The Journey Begins

Rufus Millard stood, perplexed, in the midst of the bustling Victoria Station, unsure which of the imposing locomotives he was meant to board. He’d never traveled by train before. Rail travel was not entirely new, but it was not yet universal enough to not be intimidating to the inexperienced. And, oh, how inexperienced Rufus was!

Our somewhat intrepid traveler spotted a man wearing a conductor’s uniform. Rufus approached, hopeful he would be pointed in the correct direction.

“Begging your pardon,” he said to the conductor. “Which train am I meant to board?” He held up his ticket, embarrassed to see it shake under the influence of his nerves.

The conveniently located conductor needed to merely glance at the paper before answering what had seemed to be an unanswerable question. “This one, sir.” He motioned Rufus toward a nearby passenger train, not overly large nor overly opulent but nicely appointed.

Rufus counted at least a dozen open doors, all leading to sections in which passengers sat to undertake their journeys. “How do I know which compartment I am meant to enter?”

“This particular train is not divided into travel classes,” the conductor said. “You need only pick a door.”

That seemed simple enough. Rufus wasn’t certain how he’d managed to find a train ticket with so few complications, but he was grateful.

He carried his carpetbag to the first open door and stepped onto the train. The compartment was nearly full, four other passengers having already taken seats inside. Rufus eyed them with misgiving, on account of his being shy of strangers. It had been his understanding that men and women sat in separate compartments on the train unless related to one another.

“Pardon me,” he said with a quick dip of his head. He moved to step back out.

“Nonsense,” said one of the women. She waved him back inside. “We’ve room and plenty.”

Though there was a significant resemblance between the two women in the compartment, he did not see that same resemblance between them and the two men. Perhaps they were not all related. Perhaps that was not the deterrent he’d been led to believe it was.

“I’d not be in the way?”

All four of his fellow travelers insisted he would not be and encouraged him to join them. And, so, he set his carpetbag on the overhead shelf alongside the other passengers’ belongings. He placed himself on the rear-facing bench on the end farthest from the door.

“Have you traveled by train before?” asked the same lady who had addressed him first.

“I haven’t,” he said. “But my wife convinced me it was well worth the expense on account of how much faster this will be.”

A mustached man seated across from him adjusted the umbrella leaning against his leg. “Nothing beats train travel for efficiency. I’m headed for Reigate, myself. My parents live there.”

The more vocal of the two women offered their thoughts. “We lost our parents only two years ago. Having no family other than the two of us, we finally decided we ought to do the things we had put off for so long.” She had referred to “our parents,” which meant the two women were sisters. “Please, tell us, what are your names, and where you are traveling to?”

The mustached man answered first. “I am Melvin.”

Next to Rufus sat a man far younger than the others in the compartment, likely only just twenty. He wore a pair of dark trousers and a checkered frock coat and held a folded newspaper in his hands. “My name is Harlow. My family moved from London to Ashford, but I stayed behind to work. Now a job is waiting for me there, and I’m traveling to join them.”

The two sisters, sitting beside the mustached man, took their turn. The more talkative of the two made the introductions on behalf of them both. “I am Tillie, and this is Zinnia. Our first stop will be Tonbridge. We have always wanted to visit.”

Everyone’s eyes turned to Rufus. He would be their traveling companion for some time. It seemed rather ill-advised to not at least be cordial.

“I’m Rufus. And I’m traveling to Dover on a matter of business.” That business being an unexpected inheritance. His family was not poor, but they sometimes struggled. He hoped that this unforeseen windfall would allow them to worry less about such things.

Tillie smiled at them all. “I believe we will be a very merry group traveling together.”

General expressions of agreement followed. Rufus began breathing more easily. He’d found himself in good company with friendly and welcoming people. The journey promised to be a far better one than he’d anticipated.

The same conductor he’d seen on the platform arrived at the door of their compartment. “Tickets, please.”

One by one, the travelers handed him their tickets. He punched them without looking before handing them back. When he reached Rufus, the conductor smiled in a way that set Rufus instantly on edge. There was something unsettling in the conductor’s eyes.

“Enjoy your journey.”

And though Rufus had fully intended to thank the man as his ticket was returned, his voice suddenly eluded him.

