A Tale to Tell

”Is anyone sitting here?”

Harriet looked up at the older woman standing at the other end of the bench. “No, not that I can see,” she responded, thinking to herself ‘does it look like anyone’s sitting there?’  Her day had been hectic and she desperately wanted to get home.

The woman sat down, fussing her fur coat around her, and shifting her ample bosom into place.  “I hear the train to Foschester is delayed, how bothersome.”

“Yes, it is, I’m not sure what’s happening,” Harriet glanced at the woman and then resumed her gaze on the departure board as destinations and times flicked updates, all except for the Foschester line which still said, departing at 14:10.  It was now twenty past three.

“I don’t know what’s happened to our railways,” the older woman lifted her chin and adjusted her green cloche hat, “it never used to be like this, at least someone would let you know what was going on.”

“I just wish it would hurry up,” Harriet glanced at her watch as if doing so might cause something to happen.

“It really has disrupted my day, I should have been at a very important appointment in Foschester, with my accountant you understand, these things are very important, it doesn’t do to keep people waiting like this, really it doesn’t.”

Harriet glanced at the woman, she was much older than her, in her mid sixties at least, and to Harriet, the talk of accountants, her fur coat, patent leather clasp handbag and matching shoes, left her feeling rather insignificant.

“I just need to get home, there’s so much I need to do, and I’ve left Freddy with…” she paused, suddenly, her circumstances seem so trivial in comparison with the rather affluent looking women she was sharing the bench with.

“Freddy?  You’ve left him, what have you left him with?  If you don’t mind me enquiring of course.  We seem to be stuck here, so we might as well have a chat to while away the time.”

“Well, you see, erm, Freddy, he, well, he works for me, at the office.”

“Oh, I see, and you’ve had to leave him in charge have you?  What sort of office, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“The insurance brokers, you might know it, Harland and Tapsfield, on Fountain Street.”  That much was true, Harriet worked as a part time typist for the company, juggling her hours there, with managing the small terraced house, her young son, and Freddy, her husband, who worked night shifts at the steel works.

“Oh yes, I think I do, just near the Provincial Bank, yes, I know the place.”

“That’s right.  I’m a manager there.”  Harriet craned her head to look down the platform, hoping a guard or someone might be able to tell her when the train would be coming, but apart from other waiting people and the odd pigeon, there was no one who could cast any light on the situation.  “I really wish they’d let us know what’s going on,” she sighed.

“Insurance… I never could stand our insurance man.  Silly little man with a pork-pie hat and a moustache that always had bits of his lunch stuck in it.  My husband dealt with all that of course, Wilfred, bless his soul.  You do seem very young to be in charge at an insurance brokers.”

“Oh, well, you know, I might only be twenty-five, but I’m very good at what I do, I certainly wouldn’t have my people going around with lunch stuck in their moustaches,” Harriet gave a small smile.  “I’m Harriet by the way, Harriet West.”

“Well, I’m pleased to meet you Harriet West, I’m Dora Barton, you might have heard of me, or perhaps not.  You may be of use to me someday if I’m needing to set up any insurance, not that I should need to mind, my accountant sorts out that kind of thing for me.”

“That must be nice, having someone to look after your affairs like that.”

“It can be quite tiring my dear, making sure they’re doing the right thing, but I expect you know what that’s like, running an insurance brokers must be dreadfully hard work, especially for a woman, and so young too.”  Dora Barton looked Harriet up and down with a steely eye, taking in her slightly scuffed court shoes and raincoat that had seen better days.  Her gaze left Harriet feeling rather uncomfortable and she shuffled in her seat, reaching into her handbag.

“Actually, I really must make a phone call, make sure that Freddy, at the office, you know, I just need to speak to him.  There’s a telephone booth just at the end of the platform, I’ll just go and see if I can reach him.”

“Yes, of course dear, I can see you must be quite anxious, I’ll make sure no one takes your seat while you’re gone,” and Dora spread herself a little more across the seat and placed her handbag at her side.

Harriet strode quickly down the platform and into the small telephone booth where she dialled the number for home, “Come on Freddy, pick up, I’ve only got a couple of coins,” she muttered.

A clunk was heard at the end of the line and Harriet quickly pushed her coins into the well worn slot, “Freddy, is that you?”

“Well of course it is, who’d you think it would be?  Harri?  What’s up, shouldn’t you be back home by now?  You know I like a couple of pints before my shift starts.”

“Yes, yes, it’s me, the train is delayed, I don’t know when it’s going to arrive, could you look after Michael until I get back?”

“Well, I don’t know love, I thought you’d be back by now.  Those trousers of mine still need mending you know.”

“Oh, well, Mrs Bentley next door will have him, I’m sure, if you really have to go.  I’ll sort out your trousers when I get back, you know I will.”

