Dear Deceiver(2)

The second boat train, pulling into its platform, could well have  blanched at the crowd awaiting it, the normal number swelled by twelve  hundred air refugees. Haidee had no real intention of eluding her  self-invited companion, it just happened. At the same moment a friendly  voice said in her ear: 'Bags of room here. Come on.' A pink-clad arm  gave a brisk wrench to the door handle of the nearest coach.

The multitude, no doubt with Haidee's acquaintance amongst them, was  surging obediently into the second class carriages. The first class ones  were almost empty.

'My ticket isn't first,' Haidee said doubtfully, looking at the twinkling eyes that had invited her so cheerfully to enter.

'Me neither, chum,' came the gay reply. 'Who cares?' She checked  abruptly. 'Oh, wait. It's a non-smoker.' She threw a glance backwards  over her shoulder. 'It won't do you. It's a non-smoker. Try the next  one.'

Another voice replied. 'Brown Waves', thought Haidee disappointedly. To  have travelled with the pair of them would have done much for this weary  journey. She would not now have that pleasure. The fair girl was  already leaving the compartment. And then a surprising thing happened.  She glanced back in the same friendly fashion. 'Come on, we'll go next  door. He'll want to smoke. You don't mind, do you?'

'No, of course not.' Haidee found herself speaking to the tall figure which had now come alongside.

'Hello,' said 'Brown Waves', smiling. 'We meet again.' He took Haidee's suitcase and put it on the rack.

'Get comfy,' his companion invited. 'First come, first served.' She took  a corner seat and set about removing her coat. 'Take off your jacket,'  Haidee was bidden maternally. 'Then you can put it over you later on.  You know,' she added with an impish beam, 'this could be worse.'

A lot worse, Haidee amended silently. But she was still sheep enough to  have qualms about the hundreds of law-abiders travelling in crowded  discomfort.

'If the ticket collector comes...' she began.

'Don't worry. We're three to one,' 'Brown Waves' said smilingly.

In fact for the whole four and a half hours no badge of officialdom so much as looked in their windows.

It was a journey for seeing the funny side and this 'Fair Chignon'  (neither she nor 'Brown Waves' had volunteered their names) made sure  they did. She told hilarious stories and clowned with the can of  Guinness 'Brown Waves' brought her. It was no wonder he seemed so  fascinated. But after the stop at Crewe she suddenly pulled down the  blinds beside her, wrapped her coat around her and said goodnight.

'We should do the same,' 'Brown Waves' advised Haidee. 'The night is  still long.' He drew the remaining blinds and dimmed the light.

Haidee did not blame him for not wanting to stay awake with only her for  company, but sleep was one bonus she did not hope for. For all that one  had to go through the motions. She slipped her glasses into her handbag  and snuggled as best she could under her camel jacket.

Odd to be cleaving the night like this, miles from home, in a hinterland  of darkness. Ghostly stations resounded as the train roared through and  by looking round the edge of the blind she could see distant road  lights that looked like chains of oranges. She was tired, concerned for  Brand who must by now be wondering what had gone wrong, and lonely. And  yet for much of tonight she'd forgotten her troubles. It was months  since she had laughed so much and it went to show that no gloom need  ever be total. The Chinese knew that of old and said it more poetically:  'Keep a green bough in thy heart and God will send thee a singing  bird.'

Haidee loved birds. Dublin's wild bird sanctuary on the North Bull, half  a mile as the crow flies from her front door, had many times in the  past two years solaced her along with its migrating geese. It did not  offer boughs. If you wanted the best in trees you would find them due  south across the bay Where the Dublin and Wicklow mountains reared  against the skyline. She thought now of trees, trees at sundown and the  sleepy twittering of birds.                       
       
           



       

When next she opened her eyes the compartment seemed strangely quiet. It  took a minute to orientate. 'Brown Waves's' eyes were also open and  watching her. The semidarkness robbed him of his colour; she saw checks,  white collar points, a dark triangle of sweat-shirt. Saw too, and was  thankful that the shadows hid her silly blushes, how gently his lips  curved as she turned her head.

'Sleep well?' he asked softly.

'Yes. I...' She stopped confusedly. 'Are we there?'

