Writer's Forum: “The 7am Train”

  

by Sarah A Burton 

c. 2026

All rights reserved

 

Editor's Note: The talented author featured here is someone I have known for at least 25 years. A native of the United Kingdom. We met on MySpace originally, where she shared music compositions that I thought were authentic and compelling. I became a long-term fan and have followed her career ever since. Recently, she spoke about writing short stories as a new project, and that news immediately made me want to become involved. I remember well as a young wordsmith, how a basic gesture of encouragement could mean so much. With that in mind, here is the next installment in her series...

 

I started walking to the station, it was a crisp day, not yet Autumn, summer sun still had warmth but in the early morning, breath could be seen. I looked down at my shoes, I could have polished them last night, don't like her to see me scruffy, she would worry. Oh well not this time, tomorrow I will make more of an effort. I went across the road to where the coffee cabin was, Sally was there, in her red tabard looking bright and fresh. She won't be long leaving now as she goes back to college, leaving grumpy Mr. Graves to work the winter months. Sally says 'morning sweetie, your normal? I smiled at her friendliness and nodded A large flat white no sugar was my 'Normal' I said 'I think I'll take one of those cakes too' 'for your lady friend no doubt' was her reply with a wink. I Paid for the coffee and the cake, 'yes’ I breathed, 'Her favourite'

I was walking slower today; most days I'm chipper I think it's the fear of not seeing her in the winter months. I get onto the platform, platform two. It's a lovely station, never been modernised like the city ones. Edgeleigh  Station aging with dignity.

The Big old clock showed 6:45. 15 minutes before arrival. No digital screens telling me of delays, it was just like the 'old days' I can picture her, with carful elegance she steps down from the train, her heeled shoes making a delicate sound on the steel steps. oh how I cannot wait for those minutes to pass before I see her.

I sat on the usual bench, sipping my coffee. Remembering other days, mornings just like this, people rushing, men greeting their loved ones, children rushing up to their fathers, their sons, tears of happiness and relief in their faces. Ladies (yes, I will still call women ladies, I am an old man, and I think it's only polite to call women ladies. Some sharply dressed, some in scarves and overalls, some, helping others with crutches.  it is always busy.

The sun was getting higher now shadows were shorter, thinner, looking up I asked in silent prayer, please let her be on the train again.  Then I heard it, the whistle, that familiar old sound that quickens my heart. The steam bellowing into the station, the conductor whistles and flags waving in an eager fashion as though his life depended on the very essence of the train's arrival. Then it stopped with brakes grinding, noises that sound like a dinosaur's roar. So much steam and smoke you could barely see anything accept the doors of all the carriages flying open, shadows appeared, like every day, crowds of people, families, rushing off the train, I saw one young girl wating on the platform and running to her beau, arms outstretched laughing and giggling as they walked past me. Her curls bouncing, coming out of her pins, she didn't care because she was so happy.  

 

Then out of the shadows, she came, she walked quickly but not rushed in her footsteps. holding on to her hat, her ruby lips; not a smudge out of place, she was searching, of course, searching for our bench. I sat still, not even wanting to breathe.

Then... 'Hello' I looked up and she smiled down at me, I answered, 'good morning' She then spoke uncertainly 'Can I possibly sit here for a minute? I need to find the address I'm looking for' She started rummaging in her bag, 'where is it, I need to know where I am going to let the taxi driver know' I smiled at her dizziness and spoke softly 'Have you tried your pocket?' she stopped and plunged her red fingernails into her Princess coat pocket.’ oh my you are clever, how did you possibly know?' there it was, the address, on the back of the  envelope in her hand. I could just make out, a glimpse of my father’s handwriting.

 

'You don't need to worry about a taxi' I say, 'I have been sent to fetch you' Her beautiful face looked astonished, 'Really?'  That's good news. Who are you?' Well I am the man You are going to marry in two years to the day, and I am the son of the Doctor you are working for at our village practice' Her face was a picture, like every other day, then she broke into that wonderful smile and said 'We better get on with it all then if that's the case' she gave a half giggle, a giggle that lasted until she died many many years later.  I got up from the bench and told her to ‘walk this way, with an exaggerated sweep of my hand, we strolled arm in arm until we got to the gate. the train already started moving on its journey, and there, with her beautiful, graceful face; disappeared into the smoke.  

The sound of the clock bought me out of my reverie, 10am, 2 hours, that was the longest time it had been, nearer now, nearer my love.  The station; emerging through a different light now......the smell, the noise.   Men with leather jackets and jeans strode passed with harassed wives and children, not really caring for their day out on the train, not realising until a few years later that it was a privilege to ride on a 1946 steam train. The train that meant, and still does mean so much to people, the sign of better days, wonderful days to come.

 

I get up from ‘our bench’ and walk towards the Edgleigh Station gate. I sigh, as a poster appears in front of me announcing, ‘Our lovely train will be going away for the winter by 30th of September until May the 2nd.  

 

If only they saw what I saw in those summer months.... my love, coming home to marry me.