The Commuter

George Parsons was a simple man. He didn’t ask too much of the world and he didn’t give much back.

George worked as an accounting clerk in a suburb of London. He led a very unassuming life with his wife and two children. Daisy and Thomas were twins and had just started secondary school. They always looked forward to George getting home so they could talk about their school day over dinner. Both went to the local comprehensive school and hoped to do well academically and to go to University. They were a close family who discussed everything together and enjoyed each other’s company.

George was satisfied with his job without ever over committing to it. His home life was where he found the greatest fulfillment. He loved being in his home and spending quality time with his family.

The only vice George had was to sneak off from work five mins early every day so that he could catch the 5.11 train from Bromley to Wexford, which was a small commuter town about thirty mins from London. It was a direct route and leaving work just a few minutes early allowed him to be home at a sensible time. The next train meant an hour’s wait which ate into his family time.

On this particular day, George turned off his computer, loaded his bag, put on his coat and as usual muttered something about needing the toilet as an excuse to head off. This routine suited George because he felt that the toilet excuse justified him leaving early. In reality nobody cared because he was such a pleasant man to work with and was well liked. 

He walked the short journey to the station at a brisk pace and on his arrival lost a bit of momentum when he saw a delay next to the Wexford train on the monitor. It was a busy station, so asking for an update with only one guard on the forecourt proved difficult. He did, though, overhear the words, “No driver has arrived yet.”  

George, although a little deflated, took out his ticket and went through the barrier to the platform.  

He then noticed that the delayed notice had changed to a cancelled one. George slumped into a seat on the platform in the realisation that the next train was at least an hour away.

Within minutes an inspiration hit him to take another train to Little Swanton and get a connecting service to Wexford. His calculations told him that if on time the connecting service would be only minutes and so his arrival home would be maybe twenty mins later rather than usual.

This spark of ingenuity gave George a spring in his step again as he crossed the bridge to the next platform and low and behold the train pulled in barely as he set foot on the platform.

George was pleased with his spontaneous move and he boarded the train swiftly. He took a seat and scanned the carriage wondering if anyone else had thought of this idea. He was proud of himself.

Barely had the train left the station when the on board announcement came over the loudspeaker that this train would be fast to Biggington and not stopping at stations in between which included Little Swanton. George began to panic as this would take him way past his destination and on a completely different route.

He realised that he would have to make fresh plans when he arrived. 

As the train approached Swanton, George looked out the window as if saying goodbye to an old and trusted friend. 

But his friend wasn’t going to let him down as the train slowed and stopped on the platform. 

This was perfect timing as a connecting service was also approaching the adjacent platform. Off one train and a dozen steps to the next. Life was good again. 

George leapt up as the train stopped and pressed the button to open the doors. 

Nothing happened and so George pressed harder and more frantically. 

The guard approached from another carriage and called out, “What’s that door done to hurt you?”

George in a panicked tone replied ”Why won’t the door open?”

“This is fast to Biggington, no stops other than that.”

George attempted to reason with him.

“But this is its usual stop and we are on the platform so…”

“Fast all the way. Sorry not today. Problems on other lines are impacting everything.” 

George slumped back in his seat as both trains simultaneously pulled away. 

After forty minutes of stopping and starting the train finally arrived at Biggington and George ambled onto the platform to the sound of “All change please. This train terminates here.” 

The notice board read: “Due to unforeseen circumstances on the line no more trains will depart from here today.”

George had no money because he had spent the last of it buying a yearly season ticket. At the time he had patted himself on the back for this act of cost saving.

He sat in the waiting room and pondered his next move. It was now seven in the evening with no more trains until the next day, so George, resigned to his fate, ate his chocolate bar from lunch and wondered what his wife and children would be thinking. 

He knew they would be worried. It was out of character for him to be late.

He would call them as soon as he could but without a phone which had left on his desk accidentally, this would be difficult.

It was quiet now and George drifted into sleep. 

It was then that a middle aged man entered the frosty waiting room, and began making small talk about the poor train service and no trains after a certain time. 

George explained his predicament and the man offered George his phone to call his wife.

“Hello dear, it’s George. Now don’t worry I’m in Biggington due to a train issue and there are no more trains so I’m going to sleep here and will be home after work tomorrow. Please don’t worry. Love to the kids.”

He did not wait for a reply.

The next morning, as the sun began to rise, George got up feeling tired and drained. He dusted himself down. 

He was disheveled but felt presentable enough to go straight to work. He wandered onto the platform with the intention of jumping on the first train and he would plan his route on board. 

Unfortunately, the announcement board flashed up as “Delayed.”

A group of people had begun to gather chattering about the service delays but George, feeling a little self conscious, stood to one side and listened.

“This is a bloody disgrace.”

“Pathetic,” cried another.

Others just shook their heads and walked out of the station. 

Unfortunately, George didn’t have this option and so faced it out. He had to get to work. Hours passed. George was becoming stressed as tardiness and lateness was frowned upon in the office. Finally, an announcement came from the ticket office man that all passengers were advised to get on the next train to Malton.

