[18] Journey to Nowhere

Queen Street station is not the most exciting of places on a cold, damp Tuesday night in the middle of November. Certainly Kenny Paterson was not in any mood to wish otherwise as he strolled almost mechanically towards the platform, struggling to steer his thoughts away from his work and the monotonous twelve hours he had just spent in a stuffy, untidy office.

As expected, he had no difficulty in finding an empty carriage and with a sigh he sat down clumsily, lit his fortieth French cigarette of the day and buried his head in the evening newspaper. He was barely awake as the train moved off somewhat hesitantly into the darkness. He fought against the tiredness which slowly began to overcome him. The words on the newspaper faded into the page as he gradually submitted to the heaviness of his eyelids.

“Can I have a light please?”

Kenny almost jumped out of his seat as the young girl’s face appeared above the newspaper.

“I’m terribly sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

It was some moments before he composed himself and instantly he was aware of an acute embarrassment at having displayed such obvious neurosis in front of the girl. Eventually he forced himself to speak and his voice was tired and nervous.

“I . . . I’m sorry . . . I was miles away I’m afraid,” he stammered. “You did give me a bit of a start I must admit.”

He felt better now and rather foolish as he leaned forward to light her cigarette. His hand was shaking and the girl had to steady it with her own. He was instantly surprised at the unnatural coldness of her hand. Winter was fast approaching, he reminded himself, but it certainly wasn’t especially cold tonight. He put it down to her light summery clothes. She wore a white cotton blouse and matching jacket. Her hair was short and thin which complemented the almost perfect bone structure of her face. Her whole appearance emitted a warm glow in the dark dreariness of the untidy compartment.

“I got on at Falkirk just as you began to wake up,” she explained.

“That’s just as well for me,” he smiled at last. “I would probably have missed my stop otherwise.”

For the first time he noticed the dark blemish on her cheek, a feature which seemed to enhance the tenderness and warmth which shone from a face which was both sensual and innocently angelic.

“Where do you get off?” she asked in a more serious tone.

“Linlithgow,” he replied.

“Would you do me a big favour?”

“Yes, of course.”

“I didn’t have time to call my father to let him know what time I’d be arriving. I don't have any credit on my mobile. Do you have a mobile I could use?”

She crossed her legs elegantly before continuing.

“He normally picks me up at Edinburgh Waverley and I’d hate to walk home at this late hour.”

“Of course not,” he agreed with a smile, "But I don't have a mobile phone I'm afraid. Been meaning to get one."

“Would you mind phoning from Linlithgow to tell him to meet me?”

“Certainly. I’ll be delighted to,” he assured her.

“You’re sure you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. Consider it done.”

Smiling happily, the girl searched through her handbag and produced a pen and paper. In a moment she handed him the scribbled note and sat back contentedly, drawing deeply on her cigarette.

“I should have been home hours ago but my friend insisted I help her celebrate her birthday.”

“So you went for a few drinks?”

“Exactly.”

She watched the thick tobacco fumes fill the air.

“What’s your name?” she said.

“Kenny,” he replied. “Kenny Paterson.”

“I’m Jenny.”

She offered an outstretched hand of friendship. As their hands met Kenny was once again struck by the strange iciness of her flesh. He felt sure she was aware of his uneasiness but she showed no reaction.

Kenny rose with some reluctance as the train reached his destination. He had enjoyed their chance meeting and he thought of how the girl’s appearance had cheered him, bringing a welcome change to an otherwise drab and uneventful journey.

“I’ll ring your father immediately,” he reassured her as he stepped onto the cold, deserted platform.

“I’m very grateful.”

She leaned forward and touched his hand with a gentleness that stopped him as he was about to close the door. Her touch gave him a warmth which he had not experienced for some time. For a moment he was unable to move, all kinds of thoughts and ideas racing through his mind.

“I don’t suppose . . .” he began with some reticence. “I . . . would you care to go out with me one night. To dinner or . . . a drink . . . or . . .”

She smiled but did not speak. He stood there for what seemed like an eternity.

“Perhaps not . . . I . . .it’s been nice meeting you,” he said before closing the door and moving off solemnly along the platform. The girl got to her feet and pulled the window open.

“Kenny,” she called after him.

He stopped and looked round.

“You have my telephone number,” she smiled. “Why don’t you give me a call?”

He returned her smile and quietly walked on towards the exit. There was something about the girl which left him with a strange mixture of anticipation and emptiness. Something more than charm and beauty. Her dark eyes concealed some hidden torment which unnerved him.

