They locked eyes the moment they stepped onto the carriage.
Is this seat free?
Of course! May I help you with your luggage?
Thank you Good heavens, its stifling in here!
Shall I open the window?
Please, if you dont mind.
The wheels clattered, night slipped past the fogged glass, and the train settled into the darkness.
Im Emily, by the way,
Andrew.
Thus began a simple, idle conversation between two strangers, two young travellers. She was twentytwo, he twentyfive. An hour passed, then two, then three, and still they talked as if they had known each other for years, not realizing they had only met three hours earlier. Their chat drifted from nothing to everything: the weather, the price of a pint, a polite How are you? and, inevitably, life itself.
Andrew spoke first, recalling his childhood, his parents, and his work as a drummer with the London Philharmonic Orchestra. He thumbed through a battered old album titled *Blue Bird*, *Gemstones*, *Jolly Lads*, pointing out his own picture among the glossy pages.
Fascinating! Emily laughed.
She answered in turn.
Im with the National Youth Council in London.
No kidding! Right in the heart of the capital?
Exactly. I didnt bring any photos; Im on leave, visiting my grandparents up north. It would take ages to explain how I ended up in London.
He urged her to keep talking, and the night stretched on, the two sitting opposite each other, eyes locked, voices low. When dawn tinged the horizon, Andrew escorted Emily to a quiet, deserted platform, waved goodbye, and vanished into the crowd. From that moment he could not speak to any other woman without seeing Emilys face, the nighttime companion who had slipped into his thoughts. He called out to strangers who resembled her, blushed like a schoolboy, wrote countless letters he never mailed, wondering where to send themback to London? To the Youth Council? He hadnt even asked her surname.
It became a running joke of his: during every concert, perched behind his drum kit, he scanned the audience, halfexpecting to catch a glimpse of her. He sketched her portrait from memory and taped it above his hotel bed, as if the image could keep her close. All other women faded into the background; only Emily remained, the single woman who mattered.
Time moved onThatchers reforms, the rise and fall of the Union, the breakup of old parties, the disappearance of the old power structures. Musicians, however, kept playing wherever the rails took them, their lives forever on wheels.
Years later, on another tour, Andrew found himself in the dining car of a sleeper train. He glanced around and saw herEmilysitting alone at a table, no man in sight. He froze at the doorway, and she lifted her eyes.
Well, Sasha, he said, lighting another cigarette, pouring the last of his lager into a glass, and chuckling, thats when I finally understood the phrase like a hammer on the head. My ears rang, colours swirled, my legs gave way, and I felt I might collapse onto the floor. Yet Emily rose, came over, rested her head on my chest, and whispered, Ive been looking for you forever.
That night I took her back to the Lake District, and we discovered that all those years she had been roaming the streets of towns, scanning faces, attending every concert, hoping to find a drummer like me. Both of us had waited for that perfect day, and it finally arrived. My cigarettes ran out, I went to fetch more in the restaurant car, and the rest, as you can guess, unfolded exactly as it always did.
Later, my old schoolmate Andrewnow married to Emilytold me the whole story over tea in his kitchen, after the wedding guests had gone and Emily was resting upstairs. We had bumped into each other on tour a few weeks before the ceremony, and I was invited as a guest of honour.
And that is the railway romance of Andrew and Emily, a story that still lives on. Life keeps moving, and perhaps, in some carriage right now, the door opens and a voice asks:
Is this seat free?
Absolutely. May I help with your bag?
Thanks Its quite warm, isnt it?
Shall I open the window?
If youd be so kind.
The lesson, quietly humming beneath the clatter of wheels, is that love can appear in the most ordinary moments, and when youre willing to open a window, even a fleeting glance can turn a chance encounter into a lifetime of meaning.
