‘Here we go, then,’ says Mr Evans as he pulls up outside Leighton Buzzard Station. ‘Did you know that the Great Train Robbery happened on this line? Between here and the next stop, Cheddington.’
‘Well I never,’ says Lydia. ‘Thanks so much for the lift.’
‘No problem and give AJ Evans a shout out when you’re on the telly. My missus will be made up.’
‘We will,’ says Lydia as we climb down from the cab. We wave goodbye as he drives off and I think my ears might just be thanking me for the cessation of a constant stream of facts.
‘Do you think there’s anything, he didn’t know?’ Lydia asks. ‘He’s a very nice man but I think I have a headache.’
‘Hopefully next time we see him, he’ll be on Who Wants to be a Millionaire?’
‘Yeah,’ Lydia says with a giggle, ‘as the phone-a-friend guy.’
She starts to walk over to the station, which has the appearance of a Lego building, neat and symmetrical.
‘Er, Lydia. Small problem. We don’t have any train fare.’
The expression on her face is suddenly sheepish. ‘Ah, well. About that… I might have a small confession,’ she says, looking at the painted trim of the station as if it’s the most fascinating thing to mankind.
‘What sort of confession?’ I ask, a little amused by the pinkness of her face.
She tugs at her earlobe. It’s not something I’ve seen her do before. She’s so cute and un-Lydia-like at this moment in time, I want to kiss her.
‘Is it really so bad?’ I ask.
‘Not really. I mean. Well. Actually…’ Her eyes slide beyond me and suddenly she straightens. ‘Look! The train goes through Berkhamsted. Isn’t that where your family lives?’
I nod.
She claps her hands in delight. ‘Perfect. You can go and see them. Isn’t it your mum’s birthday party today?’
‘How the hell did you remember that?’
She does one of her infamous shrugs. ‘I remember stuff. And didn’t you say you were going to be in trouble if you miss it? Well, now you don’t have to. It’s serendipity. We can call in, stay for a few hours and still get to Trafalgar Square before 8pm.’
Her expression radiates delight. She honestly thinks she’s doing me a favour.
‘Your mother will be so pleased to see you.’ Her earnest look makes my heart hurt. ‘Do you think she’d mind one extra?’
Lydia has no idea. My mother will not be pleased to see us in this state. My presence and that of my siblings is purely so that our parents can show their friends how well their children are doing. I’m supposed to look smart and successful. I look down at our clothes. Even though we’ve showered and cleaned up some, our clothes are still creased and splotched with dried mud – our appearance is not saying ‘young professionals on the up’.
Then I notice the stain on Lydia’s trousers. Her wound is obviously weeping through the dressing and the fabric of her trousers. Shit, she really needs to see a doctor.
‘No,’ I lie blithely. ‘The more the merrier.’ I wonder for a second if I’ll be struck down with this blatant lie. My mother does not do spontaneity or uninvited guests, however my doctor cousin will be there. ‘And you can meet Annette, who helped put your shoulder back. She can take a proper look at that leg of yours.’
It’s noticeable that Lydia neither rolls her eyes nor makes any comment. Previously she’s been insistent her leg is fine.
Suddenly we’re in front of the manned ticket office.
‘Two tickets to Berkhamsted,’ says Lydia.
‘Lydia!’ I watch as she produces a sock from her rucksack and from it pulls a roll of cash. There must be over two hundred pounds in her hand.
‘What the …’
She gives me a blithe smile as she hands over a couple of twenty pound notes.
I don’t fucking believe it. She’s had all this cash on her all this time.
‘Next train is platform four at fourteen minutes past.’ As the ticket guy hands over the tickets, I’m speechless – shock or rage? I can’t decide which. Whichever it is, I’m mute as I follow her to the platform.
Before I can say anything, because I’m too busy seething – it’s rage, I’ve decided – she holds up a hand. ‘It was my emergency stash.’
I digest this for a couple of seconds. ‘And what… What exactly … constitutes an emergency?’ Yeah, I’m still a little verbally constipated right now. After everything we’ve been through … We could have caught a train from Kendal the very first night, we could have paid for a cab to … to anywhere.
‘Well, we’re so close now and we did do everything to this point under our own steam and we still could but I figured it’s important for you to get to your mum’s birthday celebration, so it’s all right to cheat a bit. I mean if we hitched to London from here, we’d be there today. So if we spend a bit of money to do this, it’s not really cheating, is it?’
I stare at her, my brain trying to catch up with her logic. Again she has that earnest look in her face, the one that suggests she’s being totally honest and true to her own value system, which at this moment is totally impenetrable to me.
‘Look, I know how important this is to your mum. You can’t let her down.’
Shit, she means it. I feel guilty. I should have been more honest about my relationship with my parents. My mother does not deserve this blind belief in her maternal wholesomeness. Lydia has absolutely no idea and if it weren’t for the damp patch on the front of her trousers, I’d tell her that we’re going straight to London, but I really want Annette to take a look and persuade her she needs to go to hospital. Hopefully Lydia will listen to a medical professional, because she’s certainly not listening to me.
The treat of a flat white coffee restores some of my equilibrium, even though I say for the ninth or tenth time, ‘I can’t believe you had all that money on you and never said anything.’
Lydia glares at me and huffs out a sigh. ‘I’m not going to apologise. So you can just suck it up.’