“You should be back by now Harri, this isn’t like you.”

“I know, it’s the train, oh Freddy, please just…”

Beep beep beep, the pips went at the end of the line and Harriet placed the receiver back in its cradle with a heavy thunk.  Hoping desperately that Mrs Bentley would be home, she trailed back to the bench where she could see Dora Barton talking to a man in a guards uniform.

“So, I said back then that the service wasn’t acceptable, but it doesn’t seem they’ve taken any notice.”

“I’m sorry madam, like I said, there’s a fallen tree across the line and it’s taking the fellas a while to shift it.  A big one it is, great big oak tree, must’ve been the storms we had last week that weakened it or something, came all the way down the banking it did.”  The guard paused and looked at Harriet. “Hello miss, I was just telling your companion here, about the tree that’s blocking the Foschester line.”

“A tree, oh no, how long is it going to take to clear?”

“They don’t know,” interrupted Dora, “they don’t seem to be able to get their act together, I don’t think I’m going to be able to keep my appointment now, it’s going to be far too late.”

“I’ll let you ladies know if I hear anything else,” the guard gave a brief smile and headed towards a group of frustrated looking people further down the platform.

“Did you get everything sorted out at the office?” asked Dora, budging back down the bench as Harriet sat down.

“The office?  Oh, yes that, yes, Freddy is fine, he’s got everything in hand.  At least I hope he has…” Harriet’s voice trailed off.

“Oh, you don’t sound too sure?”

“Freddy’s okay, really he is, I can trust him, just sometimes I need to check he’s got everything under control.”

The two women sat quietly for a moment, the departure board continued to flick and update the details of all the trains except for theirs.  Then, the bing bong bing of the tannoy, “The fourteen-ten Foschester train is delayed…”

“We know that,” muttered Dora.

“... and work is currently taking place to remove the obstructing tree from the line.  We now expect the next train departing from this station to Foschester to be at seventeen-thirty hours.”

“That’s another hour and a half,” wailed Harriet as she looked at her watch.

“It’s really not good enough,” tutted Dora, “honestly, what a way to spend a Tuesday afternoon.  You know, in some respects I think Tuesdays are far worse than Mondays.  You know where you are with a Monday, you’ve got the whole week ahead of you and you just get on with it, but Tuesday, it’s as though you’ve managed to get Monday out of the way, but Friday still seems such a long way away.”

“I suppose you won’t make your accountants appointment now?”  Harriet looked at the older woman who was taking a lipstick from her bag and reapplying the red hue to her mouth.

“You’re right, there’s no sense in me waiting for a train now.  How about I buy you a cup of tea in the cafe over there?  As a thank you for keeping me company, and then I’ll be on my way.”

“Well, if you’re sure, that would be nice, better than sitting here for another hour, it’s getting a bit chilly too don’t you think?”

The two ladies made their way across the station concourse to a small bustling cafe, full with other people waiting for the delayed train.  “There’s a table in the corner there,” said Harriet “I’ll grab it if you can get the tea?”

“Yes, that’s fine dear, I’ll do that.”

Harriet settled herself at the corner table, noting the various people who were filling the small cafe, business men, people with shopping bags, women with small children, fractious at the delay, she thought of Michael and prayed that Freddy would find Mrs Bentley at home.  Her eyes shifted to the counter where she could see Dora Barton fumbling in her bag, “Well, I’m quite sure it was here,” she was saying to the surly looking woman behind the counter.  Dora looked over at Harriet, and raised her shoulders in confusion.  Not wanting to make a scene, Harriet shuffled her way between the busy tables towards Dora.

“This lady here’s got no money to pay for the tea,” said the woman behind the counter, not seeming to care who could hear, and a few heads turned to see what the commotion was all about.

“I do have money, I do,” protested Dora, “but it’s not here,” she continued, looking in her bag which from where Harriet stood, appeared to contain only handkerchiefs and lipsticks.

“Maybe you do,” said the woman behind the counter, “but these teas won’t pay for themselves.”  She looked at Harriet.  “Have you got any money to pay with?”

“Well, I think so,” Harriet knew she only had a one pound note in her purse that she needed for the week’s groceries.  Dora and the woman behind the counter both looked at her, and with a small sigh, Harriet took the note from her purse and handed it to the woman.

“That’ll be a shilling and four-pence” said the woman as she took change from the till and handed it to Harriet.  “Enjoy your tea.”

Back at the table, Dora lowered her voice.  “My purse must have been stolen, I had it earlier, I’m so very embarrassed, goodness knows what that woman must have thought.”

“I’m sure it will turn up,” said Harriet, anxiously glancing out of the window to see if anything was happening that might indicate a train would be here soon.  “Perhaps you left it at home?”