Reigate Station

The rocking of the railway car proved a bit unnerving. Rufus repeatedly reminded himself that many others had made this same journey before him and very few had found themselves in true danger.

The ceaseless movement of the train twisted his stomach, while the memory of the conductor’s disconcerting smile still sat heavy upon his mind. The combination was not overly pleasant.

“How long have you lived in London?” Tillie asked Melvin.

“Twenty years now,” the man answered. “I’m a clerk at a bank and have made a fine life for myself. My wife’s passed on, and our children are grown and moved away. But I’ve friends enough for chasing away the loneliness.”

“We certainly miss family when they’re not with us.” Young Harlow spoke as one who knew all too well. He had, after all, been away from his family.

“We do, indeed, miss them.” Tillie pressed a lace-edged handkerchief to her lips.

Zinnia nodded her agreement.

This was a topic Rufus felt equal to discussing. “My family is the reason I’m making this journey by rail: I didn’t want to be away from them any longer than I have to be.”

“Next time,” Tillie said, “you should travel with your family. I daresay they would enjoy such a journey.”

Rufus hadn’t thought of that. If his inheritance in Dover proved sufficient, he would bring Gertrude and the girls on his next train journey, assuming, of course, his stomach did not entirely rebel on this one. His family would enjoy the train ride. Perhaps they would all move to Dover and leave London behind entirely.

“Did you grow up in Reigate?” he asked Melvin.

“In Dover, actually.”

Rufus perked up. “Did you have a good childhood there?”

“A lovely childhood.” Melvin smiled in that way one did when remembering happier times. “Dover is a fine place.”

“I am considering moving my family there,” Rufus said. “A quieter life might suit us better.”

“Dover would be a fine choice,” Melvin said. “A simpler life than London, but a large enough city for finding work.”

“That sounds ideal.”

Taking this train ride was proving a tremendous bit of luck. He would arrive in Dover far quicker than by horse or carriage. He had begun to ponder a change of location for his family that might very well be the best thing to happen to them in ages. And he’d met four people he was coming to like very much.

The train began to slow; they were approaching a station.

“This will be Reigate,” Melvin said. “It’s been a delight traveling with you all.”

“Enjoy your time with your parents,” Tillie said.

Melvin smiled at her. “I have every intention of doing so. You two enjoy Tonbridge.”

“We have every intention of doing so.”

Squeals and screeches accompanied the stopping of the train as brakes were applied and the forward movement was disrupted. The stop was not smooth but jarring, and all the passengers grasped their seats for stability.

Once all was settled again, Melvin stood and fetched a small leather satchel from the overhead shelves. He placed his hat on his head.

The conductor opened the door. Steam from the engine obscured the area around him, giving his arrival an otherworldly appearance. “Your stop, sir.”

Melvin gave them all a nod of farewell, then stepped out onto the platform. He disappeared into the clouds of steam.

The conductor remained. “Next stop, Tonbridge.”

He closed the door but watched them all through the window. His stern expression transformed slowly, muscle by muscle, into the disconcerting smile that had so unnerved Rufus before. No one else seemed to notice. The sisters were deep in conversation. Harlow was reading his paper.

The conductor met Rufus’s eye, tipped his hat the tiniest bit, and slipped out of sight. Mere moments later, the train lurched forward, continuing its journey.

The landscape moved past the window ever faster as they left behind Reigate Station. The sway and rattle of the train became even and familiar once more. Rufus had some hope that, by the time he reached Dover, he would be accustomed to it and the slight twist of his stomach would ease.

“I was fortunate to have met Melvin on this journey,” he said aloud. “To have his thoughts on Dover was a boon.”

“Melvin?” Tillie asked, eyebrows dipping low.

Perhaps she hadn’t overheard their conversation. “He told me before he alighted that he grew up in Dover. I’m thinking of relocating there.”

“Did you meet him on a previous leg of your journey?” Tillie asked.

A previous leg? “On this one.”

Tillie and Zinnia exchanged clearly confused glances. Harlow looked up from his newspaper.

“Melvin,” Rufus repeated. “I do not think I am remembering his name wrong.”

“Perhaps not,” Harlow said.

Perhaps not? Such an odd response. “Do you remember his name differently?”

“Remember whose name differently?” the young man asked.

“Melvin. The man who only just disembarked.”

All three of his traveling companions looked increasingly confused.

