Friendship Never Dies (formerly called Silver Lining)

Friendship Never Dies - Chapter 10

I apologise if this writing style seems a little childish, I wrote it a LONG time ago. I've done a bit of editing but thought it best to leave it mostly as it was.



Chapter 10

When I got to the train station I bought my ticket and went to squeeze myself on to the tacky plastic bench. Despite the fact that it was almost three o’clock in the morning the station was bustling with late night shoppers, business men and the odd shifty looking teen that looked like they were running away from something as well – either that or they were smoking something dubious.

 I kept looking around to make sure no one I knew was here to stop me, with what I hoped looked like a curious expression on my face. I must have looked really shifty because the old man sat next to me kept giving me funny looks and eventually he turned to look at me properly, and after deciding that I wasn’t a “hooligan” that would try to beat him up he asked

 “Are you ok, sweetheart?” Sweetheart. Really?

 “Yeah, I’m fine” I mumbled, turning away from him. I stayed there for a few minutes but out of the corner of my eye I could see him looking at me curiously. Finally I turned back to him, getting really agitated and I gave up the polite pretence. “What?” I snapped gruffly. He raised his eyebrows but didn’t say anything. “Are you sure?” he asked trying to read my eyes for the truth. I gave him a curt nod and turned away again. When I glanced at him again I could see him laughing to himself, wrapped up in his own private joke. I glared at him until his laughter died down. He ignored me then for the next half an hour, as we waited for the train. Then he tapped me on the shoulder with a finger. As I turned, as slowly as I could, I prepared a torrent of spite filled, spiked words to flow off my tongue. But when I faced him the old man smiled kindly and pulled out a crumpled packet of Werthers Originals and offered me one. Old people and toffees! I thought but took one politely. We didn’t speak for moment but when I quietly mumbled a thank you and popped the sweet in my mouth he looked at me gingerly

“Running away?” he asked cautiously.

“Something like that.” I replied before I could stop myself. Even though I hadn’t actually wanted the toffee, the sugar comforted me, made me think clearly. Then the train came into the crowded station and saved me from explaining. I jumped up and almost ran towards a carriage like I was in a big rush. To my dismay the old man followed me calmly into a carriage. Once we in the compartment I turned around to confront him.

 “Are you stalking me or something?” I demanded rudely. He just shook his head and chuckled quietly to himself. As we sat down opposite each other I was surprised to find that I didn’t feel annoyed anymore. In fact I felt kind of relaxed. I wondered if he had put anything in the toffee. We sat there for a while, listening to the trains rumbling. Eventually he plucked up the courage to ask the question that had been burning him for the last hour.

 “So, why are you running away?” he couldn’t keep the edge of desire to know out of his voice. I battled with myself for a moment, dithering whether to tell this inquisitive old man or not. I decided it wouldn’t hurt.

 “Ok, I’ll tell. But you won’t tell anyone where I am will you?” I asked nervously. I knew that in the morning my parents would report me missing, and the police would be out searching for me. It wouldn’t help to give them a tip-off. And then, before I could stop myself, I told him the whole story, from start to finish. He listened quietly, not interrupting, even when his eyes grew wide and he looked like he wanted to run away so he didn’t have to hear anymore. But he stayed and listened, as my story grew more and more animated.

Once I had finished I slumped back in my seat, waiting for him to say something (or have a heart attack, from the look on his face). I had talked so much that the roof of my mouth was dry and rough and I was panting. The old man looked as speechless as me. He kept opening and shutting his mouth and he really did look like a goldfish, and I had to stifle a giggle. It was the first time I’d laughed for ages. And the first time since Nicole had been ill that I’d talked or even thought about her without crying. In fact it felt good to get it off my chest. Then I remembered that I’d told Casey Mullet as well, and made a ‘Note to self’ to thank her if I ever went back to school. It seemed like I had a whole list of people to say thank you to, so I started with the one right in front of me. “Thank you.” I whispered sheepishly. He smiled in answer, still not quite sure what to say. I surprised myself yet again by yawning. Those last few days I’d been so alert, I’d been almost hyper. I’d barely thought of sleep. Now it was all I could think about. All I wanted to do was shut my eyes and forget everything. To dull the pain.

 I’d almost forgotten that there was someone else in the carriage until the old man saw my yawn and said “Go on, sleep. I think I might have a little nap myself.” and he wriggled and shuffled around until he was comfortable and then shut his eyes. Next moment, the compartment was filled with sound of his snores. The sound was sort of hypnotic and I soon started to feel a little drowsy.

I must have drifted off, because next thing I knew, the old man was shaking my shoulder. When I reluctantly wrenched my eyelids apart he was looking at me concernedly, but the grimace turned into a smile as my eyes opened. “Wakey, wakey, sleepyhead.” he whispered softly.

“Five more minutes” I mumbled, half-asleep. He chuckled again at that.

 “Come on. Train’s stopping now.” He grinned when I groaned quietly, seemingly amused at my behaviour. He helped me up and I followed him through the carriages, out the door and on to the platform. “Thanks” I said to him and he knew what I meant. “Don’t mention it,” he replied. He smiled at me one more time and then started walking away. “Hey! Hey!” I yelled after him. He turned back, looking at me quizzically. “I never asked. What’s your name?” He seemed to think about it for a few moments then grinned and tapped the side of his nose, then spun on his heel and continued walking away down the platform. Why do nutters have to be so cryptic?! I started walking the opposite way, not really sure where I was going. I didn’t know even know what city I was in. When I booked the ticket all I knew was that I needed to get away. Not where to. I looked around for a sign or something to show me where I was. Apparently I was in Blackpool. That was good – far from home.

Freed from the soothing influence of the old man, I felt the rush of panic and sadness return to flow through my body. I didn’t feel like I needed to cry any more – I needed to scream. I needed to so badly.

I wandered around for a while, looking for a cheap B&B. When I found one, I booked in, paid and went up to my room. It was small and grotty, with cheap nylon curtains that I think were supposed to look like velvet – they didn’t. They had cigarette burns all down them and so did the carpet and I could smell someone smoking in the room next to me. The single bed was broken, so I moved the lumpy mattress onto the floor as a kind of make-shift bed. It was boiling in the room and I went to check the prehistoric radiator. Off. I went to open the window, to let some air inside but it was all rusted up and stiff. I noticed an air conditioning dial on the wall. I tried to turn it up but there was no change – it was broken. I could hear someone else moaning for Britain about the incredibly loud TV in another room. And as I thought it couldn’t get any worse, it started to rain. God, no wonder this place is cheap – it’s a hell-hole. I decided to postpone my Plan and tried to get to sleep. I wasn’t disappointed about the delay – to be honest I was very, very scared.