Chapter One - The Invitation

Everyone always raves about train travel: quick, easy, and cheap if you book in advance. Harriet would say it’s reasonably fast, but that depends on what you’re comparing it to. Quicker than walking? Yes. ‘Easy’ is very much a presumption. And cheap, perhaps if she had known she was to make this journey months ago, but she didn’t. The invitation only came the previous week.

Harriet shifted in her seat as the small child sat across from her continued to stare, they’d done so for ten minutes and she began to think the parents let it happen on purpose. Said parents nattered across the table in the aisle seats, blocking any escape she could have hoped to make. Harriet tugged her backpack closer to her chest and watched the fields as they passed by. Having come from mainland Europe the hills that passed seemed smaller to Harriet, perhaps because at this point she had started to recognise how big the world is. “Tickets! Tickets! Any tickets since Preston?” the conductor called as he made his way down the aisle. The mother of the staring child started rifling through her bag. “Tickets?” the conductor asked, having reached the table.

“Sorry, I’m just trying to-” the mother continued to look through her bag.

“You put them in the front pocket.” the father tried to help.

“I checked, they’re not there.” she slammed the bag on the table and stood up to look through it. The attention of the train carriage was on them, and Harriet became acutely aware that she may have looked like the disgruntled daughter of the loud family. Wherever she was in the world, and whatever age this was always the assumption people seemed to make.

“You’ll need to get off at the next platform unless you want to pay for the tickets-” the conductor started to explain but was interrupted by the mother.

“I’m not paying, and I need to be on this train otherwi-”

“I’m sorry miss but everyone on this train needs to be on it, and they’ve paid. I’m just doing my job.” the conductor appeared to be genuinely sorry.

“But I have to get to my dad’s-”

“Miss if you don’t sit down, I’m going to call for you to be removed at the next station.”

At this point the father got up and put a comforting hand on the mother’s shoulder. “Look man, we’re just trying to get somewhere, we’re travelling with our young kid, we’re exhausted, can you just cut us a break? I swear we bought the tickets we probably just-”

“There’s nothing I can do, as I’ve said everyone is trying to get somewhere, everyone has paid and everyone has their tickets.”

“Yes but not everyone has to-” the mother moved the father’s hand off her and in moving caused the conductor to become more alert.

“Miss what are you doing?”

“What? Nothing I’m just-”

The conductor’s face had moved from apologetic to stern, “Okay miss you’re all going to need to come with me.” The mother, frustrated, collected all of their belongings with the father. Moments later the only evidence that the family ever sat beside Harriet were stray crumbs, from hastily eaten snacks, and one of those pressed coins you can buy at tourist attractions. Harriet pocketed the coin and soon after a train attendant, while collecting rubbish, swept the crumbs off the table.

Thankful for the peace Harriet closed her eyes as she waited for the train to pull into her platform. With her eyes closed she imagined her sister’s loose curls, and tight smile that moved into a furrowed brow, she then thought about how her face could have changed if any signs of age had begun to creep in. Her thoughts turned to her mother, and whether she still had the picture of Harriet and Dawne on her keychain, or if it had been replaced by the grandchildren Dawne had given her. The keychain photograph was taken on a rare family holiday and included the two sisters, two years apart, wearing matching outfits, and braids in their hair. Harriet vividly remembered her and Dawne arguing moments after the photo was taken and having to be separated by their dad. Unsurprisingly, at this stage her thoughts moved to her father, and whether he had thought about her at all since she left.

It wasn’t long before she was interrupted again, as is the nature of trains, by a businessman in an ill-fitting suit. He stuffed his carry-on into the shelf above and put a briefcase on the seat where the child once was. Harriet only had her backpack with her, and while it strained at the seams it had managed to hold all of her worldly goods for five years. The businessman sat in the available aisle seat and from his briefcase took out a prawn sandwich. Due to the heat, it wasn’t long before the prawn scent filled the space and Harriet moved to another carriage.

