I woke thirsty, my mouth dry, and stumbled to the ladies’ room. I drank straight from the tap and splashed water on my face. Rather than go back to my seat I wandered through the train, walking towards the front. It was the middle of the night, the last night of the journey, and I was terrified of it ending. It wasn’t until I saw him that I knew what I’d been looking for. He was awake, staring straight ahead into the darkened car. I tapped his shoulder. He jerked, started to speak, but I put a finger over my lips, walking back the way I’d come, motioning for him to follow.

The viewing platform was the last car, and he stood beside me, the entire train snaking forwards at our backs.

‘I finished,’ I shouted over the noise.

He leaned in. ‘What?’

‘The book. I finished it.’

‘What’d you think?’

‘So many things. I’ve never had a book make me feel so much.’ I felt protected by the dark and the movement of the train. I could say whatever I wanted. ‘And I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been angry, you were right. I feel so bad that I never told my mother what I saw, so I can’t blame her for asking me to find out.’

Jim looked at me through half-closed eyes. I could see that he was looking for words, and I didn’t want to hear them. I didn’t want to think about the past or the future anymore, and I understood Dad then more clearly than I had ever understood him. I saw him in his hummingbird-wing hat, his chest out, the woman on his arm, the dogs sleek on the track before him, the draw of the here and now. I was more him than anyone. It was a terrible thought, a wonderful thought, one that was both joy and sorrow at once.

I let go of the sorrow and leaned into Jim’s chest. His stubbled chin was on my forehead, his hand on my waist. He lifted my chin with his finger and he kissed me, our mouths the only warm things, the train pulsing forwards. I slid my hands between his shirt and jacket. He pulled away.

‘We should stop,’ he said. I saw the censure in his eyes and felt the sorrow rear up with such force it nearly knocked me backwards. He followed me to my seat, but I couldn’t speak to him. I had said all there was to say. He left, the shadow of his body like a bruise against the door of the car, the noise as it opened of outside rushing in.

•

When I woke it was to the long, low whistle of another train and a jerking movement. Mary was shaking me, her slender fingers on my arm.

‘We’re almost there. Don’t you want to wash up? Be pretty for your husband?’