Alice flashed Wilbur a look. ‘Oh, I know that. But I’d like my shilling back. It’s the principle.’
There was a strange contradiction to Alice. The way she could casually look down at people while also questioning why they would want to raise themselves up.
Maggie said nothing. Just calmly handed her a shilling from the jar of money on her tray.
The Ghost watched himself. He saw his own eyes linger on Maggie’s face. It was so strange, how life became so clear with hindsight. Like a puzzle that can only be solved in reverse.
He also wondered how much of history was this – not words and deeds but gazes and unsaid longings and subtle transgressions.
How much of it was just one near thing after another.
Silent Words
Later, after the film, Alice went to the ladies’, and the Ghost saw Maggie standing next to the doors, saying goodbye to people in a way that seemed so old-fashioned and wonderful to him. Wilbur went over to her to apologise as delicately as he could manage without feeling he was betraying Alice.
‘I’m sorry, Maggie. About the choc ice.’
She shrugged it off. And smiled a smile that contained only a small fraction of sadness. ‘It was no bother. Hope you liked the film. I have to watch it every night. Those bloody birds are giving me a breakdown.’
‘I bet. Yeah. Anyway, yeah, hope it didn’t bother you.’
She stared at him as though he was younger than his years. ‘You’re a sweet lad, Wilbur. But you worry too much.’
‘I know, but, Maggie, I just—’
He’d wanted to say something else, and for a second he felt that Maggie wanted him to. But then suddenly Alice was there and the moment was gone.
The train whistled. And he could see it, just outside the cinema at the foot of the steps. He turned one last time to see Maggie, who was now helping an elderly man across the carpet, and he felt a total love, uncluttered by time or life’s many obstacles.
‘I miss you,’ said the Ghost. And the words stayed there, as they always had, silently hanging in the air.
The Hundred Deaths of Wilbur Budd
There were many deaths in life.
A person, it seemed to the Ghost now, died in stages. And so it was particularly poignant to see himself at a young age.
To come was the death of youth, of ideals. Of connection, friendships, principles, love. And these were often just choices. Choices that had seemed right at the time, in the moment, but when you got to the end, to the very last death, you looked back and realised all the lost versions that you left along the way.
He missed, right then, the person he had once been. And the goodness that had existed inside him, as natural as the green in grass.
A Quick Word
Agnes had wanted a quick word.
‘You tried to interfere with your life back there in the cinema. That’s not what this journey is about, Old Bean. No meddling, no tinkering, no fiddling with time … It’s impossibly dangerous. Clear?’
‘But, Agnes, I can see it now, I squandered love … I squandered time …’
‘Yes. Yes, you really did. More even than most. But you have no choice. This train has one route and one destination. As I have said, you are here to watch.’
And then, before he had time to answer, she walked to the front of the train, leaving Wilbur to stare out of the window at his younger self also staring out of a window, wondering what his life had in store.
Miss Graham’s Last Lesson
A little later, he was alone in the carriage. Or he thought he was. But then he heard a smoker’s cough and looked away from the window to see the ghost of a woman. Not Agnes, but still someone familiar.
Miss Graham, who was sat near the end of the carriage, leaning against the green velvet seat.
