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And then everything seems to freeze. Am I dreaming?

It’s Nathaniel. On the London train. He’s three yards away, sitting in a window seat, staring ahead rigidly.Advertisement

What—Why is he—

“Nathaniel!” I try to shout, but my voice has turned into a croak. “Nathaniel!” I wave my arms frantically, trying to get his attention.

“Jesus, it’s him!” exclaims Dominic, who has followed me onto the platform. “Nathaniel!” he yells, his voice like a foghorn. “Over here, mate!”

“Nathaniel!” At last my voice is working. “Na-than-iel!”

At my desperate scream he finally looks up. For a moment his expression is sheer disbelief. Then his whole face seems to expand in a slow explosion of delight.

I can hear train doors slamming. It’s about to leave.

“Come on!” I yell, beckoning urgently.

I can see him getting up inside the train, grabbing his rucksack, squeezing past the woman in the next seat. Then he disappears from view, just as the train starts pulling out of the station.

I can’t move, or even breathe. All I can do is stare at the departing train, moving past carriage by carriage, speeding up, faster and faster … until finally it’s gone.

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And Nathaniel is standing on the platform. He’s there.

Without moving my eyes from his I begin to walk along the platform, speeding up as I reach the footbridge. On the opposite side he does the same. We reach the top of the steps, walk forward a way, and both come to a halt, a few feet apart. I feel shell-shocked and exhilarated and uncertain all at the same time.

“I thought you were going down to Cornwall,” I say at last. “To buy your nursery.”

“I changed my mind.” Nathaniel looks pretty shell-shocked himself. “Thought I might … visit a friend in London instead.” He glances at my suitcase. “Where were you going?”

I clear my throat. “I was thinking … Cornwall.”

“Cornwall?” He stares at me.

“Uh-huh.” I show him my timetable, suddenly wanting to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all.

Nathaniel leans against the barricade, his thumbs in his pockets, and surveys the wooden slats of the bridge. “So … where are your friends?”

“Dunno. Gone. And they’re not my friends. I hit Guy,” I add proudly.

Nathaniel throws back his head and laughs. “So they fired you.”

“I fired them,” I correct him.

“You did?” says Nathaniel in amazement. He reaches out for my hand but I don’t take it. Underneath my joy I’m still feeling unsettled. The hurt of this morning hasn’t gone. I can’t pretend everything’s OK.

“I got your note.” I lift my eyes to his and Nathaniel flinches.

“Samantha … I wrote you a different one on the train. In case you wouldn’t see me in London.”

He fishes awkwardly in his pocket and pulls out a letter several sheets long, both sides of the paper covered in writing. I hold it for a few moments without reading it.

“What—what does it say?” I raise my eyes.

“It’s … long and boring.” His gaze burns into mine. “And badly put.”

I turn the pages slowly over in my fingers. Here and there I glimpse words that make my eyes fill instantly.

“So,” I manage.

“So.” Nathaniel’s arms come round my waist; his warm mouth is on mine. As he holds me tight I can feel the tears spilling onto my cheeks. This is where I belong. This is where I fit. I finally draw away and look up at him, wiping my eyes.

“Where now?” He looks down over the bridge and I follow his gaze. The railway track extends in both directions, far into the distance. “Which way?”

I look along the endless line, squinting in the sunshine. I’m twenty-nine years old. I can go anywhere. Do anything. Be anyone I like.

“There’s no rush,” I say at last, and reach up to kiss him again. pqdm.com