Hello
Here is Part 5 of this long short story.
To make sense of it you will need to read;
Part One here
Part Two here
Part Three here
Part Four here
Part 5 The Bench At Kings Cross Station
A woman and toddler sat next to them on the bench. Eunice shrank from the child as it had a coughing fit. Eunice whispered to Francis, “Get rid of the child. You know I’m susceptible to consumption and this urchin contains diseases of poverty.” She kneaded her hands with gusto.
The child sneezed. Eunice calculated that the infection gained from the diseased infant would lead to her demise near Berwick upon Tweed. She stared at the child with such ferocity that it whimpered and drew into the protective shield of its mother.
A two note jingle filled the concourse, interrupting the opening chords of Away in A Manger. A female voice hovered over the station, “Great Northern Trains are pleased to announce that the 14.27 Great Northern Trains Bannockburn Flyer to Aberdeen is now ready for boarding on Platform 1…..”
“That’s your train!” Francis said, a tad too enthusiastically for Eunice’s liking.
Not long to go now he thought to himself. Eunice clung to the sleeve of his jacket. He knew that she didn’t want to go. He couldn’t, wouldn’t allow her to stay. Months of preparation lay at risk.
“Please Francis, I’ll stay in my room if you wish.” Her brittle confidence creaked and groaned with the thought of so many strangers in her proximity. And only Tibby to greet her. Tibby. Momentarily Eunice seethed again.
“There is nothing to worry about Aunt; the change of scenery will do you the world of good. You said so yourself. I’ll get someone to give us a hand.”
He flagged down the driver of a trolley passing nearby, “Excuse me, could you help us please. My aunt needs to catch the train on Platform One and I was wondering if you could assist us.”
“Me?” the driver replied, “I can’t. I’m not authorised. Besides I’m full of comestibles for the 15.35 to Leeds. I have a pallet of sausage rolls and Scotch Eggs in need of refrigeration.”
Francis took the driver aside, “I will give you twenty quid if you help.”
“All right then, but you’ll have to accept the consequences for these sausage rolls.”
“Sure.”
The whispered, harsh memory of “Cripple! Cripple!” returned to Eunice. She adjusted her overcoat to hide the as far as possible her right leg and was convinced that strangers were sneering at her infirmity as she began her journey. On a pallet of Scotch Eggs.
“Please don’t abandon me to these ridiculers and commoners Francis. Please.”
But he wasn’t listening.
The driver was less than impressed when his twenty pound payment was made up of small denomination coins, 73 pence short of the agreed tariff and contained a number of pfennigs.