George, having now given up on going to work, boarded the train when it arrived and fell back onto the seat, his head in his hands. The guard blew the whistle and the train began moving, but very slowly and then, barely out of the station, it stopped suddenly. 

An on board announcement was made explaining that due to leaves on the line the train may take up to five hours to reach Malton but there was a food trolley service on board for snacks. 

George now had a dilemma which he had never come across before. He had no money but was hungry and didn’t feel comfortable asking for a handout. So on impulse as the trolley passed by he swiped a chocolate bar. His conscience did not enable him to enjoy it and he prayed asking for forgiveness as he did so.

He knew his children would be missing him and he was desperate to know how school was going, and he also knew his wife who could be hot tempered, would not be happy. But he would take care of that later. His immediate problem was negotiating leaves and at least arriving at a station that would allow him time to plan his route home.

Whilst contemplating this, George received a leaflet dropped on his table by the guard.

“Be a sport fella,” the guard asked in a broad Australian accent, “and fill this in. We’re on a five day strike from tomorrow and need a bit of support. Old Starmer needs to receive five thousand signatures before he will listen. Could lose our homes.”

George did not have much sympathy and although he was a placid man, he swore under his breath.

Be glad to see mine, he thought.

More pressing matters were on his mind.

The journey to Malton eventually took eight hours because as George was informed the leaves were the wrong kind for the tracks. 

It was now getting dark and George was visibly concerned. Another night away from home would not be good and work was tolerant but profit driven and so his unplanned absence would not go down well.

On arrival at Malton he decided that to get back to his hometown, it would be sensible to go via Bromley and his usual route. A few railway employees had gathered at the ticket area and so George decided to just jump on the Bromley train which was waiting and finally his ordeal would be over.

He boarded and sat down feeling depressed but hopeful. After a minor delay of two hours whilst the driver had his breakfast the train began moving and George relaxed slightly. The tannoy came on and the guard wished everyone a good evening and mentioned that the next station would not be to Bromley as he thought but Brompton and the train was due to arrive at 10pm. 

George frantically jumped up and headed to the guard’s area and when in view called out, “Please stop the train I want to get off.”

The guard, a lady of about forty and small but wide in stature, replied casually but firmly. “This is for Brompton. I announced that earlier.”

George, now more animated, barked back that the train sign on the front was clearly for Bromley.

“Oh ignore that” she smugly called back. “The letters look similar.”

George for only the second time in his life burst into tears. He had not done this since he had won the U10s inter school chess tournament many years ago.

His tears increased as he thought about his family and how disappointed his office would be with him.

By now, he was beginning to smell and his hunger made him pick up and eat a discarded cheese burger still in its box but destined for the bin. It tasted good as the pangs of hunger subsided. 

George had thoughts of pulling the emergency bell to stop the train but the fine of five hundred pounds dissuaded him of this. He sat back and made plans to buy his wife and family an expensive meal on his return and to hug them all.

His attempts to ask a young couple if he could borrow their phone to call home was responded to with: “Clear off you weirdo!”

Brompton at one stage was a bustling working town but due to high unemployment rates was slowly going downhill and George was greeted by this reality on his arrival.

On the station concourse a group of some fifty men and women with boards and loud speakers yelled loudly that the train strike begins now. George had queried this with the lone ticket inspector after explaining his predicament.

“It’s not all about you,” he was told. “We have families to feed and our wages are unacceptable. Surely you don’t begrudge us our five day strike.”

George was lost, tired, hungry and homeless. He rustled in his pocket for some loose change and found a one pound coin for which he could buy some fruit but on seeing a phone booth decided to call his wife.

When it got answered by his son he explained urgently.

“Tell your mother. Leaves on the line. I’m in Brompton and not home for five days,” and when he began explaining why the call finished.

George took the short walk to the local Salvation Army sheltered accommodation which he was directed to by a sympathetic priest but found that it had been fully booked by the striking railway employees. 

With this further bad news he headed back to the station with some food supplies they gave him and boarded the stationary train in the hope that it would move but unfortunately it did not and so for five days George sat in the carriage eating popcorn and spam and staring aimlessly out of the window crying himself to sleep with “I just want to go home!” 

It proved to be the longest five days of his life. He was bored and in a panic as he had lost any self-control he previously had.

His physical and mental appearance were dropping dramatically and thoughts of suicide crossed his mind but he knew that his family and his boss would not be happy with this. He planned to tell his boss eventually that he would use this break as some of his holiday but this was the least of his worries. 

His wife would by now be conjuring up all sorts of reasons for his going awol, although he hoped the phone call home may have appeased her somewhat. At least they knew he was alive.

After five days life began to return to Brompton and giving hope to all commuters the platform’s digital signs flashed up with a notice of no issues on the line. George, looking many years older and slightly dirtier, had a second wind at this news and hoped to surprise his family that afternoon. 

At 9.30am a two carriage train pulled into the now crowded station and everyone pushed and shoved to get on. George, flailing at the back having no real fight in him tried to gain a few steps but was then told that the train was full and a longer train would arrive shortly. 

It was a week now since anyone had seen George and it was of growing concern to all, not least himself.

He wished now that he had not caught the early train the previous week and had taken his chance with the later one. This moment of madness would never be repeated again. His declining faculties meant that he irrationally blamed himself. 