“The man with the mustache who was visiting his parents in Reigate,” Rufus clarified.

“Reigate is where we just stopped,” Tillie said.

Rufus nodded. “And Melvin, with the mustache and the leather satchel and the parents he meant to visit, disembarked at that station.”

Zinnia spoke for the first time. “No one left us at that station. We are all still aboard.”

A weight began to form in Rufus’s chest, a feeling of misgiving he could not ignore. “Do none of you remember him?”

“This man with a mustache?” Harlow asked.

Rufus nodded.

“There has been no one but us four in this compartment,” Tillie said. “No one alighted at the previous station.”

Melvin had.

Hadn’t he? Suddenly, Rufus wasn’t so certain. He remembered Reigate Station. He remembered the fog from the engine. Heaven knew he remembered the conductor.

What else was there? Who else?

He pictured in his mind the compartment as it had been when he had boarded in London. Harlow had sat in the seat he was in now, the one next to Rufus. The two sisters had sat on the bench opposite.

That was all. There’d been no one else.

Indeed, he couldn’t even say why he thought there had been another passenger. Somehow, he’d imagined a fifth person. How very odd.

The vague recollection of a mustached man was slowly replaced by the very clear image of the conductor, framed in the window . . . smiling.

Tonbridge Station

“Tonbridge is not the same place as Tunbridge Wells,” Tillie said. Harlow had expressed confusion on the matter, and their very talkative travel companion had quite happily taken up the topic. “Royal Tunbridge Wells, if we are being entirely accurate.”

Tillie had a knack for talking on and on without rendering herself the least bit tedious. And Zinnia managed to say almost nothing at all and yet not seem any less crucial to a conversation. They had proven rather ideal company, every bit as much as the other two people in the compartment with Rufus. He shook that thought away. The one other person in the compartment.

He certainly knew how to count. There were four people in the compartment including himself. Four. That was all.

“Tonbridge boasts a castle, did you know that?” Tillie’s eyes pulled wide with excitement. “A thirteenth-century castle, and it is said to be quite interesting. And one can wander the castle grounds to one’s heart’s content.”

“That sounds lovely,” Harlow said.

“Ashford is not so terribly far from Tonbridge,” Tillie said. “As you are to be living in Ashford with your family now, you could visit Tonbridge.”

“I will suggest that to my family,” Harlow said.

“How far is Tonbridge from Dover?” Rufus asked.

“Not overly far by train,” Tillie said. “You could make the journey with ease.”

Perhaps if he and Gertrude and the girls did move to Dover, they could take a holiday to Tonbridge. “What else of interest can one find in Tonbridge?”

“There are a great many swans near the river,” Tillie said. “And we mean to look in at the shops on the high street.”

Rufus’s daughters would like the swans. Gertrude would enjoy the castle.

“And there are horse races held near the castle,” Zinnia added, her tone bursting with excitement.

“Zinnia,” Tillie whispered through a tightened jaw. “We’re not meant to find races appealing.”

Harlow’s amusement was hidden rather well behind his upheld newspaper. Rufus bit down his own grin. Races weren’t always considered an appropriate interest for women, though he didn’t find the sisters’ excitement truly scandalous.

Knowing races were held in Tonbridge gave him even more reason to visit the town himself. And, should they not actually move to Dover, they could still make the journey from London. By train it was not very far.

How fortunate he was to have finally decided to ride a train. All the world seemed to be opening up to him.

“Where do you mean to go after Tonbridge?” Rufus asked, interested for their sake as well as for the possibility of future travel for himself.

“We mean to visit Maidstone and Canterbury. After that, we’ll make our way to Ramsgate and then to the Isle of Sheppey.” Tillie held herself quite proudly. “We will be quite well versed in the kingdom by the time we finish our vast travels.”

Every place she had mentioned was located in Kent. They were traveling, yes, but hardly far and wide. Still, they were so sweetly pleased with their plans that Rufus hadn’t the heart to disabuse them of their exultation.

He listened very closely as Tillie, with the occasional comment from Zinnia, delineated the many things they anticipated seeing in the various towns and villages they were traveling to. Seashores and park lands, rivers and ornate bridges. They meant to spend time looking at fascinating architecture, perhaps even being permitted a tour of a fine house or two. They had great hopes for their travels but also seemed entirely content to accept whatever came their way.

