We Passengers

Chapter 18

'Honestly, are we going to stop every time there's a squirrel on the track?’ I ask and Abigail's mother gives me a reproachful look. After the last whistle, the train quickly slowed and then stopped with a jolt that made us all bounce in our seats.

'Are we there?’ the soldier asks, seeming to go from fast asleep to wide awake in a split second and I wonder if this is something you learn when you know that the enemy could be anywhere at any minute and I shake my head gently, smiling at him as I say,

'Not yet, just stopping for a minute or two.’ I hope that's the case anyway; hope that there's not something wrong with the train which will mean that we're stuck here in no man's land for God knows how long, staring at each other while we wait for an engineer to arrive. It really wouldn't be fair for us to have come this far only for it all to go to pieces now. We're waiting for the Conductor to come and tell us what's going on but, suddenly, we don't need to. For a moment, there is complete and utter silence, shocking in its totality and then, as one by one we look to the window, there are gasps and even a burst of laughter from somewhere further down the train.

'Look, Abigail, look!’ Abigail's mother says and, glancing across I can't quite believe what I'm seeing. Just like on our side of the train, outside the window, in an adjacent field, are three or four men and women on horses, all lined up single file pointing in the same direction as the train. I can see that the Conductor is having a shouted conversation with them through the window and then, after a minute or two, something incredible happens. With another whistle, the train slowly begins to move again and, as it does, the horses and riders begin to move serenely with it, matching its pace and I can only watch in wonder at the sight of these magnificent creatures.

'Horses!’ Abigail's mother says in an excited voice and baby Abigail responds with a half-hearted nonsense gurgle, more interested in her own toes than in the spectacle going on just outside the window. ‘Look at the lovely horses!’ I wish she'd shut up as she's spoiling it but I don't say anything; let her have her fun, I think, God knows we could all do with some. ‘Can you say horse, Abi? Can you?’ It appears not as the baby remains silent, seemingly unimpressed at such a thing. We begin to pick up speed and so does our entourage until the horses look like they're flying as they strive to keep pace but then they first fall back and then further still until, with a wave, the rider at the front is framed in the window for a second and then is gone Once again, the silence is complete as we all take in what we just saw, all knowing that there could be no words to convey such a fleeting but perfect moment of beauty.

'Horse.’ says baby Abigail.

Of course, that spoils the moment but I don't have the heart to be annoyed when I see how excited Abigail's mother is.

'That her first word?’ I ask and she nods, her eyes shining.

'I've been trying to get her to say Mummy for ages but nothing,’ she says then turns back to the baby, ‘Aren't you clever? Aren't you Mummy's clever little girl? Wouldn't Daddy be so proud of you?’ I turn away again, not wanting to hear about Daddy; not wanting to know if he's in a trench somewhere in France or lost forever. Because, of course, deep down, I already know. Still, I'm glad - glad that the woman has been given this one small piece of happiness and I'm even glad that baby Abigail was able to share what just happened with us. She won't remember it of course but she saw it and I'm happy that her young eyes have seen something good. This is the last stretch now; not only can I feel it but outside of the window, way ahead in the distance but getting closer I can see the vague shape of buildings and, as we surge toward our destination, I wonder what my first words might have been. Surely this is something that Mum must have told me at some point but I don't remember although I would imagine it was either Mum or something completely banal. It certainly won't have been Daddy, absent as he was most of the time, although who knows what might inspire a child to join the world's conversation for the first time? I remember Nancy's though, because I was there. ‘Gin,’ that was Nancy's first word. It was in the kitchen one Sunday morning and we all fell about laughing, realising that she must have been trying to say “Ginny”.

'Thank God the neighbours weren't here,’ Mum said, still laughing and Dad said,

'Thank God we weren't in church!’ setting us all off again. From that moment on, Nancy always had something to say; whether it was a commentary on what her dolls were up to or the endless questions that drove us all round the twist at one time or another. I remember her asking me why she was one afternoon.

'Why are you what?’ I asked and she shrugged, ‘Why am I? How come?’ Well now there was a question and one that I certainly didn't have an answer to and, in the end, helpless, I replied,

'Well, because God made you,’ which seemed to satisfy her for the time being. Because that's what we're taught, isn't it? That God made everyone and everything and that He watches over us all, all the time and loves us all no matter what. Even the Queen tells us that but it's alright for her, isn't it? It must be easy to believe that God loves you when you and your loved ones are warm and safe and you have everything you need. Not so easy when every day is a struggle and, every day, the war takes a little bit more of the precious little that you have.

'You’ll go to hell talking like that,’ Trevor always says and I always reply,

'Aren't we there already?’ Behind me the soldier, who's still awake, looks like he's been there and come back to tell the tale and I wonder again how old he is as he joins in the celebration of baby Abigail's first word. Everybody else is still staring at the wondrous baby but, from the corner of my eye I spot a movement and, looking up I see that the Conductor is at the door and about to step into our carriage. For a strange moment, I think that he too must have heard the baby then I realise that he's coming to make an announcement and my stomach fills with butterflies as I watch him open the door and step inside.