Personal Demons

'Please, Jane, you're making things awkward.'

'Do whatever you want,' snapped Jane. 'I'm staying here. You can make your own decision for once in your damned life.'

'Then I say we go,' said Masters, hurt.

'You can't leave your wife here by herself,' Summerfield protested.

'You're right, Peregrine. Would you mind staying with her? We shouldn't be gone too long.'

'But I was going to come with you.' He looked hopelessly at Jane, who was clearly anxious for him to stay. 'Oh, all right. We'll wait for you to return.'

'Okay, who else is coming?' asked Masters. The students already had their bags on their backs. 'Are you sure you'll be all right, darling?'

'I'll be fine, I'll settle once you go -'

'This is Southern England in autumn, Harold, not Greenland in January,' said Summerfield. 'Go on, piss off the lot of you, and come back with a decent explanation for all of this.'

The four of them made their way to the end of the carriage, leaving behind Jane Masters and Peregrine Summerfield, who layered themselves in sweaters and nestled beneath an orange car blanket that made them look like a pair of urbanised Buddhist monks.

It was lighter outside. The moon gave the surrounding wooded hills a pallid phosphorescence. A loamy, wooded scent of fungus and decayed leaves hung in the air. The track appeared as a luminous man-made trail in the chaotic natural landscape. They saw that the carriage must have rolled by itself for at least half a mile before coming to a stop at the bottom of the incline. The grass around them was heavily waterlogged, so they stayed in the centre of the track. Kallie kept his torch trained a few feet ahead.

'How far do you think it is?' he asked, pointing to the distant black oblong beside the track.

'I don't know. Half a mile, not much more.'

'We could have a sing-song,' said Masters. 'Claire, what kind of music do you like?'

'Trance techno and hard house,' Claire replied. 'You don't "sing" it.'

'Anyone else know any songs?'

'Please,' she begged, 'the first person to start singing gets a rock thrown at them. Ben, tell another story, just a short one.'

'Okay,' said Ben. 'The woman it happened to is a friend of my mother's, and she's not nuts or anything. At least,' he added darkly, 'she wasn't until this happened.' And he told the tale of the lottery demon.

'Sounds to me like her boyfriend left her and she couldn't handle it,' said Masters.

Claire gave a scornful hoot. 'Typical middle-aged male viewpoint.'

'So what are we saying here, that for every positive action there is a reaction?' asked Kallie, 'like you can't win without making someone else suffer? Thanks for the morality play.'

'No,' said Ben defensively, 'just that luck works in both directions. Look at tonight. If we hadn't booked the dining car and then stayed late over our meals, if we hadn't joined your table, we wouldn't be in this fucking mess now.'

Something hooted in the rustling hillside at their backs. The black bulk loomed a few hundred yards ahead. Masters was freezing. His left shoe was taking in water. He hated leaving Jane, but knew she was not strong enough to walk through unknown terrain in the dark. 'Don't worry, there will be a logical explanation for this,' he assured the others. 'There always is.'

They reached a concrete ramp and began to climb. 'It's a station,' said Ben, shining his torch ahead. 'Milford. Ever heard of it?'

They climbed on to the platform and approached the low brick box that functioned as the main building. Masters tried the door of the waiting room, but it was locked.

'Do you think it still operates?' asked Claire. 'It's unmodernised. They've got wooden slat benches instead of those curved red steel ones with the little holes. And look at the lights. They've got tin shades.'

'It can't still be used,' said Ben, shining his torch through the window of the ticket hall. 'Take a look at this.' The others crowded around in the halo of light. The ticket machines inside had been vandalised. The timetables were heavy with mildew and drooped down like rolls of badly-hung wallpaper. Several of the floorboards were rotten and had fallen through.

'Can you see a phone?' asked Claire.

'You're joking. If there is one, it's going to be out of service. Try your mobile again.'

A silence. Only the sound of their breath and the wind in the trees while Claire tried to get a service signal. She tipped the device to the light. 'Still nothing.'

'We should at least try to work out where we are. Did anyone see if we passed Exeter?'

'I don't know, Ben,' Kallie suddenly shouted, surprising everyone. 'This was your idea, remember? I'm from the city, I don't visit places with trees unless they're the indoor kind in big pots, like the ones you get in malls. If you told me to expect rabid fruit-bats and rats the size of Shetland ponies I'd believe you because I don't know about outdoor stuff, this is not me, all right?'

'You might have told us before you decided to tag along,' said Claire. 'I'm freezing. What are we going to do?'

'I guess we either walk back to the carriage or pass the night here,' Masters replied.

'I'm not walking all the way back. Anyway, there's no more heat or light in the carriage than there is here. Oh shit, listen to that.' From above came the sound of rain on slates.

'That does it, we all spend the rest of the night in the waiting room,' said Ben firmly. 'It makes the most sense.'

'Oh, you get to decide what's good for everyone, do you?' Claire snapped. 'Of course, you're American.'

'Just what is that supposed to mean?'

'Just that you always boss people about.'

'Only if we know what's best for them.'

'You're trying to make up for being beaten in Vietnam and the Gulf by telling everyone else what to do.'

'At least we're capable of making life-decisions, which is more than you guys. I suggest you try it sometime.'

'Great advice coming from a country where people eat with their fingers and send money to TV evangelists.'

'Now you're being offensive.'

'Come on, you two, give it a rest.' Kallie pushed between them and led the way back to the waiting room. They had to break the lock to get the door open, but found a dry fireplace with dusty bundles of wood stacked beside it.

'I read that bird-watchers use places like these as hides,' said Masters, digging out his lighter. Outside, the rain began pounding the roof. It took a few minutes for the wood to catch, but soon they had a moderate amount of light and heat. Paint hung in strips from the ceiling, but the floor appeared to have been recently swept.

'I'm going to use the john,' said Ben, rising from the corner where he had been seated glaring balefully at Claire. 'If you hear a crash it's me kicking the lock off, okay? Give me your flashlight.' He pulled the waiting room door open. 'Hey, listen to that rain.'

'This is like the station in Brief Encounter.' Claire hunched down inside her overcoat. Kallie had already fallen asleep. 'I've seen it dozens of times on TV and I always want the ending to be different.'

'I'm surprised you like it at all,' said Masters. 'Surely your generation prefers more recent stuff. You'd rewrite the ending, then?'

'Only in my head. Don't you ever do that, change the endings of things?'

'All the time, Claire.'

Kallie fell asleep in front of the fire. The rain was still pounding the platform roof. 'Ben's been a long time. Do you think we should go and look for him?'

'No, it's okay, I'll go,' said Masters, forcing his aching limbs into action. He checked his watch but condensation clouded the face. As he picked his way along the dark platform, he tried to imagine what had been responsible for stranding them here. The carriage had been coupled at both ends. There had been a guard in the carriage with them. None of them had been paying much attention – they'd been too busy grandstanding each other with crazy stories. Perhaps they'd missed some kind of emergency announcement. But didn't the staff always come around and check the carriages if there was a problem? In this day and age surely people were protected from accidents of fate? Wet leaves plastered the backs of his legs as he walked. He reached the door of the ladies' toilet, but found that it was still locked. There was no sign that Ben had ever reached this far.