Freddie spat onto the heap of coal, then coughed as the foul-smelling soot impregnated his nostrils. Uselessly he wiped some of the grime off his emaciated face. Meanwhile the chug-chugging of the small train lost itself in the vastness of the plain. Smoke curled itself up into the cloudless blue sky till it dissolved into nothingness, leaving a slight acrid smell into the otherwise fresh air of eventide.

Someone said the company was going to convert the old-fashioned train into an electric one. Not a bad idea really but it would probably mean his early retirement. And then what? Hell, he thought, live for today.

The train pulled into the station. Barely greeting his substitute, Freddie made his way towards an old, foul-smelling, damp shack that was his home. It stood on one side of the station hidden from view by large shrubs of hibiscus. Once inside, he undressed, leaving his grimy clothes in a dirty heap on the uneven floor, and stepped under a shower of cold water. Slowly the grime left him as he rubbed down himself vigorously with a coarse towel.

Soon he was out again into the open air, breathing deeply in and out. He hoped that some of the fumes that were poisoning his lungs might exhale themselves out in the pure evening air. As there was still another hour to sundown, he went back to the station where the honeysuckle that grew in large pots, needed pruning.

There, sitting on a bench, he noticed a young woman. Cautiously he approached her, wondering what she was doing there, all alone. As she looked up, he noticed a tear-stained, pale, but lovely face. The lack of any make-up was too conspicuous.

"There will be no further trains tonight," he remarked politely. This brought out a fresh burst of sobbing. "Come on," he continued. "No need to give up. Just tell me where you want to go and I might just find a way for you to get there."

"There's nowhere for me to go. I...I ran away." Just what I need after a day's hard work, he thought. For a moment he considered moving away but somehow he could not. The woman fascinated him. Women had always that effect on him. Où sont les neiges d'antan? How many women had he known throughout his life: Lisa, with her dark curls and long-pointed nails; Marie, a vampire if there ever one existed; Christa, with her blue eyes and full lips, lazing her time in his back garden; and of course Sara, sweet-smelling, lovely, gentle Sara!

All gone now, buried in his murky past except for the occasional fling with Tessa down at the village; but Tessa was scatterbrained, self-opinionated, old-fashioned, lovely and conflicting. Unfortunately he was not much company these days, he reflected. Alas he was getting past his age for women!

"Well you should not stay here. Not very safe for a young lady! There is a small guest house at the village. Wouldn't really recommend it; or you could stay with Tessa, a friend of mine. She'll put you up for a couple of nights."

The young woman continued to wail. "Perhaps you should not have run away. Come to my room and spruce up a bit. You do look a sight."

Despite her appearance, it did not take him long to realise that she did not belong to the village. She was too well mannered. Yet like most of her generation she searched for adventure only to find disillusionment. She had run away from home intending to escape the humdrum of a luxury life only to find that her boyfriend was not prepared to maintain her! How could she have been such a fool! Ah well, he thought, he would not judge her. Hadn't he behaved in the same way as a young man, and look where he had landed! Lonely, poor, and on the verge of losing his job.

As she completed her quick wash-up, he could not stop the sensual stirring that she evoked in him. Even in her plain dress she was lovely and fragile. She looked at him, and he thought she was guessing exactly what he was feeling for her. Yet she did not seem to be afraid of him. "If I were your husband I would never let you escape!"

"Would you chain me to a wall? Well that's what he wants, really, but I won't stand for it."

"No, you're a free spirit, aren't you?" He wished he could pluck up courage and steal a kiss from her. Just one kiss! Would that change his life? He thought better for it! "Let's get out. I feel suffocated in here. Not much of a place and not too airy."

He felt he was bantering his way out of a difficult situation, but the urge remained and it brought in him an ache and a nostalgia for the wasted past that had given him very little opportunities and little capability of retaining what was meagrely received.

When they left the shack, she noticed the little garden behind his house. The mauve lupines were properly stalked, forming a border around the small patch, whilst below them multi-coloured pansies and violas competed for space till they petered out at the edge of a smooth, small, green lawn. Bees attracted by the musk of the flowers, buzzed everywhere, probably drunk on the sweet nectar of the spring annuals.

"You are a good gardener," she complimented him. As she smiled for the first time, he noticed how her face lit up and lines of worry disappeared from her face.

"Why don't you go home? Perhaps they have not missed you. You can say you lost your way and ended up here. It's plausible and isn't the first time it happened. You can blame me. I work on the train, you know. Can say I forgot to stop at the last station."

"No, no...that would cost you your job!"

He did not wish to tell her that his job was as good as lost. "Don't bother. I'll find something to do."

 "I don't know. Perhaps I should phone John...before things get worse."

He led her to the office and left her alone to phone. He had guessed that she was married to some rich man but never expected a Bentley to come and pick her up. She left but not before she whispered: "I'll never forget, Freddie!" It was only after the car disappeared that he realised he had not even asked for her name!

Days passed, trains came and trains left, coal was stoked and fumes were inhaled leaving him feeble and out of breath, whilst the grime stuck daily to his face and gave him much pain to scrub it off with an almost used up soap.

Then things came to a head. One day , as he descended from the train, his face covered with black soot, he saw her. She was with a man. They were holding hands. They came face to face but incredibly she did not recognise him. The web of soot served all too well as a mask. The couple left the station together whilst he made his way towards the shack where the station manager was waiting for him. Regrettably Freddie's services were no longer needed. He was to clean himself up, pack all his belongings, and leave that very night. The shack was to be pulled down, it was an eyesore even if camouflaged by the hedge. Orders from the boss, he continued. "Perhaps you've seen him with his wife at the station!"

So quick, brutal and cruel, he thought. That he should have helped the woman of the man who had fired him! Yet he could not feel any anger. He had run away from home, hating the monotony of everyday life and now he was homeless. He showered, feeling the sting of cold water when before it had never bothered him. He put on his threadbare suit, bundled the rest of the dirty clothes in a sack and went out for the last time into the small garden. She was there, smiling, elegant and beautiful. Her husband was with her.

"We need a gardener, Freddie," he said. "Will you accept?" He looked at her, saw her grateful smile and unable to utter a word, nodded in agreement.

Copyright Victor Buhagiar 1998-2001 [Link to My Short Stories]

[My Other Short Stories]

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