Once more, the train began to slow. They were approaching Tonbridge Station, where the sisters would step off the train.

“This was such a lovely journey,” Tillie said. “How pleased we have been to make the acquaintance of you all—” She shook her head, as if catching herself in a moment’s confusion. “Of you both.”

You all. She, too, it seemed, had moments of miscounting. Why would both Tillie and Rufus do that? It seemed too much of a coincidence to simply brush away.

The loud, high-pitched squeal of the train coming to a stop filled the compartment. The sound was not entirely unpleasant, yet it sent Rufus’s heart into his shoes. Why was that?

With the train at a standstill at Tonbridge Station, the ladies rose. Harlow and Rufus did as well, helping them to fetch their portmanteaus from the high shelves.

Tillie offered her thanks with a smile. Zinnia patted the young man’s cheek in a very maternal way.

The door to their compartment opened. Steam from the engine stack created billowing clouds that made it difficult to see the station beyond. From the obscurity, the conductor appeared just outside the compartment door.

“Your stop, ladies.”

It sounded so familiar, as if Rufus had heard that, or very nearly that, before. Yet, Rufus hadn’t ridden a train before. He’d encountered no conductors at previous stops on previous journeys. There’d been only one previous stop on this journey, but their door hadn’t been opened. No one in their compartment had needed to disembark.

And, yet . . .

The two sisters stepped from the train. The steam billowed around them, enormous clouds that enveloped them, rendering them impossible to see.

Rufus hoped the sisters would have wonderful travels together, that they would get to see all the things they were dreaming of. They were such wonderfully sweet people. They deserved such moments of happiness.

“Next stop, Ashford,” the conductor said.

He closed the door but remained visible through the window, not stepping away. He’d maintained a staid demeanor as he’d held the door for the sisters. But, standing in the window, looking in, his smile changed in a most unnerving way. And Rufus had the most disconcerting feeling of having done this before.

Harlow was situating himself on the bench across from Rufus, not paying the least heed to the conductor. The man outside the train compartment tugged the brim of his hat, then stepped away.

Rufus ought to have felt relieved, ought to have been able to shake off the oddity of his interaction with the man.

But he couldn’t.

The train jerked to a start once more. Rufus held the bench to keep his seat. After a moment, the train was moving forward at a fast clip.

“The conductor is a bit odd, isn’t he?” Rufus said.

Harlow shrugged. “I haven’t met him.”

“Well, I’ve not met him in the strictest sense. But his behavior just now as the sisters disembarked was unusual.”

The young man’s mouth tightened, and his eyebrows pulled so tight they nearly touched. “You have sisters on the train? Why, then, aren’t you sitting with them?”

“They aren’t my sisters; they are each other’s sisters.”

“And you wished they’d ridden with you?” Harlow was clearly confused.

“They did ride with me. With us.”

“I didn’t think you’d made any previous train journeys,” Harlow said.

“I haven’t.”

“Then, on which journey did you ride with these sisters?”

Sisters? Rufus wasn’t entirely certain. Had he taken a journey with sisters? Somewhere in his brain, a whisper repeatedly insisted he had taken such a journey, that he was currently on such a journey. Yet, that made no sense. He and Harlow had boarded the train at Victoria Station and had ridden this far together.

Just the two of them.

Why, then, did his mind vaguely believe that wasn’t true?

Ashford Station

“How long has your family been in Ashford?” Rufus asked. He and Harlow had made this journey together thus far, but he didn’t feel he’d talked much to the young man. That seemed a shame.

“Two months,” Harlow said. “I’ve worked for a merchant in London, but my father has arranged for me to work at the dry goods shop on the Ashford high street. So now I get to join them.”

“You have missed them terribly these past months.” Rufus had been away from his family mere hours, and he already missed them.

“I have.” Harlow offered a sad sort of smile. “The position they’ve secured for me there is something of a step-down, but I’m not opposed to working hard to better my situation.”

An admirable trait, that.

“I began as an errand boy for a barrister when I was quite young,” Rufus said. “I am now a secretary for another barrister, doing important work.”

“Your finances must appreciate the change, as well,” Harlow said. “I, too, have been an errand boy. It does not precisely line one’s pockets, does it?”

