The North London Line

"You're not taking me somewhere to kill me, are you?" Bonnie asked. The doors slid shut behind us. "I wouldn't blame you. After everything."

"Bon, I told you," I replied, gently as I could. "We're good."

"Next stop, Camden Road."

"It's just—" She fixed her gaze on her wringing hands. "I've hurt you so much over the years—"

"You were just trying to keep us safe."

"Still. I—" Her eyes shone with tears. "I'm sorry, Chloe."

"I forgive you, Bon. We're starting over, right?"

A hopeful smile tugged at her lips and she nodded.

"Come on." I started for the next carriage. "The front of the train will be emptier."

It was raining when we crossed the threshold.

"Wasn't today's forecast sunny?" The clouds stretched to the horizon, water buffeting the windows.

"Look." Bonnie nudged my arm. "Their Polaroid looks exactly like yours."

Two women sat with their backs to us, one of them taking photos of two men posing near the windows.

"Do you still have yours?"

"Probably, in a box somewhere," I replied absently. A sense of déjà-vu had struck me, and I couldn't figure out why—

The men turned around, and Bonnie and I gasped in unison, spinning around to hide our faces.

"I'm not seeing things, am I?" I whispered urgently. "That's definitely—"

"Stephen."

Bonnie's ex-husband. The divorce had only been finalised last year, and Bonnie hadn't seen or heard from him since.

"We need to get out of here." She untied her hair, shaking her red curls loose in front of her face.

"There's one left," I heard the woman with the Polaroid say. "Let's take one of us."

I froze mid-untying my ponytail. The woman turned to reach her arm around her friend's shoulders, and I caught a glimpse of her face—

My face. Five years younger.

I remembered this day. Bonnie and her then-boyfriend Stephen, me and my then-boyfriend, Marcus, on our way to a week-long double-date in Richmond, except, alcohol and the simple joy of a vacation would get the better of mine and Bonnie's already-frayed self-control…

After the holiday, we'd agreed to call it off with Stephen and Marcus and run away together.

The following week, when we'd met at the train station, I'd broken up with Marcus, and Bonnie had said yes to Stephen's surprise proposal.

We hadn't spoken since. Not until last month, when Bonnie showed up on my doorstep, telling me she'd divorced Stephen a year ago and had finally plucked up the courage to find me and ask me whether, after all this time, I'd finally like to run away with her like we'd planned.

I'd told her I'd call her when I was ready to talk.

"Bonnie," I hissed, but Bonnie had already begun her stealth-march down the aisle. I reached forward and grabbed her hand. She shot me a desperate glare. I nodded towards the women. She glanced over and her hand stiffened, right as younger-me stretched out her arm and took a photo of her and younger-Bonnie, and by extension, present-Bonnie and I in the aisle.

"Shit!" Bonnie muttered and yanked on my arm, dragging me to the end of the carriage before rummaging in her bag and pulling out her wallet.

"Next stop, Camden Road."

"What are you doing?"

"I have that photo!"

"Still?"

Despite the situation, my heart warmed. She pulled it out, peered at it, then shoved it under my nose.

"The aisle's empty."

Younger-Bonnie and Chloe smiled at us through the blurry Polaroid, nothing but the rain-slaked windows in the background.

"This is Camden Road."

The train stopped. Bonnie pressed the photo over her chest as passengers squeezed past.

"Next stop, Kentish Town West."

She began to slip the photo back into her wallet, then froze, her jaw agape. Frowning, I peered over her shoulder.

The aisle was no longer empty.

There we were, present-Bonnie and present-me, Bonnie's hair covering her face almost comically, my face clear as day, staring down the camera.

"That doesn't make any sense," I said. "We weren't there before."

"No. We weren't."

"Did we just… change the past?"

Our gazes locked, Bonnie's face paling before my eyes.

"My parents."

My mind reeled to a halt. "Oh, God. Bon. I don't think—"

But she was already off, bursting into the next carriage and knocking aside a couple huddled at the entrance.

