Love in a Cold Carriage concludes today. Search Anecdotage for Part 1 [published last week].

As the doors groan open, she takes her bag from the seat next to her. Perhaps if it is occupied. Love-spoon man will desist. New passengers shuffle in, filling the aisle, their big coats brushing the seats, their bags jostling. They bring in the scent of the platform- doughnuts, diesel fumes and night air. A teenager in a puffa jacket drops down beside her, headphones on and wastes no time in withdrawing a phone from her pocket and scrolling, engrossed. Alex expresses an inward curse. Why hadn’t she done this? The teenager has insulated herself from interactions. A book is inadequate for this purpose.

Throughout the disgorging and boarding, Love-spoon man has continued to talk in spite of Alex’s hostile lack of interest. Now he pauses, renews his pose across the table and thrusts a long, rangy arm and knobbly hand into her space until she must withdraw her head to avoid contact.

‘My name’s Ellory’ he beams. Alex drops her eyes to her book. ‘And yours is?’ She pretends not to hear.

‘What’s your name?’

She coughs then sighs, frowning. ‘Alex’

‘Pleased to meet you’. His white, lumpy hand looks indecent as it’s dangled under her nose to be shaken. Alex lays her book down and turns to the teenager.

‘Excuse me’ she hisses, then has to nudge the oblivious girl, who makes a reluctant exit from her seat to allow her to pass. Alex makes her way to the end of the carriage and out of the door, where she leans against the wall, swaying with the rumbling, rolling train. It’s at the suburbs now and will be sliding into Waterloo in a few minutes. She could stay here, out in the door area until it stops, except that her handbag is on the seat and her weekend case above on the rack. She’ll need to return to her seat- and the odious Love-spoon man, before she can leave. She steels herself; better sooner than later.

Returning to the seat, she ignores the delighted grin of the man and the disgruntled scowl of the teenager, who must get out again, and leans in to take her handbag before reaching up to pull her case down.

‘Thanks’ she tells the girl. She’s aware that the man is speaking, that he may be about to follow her, so she heads out and along the train towards the nearest toilet, where she enters, locks the door and sinks down on the seat, hoping that nobody will need the facilities before the train stops.

At last the train slows to a halt and the doors open. Alex emerges, peering along each way before trundling her case to the next door along, stepping down on to the platform. She takes advantage of the crowd, dashing towards the barrier, inserting her ticket and bursting through to the other side. She stares wildly around at the milling throng in the station concourse until she spots the man she’s looking for and makes for him, feeling the smile build inside her, thumping, surging elation replacing anxiety and irritation. The joy of the weekend is upon her.

He sweeps her into a hug and they kiss. When she lifts her face he’s looking over the top of her head at something approaching. Someone. He’s smiling. She turns to see as the person arrives next to them. She feels the blood drain to her feet and her stomach lurch.

‘Alex’, says Jared, swivelling her to face the newcomer. ‘There’ll be three of us this weekend. This is my Dad, Ellory. I didn’t say before because I wanted to surprise you.’

She swallows, words failing her. Ellory’s frog eyes are wide with mirth.

‘I suppose a hug is out of the question? Although we have already met, haven’t we?’ …

To unlock more fiction by Jane Deans, search novels: The Year of Familiar Strangers and The Conways at Earthsend. Visit my website: janedeans.com