The darkness of the railway station instantly brought him back to earth and his thoughts turned to the empty flat, a restless night and an early rise in front of him. As the train began to gather speed, Kenny stopped a few feet short of the exit, wishing just one more glimpse of the strange girl who had brought a brief ray of sunshine into his life. He raised his arm to wave to her. As the train roared past he was surprised to find that the girl had disappeared, at least as far as he could see she was no longer in the compartment he had just left. After some pondering he set off past the ticket office clerk who eyed him suspiciously. She had probably got out and moved to another carriage, he told himself, brushing aside his feelings of discomfort and concern.

Soon he was inside the telephone box next to the station. Holding the piece of paper in one hand, he carefully dialled with the other. After a few seconds he pushed a coin into the slot.

“Hello,” the voice at the other end confirmed the connection.

“Hello . . . er . . . you don’t know me,” he began. “I have just left your daughter on the train from Glasgow.”

“Who is this?”

The man sounded impatient and irritated. Kenny became alarmed.

“Is that Mr Thompson?”

“Yes, who are you,” came the stern reply.

“As I said, I met your daughter Jenny on the train and she asked me to give you a call.”

“Is this some kind of joke?” the voice demanded menacingly.

“Look, don’t get excited . . . I . . . I’m simply doing a favour for . . .”

“Don’t give me that rubbish you bloody maniac.”

The man spoke with such venom that Kenny went cold, not knowing what to say.

“Are you still there?” the voice continued, trembling now.

“Yes, look, your daughter simply wants you to meet her at Edinburgh Waverley.”

“Listen mister, I’ve just about had enough of you, you sick bastard.”

Kenny was becoming more alarmed as the tirade continued.

“What sort of person are you anyway?” the man went on. “Can’t you just leave us in peace?”

“But I only . . .”

“If you don’t put a stop to this nonsense I swear I’ll find you and . . .”

“Please calm down Mr Thompson,” Kenny was angry now. “There’s no need to go on like this. I simply . . .”

“You monster,” he would not be appeased. “I’ve warned you before and still you persist in calling me with the same story. People like you ought to be locked up. Tell me. Go on, tell me. What sort of thrill do you get out of this. Tell me that.”

“There must be some misunderstanding.”

“You bet there’s a misunderstanding. If I ever get my hands on you I’ll . . .”

“Look, listen to me. I want to . . .”

“I’ve no intention of listening to you.”

“Just shut up and listen to me will you?”

Kenny was trembling with a mixture of anger and frustration. He waited in silence for some moments, letting the unpleasantness subside before continuing.

“I’m listening,” the man replied in a calmer voice.

Kenny immediately seized the opportunity to explain himself out of an awkward and nasty situation.

“I met your . . . let’s say I met a girl on the train who claims to be your daughter,” he said, pausing to choose his words carefully. “She gave me a note of your telephone number and asked me to let you know that you were to pick her up in Edinburgh.”

Some moments of silence ensued as Kenny waited for a response.

“I think we’ve both been the victims of a sick practical joker,” the man replied with an anguished sigh.

“What are you talking about? I don’t understand.”

“My daughter, Jenny, was killed by some madman about a year ago on a late night train from Glasgow. Every so often, someone, just like yourself, has been asked by this girl, whoever she is, to make this call.”

Kenny almost dropped the receiver and had to steady himself against the door of the telephone kiosk. He scarcely heard the heartbroken voice continue.

“If I ever find out who is doing this to us.”

“I don’t know what to say,” said Kenny. “I was so sure she was telling the truth. I just never suspected. I’m terribly sorry.”

“Forget it. If it hadn’t been you it would have been someone else.”

“I’d never have believed it. Who would want to do such a thing?”

“Who knows?”

The man was near to tears and Kenny felt an overwhelming pity for him.

“I’m not surprised you lost your temper with me.”

“Well, it’s just that the last man who called, I’m sure he was in on it.”

“How can you tell?”

“He told me the girl he spoke to had a dark birth mark on her left cheek. Only somebody who actually knew my Jenny would know about that.”

Kenny stood motionless at the bar of the Railway Inn as late night revellers laughed and chattered noisily around him. He was oblivious to the loud music and the smoke-filled atmosphere as the barman tried several times to attract his attention.

“Can I help you sir?”

“Yes, I’m sorry. A Whisky please.”

He finally came to life and reached for his wallet.

“Are you feeling okay?” said the barman.

“I’ll be all right in a minute.”

He leaned forward and rested his arms on the bar.

“Better make it a double please.”