Girl on the Platform

Mark looked Pete up and down. ‘Get you!’ He noted Pete’s new jeans and black leather jacket. ‘Hope you didn’t go to all that trouble for me!’

‘Not likely?’ Surprisingly though, Mark had made an effort. His fair hair was newly cropped, and he was wearing a black jacket and a pair of really skinny jeans that made his size ten feet stick out like barges.

‘Come on then!’ Mark was already walking out the door. ‘Let’s see if London night-life is all it’s cracked up to be.’

‘Don’t go wandering down dark alleys!’ Pete’s dad called after them. ‘You never know who’s about.’

‘Aw, Dad! I’m not a kid anymore,’ Pete told him. ‘In case you’ve forgotten, I was twenty five last birthday. I can look after myself.’

Mark squared his shoulders. ‘If anybody tries to pick my wallet, they’ll be sorry!’ Punching the air with a clenched fist he quipped, ‘One look at me and they’ll run a mile.’

Pete told him not to be so cocky. ‘You’ll only be asking for trouble. Just remember, we’re not out to pick a fight. We’re out to enjoy ourselves and to check out the sights and pleasures.’

‘What “sights and pleasures”?’

Pete had to think hard about that. ‘Well, I don’t know, do I? All I’m saying is lots of people think London is the place to be, so now’s our chance to find out.’

‘What time is the last train back?’ Mark asked.

‘Why do you want to know that?’ Pete groaned.

‘I don’t want to be stranded in London, that’s all.’

‘We won’t be,’ Pete promised. ‘So stop asking what time we’ll get back, when we haven’t even got there yet.’

At the top of Russell Street, they came onto the High Street, and then it was a five minute walk down to the train station.

Pete checked his watch. ‘We change at Milton Keynes and get the seven-thirty to Euston. Then we can get a taxi to the theatre. After the show, we’ll suss out the area…find a night club. Get a taste of London. Then it’s back in a taxi to the station, and make our way home.’

Mark had another idea. ‘Let’s make a night of it. We could always find a hotel.’

Pete thought about that for a minute. ‘How much money have you got?’

Mark peered into his wallet. ‘Well, I paid Mum her board, and I owed Dad a tenner from last week; and I’ve got the train and taxi fare.’ Closing his wallet, he grumbled, ‘You’re right. Maybe we can’t afford a hotel, but I’m sure we could find a cheap bed and breakfast.’

Pete was not sure. ‘How much have you got altogether?’

Mark didn’t hear. He was too busy counting his coins.

‘MARK!’ Pete asked again. ‘Come on, mate. Exactly how much have you got to spend?’

‘Well, if you take out a fiver for a drink in the interval…I’ll have about twenty quid.’

‘How much?’ Pete could hardly believe his ears.

‘You heard.’

‘Twenty quid!’ Pete groaned. ‘So, after the train and the taxi, and a drink during the interval, you’re left with just twenty quid?’ He gave Mark a curious glance. ‘Did you get your wages today?’

‘Of course!’

Pete’s heart sank. ‘Don’t tell me…you’ve been backing the horses again, haven’t you?’

‘So what if I have?’ Mark had a weakness for gambling, which he was trying to control. ‘It’s my money isn’t it?’

‘I thought you said you would never back another horse. Especially after last week, when you lost loads on that old nag. What was it called, oh yes…Highway to Heaven!’

‘I suppose you think I’m on the highway to hell, don’t you?’

Pete shook his head, ‘Course not. It’s just that you’ll never have any money if you keep gambling.’

‘I know that.’ Mark also knew he had a real problem. ‘I can’t help it. Some people are addicted to drink and cigarettes or women. I’m addicted to betting on the horses. I will stop though. I have to.’ He knew he had to give it up, or he would find himself in real trouble.

Pete understood. ‘All right, I know you’ve been trying, and I guess it won’t be easy. You’re bound to slip up now and then. Look…if I can help in any way, you’ve only to ask. I’ll keep your wages for you if you like. Or maybe when you get paid, we can go out…somewhere where you can’t back the horses.

‘Every time you feel the urge to throw your money away at the bookies, call me, or come round, and we’ll go somewhere to take your mind off it. Wherever I am, I’ll be there for you.’

His voice hardened. ‘Just remember though…I will not help you, if you don’t help yourself. And I won’t lend you my hard-earned money to waste. Okay?’

‘Okay.’

‘Right then. So get a move on, because the gates are closed and the train’s coming in!’

The two of them set off at a run, and managed to scramble on board the train just as it was about to leave.

Mark threw himself into the seat. ‘Another minute and we would never have made it!’

Pete wasn’t listening. Instead, his attention was taken by a girl on the opposite platform, ‘I wouldn’t mind getting to know her.’ Seated on a bench was a young woman in her early twenties. ‘She looks a bit sad though, don’t you think?’

Mark laughed. ‘She’s probably broke…like me. Maybe she’s addicted to backing horses as well.’

As the train moved away, Mark tapped on the window, trying to catch her attention. ‘Hey! I’ll cheer you up if you want!’ he called out. ‘You and me could go to the races…what do you say to that?’

When the man opposite glared at him, Mark slunk in his seat. ‘Miserable old git!’ he grumbled. ‘I bet he’s never enjoyed himself in his life!’

Leaning forward, Pete warned him to keep his voice down. ‘What makes you think he’s never enjoyed himself?’

‘You only have to look at the poor old sod!’

The man was small and shrunk, with a balding head and a hangdog face. He scowled at Mark, then he opened his satchel and, taking out a small laptop computer, he began tapping away.

‘Oh look, here we go!’ Mark rolled his eyes to heaven. ‘Boring old geezers, head-bent to their laptops…tap-tap-tapping away. Then mobile phones will start ringing. Everybody knows everybody else’s business…what they had for breakfast, or if they’ve had an argument with their other half. After that, they’ll be bragging about how they’ve just cut a deal worth millions, when all the time they’re just ordinary grafters, like you and me!

‘Eric Peters from the warehouse says he learned more about life and sex from listening to people chatting on their mobiles than he ever learned from experience.’

Pete wasn’t listening. He had been stretching his neck to catch sight of the girl on the bench. ‘What did you say?’

‘What’s up with you?’ Mark gave him a kick. ‘You’re not even listening, are you?’