"Sorry," I muttered, passing between them—

I stopped in my tracks, turned around.

My parents.

My parents, huddled at the end of the carriage, arguing…

I spun around.

There we were, Bonnie and I at seventeen, kissing in the middle of the carriage.

On that day, my parents had been too absorbed in their own argument to notice.

Presently, their glares followed Bonnie down the aisle and landed squarely upon our oblivious teenage selves.

My blood ran cold. I spun back around, held my hands up in front of them. "Wait—"

They shoved past me.

"Bon!" I cried, staggering down the aisle.

She whipped around. "What?!"

"I knew there was something off about this friendship!" My father screamed. "You'd been too close from the get go—"

"Ever since you came into her life, she's been different!" My mother.

Horror dawned on Bonnie's face.

"This never happened," I whispered. "We never got caught—"

"Chloe, there's no time!" she replied, stricken. "My parents might be getting shot in the next carriage—"

"Get up. We're getting off. You're going straight back to the orphanage."

Bonnie tensed. At the same time, teenage-Bonnie yelped. I turned just in time to see my father wrenching her from her seat, my mother holding me back as I screamed at him to let her go.

"No," breathed Bonnie. "He can't take me back to the orphanage. If they ever found out…"

"We have to stop them—"

"No, Chloe, wait." She tugged me back, her eyes darting from side to side. "If my parents never die, I'll never have to go to the orphanage."

My heart stopped. "No. Bon, that's way too risky—"

She tore her hand from my grip and flew down the aisle.

"Bonnie, wait!" I cried, stumbling after her.

She crossed the threshold and careened to a halt; I grabbed onto a seat to stop myself crashing into her.

"Look. It's you."

I followed her gaze to a little girl sat by the window, a tiny, yet bulging suitcase at her feet.

Nine-year-old me, on the day I'd run away from home.

But my thoughts were still in the previous carriage. We'd caused a monumental change. There must have been knock-on effects, like the Polaroid.

Perhaps there was still time to fix it.

I turned around, then froze.

There were my parents, huddled at the far end of the carriage, mid-argument, and there were teenage-Bonnie and I, kissing in our seats.

"Bon, you have to see this."

Her breath hitched in her throat. "How— how is this possible?"

"This is how it happened, remember?"

We watched as teenage-us pulled apart, then teenage-Bonnie said something to teenage-me, words that I remember to this day. "We can't do this." To which I'd replied, "Nobody has to know." To which Bonnie had replied, "We'll go to Hell, Chloe!"

"No, we won't! I told you! Hell isn't real!"

"You don't know that for sure! Are you really willing to risk both of us going to Hell and getting separated forever?"

I'd cried for the rest of the journey. Presently, I watched as teenage-Bonnie wiped her eyes on her sleeve. I hadn't known she'd been crying too.

"I remember," Bonnie replied quietly.

"How did the Polaroid change, but not this?"

"I don't know."

"We must have done something different—"

"Next stop, Kentish Town West."

"Chloe, we're almost at Kentish. My parents are about to get on and then get shot. We don't have time to worry about this now—"

"We don't even know how we changed the Polaroid!" I cried. "How do we know if this is going to work—?"

"It doesn't matter, Chloe! I just have to try—!"

I pressed my hands over my face. "We entered the carriage, saw them, didn't speak to them or touch them or anything, but we were in their picture, and you pulled out the Polaroid and we weren't there, and then the train stopped at Camden and we looked again and we were there—"

"This is Kentish Town West."

The train stopped.

I gasped, my hands flying off my face. "The train stopped! The Polaroid only changed after the train stopped!"

Bonnie wasn’t listening. The doors opened, and a couple walked in with their young, red-headed daughter.

"Oh my God," she whispered. "It's us."

My mind was reeling. I only had moments to figure this out.

The past had changed when the train had stopped.

