enough drinks for the whole journey; an hour or so later Maddy goes off to the buffet car to buy the food I neglected to get. But she is taking much longer than I had, and I find myself glancing down the aisle looking to see what has happened to her. There is still no sign of her when a message comes over the tannoy
.
‘This is a passenger announcement …’ (Back then we are only ‘passengers’; it is before we are re-graded as ‘customers’ so that we can be that much more indignant when we don’t get what we have paid for.) For a split second I think, ‘A female train guard – you don’t hear that very often.’
‘British Rail would like to apologize for the fact that the man serving in the buffet car is such a sexist wanker. British Rail now accept that none of the female passengers on this train wish to be asked if they have a boyfriend, nor be asked for their phone number by a middle-aged man wearing a wedding ring and a name badge saying Jeff.’ Maddy has the dull monotone delivery to perfection. Other people in the seats around me are suddenly looking at each other with widening grins, while my heartbeat has just got faster than the train. ‘They would also appreciate it if Jeff could attempt to maintain eye contact while serving the All Day Breakfast Bap instead of staring so obviously at the breasts of the female on the other side of the counter. Our next station-stop is Didcot Parkway, where Jeff really ought to consider alighting from the train and lying on the track in front of it. Thank you.’
There is a spontaneous round of applause from all the women customers in our carriage. A couple of them even cheer. Only the old lady sitting nearby carefully listens to the whole thing with concerned concentration, as if it were just another official announcement
.
I can’t wait for Maddy to come back. I am so fantastically proud of her; she is funny and brave and has made total strangers on a train start laughing and talking to one another. The hubbub is still going as she saunters through the door with a completely straight face as if nothing has happened. ‘There’s our rogue announcer!’ I boast loudly, demonstratively clearing the table so that the star of the moment can put down my beer cans and the now famous All Day Breakfast Bap. It is probably a mistake to tell the whole carriage like that. But we don’t particularly mind being turfed off the train at Didcot Parkway. I mean, it’s not as if there is absolutely nothing to do in Didcot on a Tuesday evening
.
The defining characteristic of this memory was the powerful sensations of love and pride it conjured up. Her entrance into our carriage felt like one of the funniest moments in the history of the world. Just the insouciance with which she calmly sat herself down and began eating the bap; it was a deadpan comedy triumph.
And yet it was deeply frustrating to have so little else of our past lives in which to place it. It was as if I was living in one tiny cell, my head bumping against the ceiling as I paced back and forth re-examining every familiar brick and floor tile. My life-map was incredibly detailed on everything that had happened since 22 October and then there were just a few aerial snapshots of the uncharted continent beyond.
The train-tannoy memory had come to me as I had woken up, with no logical associations or identifiable trigger. Except that I had been thinking about Maddy when I went to sleep and I was still thinking about her when I woke up. It was a few days after the court case and for once I had slept in late. I desperately wanted to have the story officially verified by Gary and Linda, but the two of them had already left for their appointment at the hospital. I think Linda may have booked an extra scan to prove to Gary that there really was a baby in there.
I made myself a cup of tea and thought I would try it without sugar, the way the old Vaughan took it. If I was going to return to normal, I reasoned, I should
.
‘This is a passenger announcement …’ (Back then we are only ‘passengers’; it is before we are re-graded as ‘customers’ so that we can be that much more indignant when we don’t get what we have paid for.) For a split second I think, ‘A female train guard – you don’t hear that very often.’
‘British Rail would like to apologize for the fact that the man serving in the buffet car is such a sexist wanker. British Rail now accept that none of the female passengers on this train wish to be asked if they have a boyfriend, nor be asked for their phone number by a middle-aged man wearing a wedding ring and a name badge saying Jeff.’ Maddy has the dull monotone delivery to perfection. Other people in the seats around me are suddenly looking at each other with widening grins, while my heartbeat has just got faster than the train. ‘They would also appreciate it if Jeff could attempt to maintain eye contact while serving the All Day Breakfast Bap instead of staring so obviously at the breasts of the female on the other side of the counter. Our next station-stop is Didcot Parkway, where Jeff really ought to consider alighting from the train and lying on the track in front of it. Thank you.’
There is a spontaneous round of applause from all the women customers in our carriage. A couple of them even cheer. Only the old lady sitting nearby carefully listens to the whole thing with concerned concentration, as if it were just another official announcement
.
I can’t wait for Maddy to come back. I am so fantastically proud of her; she is funny and brave and has made total strangers on a train start laughing and talking to one another. The hubbub is still going as she saunters through the door with a completely straight face as if nothing has happened. ‘There’s our rogue announcer!’ I boast loudly, demonstratively clearing the table so that the star of the moment can put down my beer cans and the now famous All Day Breakfast Bap. It is probably a mistake to tell the whole carriage like that. But we don’t particularly mind being turfed off the train at Didcot Parkway. I mean, it’s not as if there is absolutely nothing to do in Didcot on a Tuesday evening
.
The defining characteristic of this memory was the powerful sensations of love and pride it conjured up. Her entrance into our carriage felt like one of the funniest moments in the history of the world. Just the insouciance with which she calmly sat herself down and began eating the bap; it was a deadpan comedy triumph.
And yet it was deeply frustrating to have so little else of our past lives in which to place it. It was as if I was living in one tiny cell, my head bumping against the ceiling as I paced back and forth re-examining every familiar brick and floor tile. My life-map was incredibly detailed on everything that had happened since 22 October and then there were just a few aerial snapshots of the uncharted continent beyond.
The train-tannoy memory had come to me as I had woken up, with no logical associations or identifiable trigger. Except that I had been thinking about Maddy when I went to sleep and I was still thinking about her when I woke up. It was a few days after the court case and for once I had slept in late. I desperately wanted to have the story officially verified by Gary and Linda, but the two of them had already left for their appointment at the hospital. I think Linda may have booked an extra scan to prove to Gary that there really was a baby in there.
I made myself a cup of tea and thought I would try it without sugar, the way the old Vaughan took it. If I was going to return to normal, I reasoned, I should
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