“It certainly does not.” Rufus adjusted his position, his hips beginning to ache from the long journey. “Are you the oldest in your family?”

“I am. I’ve only just turned nineteen. My nearest sibling is my sister, and she’s sixteen years old.”

“My daughters are eighteen and sixteen,” Rufus said. “It’s a shame your family isn’t in Dover. My girls would likely enjoy meeting you and your sister.”

Harlow smiled. “Perhaps you might consider moving to Ashford instead of Dover. There might very well be a barrister or solicitor in the village in need of a secretary.”

The prospect was actually a little intriguing. Harlow was proving himself a fine young man. His sister was likely no different. Rufus’s girls would have ready-made companions.

“What sort of merchant did you work for in London?” he asked.

“A linen drapers,” Harlow said. “We supplied a great many seamstresses and tailors. I found I was quite adept at tracking orders and keeping records of supplies and such. The dry goods shop in Ashford isn’t likely to offer as much of a challenge.”

“Perhaps, with your abilities, the shop will be able to expand its business,” Rufus suggested.

Hope entered the young man’s eyes. “That is possible.”

“Work hard, and who’s to say what might happen.”

Harlow smiled broadly. “Thank you, sir. That is precisely the encouragement I needed.”

The train slowed.

“This will be Ashford,” Harlow said. “I should gather my things.”

Rufus had the oddest urge to plead with him to stay. He had been enjoying Harlow’s company, but suggesting he stay with a stranger instead of disembarking to be with his family was an unusual inclination to say the least.

The squeals and screeches of the train stopping sounded in his ears. His heart began to pound. Heavens, why was he responding this way? He’d nothing to fear from a simple stop at a train station.

Harlow rose and took down his bag. “This has been a lovely journey. Everyone was—” He shook his head. “You were wonderful company.”

“As were you.” But “you all” nearly fell from his lips. Yet, there’d been only the two of them. Why would he say differently?

“Best of luck to you in Dover,” Harlow said.

“And to you here in Ashford,” Rufus replied.

The door opened. The train conductor stood on the other side, surrounded by clouds of steam, no doubt coming from the engine at the front of the train.

“Your stop, sir,” the conductor said to Harlow.

Rufus had heard that before. At least he thought he had. But he hadn’t the first idea where or when.

Harlow dipped his head to Rufus once more before stepping off the train and disappearing into the steam.

“Next stop, Dover,” the conductor said.

The door closed.

Through the window, the conductor smiled.

The Final Station

The train was approaching Dover. The journey had been a quiet one. Rufus didn’t know whether to be grateful or disappointed to have found a compartment all to himself for the length of the trip. He might have enjoyed a little conversation. He was not overly talkative, but he did like listening.

Rufus shifted his position, searching for one that offered a little more comfort. He would have put his feet up on the bench, but the newspaper left there was in the way, and as it wasn’t his, he didn’t feel comfortable crumpling or moving it.

The newspaper wasn’t his.

Then, whose was it?

And, for that matter, who did the umbrella placed under the other bench belong to? It wasn’t Rufus’s.

And there was a lace-edged handkerchief tucked halfway into the cushion of the bench; that was also not his.

Those things, he was certain, had not been in the compartment when he’d stepped inside at Victoria Station. They weren’t his. But they hadn’t been there before.

In the back of his mind, just out of reach, was a memory of other people inside this very compartment. But he couldn’t entirely recall them. He couldn’t make them become clear in his memory.

But they had been there. They had been on this train. They had disembarked. And now they were gone.

Not merely gone from the train.

Gone entirely.

Squeals and squeaks. The jerking of the train coming to a stop.

Rufus’s heartbeat pounded hard in his neck. His stomach lodged firmly in his feet. Every breath he took rattled through him. He could hardly think.

Gone entirely.

Entirely.

All was still. Outside the windows, steam billowed thick and deep. Rufus’s mind spun at the familiarity of it but couldn’t lay claim to the vague memory.

The door opened.

He swallowed. Tried to breathe.

From the midst of the steam, the conductor appeared. In serious, tense tones, he said, “Your stop, sir.”

And then . . . he smiled.

Somewhere along this same line of tracks, a train is traveling from London. Many have boarded it, anticipating a pleasant and efficient journey. But when the train reaches its terminus station, all will be gone.

Entirely.