I glanced into the previous carriage—

Teenage-Bonnie and I still cried silently; my parents still argued in the corner.

I swallowed a scream, then wracked my brain. What else was different—?

"We were inside the carriage when the train stopped," I said suddenly. "Maybe that's it. Maybe we have to be in the same carriage as our past selves for the changes to— solidify. We were in the carriage when it stopped at Camden and the Polaroid changed. But this time when the train stopped, we were already in here—"

"That's him." Bonnie clutched my sleeve. "That's the shooter."

A man in a black hoodie slipped through the closing doors, hand poised over his hip—

"Next stop, Gospel Oak."

"SHOOTER!" Bonnie screamed. She leaped onto his back, and they fell to the ground in a heap.

"Oh, shit— Bonnie!"

I scrambled forward. The shooter's elbow collided with Bonnie's middle. She rolled off him, groaning, and he reached for his gun—

I gripped his hood and hauled him backwards.

He stumbled into the wall. I took the opportunity to grab Bonnie and fling us behind a pair of seats—

Screams erupting through the carriage. I spun around and found myself face-to-face with the barrel of a gun—

A zapping of electricity. The gun thudded to the ground. The shooter shook where he stood, and I followed the thin, black lines to the end of the carriage where the security guard stood at the driver's cabin, a taser in his outstretched hand.

The shooter crumpled to the floor and he hurried over, zip-tying his hands behind his back.

My blood rushed in my ears.

A warm hand on my cheek and I started.

"Chloe? Chlo? Are you okay?"

Bonnie was watching me, face tight with worry. I nodded wordlessly, then realised I was crushing her and loosened my grip.

"It worked." She got to her feet, pulling me up too before catching sight of her parents, huddled at the back corner of the carriage, little-Bonnie on her mother's lap, her face in the crook of her neck. "Chloe, it worked!"

Silently, I turned around. Little me sat frozen in her window seat, eyes glued to the security guard and the shooter.

"This is the day we met."

I'd been staring out the window when two shots were fired. I'd watched the man and woman who'd been passing by my seat drop, revealing a girl my age with red curls. I hadn't even been thinking when I'd grabbed her and crouched between the seats, clutching her tight as more shots went off. I'd only let her go once the security guard, the very same security guard, had zip-tied the shooters hands, and I'd knelt beside her as she'd cried over her parents' bodies, red soaking into her tights and my pants.

Any joy on Bonnie's face had evaporated.

"They— we— can still meet. I— I'll go talk to my parents."

As she slipped past a row of seats, I turned my attention to little-me.

"Hi."

She stared at me, half-frightened, half-glaring.

"How are you doing? Are you okay?"

She kept staring. Of course she wasn't okay. I'd lived it. I knew.

"Look, there's another little girl, just across the carriage, who's just as frightened as you are—"

"I'm not frightened."

"No. Of course not. I mean, she's really frightened, and I think it might be good for her to hang out with you for a little bit—"

"Are you trying to kidnap me?"

"No!" I replied, taken aback. "I just thought you might like some company."

"Leave me alone, or I'm telling the security guard you're trying to kidnap me."

I raised my hands in surrender, backing away. "Okay. Alright. Sorry."

Bonnie returned a few moments later, anguished.

"What did they say?"

"That they didn't want their daughter mixing with 'a poor'."

I scoffed. I'd known Bonnie's parents had been rich. I hadn't known they'd been snobs.

"How about you?" she urged. "Surely if we just get little-you over there—"

"She threatened to tell the security guard I was trying to kidnap her."

Tears welled in Bonnie's eyes, the panic on her face matching the tightening in my chest.

"What are we going to do?"

"I don't know."

She watched the trio huddled in their seats, the tears sliding down her cheeks. "They're my parents."

She looked back at me.

My heart ripped in two.

"Right." I fixed my gaze to the ceiling, willed my own tears not to fall. "Oh, God. Okay. Well, if this is it, I'd better tell you now…"

"Tell me what?" Bonnie choked.

