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I grabbed my bag, throwing everything haphazardly into it, stuffing the empty wine bottle into the nearest bin in case it fell out at the hotel and everyone thought I’d drunk it all myself. The aisle was already full of passengers dragging luggage down from the racks, flooding towards the doors, eager to be the first to get off. I felt like staying where I was, welding myself to my seat, refusing to leave the train. What if I just didn’t go? I supposed that would mean I was running away from my problems and I was determined not to do that any more. I had to be strong. Face the truth and deal with whatever life threw at me.
‘Are we coming in on time?’ I asked Léo.
‘Two minutes early. It is five minutes to five.’
I put my palm on my chest, feeling it rise and fall. Everything felt wrong again. Léo would be gone soon, and in less than half an hour I would see Si again. And then, one way or another, I’d know.
‘Are you ready?’ said Léo.
I nodded. When the doors opened, we were amongst the first to step onto the platform. We hurried along, sandwiched between our train and a yellow double-decker on the opposite platform. Above us was a curved, glass roof letting in a soft, mustardy light.
‘I don’t have any money for the taxi,’ I realised with a panic.
Why hadn’t I thought of it sooner? I’d have to find a cashpoint, now, and hope I could remember the PIN for my card. I whirled around, looking for one.
‘Take this,’ said Léo, fishing around in his pockets, pulling out a note.
‘No,’ I said, shaking my head. ‘You’ve done enough already.’
‘Just take it.’ He thrust a twenty-euro note into my hand. ‘There is no time to argue with me.’ He hauled his bag onto his shoulder. ‘Come. Let us go, quickly.’
We sprinted down an escalator and into the bowels of the station.
‘Taxis that way,’ I said, pointing to a sign.
We ran, my twisted ankle forgotten, past brightly lit sandwich shops and someone playing a piano and a place selling clog-shaped doormats and bunches of wooden tulips. Once outside we joined the end of the queue and when I stood on tiptoes I saw at least four or five taxis snaking into the station. It shouldn’t be long.
I took a deep breath, glad of the fresh air.
‘So,’ said Léo. ‘This is it.’
My eyes flickered over his shoulder, keeping an eye on the taxis coming in, feeling sick at the idea of saying goodbye, of never seeing him again.
‘You didn’t get to finish whatever it was you wanted to say.’
‘No,’ he said, pushing his fringe back off his face. ‘And now the moment has passed, non?’
We took a step forward, the queue moving faster than I’d expected. My mind was full of contrasts. It would have been easier if I’d never met Léo; it was unthinkable that I might not have done.
‘What are you going to do about your boyfriend?’ he asked.
I ran my fingers up and down the length of my camera strap. ‘I haven’t decided.’
A family of four got into a car, leaving only one studenty-looking guy in front of us.
‘Do you want to share?’ I asked. ‘God, I don’t even know where you’re going, where your gig is?’
He shook his head. ‘It is fine. I must go in a different direction.’
I put my hand on my forehead. ‘I don’t want to leave you,’ I told him, not quite believing that I’d said it out loud. But then again, if not now, when?
‘You know, you turned out to be quite good company after all, Hannah.’
‘I’ll take that as a compliment,’ I said.
He brushed a hair out of my eye. ‘I had a good time,’ he whispered.
I nodded. ‘Me too.’ In a few seconds he would be gone, out of my life forever.
