Junction X by Erastes (digital ebook reader .TXT) 📗

I recognised the signs. He really wanted to go and look and was too damned polite to say.

“Finish your drinks,” I said, “and we’ll go and have a look. Perhaps we’ll find something for the horrors too.”

Ignoring their cries of “Oh, Daddy,” I led the way back into the crowds and climbed the stairs. The main hall’s floor was filled with tracks, both two-rail and three-, and locomotives were moving around every part. It was pretty impressive. Alec stood awhile absorbing it, before he made a beeline for the Hornby side. I stood with the children for a while, answering questions. Then, when Mary started to look bored, I led them over to where Alec was deep in discussion with a man of about my own age. The subject of their conversation appeared to be a familiar blue-green locomotive and I watched Alec’s absorption with the questions he was asking. I felt a sudden nausea, and a pain, deep and twisting—like nothing I’d felt before.

John surged forward. “That’s the Mallard,” he said to Mary. “It was in my Look and Learn. It was the fastest ever.”

The man with Alec straightened up. “That’s right,” he said. “Ah, this must be your dad, then?” He stuck a hand out which I had no option but to shake. “Your boy’s been telling me about your collection.”

I went to speak but Alec stood up, the locomotive’s tender in his hands. His cheeks were red and he bit at his bottom lip. The twins were giggling. “He’s not my dad, no.” He looked at me straight in the eye and my pain went away.

“That’s a shame,” the man said to me with a wry smile. “I thought I’d got a sale there, for certain.”

I watched Alec as he knelt down again and re-attached the tender to the Mallard. I was eight when it had beaten the world speed record for steam locomotives; I remember it was a big deal then. Funny how boys of all ages remembered the Mallard, but then it was a beautiful locomotive. No doubt about that.

 I wandered over and picked up a brochure as Alec stood and let the train steam away from him around the outside track. There was a price list on the bench and the Mallard was priced at over four pounds. I was fairly sure that he’d only brought those ten shillings with him.

I leaned against the bench and watched him as he followed the train around the track with his eyes. His face seemed narrower, and the look on his face was one of almost…misery, as if he’d come close to something beautiful and had had to kill it before it had had a chance to shine. I moved toward him and gently touched his arm.

He flinched, seemed to come to himself, and then smiled. “I’m sorry, I didn’t see you.”

“I think the twins have had enough, and it’s nearly lunchtime. I thought we might go to the seafront and get some lunch.”

His face clouded over again but I was firm. “Alec…” I said, warningly.

“All right. I don’t want to be made to sit in the car.” His face lit up, submitting to me. His smile made the room glow. “And would…would you mind…could you call me Alex? No one calls me that.”

I felt exposed, and I could feel my cheeks colouring, something that I hadn’t done for more years than I could remember—unless it was in the dark on a warm French beach. I wanted to tell him how the name suited him and how he should call me the one name that no one else did, but I was still too scared. I was terrified to push, because I knew he only meant to be friendly and wasn’t longing to touch me the way I was him. There was a sugar-spun thread between us, and I was sure that if I grasped it or even tugged on it, it would shatter, leaving nothing but the taste of him as a sweet memory.

I coughed. “I’d be happy to.” I handed him the keys. “And you won’t have to sit in the car while we stuff ourselves. Take the kids and lock them in and I’ll be out in a moment.” I gave the impression that I needed the toilet but, in reality, I was more devious—or I thought I was, back then. I had no idea what I would become.

+ + +

Despite the chaperonage of the children, the day—when I look back on it from this end of the tunnel—was full of sunshine and laughter. We ate; we walked along the pink pavement of tourist’s dreams. We walked in the sun, and there were few enough times we ever did that again. I was sorry when I had to end it, and the children’s cries of disappointment echoed my own silent regrets.

“Can we come back, Daddy?” Mary asked me, and I swung her up and carried her back to the car, promising that we would.

The journey back to The Avenue was too short. It wasn’t until I got out for the last time that I saw that the armrest between Alec and me was pushed up and out of sight. I assumed the children had moved it. Valerie came to scoop up the twins and I said I would be in in a moment. She shut the door and I motioned him back into the garage. As he stepped out of the sunshine into the shadows, I opened the boot, suddenly uncertain of what to say, embarrassed about what I had done.

“Look,” I said. “I know you are going to hate this; it was hard enough getting you to accept allowing me to treat you. But…” I completely ran out of words. I had no idea how to explain why it was important to me to have done what I’d done, so I just pulled the box wrapped in brown paper out of the boot and held it out. “If you don’t want