“Home?  Well, perhaps I did that, but I must thank you for paying, though I’m sure with your job you won’t mind spending a few pennies on a cup of tea, it’s so terribly humiliating to be found with no money.  What must you think of me?”  Dora paused for a moment and then her demeanour changed, the earlier air of confidence almost evaporating before Harriet’s eyes.  “You see, they said it would always be okay, but when Wilfred died, Wilfred was my husband understand, well, what can I say, he left me in rather a pickle I’m afraid.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Harriet sensed the change in the woman and softened her tone, “what happened to your husband?”

“I really don’t remember, it was so long ago… I was playing Titania in A Midsummer Night’s Dream at the Palace Theatre at the time… everything is such a blur, I’m sure I remember the funeral, the lovely man who played Puck was there, he said something, I can just remember, if we shadows have offended, think but this and all is mended, yes, that’s right, all is mended…”

“Dora, are you okay?” Harriet reached across the table and tentatively touched the older lady’s arm.

Immediately, Dora pulled her arm back in haste, as though something had bitten her.  “Don’t touch me, no, don’t do that!”

Harriet retracted her hand quickly, reaching for her tea cup to steady herself, she looked at Dora over its rim.  “I hope you’ll be alright Dora, but I think I’ll go and see what’s happening with the train just now.”

“Yes, you do that, they might have the pullman carriage ready for me now, see if you can hurry them along dear.”  Dora opened her handbag and feverishly reapplied her lipstick again.

“But, I thought…” Harriet was distracted by a scene playing out on the concourse outside the cafe.  A woman in a long brown mackintosh, and a man in a white coat were standing talking to the guard.  The woman was gesturing with her arms, pointing down the platform and then back towards the street.  The man in the white coat stood quietly and the guard looked up and down, scratching his head underneath his cap, his eyes traced across the station and then did a double take and stopped at the cafe, he looked at Harriet who was just getting out of her seat, and pointed in her direction.

The woman ran across the station, the man in the white coat following her as she burst into the cafe.  “Mother!” she called across the small table filled room, the voices in the cafe fell to a hush and everyone looked at the woman, and then in Harriet and Dora’s direction.

“Don’t let them take me,” Dora grabbed Harriet’s arm, “please…”

The woman pushed her way between the tables and now stood trembling as she looked down at Dora who had her hands over her head and was trying to push herself as far as possible into the corner.

“Mother, please, we’ve been worried sick, where have you been?”

“Leave me alone, this lady here is looking after me, see, she bought me tea and she runs an insurance brokers, so she is quite capable, I don’t need you, or your doctor friend over there.”

The woman in the brown mackintosh looked at Harriet, eyebrows raised and questions etched across her face.

“The train was delayed, and your mother sat next to me.  She’s missed her appointment with the accountant in Foschester I’m afraid.” Harriet said, attempting to explain the situation.

“Accountant?  Foschester?  Oh, what has she been saying?”  The woman looked in despair at the man in the white coat who was now standing behind her.

“I think I should go,” Harriet picked up her handbag.  “I really need to make sure I get on the train, Freddy is going to go crazy and poor Michael will wonder where I am.”

“You tell Freddy to do as you say” piped up Dora from the corner, “you’re the boss, don’t have him telling you what to do!”

“I think we should get Mrs Barton back to my surgery,” said the man in the white coat calmly, “we can get her settled down there.”

“Come on now mother,” the woman touched Dora’s shoulder, Dora shirked away, “let’s get you back to talk to nice Mr Davidson here, and no running off this time,” she looked at Harriet, “would you believe it?  We only left her for less than a minute.  We’ve been looking for her for the last two hours.”

“Well, I’m glad you found her,” Harriet moved to the other side of the woman, “goodbye Dora, it was nice to meet you.”

Dora looked up from the corner, dabbing her handkerchief at her mouth.  “You tell that Freddy of yours,” she said, “you tell him to mend his own trousers and to look after that little boy of yours properly.”

Harriet stared for a moment, unsure if she’d heard correctly, then hastened her ‘goodbye’ and made her way towards the platform where the delayed fourteen-ten to Foschester was pulling into the station.

***

Later that evening, Harriet tucked Michael into his cot and placed a gentle goodnight kiss on his forehead.  She stood at the bedroom door and smiled, watching for a moment as her son fell into a blissful slumber.  Downstairs, she took Freddy's torn trousers that he’d left strewn across the sofa and put them in a bag of scrap fabric that she kept in the cupboard under the stairs, she then made herself a cup of tea and settled down to read her favourite magazine.

As Harriet West turned the pages of her magazine, twenty miles away, behind a locked bedroom door, Dora Barton lay in her small single bed, staring up at the ceiling and beyond, and Dora Barton smiled.