The man calls, “Hey, now wait a second!”
But James is off with me in tow. We fly to the doors, our lungs slamming against our ribcages. The doors open onto a connection between carriages as we fly through to the next one and along the aisle. People look up with suspicious glances. Some appear to be genuinely offended that we’re walking so fast.
James is laughing, smiling as if this is an enjoyable pastime for him. Meanwhile, I feel like the short, panicky girl onDerry Girls.
“James,” I hiss. “Gloatman!”
But he barely even looks over his shoulder as we hop someone’s discarded bag in the middle aisle. He squeezes my hand, aiming for the back of the train. We find ourselves out of escape room and I clatter into his body as he stops. The man is striding towards us now saying something about bloody kids and chancers.
Does he meanme? I’m not a chancer!
“What bloody now?!” I demand of my comrade, or, co-offender.
Suddenly the door opens to the toilet on our left. A man leaving with a newspaper folded under his arm blinks in surprise at us waiting outside, then heads back to his seat.
James gives me a look. It says,We’ll hide in the loo.
“No,” I say. “Ew, no, gross. I have a genuine fear of public toilets.”
But really, we don’t have much choice. When I peek over my shoulder the rather rotund conductor has nearly caught up with us. James pulls me into the loo. There’s a long, blurred window. The curved door closes behind us with a click, trapping me in a train toilet with Gloatman.
How did I get here?
I stand in the middle, trying to balance with the movement of the train. James seems to be much sturdier than me. He has his back against the door, watching me with a funny look on his face.
“Yes?” I ask as the man outside starts knocking politely on the door.
“Excuse me, please. You’ll need to come out of there. The train toilets only permit one person at a time.”
James sniggers, holding a hand over his mouth.
“This issonot funny. You’re such an imbecile. Am I going to get a criminal record?”
“What for?”
“For not having a ticket!”
“Oh yeah… You’re going straight to a high-security prison, Felicity. You bad, bad girl.”
“Shut up,” I say, pointing at his chest, but then find myself laughing at how ridiculous this all is. My cheeks must be so red. How did I let him talk me into this? “You’ve done this before, haven’t you?”
His eyes are bright when he turns to me. “I rarely pay for train tickets if I can avoid it. I never paid as a teen and did a lot of running and hiding.”
“James.”
His lips quirk. “Felicity.”
“Excuse me. Please come out,” the very polite train conductor asks again, albeit with an element of huffiness.
“Flush the loo,” James says, since I’m closer to it.
I lean across to grab some loo roll, covering my hand to push the flush. The toilet makes a sharp, loud swooshing sound. We both watch the door, waiting to see if the conductor will leave but instead, he knocks again. “I’ll wait here.”
James curses under his breath.
“Next idea?” I ask with a sarcastic smile.
His lips twitch as he glances at my face, his eyes dropping to my lips. “I have an idea.”
