It was the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last.
She was only twelve, with a bob-hair cut, uneven fringe and a knack for making people uncomfortable.
Her dad said she stared to much.
“Wotcha staring for again, girl?”
Her mum said she read too much;
“Never gonna get yourself a lad that way, girl”
It was girl. Never, Emma. The name they had gifted her.
But girl, girl, girl.
She rolled her eyes at them a lot, when they weren’t paying attention – which, less face it, was quite often.
They hardly noticed if she was in the house or out. That’s probably what led to the first time. The fact that she knew no-one would be waiting. No-one would be worried. They would probably be too high of their heads to notice if she came in late. And it’s not like the teachers would care that she’d missed classes. It wasn’t that type of school – not a “have dreams, work hard” type of school. It was more, “these kids are doomed anyway, who cares what happens to them, as long as we get paid?” kind of school.
So she did it.
She caught the train.
Manchester to London. All by herself.
She sat and stared out the window. Stared and stared. Dreamed and dreamed.
(Hid, from the ticker inspectors, when the time came).
She never got off the train. Just traveled to London. Then waited for the train to return home.
She never spoke to anyone the entire day.
Never ate anything, save the chocolates she’d swiped from the corner shop that morning.
But she felt alive.
She had saw things.
Seen the city and the country through a small window.
Seen the business men and women on their way to work.
Seen the mothers cooing over babies, parents shouting at kids.
Seen teenagers bunking of school.
Couples fall asleep. Leaning on each other.
She had saw things.
And in her twelve year old mind she decided.
It would never be enough.
This life her parents were living, it would never be enough for her.
She wanted to be a business women, typing away quickly and having important calls.
She wanted to be a mother, cooing over her child.
She wanted to lean on somebody.
So she would. She decided. She wasn’t sure how. She didn’t care how but she would get it. She would get it all.
And she did.
She most certainly did.
At twenty-four, the relationship came.
At thirty-two, she was managing director.
At thirty-five, a mother.
She had it all. She could afford train tickets now. Could afford a car to drive through those cities and towns. She had it all.
Every now and then.
She would tell a fib.
Just a small.
Nothing too serious.
She had important meeting. She had a family engagement. She had something or other.
And then of she would go.
On to the train.
And she would stare out that window. And she would watch the world go by. See the cities and the towns. She would watch and watch and watch.
She was just like those business women now.
She was just like those mothers.
She was just like those partners.
She didn’t know, if it would ever be enough.
Maybe, she thought, maybe her secret excursions should last for longer.
Maybe one day, she she should get off at London.
Forget the return train, the husband, the baby, the business.
Written for the discover challenge prompt – this prompt has led to the creation of a whole story line in my head. My mind is filled with Emma stories! Now just to get them typed out…