Una shuffles down the aisle, gripping one of the yellow circles on top of the seats to steady herself. Timmy is a couple of steps ahead of her and has been for several carriages. They've been searching for two seats next to each other, but the train to Brighton is busy.
It's a Saturday afternoon, after all.
"Timmy, let's just sit here," she says, and he turns around, his mouth drawn up at one side.
"No, I've seen a-" he begins, and then turns back around.
Una looks in front of them and watches as another couple shift into a spare pair of seats. She shrugs, sliding into the seat closest to her, and watches as Timmy sits down a couple of seats behind her, facing in her direction. He smiles at Una as he is squashed against an old man in a raincoat, and she smiles back. Looks out of the window, and very briefly at the pointy face of the person she's sitting next to.
The rows of council houses speed past, neglected playhouses and trampolines littering the gardens, wire fencing gnarled around the bases of old trees, nettles clambering away from their confines and reaching towards the train tracks.
She looks back at Timmy, who is typing something on his phone. Her own phone buzzes in her pocket, and she squints her eyes at him. Pulls her phone from between her thighs and glances at the screen.
timmy: Una this man smells like a poubelle
She snorts. what's a poubelle?
timmy: I am using French as code in case he looks over my sholder
Una grins to herself, looking up to see Timothée surreptitiously tilting his phone screen away from the man.
timmy: it means bin
shoulder, she types.
timmy: yes shoulder
timmy: spellcheck failed me :(
He looks back at her, grinning, and she shakes her head, smiling as she tucks her phone back between her thighs. A moment later, it buzzes again.
timmy: come to sit with me when poubelle leaves
timmy: please
he might not leave for a while though, Una replies.
The typing bubble appears for at least twenty seconds, and when the message finally arrives, it consists of two dozen sad faces. She fights the wobbling smile on her lips which is threatening to turn into a grin, and rolls her eyes. Puts her phone away again.
As her head rolls back in her seat, she makes eye contact with Timmy, who pouts at her. Then crosses his arms, smiling, and looks out of the window.
—
A few stops from Brighton, the woman next to Una stands up to leave. After a moment of awkward shuffling and unnecessary apologies, Una shifts into the seat by the window. Not five seconds later, Timmy is sliding in next to her, taking up all the space in his puffer jacket meaning she is pressed against him and the window. Una doesn't particularly mind.
There are worse positions to be in.
"I am excited now," he murmurs, and Una turns to look at him. "I hope she has made gâteau ardéchois."
She nods, and looks out of the window. "Una, are you excited?" he asks, and she turns around slowly to look at him, studying him for a moment.
Timothée's face is taught with an emotion she can't name. He looks at her expectantly, blinking, and she nods.
YOU ARE READING
IN THE HOURS BETWEEN • TC
Fanfiction"Are you lost?" "No, I'm Timothée." --- When her brother's exchange student first comes to stay, Una feels like a stranger in her own house. Timothée speaks English slowly and softly; pauses in the wrong places, constantly tries to take back what h...