"Bonnie, I—" I met her gaze; there was no holding back the tears. "I still love you."

She stared at me.

"I know last month I said I needed more time with— with us, but—" I drew a shaky breath. "I thought I'd gotten over you. But then you showed up on my doorstep and I realised that— I hadn't. Not even a little bit—"

"Next stop, Gospel Oak."

We were running out of time. Bonnie was shaking her head, shaking with half-repressed sobs. This was it. We had seconds, at most.

I surged forward and kissed her.

For one horrifying moment, she didn't move, and then she melted, into it, into me, her hands grabbing the sides of my face and pulling me closer.

The train was slowing down. We pulled apart, Bonnie gasping as I braced myself to lose everything I'd ever loved.

The brakes squealed. We were rolling to a stop—

I was whisked to the side— Bonnie had launched us down the aisle, leaping over the security guard and bursting into the previous carriage—

"This is Gospel Oak."

The train stopped.

"Bonnie! What did you do—?!"

"Did it work? Did I undo it?"

"What—?"

"You said we had to be in the same carriage for the change to 'solidify', right?"

Frantic, we stared into the first carriage.

I'd seen it all before, eleven years ago, but my stomach still lurched at the sight.

A man and a woman, lying on the ground, blood seeping into the carpet. The security guard hoisting the shooter to his feet, escorting him out of the train as the police entered, talking to the two little girls who knelt by the bodies, their clothes soaked in blood and tears.

Beside me, Bonnie began to sob. I'd barely slid an arm around her when she pressed herself against my chest.

"Bonnie, I'm so sorry."

"Next stop, Hampstead Heath."

"I should never have tried to change it in the in the first place," she said, her words muffled against the side of my neck. "I'm so sorry, Chlo."

"Bon, don't apologise—"

"I just—" She prised her face off my neck. "I thought you didn't love me anymore, and that we'd never go back to the way things were, and— at least if I couldn't have you, I'd have them, but—" She shook her head. "It was selfish, and stupid, like every other decision I've made with you, and I'm sorry—"

I wiped her face with my fingers. "Bonnie, I get it. They're your parents—"

"They called you a poor." Anger mixed with the anguish on her face. "You saved my life that day. I— I don't think I'd like the person I'd have become if they hadn't…"

"Come on," I whispered, winding an arm around her waist. "We should get back to our carriage."

I led Bonnie past our crying teenage selves and my arguing parents, past us in our twenties, sitting opposite our boyfriends and lying to ourselves with every breath that we loved them, and finally, into the carriage on which we'd started this journey twenty minutes ago.

"Chloe?" Bonnie sniffed once we'd sat down.

"Yeah?"

"I love you. I've always loved you. From the very beginning. Even when I didn't know it, or wouldn't admit it. Or when I made the stupidest decision in the world and got married to someone else. It's always been you."

"I know, Bon," I whispered. "It's always been you for me too."

We sat in silence for a while, Bonnie's head on my shoulder, and then she sat up, staring past me at the next carriage.

"If that side was our past, doesn't that mean that this side…"

I drew a sharp breath.

"Should we peek?" Bonnie whispered.

How badly I wanted to, to see where Bonnie and I would be in the next decade of our lives…

I shook my head. "What if we don't like what we see?"

Bonnie's eyebrows knitted. "You don't think we'll last?"

"No, I mean, it may not be the whole picture. The last thing we need is to misinterpret our future and mess up our present."

Bonnie sighed. "I suppose we've meddled enough."

"Next stop, Hampstead Heath."

I nodded. "Besides, it's our stop."

Her face lit up slightly. "Hampstead Heath?"

My cheeks burned. "The plan was to go to the pergola and tell you that I still loved you, but we've covered all that already."

Bonnie smiled. "I wouldn't mind hearing it again."

"This is Hampstead Heath."

"Alright," I grinned. "But promise me you'll act surprised."

The doors opened. Bonnie took my hand. "I promise."