George made small talk with an elderly couple who, like him, had been denied access to the previous train. They had been to visit their son and had decided to catch the earliest train possible after the strike in case any problems occurred.

George informed them that he could see no reason for delays and in doing so gave himself much needed reassurance. 

In what seemed like an eternity George could see in the distance a train coming in the right direction and as it approached he began to gather himself and jostled into position. But people are not always the most understanding of an extremely rough looking individual trying to gain an advantage. 

He could see the Bromley sign as it approached but it did not seem to be slowing down. The train hurtled past at speed. 

The platform staff rejuvenated by their recent strike action were optimistic that the next train would stop and allow everyone to be on their way. George was not so optimistic. But he had developed his new skill of stealth thieving and so on entering the station cafe skillfully took tea from a couple of well-dressed businessmen who were deep in conversation. Again, George prayed for forgiveness as he drank it.

His dreams were once of tropical climates in the far east but today they were of Wexford and the beautiful corner shop and church he rarely visited but today vowed to spend far more time in. 

He wanted to hug his wife and savour her delicious asparagus and carrot soup. He wanted to help his children with homework and treat the cat to a new collar. All the things he took for granted. He also vowed to buy a car.

Little known to George, his wife and children were convinced he was having an affair and the occasional phone call home highlighted this. George, though, was living a commuter nightmare.

He took a walk between carriages to collect his thoughts and sat down facing a couple who looked like they were on honeymoon.  They had a map and were planning to follow a rail route through Europe. They noticed the wild knowing look in the eye of the man opposite, with his unkempt hair and greying beard. They smiled at him politely and George stood up to leave shaking his head as if to empathise with what would be a disappointing trip for them. He felt their pain.

By mid afternoon and with the sun appearing, a gentle breeze began to blow away any leaves from the track. A guard appeared and chirpily told the remaining passengers that a train would soon be arriving which would take them to Austhorpe Grove which was on a main line and a link to all UK stations.  

It was like an oasis in the desert when it arrived and George was like a new man adjusting his clothes to some sort of respectability and his employee of the year badge proudly displayed. He boarded the train as though it was his first day of work and he settled down in his seat waiting expectantly. The train left with a half hour delay due to a signal failure. It was now late afternoon and although reluctant to be too confident George was smiling. He thought immediately of his family.

After stopping at a few stations the train suddenly halted sharply and the passengers jolted forward. George had a tear in his eye and sat forlornly for ten minutes then another twenty-five,  then another short while before the train speaker buzzed and all George could hear under the crackling was there was a cow running loose down the line and the Police and RSPCA were on the way.

Cows, leaves, drivers having breakfast, delays and strikes. George was at his wits end. He continued to worry about his job and more importantly his wife and children and all he wanted to do was go home. He knew too that he was also a criminal thief. He felt like the carriage was his new home. Again he asked to borrow the phone of a fellow passenger who looked at him suspiciously due to his dishevelled appearance and was keen to dial the numbers for him. He handed George the phone.

“Hello dear. It’s me George. We are heading towards Austhorpe Grove so all being well I should be with you this evening.”

He pulled the phone from his ear and the passenger who lent him the phone also recoiled in fear.

“You ring me up expecting me to listen to your lies and being stuck on the train circuit for over a week. The kids realise you don’t show any interest in them now and when I get hold of the slut you’re with I WILL KILL HER! Furthermore you’ve been fired!!!”

George handed back the phone and again began to cry.

Out of character and acting irrationally due to cognitive decline he leapt up at the guard who was checking tickets.

“You have destroyed my life. I just want to go home.”

The guard calmly explained that he would like to see George’s ticket.

“I don’t have one for this journey,” he blasted.

“There’s no need to take that tone,” was the uncaring reply.

“If you don’t have a ticket please get off at the next station or I will call the transport police.”

George barely had time to respond when the guard continued.

“Anyway, everyone has to get off as there’s a bus service. The cow has trampled on some cables and this train can no longer operate after the next station.”

Although completely destroyed George felt comfort in the fact that everyone on board was now in the same predicament. He saw them as the family he no longer had.

The train ambled at no miles per hour into the station and reluctantly and forlornly George and the other passengers got off.

In the time since George left work he was now a world away from his home and to rub salt into his wounds he read the sign that greeted him on the station.

“Travel by train makes dreams come true.”

George Parsons was learning much from this tour on the railways. He was building immunity to hope which he now believed was a fallacy. But he did find an inner strength he never knew he had but this was quickly quashed when the bus replacement service did not arrive and a signal failure at Clemington Park meant he would have to spend another night in a station waiting room. He managed to make a call to his wife but she dismissed him and told him not to contact her again.

The next morning George, now accustomed to the railway routine and now a mere shell of a man stumbled onto the platform and there was a small glint in his eye when he looked up and saw “All trains on time” flashing on the screens. 

It had seemed like an eternity and in a little over a week his life had changed immeasurably. Homeless, jobless and single. All he had ever wanted was to travel the forty minutes to his home. 

Unfortunately, due to fatigue George fell in front of the oncoming train and caused chaos on the railway service.

The End