I take it from him and plug the charger in. My phone wakes from the dead after a minute of charge.
Tom takes the chair. ‘I’ve tried calling Rory, but his phone is going to voicemail.’
Felix has taken out my iPad. ‘Do you have a wifi code, Tom?’
I try to take the iPad away from him, but he holds on tightly. In the end I let it go and watch Tom give Felix the password.
An awkward silence descends upon Tom and me. He finds interesting things on the carpet to look at while I try to stop Baxter dragging a leather slipper from under the coffee table. ‘Baxter,’ I hiss, yanking the slipper from him. Felix smiles at me after gulping back his water.
‘I’ll drink my tea and then we will get out of your way,’ I say, breaking the silence.
Tom nods. ‘Sorry, I’ve no idea where Rory is.’
I can’t help but notice Felix wiping one of his cheeks with the sleeve of his coat. He’s devastated. How I wish he’d told me about his plan. Where the hell are you, Rory?
CHAPTER23
RORY
I’m freezing my bollocks off on this platform. I’ve lost all sensation in my nose. I think it might have turned into a block of ice. Even though my hands are dug deep into my coat pockets there’s no escape from the grip of the bone-chilling temperature. A gloomy train guard is walking up and down the platform. His face is a lifeless blue colour.
Fuck me – it’s cold! The train to London King’s Cross is delayed due to the snow.
This isn’t the best start to my journey. A gloomy train announcer keeps reminding everyone about the hazardous conditions for train travel.
No one around me is taking any notice of what the train announcer has to say or the late running of the train; two young children holding on to their father’s hands are busy singing an out of tune rendition of ‘Little Donkey’,a teenage couple to the left of me is locked in a passionate embrace, a noisy family from Newcastle is practically shouting what they’re going to do when they get to ‘Nana George’s house for Christmas’,a gang of young, giggling women, clutching huge shopping bags, are busy taking selfies of themselves and two men stood next to me are talking about what sort of meat one of their mothers is going to cook for Christmas dinner – a close call between beef and turkey, but lamb could be an outside runner.
Earlier as I raced down the steps to the platform, I did wonder whether I was going to be the only brave (some might say stupid given the weather warnings) soul daring to travel during the snowstorm. The sad-faced man behind the glass ticket booth, who kept shaking his head with disapproval, had told me I wouldn’t get very far in these conditions, and he said it was unlikely I would reach Brighton. According to him everyone was cancelling and by tonight there would be no trains. I mentally prepared myself for standing on a deserted platform and attracting crazed looks from train staff.
So, you can imagine my shock when I stepped onto a bustling platform.
I’ve just booked a room in a Brighton Travelodge on my phone as I have no idea what time I will arrive in Brighton and Emily will not thank me for turning up on her doorstep in the early hours.
It’s still snowing. The train announcer is back. A loud cheer erupts as the announcer tells us the delayed London train is approaching the station. My heart starts to pound at the bright yellow glow of the train lights coming into view.
In a few minutes I am going to board a train for London. It’s the day before Christmas Eve, there is a huge snowstorm battering the country and I’ve no idea what Emily is going to do or say when I turn up on her doorstep clutching Vivi’s locket.
Have I lost my marbles? I have just used my emergency credit card on a train ticket and hotel room, money which I don’t really have, and all because of a message from Emily and a gold chain and locket. I glance down at Emily’s message on Messenger. This is out of the blue and not like Emily. She’s always been a fan of a lengthy message.
What if she wants to explain for the millionth time why she believes I am not good father material for Felix?
I can still back out of this. In six minutes, I can easily be in the lift from hell shooting back up to the flat for an afternoon of Xbox gaming in the warmth with Tom. No one would know I decided to go see Emily and realised on the train platform I’d made a mistake. The day could be spent playing Tom’s war games and listening to him torture himself about Suzie and… slowly torturing myself with missing Emily. I wouldn’t get my money back at such short notice. Why do I get the feeling there is no escape?
Emily’s face appears in my mind. Her honey-dipped eyes are glinting in the light and she’s casting one of her breathtaking smiles. There is a small, almost microscopic chance I could be holding her in my arms again tonight after this, and that thought has just lit a roaring fire inside of me. This is a crazy plan of mine and I must keep the faith it is going to work.
As I board the train, I help a woman with silky red hair and a lot of heavy bags onto the train. Even though she’s younger than Vivi, she has a Vivi look about her. She’s been Christmas shopping and the amount she’s bought reminds me of Vivi too.
My goodness that woman could shop. Once I made the mistake of going shopping with Emily and Vivi. Felix had escaped by going to a friend’s house. Five hours into the shopping and Vivi was still going strong. Emily and I were gasping. I liked Vivi a lot as a good friend. She always helped me out when I was late with my articles for the newspaper. No matter what time in the evening we worked to, she always had a huge smile on her face and a bubbly laugh. Her desk was always covered in photos of her, Felix, her dog Baxter, and Emily. Family was important to Vivi, her conversations always included a funny anecdote from life at home with Felix and Baxter. I could never believe a tiny dog like Baxter could cause so much chaos. Vivi adored Felix and every certificate and school report he brought home would be pinned to Vivi’s office wall.
Inside the train carriage I’m greeted by rows of smiling faces, colourful bobble hats, scarves, gloves, rosy cheeks, and the sound of Slade’s Christmas hit, ‘Merry Christmas Everyone’.
I take the table seat next to the window and find myself opposite the two men who were discussing one of their mother’s Christmas lunch meat choices.
‘I’m Alfie,’ says the young guy with the russet-coloured hair and an impressive beard. ‘This is my husband, Michael.’ The bloke with the mass of black curls sat next to him smiles. ‘We might as well get to know each other as I have a feeling we could all be on this train for a very long time.’ He gestures to the blizzard which has started outside.
‘I’m Rory.’
Michael points at the snow. ‘I hope this train has emergency shovels because I think we might have to dig our way to London.’
