She was arriving today. She’d made me promise to be there on time and I’d got there earlier than I should have. A little too early. Traffic is always less on a Sunday. I should have known.

The platform was almost empty and the sound of my footsteps reverberated off the concrete walls as I tried to keep them in time with the returning echos. A ghostly rhythm slowly decaying in the distance. The  platform had been worn smooth by people coming and going. Going and coming. Worn down over time . A long time. The joints were hardly visible. It was a difficult to avoid them. Did cracks count I wondered.

In my mind I pictured the train already alongside the smooth platform and made my way to a bench that would line up with the centre of the second carriage. That way I would be equidistant from either of the two doors. The second carriage was by far the safest she’d always said and she always sat in the second carriage.

As I sat on the bench, I picked up a copy of yesterdays news left behind by a previous occupant. Was he coming or going I wondered. It was kind of funny, I thought, how it was mostly men who sat catching up on world affairs in  airports or stations. Did they also get there to early too and have to wait?  Women on the other hand always seemed to have at least a few kids around to keep them busy if they arrived to early. Mostly they arrived late though. Coats flapping and struggling to run through the crowds coming and going,  in heeled shoes, with one arm clutching an infant on their hip and another child attached to seemingly extra long arm stretched out behind them as the moved.

I paged through the paper looking for the funnies. Always the funnies first then the sports page then a quick scan of the main items. Over the top of the paperI could see a few more people were making their way down the platform. The funnies weren’t that funny, the sports results upsetting and the wars and disasters left me cold as usual but having the paper in front of me made me feel secure and anonymous.

I glanced at my watch, folded the paper and stood up. The low rumble meant the train was on time. The platform was crowded but I had timed my movement perfectly and chosen my position well. The rumble had increased in volume so there wasn’t long now. A minute or less. I placed the paper back on the bench making sure it was in the precise position I had found it in. The light from the locomotive came into view and people started pressing forward. Long black shadows moved on the walls and roof shifting to the tuneless drone of the train like a badly choreographed ballet . I stood still.

I waited. The train stopped. The smell of diesel and brake dust filled the air and I was instantly transported back to when I was 10. The memories flashed through my head as fresh as if it had been yesterday and then almost instantaneously they were gone. I felt conspicuous and looked around to see if anyone had noticed. I craned my neck and scanned the carriage doors hoping to see her although I knew it would be in vain. She would be last off the train. She always was.

She saw me first and waved with one hand. The other was curled around her mobile and pressed to her cheek. I hurried over to help her with her bags.

“I’ll greet you now.” She said hurriedly while simultaneously cutting one call and dialing another.

“I just need to make another quick call. I hope you didn’t park too far. Hello….Lisa….I’m fine.”

She spoke into the phone and raised her free hand towards me palm out and fingers up. I gathered her bags and we walked towards the exit.

“Yes he’s here with me……..No he flew up yesterday………he doesn’t like trains………or stations for that matter……….he’s always been that way……since the incident……..just called to say I’m here…….talk later dear.”

“Hello Son.” She said, first slipping the phone into her purse and then latching on to my arm with her free hand.

Her coat flapped in the breeze blowing through the large entrance and the sound of her heeled shoes, sharper than mine, came bouncing back off the walls. I tried to keep the rythm while avoiding the joints in the smooth platform and the people coming and going.

“Hurry up Son.” She said pulling gently on my arm.

“We’ll be late”.