***

When Harriet stepped onto the platform, she recognised it as unchanged apart from the wind-chipped paint on the cladding of the platform café which had worsened in the years that had passed. She said her last goodbye to peace as she pushed the door to the café open. Immediately upon entering she was hit with a wave of warm air (the type caused by too many bodies in a small space and not by radiators) combined with the smell of overly salted chips. As Harriet scanned the tables her eyes fell on a mass of curly hair, and she made her way to where her sister sat. “Dawne.” Harriet took the seat opposite her sister who was clutching onto a coffee. Dawne took a moment to register Harriet’s arrival but, once she did, lift her head along with the sides of her mouth, greeting her sister with a smile. “Harriet.” 

*** 

“Was Italy nice?” Dawne asked as they left the station through the open barriers, tickets hadn’t been checked here since Harriet was four and the domestic tourism industry was still alive. 

“France.” Harriet responded. 

“What?” 

“It wasn’t Italy. I was in France.”  

“Oh...” Dawne doesn’t often seem awkward but, having not seen her sister in years, awkwardness was inevitable, and it wasn’t as bad as Harriet was expecting. 

“I sent you a postcard, did you get it?” 

“No.” 

“Well, I only sent it a couple of days ago, I was meant to stay there for longer this time but...” Harriet let her sentence trail off, neither of them had mentioned it yet. 

“I’m sure France will still be there.” Dawne said, trying, but failing, to do so with a smile. In their youth Dawne was an expert at lying, quick-witted and mischievous she had been the first to tell a lie if the opportunity arose. Being the older sister, she was often believed, and Harriet was left to elaborate, and she did so...unconvincingly. Now older, Dawne’s disposition no longer lends itself to that of a child causing mischief, especially as she has her own to deal with. So Dawne tells the truth, and her cover-ups have become less and less convincing. 

Before the sisters could avoid talking any more, they arrived at Dawne’s car. Harriet offered to hold something while Dawne unlocked it, but Dawne already had the key out. The two got in and Harriet turned to put her bag on the backseat but stopped as two car seats took up most of the space. Dawne noticed and started to apologise “Sorry, I didn’t get chance to take them out before I had to go-”  

“It’s okay.” Harriet laughed, shoving her bag on the floor by her feet. Dawne started the engine and the car filled with its hum. Harriet turned on the radio, letting the music drown out the silence, and the engine. 

The two arrived at the church. Outside stood their mum and dad, Elaine and Henry, who upon recognising the car began to walk over. Henry seemed to be supporting Elaine, holding her up as though the wind would knock her over, but Elaine broke this hold as the two girls got out of the car.  Dawne walked into Elaine’s outstretched arms and the two embraced one another warmly. Elaine kissed Dawne on the cheek as they broke and asked if the drive was okay, pointedly looking at Harriet over Dawne’s shoulder.   

“Yes, it was fine, traffic wasn’t too bad from the station.” Dawne deflected the implication and moved to Henry who didn’t attempt to smile. Henry simply took Dawne’s arm, nodded at Harriet, and began escorting Dawne into the church. 

Elaine turned to Harriet and smiled, a sad smile, holding her arms out for a hug, to which Harriet obliged. To Harriet Elaine smelt like cherry tomatoes and the sea. Harriet nestled into her mum, and the two stood outside the church for a moment. “It’s nice to see you,” Elaine whispered, “I just wish it were under better circumstances.” 

*** 

Elaine gave her speech, one she had spent the week prior pouring over, but every other word disappeared into the wind. She stood between the coffin and the priest while Harriet stood between Dawne and Henry. As the speech was happening Harriet thought that her Grandad would no doubt be doubled over with laughter at Elaine’s desperate attempts to be heard. 

“...So Dad if you can hear me, literally if you can hear me at all because I don’t even know if Father John can.” Elaine gestured to the priest as the small group laughed lightly “Then I hope you’re resting easy.” The congregation clapped as Elaine joined them again. Henry hugged Elaine tight while Father John gave his speech. Not long after the two women behind Harriet, from her Grandad’s golf club, began to chat in hushed tones. 

“-a sad day for all involved I expect.” 

“Yes, yes. He’ll be missed terribly that’s for sure.” 

“It’s a shame Jane couldn’t be here.” 

