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Chapters (50)
  1. Cover
  2. VIOLET
  3. VIOLET
  4. Dedication
  5. Epigraph
  6. Contents
  7. Prologue
  8. 1
  9. 2
  10. 3
  11. 4
  12. 5
  13. 6
  14. 7
  15. 8
  16. 9
  17. 10
  18. 11
  19. 12
  20. 13
  21. 14
  22. 15
  23. 16
  24. 17
  25. 18
  26. 19
  27. 20
  28. 21
  29. 22
  30. 23
  31. 24
  32. 25
  33. 26
  34. 27
  35. 28
  36. 29
  37. 30
  38. 31
  39. 32
  40. 33
  41. 34
  42. 35
  43. 36
  44. 37
  45. 38
  46. 39
  47. Epilogue
  48. Acknowledgements
  49. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  50. Copyright

Subject: RE: RE: Got a new pal, you’re dumped

Her name is Violet and she reckons she’s from Nottingham, but she sounds more like a home-counties rich kid and she dresses like a proper nineties grunge-hippy (is that a thing?). She has terrible hair – all matted henna dreads. She really needs a makeover! She looks like she’s been travelling for twenty years. I’m pretty sure she’s our age though. But apart from that, we seem to be totally on the same wavelength and I’m loving hanging out with her. We’ll see how it goes…

Yes, we are on the train! I am writing this from the toilet. I went for a walk along the carriages and there’s a massive tour group full of pensioners and they are bloody loving it. Me and you need to do massive trips when we’re pensioners. None of that bingo-fish-and-chips Friday shite.

I TOLD you I’m not using Messenger … Anyway, the time difference means we’ll hardly ever be online at the same time so email makes more sense, plus I can write loads without you butting in.

I’m not talking about Greg.

Will email more when we get to the next stop. The train is great. It’s like the Orient Express, except not as fancy. You would love it.

Cx

P.S. There’s a very sexy guy working in the restaurant. I think he’s Russian, but that is based entirely on his brooding, Slavic cheekbones (can cheekbones brood? Are Russians Slavic? Ask Sheila if she knows so much!) – he’s never actually spoken to us. He’s given us free vodka at every meal. Maybe he gives it to all the guests, but I think he fancies me. Trying to decide whether to proceed…

P.P.S. I am not going to proceed. I am so off men right now.

Ulaanbaatar

6

Carrie has been reading the guidebook entry for Mongolia. The capital, Ulaanbaatar, is our first proper stop on this journey, where we will actually get off the train for longer than a five-minute cigarette break.

‘“Genghis Khan was born around 1162 near the border between modern Mongolia and Siberia. Legend holds that he came into the world clutching a blood clot in his right hand”,’ Carrie reads aloud. ‘“Before he turned ten, his father was poisoned to death by an enemy clan. His own clan then deserted him, his mother and his six siblings in order to avoid having to feed them.”’ She blows out a breath. ‘Harsh.’

‘That’s all fascinating, obviously,’ I say, tipping a cigarette out of the packet from the fresh carton that we bought at the last stop – something else that the platform sellers are keen on hawking. I stick the cigarette behind my ear. ‘But have you booked accommodation here? Only … well I don’t have anything, obviously. And I can ask a taxi driver or—’