Fighting back tears, a desperate search on my phone for flights tomorrow morning to Wales leads to no results. Everything’s sold out or horribly expensive.
Then hot tears come at last, leaving salt tracks down my face as I grip my phone. This can’t be.
I promised Carys and Emily I would be there for Christmas. I must look some sight, because an older lady stops to check in on me. There’s something about her that reminds me of Great Aunt May.
“Can I help?” she asks kindly.
I gulp air. Breathe. Try to remember how to breathe. Going to pieces helps nobody and solves nothing. Some part of me wants to run home, dive under the duvet, and not come out till spring.
Mortified, I shake my head, staring at my phone in disbelief. The woman must know I’m full of shit and doesn’t leave.
About then, my phone comes to life, buzzing and chiming. Through the blur of unwanted tears, I make out Ben’s name.
“I’m okay,” I assure the woman who remains beside me.
“Hello?” I answer, sounding damnably pathetic.
“Charlie? What’s wrong?” His voice is soft and familiar in my ear.
A shuddering breath shakes me. One in. Another out. Repeat.
“Charlie? Are you there?”
“I’m here,” I gasp. “I’m sorry.”
“Did I catch you at a bad time?” Ben’s voice is full of concern. His voice is thin on the line. The announcements at the station nearly drown him out as I strain to hear his voice, soak up any comfort that I might steal. “Silly question. Clearly, I have. I can ring back—”
“No!” I say with more force than I intended. “Please don’t go.”
Then, embarrassingly, I burst into tears like a six-year-old. Because that will round out my public humiliation, bawling on the phone to the man I want to be my almost boyfriend that I could never bring home to my family, because my small universe would implode if I did. And my parents would never accept me having a boyfriend, just like they barely acknowledge my daughter. Imagine what they would do if they met Ben.
I shudder at the thought.
Never.
“I can’t get to Wales. I had a fight with my parents and I left and now I won’t get to see Carys and Emily.” I shiver as I run out of air.
It’s freezing out here. Even the pigeons look cold, the poor arseholes. Nobody’s knit them a pullover. Do they have to worry about knitting curses too?
“Oh no. Shite. What’s happened?”
“I’m a disaster. That’s what’s happened.”
“Where are you? Are you safe?”
“I’m safe, I promise.” Ben’s voice helps ground me. The woman, who lingered, at last seems satisfied that she won’t need to stage an intervention with a stranger.
God, after what I’ve told Ben about my past, he must think the worst. That I’m off my face. “I’m clean,” I blurt. “Don’t worry about that.”
“All right, lovely. But where are you?” Ben asks. Worry’s still plain in his voice. “If I wasn’t in Edinburgh, I’d come get you.”
“You don’t even know where I am.” I’m torn between laughter and tears that Ben would come to me without question, save for the small issue of several hundred kilometers between us. Which is ridiculous and fantastic and then, right then, I feel something unfamiliar, something I haven’t felt in a long time: Cared for. Wanted. Worth worrying about.
Unlike going home, which ends up leaving me feeling as insignificant as dirt.
My voice wavers. “I’m still in London, at Victoria Station. I’ve just come in from Richmond.”
Shifting, I look around. The evening traffic is winding down, since the sensible will be already at their destinations for the night. “I forgot about the trains not running late or tomorrow. There are no more trains to Wales tonight or even close. I thought maybe if I could get to Cardiff, Emily might pick me up. But nothing’s running that will get me there in time. There’s some problem with the National Express too—I thought the coaches always ran. I can’t even get past Bristol!”