'Not yet. Morecambe, I think. Looks like it.' He lifted the blind on a  bleak foreshore. A few parked caravans flashed past. 'Yes, Morecambe,'  he confirmed, and dropped the blind.

He was still looking at her intently. She pushed back her hair.

'Do that again,' he commanded.

She blinked incredulously and saw the gleam of his teeth.

'Sorry. Fact is you've been bothering me for hours. You remind me of  somebody. Without your glasses it's quite amazing.' It added to the  intimacy of the moment that he was obviously taking care not to disturb  'Fair Chignon' in her corner.

'We're all supposed to have a double.' Haidee did not think hers would have put any strain on the Celestial Photo-Copying Unit.

'Yes. You could certainly be Suzanne's.' The smile flashed. 'That's not your name, I suppose?'

'No. Haidee.'

'Haidee.' It was a rather pretty name and he made it sound even better.  'And very apt, I'd say.' Once more he smiled at her surprise. 'French,  meaning a lily, I think. Am I right?'

She nodded, telling herself not to be so idiotically flattered.

'So! Definitely not Suzanne,' he summed up teasingly. 'Are there any more at home like you?'

'No. I'm the last of the Mohicans.'

'The last?' He quickened.

Haidee explained, not asking for pity because that sort of trouble came to everyone in time. She got it none the less.

'I am sorry,' 'Brown Waves' said simply. 'But I'm sure you won't be the  last of the Mohicans for long. Live alone, do you?' he asked a second  later.

'Except for my gentleman friend.' It was demurely said. Not the first  time she'd seen a face change at this point, but this face, boned-as she  now thought-like an Irish setter, outdid all others to date. She took  pity on it. 'Brand. Scandinavian, meaning flame. My cat.'

'Your cat!' The laugh was boyish and the creases round his eyes enhanced his charm. 'I thought for the minute-'

A sound from the corner interrupted. 'Fair Chignon' was awake and  yawning. She glanced through the window. 'Hey, you two, what have you  done? We're going back to London!'

The train was moving again, apparently in the direction from which  they'd come. Just so, 'Brown Waves' explained smoothly, Heysham's nip of  coast was on a loop line to the south-west. Ten minutes later they  stopped again. 'Heysham!' shouted a voice. 'Heysham!'

It was twenty-five to two and dark as pitch.

'Brown Waves' lifted the case down while Haidee shrugged on her jacket  and 'Fair Chignon' her pink coat. The platform was already teeming with  people all heading for the notices which read: to the ships.

'In case we get separated,' 'Brown Waves' said, 'my thanks for your  company.' His eyes rested doubtfully on 'Fair Chignon' who for all her  talents was patently not a good case carrier. 'Can you manage? Shall I?'

She refused. Haidee admired her for it, all the more because she was at  last beginning to flag. 'I should say not. You have your own. And don't  wait. I'll hold you up. Don't you wait either,' she bade Haidee. 'This  bloody boat is going to be over its eyeballs. It's every man for  himself.'

It was a strange reversal of fortune. Glamour in the shape of smart  shoes and leather luggage lost out fast whereas Haidee's 'flats' and  supermarket suitcase could have kept pace easily with 'Brown Waves's'  swinging stride. She watched him now as he caught up with the streaming  crowd and it swallowed him.                       
       
           



       

'You shouldn't have waited,' 'Fair Chignon' panted as they went down a  badly lit passage beside the empty shipyards. 'But thanks. I hope it  won't lose you your chance of a berth.'

If it did it couldn't be helped, Haidee thought. One good turn deserved  another and she'd been 'adopted' so kindly at Euston. But it probably  would mean kissing good-bye to a berth and, in the circumstances, 'Brown  Waves' could not be judged too hardly.

The night was pleasantly warm, but it seemed a long way, probably since  every few yards 'Fair Chignon' had to put down her case and take a  breath. None of the other passengers now remained in sight and there  seemed to be none coming behind. It was a No Man's Land of yards and  wire fencing and the odd lamp gave only eerie light, but a striped  kitten perched on a gate took some of the strangeness away. When there  was an animal about Haidee was never too tired or too forlorn to notice.  She hurried ahead to stroke it.