“Well you know why don’t you? About the invite?” 

“She said she was at Tony’s Goddaughters christening; you know, the one with the hair.” 

“That’s not what I heard. Edna says that the family took back the invitation, didn’t think it’s right, what with Carol still being in-” Harriet turned, staring at the two women until they acknowledged her. “It’s rude to stare.” one of the women said. 

“It’s also rude to gossip at a funeral.” Harriet responded and turned back. Before long the women went back to gossiping and Harriet again turned to reprimand them, but Dawne put a hand on her shoulder. 

“Leave it,” Dawne said, “it will be them next.” Harriet let out a light laugh which turned to a cry as the family watched Edward’s coffin get lowered into the ground. A moment passed where the congregation was silent, watching a family member or close friend’s coffin go into the ground can have that effect on people. The moment of silence was cut short by the hurried arrival of three people at the back of the congregation. One of the gossips muttered “Is that Jane?” 

Harriet saw Dawne’s head turn to look at the new arrivals, and she followed suit. Seeing the family from the train stood at the back of the group looking worse for wear, Harriet was confused and turned to look at Dawne. Dawne’s jaw was clenched as she righted herself, looking forward to the priest, again Harriet followed suit. Dawne slowly leant past Harriet to gauge her mother’s expression, and Harriet, subtly, did the same. Elaine who had her head bowed and seemed to be fighting the urge to burst into tears, looked to her daughters, then back to the ground. Henry’s arms were wrapped around Elaine tightly and once Father John finished the service Henry led Elaine to one side. 

“What are they doing here?” Dawne said through gritted teeth, beginning to walk to the three train goers who were being watched by the rest of the congregation. Before Dawne could move any further Harriet pulled her back “We should stay with mum.” Dawne looked torn but, seeing that Elaine was crying, the two join their parents.  

The group retired to the church hall after the service where Sandra, Henry’s mother, had prepared a buffet. While Elaine and Henry stayed at a table, Harriet and Dawne gathered plates for themselves and their parents. “Who is Jane?” Harriet said under her breath to Dawne. 

“Mum’s sister.” Dawne responded matter-of-factly. This was news to Harriet and silenced her for a moment until her curiosity got the better of her. “Why do I not know her?” 

“They fell out. Drop it, now’s not the time.” Dawne finished Henry’s plate with some cocktail sausages and walked to the table, Harriet following “Okay, but I won’t drop it.” 

“I know.” Dawne put on a slight smile as she approached the table and sat down. Harriet struggled to keep up with Dawne’s pace and arrived a moment later, putting the plate that was piled high in front of Elaine. Elaine’s disposition didn’t seem to have changed. “We should head off soon.” Henry said while eating a cocktail sausage. Harriet mumbles her disagreement. “What was that?” Henry said. 

“I don’t think we should go yet.”  

“Why not?” 

“I-I don’t know.” 

“Mum wants to go home, and I do too, there’s no use hanging round.”  

Harriet disagreed there were many reasons why she would rather ‘hang round’ than go to the house, but she didn’t want to start an argument so instead ate her crisps. Dawne made the case that they should stay to eat since nan, Henry’s mum, had taken time to make all the food. Henry begrudgingly accepted but ate his food like a child throwing a tantrum. 

When Harriet’s plate was half-empty people began to approach the table, just one at first but then more and more, each expressing their condolences to Elaine who remained unresponsive. Henry gave Harriet a pointed look of ‘I told you so.’ as he began to escort Elaine out of the room. Harriet and Dawne got up “We’re heading home, but thank you for all of your kind words, it means a lot.” Dawne managed to hold off the mourners and when they began to disperse the two girls followed their parents.  

Dawne hurried out of the door but Harriet turned back and, in that glance, saw the staring child watching her again. It still unnerved Harriet but, having been to funerals when she was younger, she knew the child wouldn’t be having much fun. She took the pressed coin out of her pocket, and slid it into her sleeve, making sure the child didn’t see. And before she moved through the threshold, she pulled the coin from her ear, causing the child’s eyes to light up, and placed it on a nearby table. Before leaving through the door Dawne was holding open.