Fractured(26)

With relief I heard the tannoy announce the next stop was to be Great Bishopsford, which left me only a minute or two to retrieve my case from my first seat and my other belongings from my second one. I was waiting with impatience by the automatic doors and was one of the first people to alight from the train when it eventually slowed to a standstill at the station. I was pleased to see three other people disembarking from a carriage further up the platform, and trotted as quickly as my suitcase would allow to keep pace with them.

Climbing the long flight of stairs dragging my case behind me caused me to lose ground, so I’d lost sight of the other commuters when I heard, or thought I heard, someone on the platform below me, someone out of sight of the pool of light from the staircase. Someone who had got off the train after I had.

I ran up the remainder of the flight of stairs, my suitcase literally bouncing over the concrete treads. When I reached the small ticket office I looked around for either the other commuters or a guard. There was no one to be seen but I could hear a car pulling away from the station entrance so I could only assume they had all been met by someone. But surely the guard should still be here? It was only just ten o’clock, did they really leave the station unmanned this early?

‘Hello?’ I called out shakily, my words a quivering echo in the empty foyer. ‘Is there anyone on duty?’

The responding silence was its own answer. Suddenly aware of my vulnerability at the top of the stairs, I quickly stepped far away from the stairwell. Whoever had got off the train after me would certainly be in the ticket area in a matter of moments. I strained my ears to hear their footfall on the stairs but could make out no sound.

There were two options here: either I had imagined hearing someone on the platform below me, or whoever had got off the train was now lying in wait on the darkened stairs rather than revealing themselves in the foyer. I preferred my first option – better to be paranoid than a potential crime statistic. I decided there was no virtue in staying to prove I was not going crazy and all but ran across the ticket office and out into the winter night.

The taxi rank was sited to one side of the station, and I was grateful for the bright security lighting which illuminated my way as I followed the building around. I was in luck, there was just one cab parked in the bays, its engine idling, the yellow beacon on its roof glowing brightly in the frosty chill of the air. I raised my arm to claim the driver’s attention at the precise moment the engine increased its revs and the cab pulled away from the kerb.

‘Wait!’ I cried out helplessly. ‘Please stop!’

Abandoning my case in the middle of the pavement I began to run after the departing taxi, my arms windmilling crazily overhead in an attempt to be seen. From the darkened interior of the departing vehicle it was impossible to see if there was already a passenger within or whether the driver had simply decided to call it a night and go home. I ran on for a few more metres, knowing it was useless but unable to stop myself until the tail lights were mere red specks in the distance.

Tears of sheer frustration pricked at my eyes as I slowly walked back to retrieve my case. There were no other cabs in sight, and for all I knew there would be no more until the next day. I had no other choice but to call Matt and ask him to meet me. But even as I pulled my mobile from my bag and started to key in his number, I was already realising that it would take him the best part of half an hour to reach me. And it wasn’t the prospect of waiting all alone for my fiancé to arrive that caused my fingers to tremble as I punched in the familiar number on the keypad; no, it was the more terrifying realisation that I may not be alone at all.

As I waited for the number to connect, I turned to face the station entrance, wanting to have a clear view of anyone leaving the building. When the familiar ringing tone failed to sound against my ear, I jerked my mobile away. Two words. Innocent enough in almost any other time or place but totally horrifying to see right now. No signal.

‘No, don’t you do this to me,’ I implored the mobile, as if reasoning with it alone could alter the reception. I pressed redial, drumming my fingers with impatience against the phone when it seemed to take an interminable amount of time to tell me exactly the same thing.

Forgetting about looking foolish, I raised my arm and held the small silver phone high above my head, slowly sweeping an arc across the air, trying to pick up a signal. As I pivoted around in my futile attempts to gain reception, I thought I saw a fleeting dark shadow break the shaft of light falling from the station entrance. I froze. Like a rabbit in the headlights my eyes were riveted to the light. It wasn’t until they began to water from the strain that I realised I was staring so hard I’d forgotten to blink. Although I saw nothing else from the station doorway, I knew I had not been mistaken; something or someone was inside that building and, for reasons that seemed unlikely to be innocent, they were still lurking out of sight within the shadows.