Lovetrain story from Umeå

Pat Shrimpton

It was cold - so cold that the air froze in my nose as I breathed. The scarf wound several times around my neck and mouth had a frosting of white ice particles where I had breather out through it. It is always colder in Vännäs than in Umeå and coldest on the railway stations. Someone once told me it was because the rails attract the cold - like magnets - but I don’t believe it.

The train was late, the wind was blowing right through me. It was what my mother described as a lazy wind - it went through you instead of round you! I was on my way to somewhere I didn’t want to go to, it was dark and I was alone on the platform. I’d been in better places at better times.

I looked around, trying to see through spectacles that misted up every time I breathed. I was not alone - there was a figure huddled on a seat further down the platform. It was hard to tell whether it was male or female, or a bear for that matter, so I drifted closer. I still couldn’t see very much but the figure seemed to be wearing a fur hat with the ear flaps, so at least it wasn’t a bear. it must be a man with a hat like that. As I approached the figure looked up and straight at me. There was something familiar about him but I wasn’t sure what. I stared back, neither of us spoke.

An announcement came on the screen above our heads that the train would arrive in half an hour. I let out an impatient sigh and so did the man. Then he spoke: "We may as well go into the waiting room" he said. Even his voice rang faint bells in my memory - who was he? We went along the platform until we found the door to the waiting room. Once inside out of the wind and cold we could see each other more clearly but we both seemed intent on avoiding direct eye contact. I was racking my brains trying to remember where I had seen him before. Was he a student I had taught? Someone who used to work in one of the shops where I bought groceries? Some teacher from another town I had met once when giving a course? Who was he? He almost reluctantly took off his hat and I unwound my scarf. We looked into each other. I couldn’t believe it and neither could he! We both just stared - it wasn’t possible - but it was!

One summer thirty years ago, sunshine, lilac bushes, birds singing, a lake reflecting the blue sky, water lapping the sandy shore and two people. One blond and tall, the quintessence of Swedish male beauty and one small and brown-haired with an air of bewilderment touched with excitement - staring at each other. And now here those two were again and the years of separation fell away and they were back by that lake. We both started to speak and both stopped and laughed. Just then there was a scream of wheels on cold metal and the train pulled in. There was nothing for it but to leave the warmth of the waiting room, step out into the bitter cold and get on the train. I looked behind me - he was following closely. Once on the train we would be able to talk ......



Start | Net.Train-Map | Stories overview | First sentence | Participate! | Project Information | Contact the team! | Meet us @ events! | Achill finale