Last Train Home

Three

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The truth is like a butterfly emerging from its chrysalis. A caterpillar changes its DNA completely inside and emerges into a new being. Just like that, the truth enters your mind as a caterpillar, changes its basic structure and emerges from the mouth and into someone else's brain, not caring whether it hurts along the way because it just wants to be free after so long.

I've only been speaking to Wyatt for an hour and fifteen minutes – how long this train has been at a stand-still – yet he's acting like that free butterfly now he's got his truth out there.

The staff have been round to all the carriages with the snack and drink cart and given everyone a free hot drink of our choice and a free snack. Both of us chose a bitter coffee and a sandwich, which tastes pretty disgusting, but it is keeping me awake.

"All right, Lily Gilmore, so you've heard my sorry tale of what brings me on the ten-thirty last train to Cardiff. I want to know your story," Wyatt says with a small smile.

I snort and play with the charger wire that acts as a rope, bringing us opposite each other and exchanging random stories as if we've known each other for ages. It's now charging my phone, and I can see a string of voicemails stacking up on my phone. I can't even listen to them as I have no signal to use the phone, but I can see the ever-growing stack of messages from both my mother and Bruno.

She's nearly as bad as him, and I just don't want to know. They will know where I am because Thea told Bruno anyway.

"My reason is a drop in the ocean compared to what you're going through. It seems stupid. Once I'm off here, I guess it just puts it into perspective, really," I answer.

He hugs the plastic cup of gross coffee as if it were a hot water bottle. It's not that cold in here, but I guess it's a comfort.

"I mean, you can't compare issues. Just because it might not be the same as my reason for being here, doesn't mean it's not an issue to you. It's subjective, isn't it?"

I sigh deeply before moving the cup in a circle on the plastic table between us. I suppose what's the harm in telling a stranger my problem?

A lot, actually. The man just found out his sister has a week left to live.

"Okay. I'll tell you, but before I do, bear in mind it's going to sound ridiculous compared—"

"I told you not to compare," he cuts me off.

I chuckle. "All right, fine. So, since I was eight, I've known this guy. See? Sounds ridiculous already!"

"How old are you now?" he asks.

"Twenty. So, I've known him for twelve years. Why, how old are you?"

He grins. "Twenty-seven. Twelve years is a long time to know someone."

"I've been in love with him since I was fourteen. But things just... never happened. I was too scared, he was just... Bruno. Anyway, he ran off to join the army when we were eighteen. Only stayed in contact for a month. I even visited once. But then after that, after two months of him being there, he just... dropped off. Never contacted me again. We were best friends, and he just blanked me! I gave up after a month or two of trying. I went off to uni in Cardiff. Anyway, about a month ago, my mum gave him my number and he messaged me. Flirting with me, stringing me along. Eventually, he told me to come home early for Christmas as he was visiting. So, like an idiot, I did. I went back."

Wyatt nods. He sips his coffee before I carry on.

"This is the ridiculous part. A part of me gets excited for him, wondering if all the flirting and the distance between us would make him want me, or at least realise that we belong together. We send flirty messages, finally agree to meet up. We did, yesterday, spent hours just talking. My parents were out with his for a meal before his dad's Christmas party they hold every year, so he comes over. We have lunch and whatever. Tells me he regrets signing up to the army, that he missed me, you know, all the good stuff I wanted to hear?"

I take a sip of coffee.

"I think I can see where this is going," Wyatt says.

"As I said, it's ridiculous," I say.

"No, if this is going where I think it might be, it's not." He reaches across and slips his hand over mine. Without thinking, I let them thread together like the threads in a corset.

"He ends up kissing me, like the one thing I wished for since I was fourteen. I genuinely just got lost in the moment. We ended up having sex. During, and after, he told me he loved me. I stupidly told him I loved him too, was brutally honest with him about how long I'd been in love with him, how I thought coming home to him would be a chance, or like a second chance. I asked him to leave the army for us, he said he would."

"I assume that was a lie," Wyatt says.

I snort. "Well, here's the kicker. We all get invited to his dad's Christmas party because our parents are friends anyway. So, I turn up, get dressed up and everything. He's there, naturally. He saunters over to me, grinning. Takes my hand and tells me that I should know he met this girl in his regiment, and he gets married in a month. He asks me to be his best woman. After he has sex with me and tells me he loves me. After promising me he wants us to be together. So, I turned around, stole an expensive bottle of prosecco and start fleeing to Cardiff."

"What the fuck?"

I nod. "Told you it was completely stupid in comparison."

"No, it's not. He sounds like a prize prick."

I giggle. "That sounds funny in a Welsh accent."

The truth is meant to hurt, but the moment the story is off my chest, out of my mouth, it feels freeing. Just like a butterfly finally emerging from its chrysalis.

"You don't deserve that. He doesn't deserve you. I mean, if he did that, and he keeps blowing up your phone, I think he must feel something for you. But how dare he do that to such a beautiful woman?" Wyatt exclaims.

My eyes divert down to where our hands are still entangled like a knot. I try to stop my cheeks from burning from his compliment, but the flush runs through me anyway.

"I mean, I'm not, but thank you," I whisper. "I just got the train without thinking, like... it was humiliating, standing there, expecting him to follow through and then... that. I still have that bottle of prosecco in my suitcase if you want to share it."

He takes a second to contemplate it. "I mean, I've told my family what's happened. We don't know how long we'll be here... why not."

"I'll get my own phone charger as well, shall I?" I ask with a slight tease to my voice.

He raises his eyebrows. "You can, but I insist we share the electric port."

"Deal," I agree before rushing to my suitcase.

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