Page 121 of The Last Train Home
‘I can’t argue with that,’ Tom says coolly.
‘You’re a good man,’ I repeat. I want him to know this. It’s important that he acknowledges this. ‘Have you ever spoken to anyone – properly, I mean – about that night on the train?’ This has been bothering me for five long years.
He shakes his head. ‘Have you?’
‘No. I’m still not sure if I need to. Not now. I probably did before, but … I needed to overcome the fear of getting on the Tube again, mostly. I think I’m over halfway there. Or I very soon will be. I guess my experience of that day and yours were very different.’
‘You do like to sleep your way through hellish events,’ he deadpans.
I issue a small smile. ‘Tom,’ I nudge.
He won’t look at me. Instead he looks at the floor.
‘I feel a bit funny about talking to people I don’t know. It may have escaped your attention, but I don’t have a great deal of friends, and my parents and I … we aren’t exactly close. We don’t talk about things like that.’
‘What do you talk about?’ I ask.
‘It’s a good question. We don’t really talk much. “Stiff upper lip” is pretty much the family motto.’
‘It’s a terrible motto,’ I say.
He laughs at this. ‘Maybe. I don’t know. They’re not very emotional, you know. They don’t show emotion.’
‘So if talking to your parents won’t help, would talking to mine, maybe? Not specifically about this, but … in general. My parents are good for life advice.’
He doesn’t answer. He’s thinking about it, though.
‘My dad really likes you,’ I offer.
‘Yeah, he’s nice. One of the good ones.’
‘He is. Why don’t you give him a ring? Meet up. He’s a good listener.’
Tom thinks for a few seconds. ‘Maybe. I mean … I’d actually quite like that. Would you mind?’
‘Of course not.’
‘The problem is …’ he starts.
‘Yes?’
‘If you and I don’t remain friends …’
‘We will,’ I say emphatically. ‘We will and if we don’t, you can have joint custody of my dad and I need never know about it. When and if you want to talk to him, or go for pints or whatever, please do it, Tom.’
He looks at me. ‘I’d like that, if you really don’t mind and if he doesn’t.’
‘Are you kidding?’ I ask with an eye-roll. ‘I think over the past few years he’s missed you more than I have.’
And then I wonder how true that is. Because I missed Tom. I missed him more than I could ever say. I just think I need to work up the courage to actually tell him this.
Chapter 72
Abbie
It’s 1 a.m. If I had any energy, and if I could actually move without it hurting my lower abdomen, I would be pacing back and forth in my room right now. Instead I’m lying in bed, wide awake, as feelings of confusion and tiredness wash over me.
Being near Tom feels good. Being in his company feels good. It was something I thought, when I ran out of his kitchen years ago, that I would never, ever get the chance to do again. I really wish I knew what to do about this. Perhaps it’s best to do nothing. Perhaps it’s best just to be friends. ‘Oh God.’ I throw the palms of my hands up to my tired eyes and push gently, rubbing for good measure.
