Page 51 of Second Chances at the Board Game Café

She’d sounded flirtatious, so he’d taken this as his cue, and pulled her in towards him and kissed her, hoping he hadn’t misread the situation.

He’d known he ought to say something, to tell her she was beautiful, but he was so taken aback by this whole wonderful and completely unexpected situation that he couldn’t find the words. Besides, all he’d wanted to do was kiss her and touch her, so he’d given in to his instincts; his lips had found hers again. As he was caressing her lovely, long neck, she’d put her hands on his chest and pushed him back a little. He’d wondered at first if things were moving too fast for her, if she was trying to push him away, so had stepped backwards, away from her. But she had stepped with him, pushing him again, so that they’d fallen onto the bed together, with her lying on top of him.

Was this happening? he’d wondered. Is this beautiful woman whom I’ve fancied from the minute I first saw her actually lying on top of me in my bedroom? Am I really going to make love to her?

The next moment he’d thought, Will I be good enough?

And now she’d gone, and all he could assume was that he hadn’t been.

*

The telephone conversation the following morning did little to persuade him otherwise. Harry was on the train to York, for his usual Saturday visit to the National Railway Museum, when a mobile phone began to ring. He so seldom received any calls out of working hours that he didn’t realise at first that it was his. By the time he took it from his pocket, it had gone to voicemail.

She didn’t leave a message, but Harry decided to call her back. He might as well get this over and done with. Her words confirmed already knew what was coming. She didn’t want to see him again. Not romantically, anyway.

‘I had a lovely evening, Harry,’ she said, ‘and I like you. A lot. I’m just not looking for a relationship at the moment. You see, I have a son. Max. He’s having a terrible time at school at the moment, and I don’t think he’d cope very well if I had a new boyfriend. I’m so sorry.’

Was this just an excuse? Harry wondered.

‘I shouldn’t have gone to bed with you last night,’ she was saying now.

Just as he’d thought. He had been a disappointment. After all, this wasn’t the first time a woman had gone to bed with him and changed her mind afterwards.

‘It doesn’t matter,’ he mumbled.

‘It does matter,’ she said. ‘It wasn’t fair on you. I should have explained the situation first. I intended to. But then the wine…’

She’d only slept with him because she’d had too much to drink. His fault probably.

‘Honestly, don’t give it a second thought,’ he said, staring out of the carriage window. York wasn’t too far away now. ‘Listen, I’ve got to go.’

‘Oh, okay.’ She sounded surprised.

‘I’ll see you around,’ he said, then as an afterthought added, ‘Take good care of yourself, Taylor.’

He hung up the phone.

You aren’t good enough. It was Fay’s voice. In his head, of course, but it felt as real to him as if she were there in the train beside him.

She was using you. You fixed her washing machine. Mended her banister. And then like a mug, you offered to do her accounts for free.

‘Shut up,’ he said out loud, even though he knew she wasn’t really there. The woman sitting opposite him stood up and moved to a seat further down the carriage.

The voice continued. You’ve had a lucky escape. Before long, she’d be expecting you to be a father to that kid. You’d have been roped into doing the childcare, mark my words.

‘I’d have liked that,’ he said, although not out loud this time, just in his head.

Taylor didn’t realise, but he’d known from the outset that she was a mum. He didn’t like her because of that, but had to admit that he had been entertaining a little fantasy about one day becoming a stepdad.

She was just using you for sex. Fay’s voice again.

Perhaps that was true, but Harry found he didn’t mind that idea too much. A woman had never used him for sex before.

And then your performance wasn’t up to scratch so she doesn’t want to see you again. The voice again.

Once in the museum, it was easier to ignore Fay’s voice. There was so much to see from the very earliest trains, including a replica of George Stephenson’s famous Rocket to the most modern. He had visited so often that he knew every inch of the place: every wheel, every buffer, every piston. The Japanese Shinkansen or bullet train was a particular favourite, not least because Harry had a board game named Shinkansen sitting on his shelves at home. (It was a decent game too; he ought to play it more often.) It was the Shinkansen that he headed for now.

There was a couple with two young children inside. Harry always came here on a Saturday and there were always families around, but he’d never felt so conscious of his own aloneness before. He’d always been something of a loner, but now a deep, aching loneliness began to gnaw away at him. He wished he had someone he could turn to and say, ‘Did you know this was the first train to have fully in-cab signalling?’