantly, and then she touches my arm and smiles so kindly it squeezes my heart. ‘I realise you’ve had a stressful time today, with that call...’
I nod and swallow hard.
‘...And you’ve come away with no suitcase or anything. You said you left in a hurry—’
‘It’s just all been very weird,’ I blurt out.
‘I’m sure it has,’ she says gently, glancing down. I look down too, sensing a slight pressure bearing down on my left foot. Martha has rested her chin there.
Why not just go to Scotland? Suddenly, being Alice’s companion seems a whole lot more appealing than cramming my hooves into those five-inch heels and writing Vince’s book for him and wiping up his pee from around the loo area. Why does that happen anyway? Does his penis thrash uncontrollably, like an eel?
Alice touches my arm kindly. ‘Youareokay to do this trip, aren’t you? Because, if you want to change your mind...’ She tails off and looks at me.
‘I, er... feel bad moving my foot with Martha doing that.’
