“That’s fine,” I say, breathless, as the train rolls into the station. We can’t be more than a few metres from where it will stop. I almost say,it’s been three days, what harm is two hours going to do?, but decide to keep that one to myself. “How much will it be?”
There’s more clicking. I can feel an impatient buzz roll through me.Come on, come on. Finally, he points to a screen on my side of the booth. “Sixty-two pounds for two,” he says.
“Piss off!” I say, horrified.
James scoffs, joining outraged forces with me. “Is that a joke? I thought Scotland was cheaper than London.”
“Yous from London?” the man asks, laughing as if something about this whole situation is actually quite funny.
Instead of answering him, James huffs, taking my hand and pulling me away out of earshot. “We’ve only got fifty pounds.”
“No shit!?”
He gives me a sardonic glance as if I’m being the stupid one. “We’re getting on this train.”
“How? We can’t afford it!”
“We’re just going to get on.” He keeps checking where the train is, as if he’s planning on bolting towards it right in front of the ticket man.
My jaw goes slack. “What? We can’t. That’s theft! It’s illegal… It’simmoral.”
James rolls his eyes. He takes a few steps forwards. He’s really going to do it. He’s not even worried about the consequences. But when I don’t follow, he turns back to face me, tilting his head and rubbing his chin. “Hey Fliss, guess what? Rules are made for people who can afford to oblige them. They’re there to hurt people who can’t.”
“What are you talking about?” I hiss. The train is slowing now, coming in line with the platform. It’s only two carriages. I’ve never seen a train that short in London. Not once.
James gives me an imploring glance. “Sometimes you can’t afford the things you need.Youcan’t afford to get on that train. But youneedto.”
“What, so we just get on? Without tickets?”
“There’s nothing stopping us…”
“But what if we get caught?”
“Then they’ll kick us off at the next stop.”
“They won’t fine us?”
The train doors hiss open. The carriages make that compressing sound as the brakes are applied as if they’re sighing from exhaustion.
“I dare you, Felicity. I dare you to do something you shouldn’t,” James says, his eyes glowing in a dangerous, exhilarating way. As if I haven’t just spent the past few days doingpreciselythat – something I shouldn’t. But even still, I can feel the adrenaline pumping through me as the whistle is blown.
“Wecan’t,” I say, but without much conviction.
“Wehaveto,” he repeats.
I open my mouth to object again. James is waiting for me to decide. He’s not forcing me on. He wants me to make the decision myself. The decision to be just a little reckless. He’s set me a challenge and the people-pleasing part of me doesn’t want to let him down.
Clearly, I’ve lost my mind, because I nod, and then we’re charging across the concrete, hand in hand, and up through the doors just as they close and the final whistle blows. The man in the booth points at us, shouts something to someone else who throws their hands up.
I’m instantly drenched in guilt.They know! They saw! What happens now?
“Oh, god, what’ve I done?” I mutter, as the train pulls away from the station, curling back into the valleys of the Highlands. I drop my bag and plonk myself down in a window seat, a slow, thick shame weighing heavy on my shoulders.
The carriage is bizarrely busy. Where did all these people even come from? James looks completely at ease with the situation as he stands tall to push both bags into the overheads. His top slides up and I get a glimpse of the dark line of belly hair below his navel before he takes the seat beside me. There’s hardly enough room for his long legs, his right leg stretches out slightly into the aisle.
James focusses on steadying his breathing. He checks his watch and peers out the opposite side as the scenery flashes past us. I take a deep breath too, doing the same on my side, my elbow on the window, chin resting in my palm. There are lots of sheep round here. We can’t be that far from where we woke up this morning, deserted still, in a tent by a stream. And yet, this part of Scotland seems so drastically different. It reminds me how small it actually is, whilst also seeming so huge when you’re in the middle of it.
I swallow as a sharp sensation builds behind my eyes. It’s all a bit overwhelming, really. I wonder what Mum is doing. I wonder if she knows where I am. Does she think I’m on a team-building trip with my colleagues? Safe and sound and tucked up in a castle. I wonder if anyone else has even noticed I’ve gone. I can go days without seeing my housemates, despite hearing their footsteps and the occasional flush of the loo.
