SLOW TRAIN

SLOW TRAIN           PAGE 1

His phone buzzed as the train smoothed out of the Station, he didn’t answer, it stopped. He might have been about to converse with his night time reflection somewhere out there beyond the window, evoking painful recollections. 

It buzzed again, ‘Hi Trish!’ he listened, ‘Yeah I can talk, I’m on the train. ‘Yeah I’m still going to see Dad. A day early? No I‘m booked into a Hotel near the House tonight, I‘ll see him tomorrow.’

The train stopped, no-one boarded, no-one alighted, frustration edged the conversation, ‘I’d forgotten how slow inter Town trains were, still an hour to go, Lord knows how many more stops. I know, I know I could have been Chauffeured. The Convention got to be boring after I’d clinched the deal I went there for. You know even earning a few, maybe more than a few thousands gets to be boring, winning doesn’t, the money? I’ll take it rather than leave it but it’s not important anymore. I have more problems spending it than earning it. ‘Course, I have my charities and the fun of fobbing off the Shysters.

The train smoothed back into the darkness, ’We’re off! What was I saying?….Yes I left the Convention two days early, thought I’d take a break, indulge in a little nostalgia, slow trains, old haunts, old friends, you and the kids, and Dad, I’m a little uncertain of a welcome there.’ 

Another stop, another start.

‘Why am I going after twenty odd years? Mixed feelings really, I’m older, Dad’s in his seventies, is it too late to build bridges, do I, does he, really want to close the gap between us, paper over the past?’

‘Another stop! How do they make any money out of this service? I think I might be the only passenger, anyway one thing about being wealthy is that you have time to think. I’ve been doing a lot of that lately.’

SLOW TRAIN                 PAGE 2

 ‘Could we both have been more generous of spirit? Was I expecting too much of a second generation immigrant Catholic Irish male? You know Trish, when I was boy growing up I craved Dad’s attention, I didn’t get it, wile he revelled in reflective glory,

‘That’s my boy!’ he’d boast to others when I won cups and medals, but a good exam result only raised a grunted ‘Good.’ When I was fifteen I won the two hundred metres at County level. I was so proud. Dad was away at a Union event, I waited a whole week for him to congratulate me, he didn’t. From then on I gave up on hoping for the warmth of recognition.’

‘Before that, I was coming up to fourteen when he bought a portable typewriter.’

‘I don’t believe it! Two people are getting on, they’ve gone into the next compartment.’

‘Yeah! A typewriter, he was so proud, he said, ’This will be useful to you in your studies. I’ve arranged for Mary from the Typing Pool at the Plant to give you lessons every Tuesday for an hour or so after dinner, she’ll eat with us.’

‘Course it was plain Mary was easing her way into Mom’s place. It was soon obvious the typewriter was for his benefit, not mine. After advancing from keyboard exercises P tap O tap I.. tap and so on I was coerced into typing and editing his Union correspondence. My competence as his Clerical assistant progressed compatitively with his ascendance in the Union hierarchy.’ 

‘We rubbed along more as Boss and Clerk than Father and son and so I got closer and closer to George whose warmth and attention compensated for Dad’s lack of both. I loved Uncle George, but I didn’t know I was IN LOVE with him at first. What? You knew I was gay?! Even back then? Oh Trish!, why didn’t you tell me, I so wanted to share it with you but I didn’t dare!’

‘Hounds teeth! I made a mistake with this blessed train, stop start, stop start.’ 

SLOW TRAIN                  PAGE 3

‘Things worsened between Dad and me when I was nearing the end of my final term at Saint Patrick’s. He bowled in and straightaway sounded off, ‘There’s a vacancy in the Office at the Plant, the jobs yours I’ve put your name on it, get your arse down there tomorrow, ask for Mr Cody, he’s expecting you at ten thirty.’

‘I railed against the thought of the drudgery of routine, no Dad, I said, I’m going to University.’

‘He went crazy, ‘What good will University do you? Do you expect me to support you for another four years? No way, my life’s been on hold for long enough, it’s time you made a contribution to your keep, and when your sister gets to your age so will she!’

‘Just two more stops.’

‘Next morning instead of going to the appointment I visited George, we walked beside the river, and love found a way. We walked back to his house hand in hand, shamefully indiscreet in those days and beyond Dad’s understanding. He laid into me as soon as he got home from work, ‘You embarrassed me, missed your appointment, lost your chance of a good job and someone told me you were seen holding hands with George! Is it true?’ I didn’t deny it, at his behest I packed a bag and went to stay with George. I left him fuming with my parting shot, ‘You raised me not out of love but some kind of Catholic duty, when did you ever give me anything of true value?’ When the time came George paid my fees and I moved onto the University Campus never to return home until now. George died in an accident at the Plant in my final year at Uni. I was his only beneficiary.’

‘One more stop.’

‘University was kind to me beyond education. I met Beth, a fellow Student suffering similar problems to my own.’

            SLOW TRAIN                  PAGE 3

‘Beth was, is a Lesbian and I was, am Gay. We were, still are, a perfect fit. We hid our real selves together in plain sight. To others we were the ideal pairing, sometimes for appearance sake we shared a platonic bed. At one Student Ball it was hilarious when tangled feet resulted from a dance partner who wanted to lead a partner who didn’t want to follow!’ Coincidentally Beth’s Father owned a Food Processing Plant. With similar backgrounds, although on unequal levels, it was inevitable I should be invited into the Company, first as an employee then using my inheritance I became an investor and working Director. Strangely I realised that my Father had unwittingly given me something of true value.’  

’From knowledge accrued from bashing out appeals, compensation claims, strike directives, pay increase demands, fund raising requests and the like on a portable typewriter I knew every trick in the Union book. Applying this knowledge to negotiations put me in a strong position to counter outrageous demands or false claims and the ability to recognise fair and deliverable requests. In consequence the Company and I thrived, we now own fifteen Food Processing Plants including the one Dad received his gold watch from!’

‘Next stop is mine Trish.’

‘What do I want from this homecoming? You might well ask, I’m asking myself. Not the fatted Calf, nor the recognition of success, or to put the boot in with, I did it without you taunts. A warm hello, a simple handshake will do, but a hug and three words, ‘My Boy!’ and ‘Dad!’ would reduce me to tears with no need of apologies on either side. That would be worth more to me, than anything in the world. We’re pulling into the station now Trish, I’m looking forward to seeing you, love you, bye for….. Oh you’ve gone.’

Out on the Station concourse a wiry middle aged Lady held a crude notice board, ‘Mr O'Halloran?’ she asked.

SLOW TRAIN                  PAGE 4

‘Yes?’

‘Mr O'Halloran, I was your Fathers Housekeeper.’

‘Was?!!!!!!!!!!’