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Michael G Kimber
Michael G Kimber
The Nightwriter
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Three Days - Today
The train rumbled into the station as though it had all the time in the world. Not the usual steaming screeching hissing rush that one is used to, as it hurtles by the platform seemingly too fast to stop in time. And passengers waiting are forced to walk, or trot, or even run, fearful of being left behind.
Not this time. It was like a glider coming in to land, almost silent as it shyly slipped into it's allotted space.
Long before it stopped I had thrown the door back, and leaning out, watched as the train eased its way by the platform, and would-be passengers strolled by its side easily keeping pace, until a slight jolt brought us to a stop.
Stepping down, a rucksack over one shoulder, and a large old wheeled suitcase following bumpily behind, I looked beyond the waiting passengers. There she was, waiting by the main exit; my big sister. It had been a while since I had seen her and I could not help smiling. She is very petite, slight of build, and of height, but she is two years older than me, so she is - will always be - my big sister. She has a good job in the legal department of a finance company, and boasts that she will be a millionaire before I am.
"Hello Tabby," she said, as she through her arm around my neck and lifted herself to kiss my cheek. "had a good journey?"
"Hi Jo," I responded, trying to hold the rucksack in place, while at the same time holding on to my case so my other arm was free to circle her shoulders. "I didn't expect to see you here." I told her as I accepted her kiss.
My name is Tobias, which happily most people - with my blessing - shorten to Toby. But way back, when I was a baby, and Jo a toddler, she could never manage to get her tongue round Tobias, and the nearest she ever got to it was Tabby. Somehow the amusement it caused my parents allowed their first child's version to continue, until it stuck for good, and I was Tabby thereafter. Even my parents, and later my younger brother, who came along three years after me, called me Tabby. Indeed, I often wondered if he ever knew my real name.
"Where is Stefan?" I asked Jo, "I thought he would be here to meet me."
"So am I not good enough then?" Jo asked, at the same time giving my arm a thump.
Curiously my parents forbade the use of shortened names for their other children. Whether it was a reaction to my name being accidentally reduced from rather smart intellectuality to that of a back-ally cat I don't know. What I do know was that any attempt to shorten the names of my siblings was met with a severe rebuke. But not mine. Somehow the die was cast and I remained Tabby.
Of course, out of the house at school or at play the natural inclination of kids to shorten names was unstoppable. Inevitably Josephina became 'Jo' and Stefan became 'Stef'. At least I was spared the ignominy of a feline nick-name, albeit in favour of a portly jug.
The drive home gave me the opportunity to quiz Joe about recent developments, any gossip, or scandals.”Nothing as juicy as a scandal I’ m afraid, but I’ve got a new boy friend. Does that count?”
“Not unless you’ve been getting up to lots of mischief.” I replied.
“Never mind me; how about you getting a girl friend?” Jo teased.
“Plenty of time for that.” I answered. I don’t want to get sidetracked. Getting my degree is the main thing for me.”
“But you have to get away from it now and again Tabby.”
“Oh don't worry about that. I have my divergences now and again.”
“Ooh, tell me more.”
“No way, it would be all round the town in twenty minutes.” I told her.
The banter went on for the rest of the journey, and even though she was driving Jo managed to land a couple of blows on my arm.
Home was the same as usual; comfortable; familiar; safe, and seeing my family, if only for a few days, was like recharging a battery.
“Hello dear; glad you could make it.” Mum said as she planted the inevitable kiss on my cheek. “Look after your brother Josephina.”
Josephina smiled and put a fist up at me. “Of course mother dear.”
As always mum was busy, efficiently preparing dinner, and doing the multitude of tasks, seemingly all at the same time, that mothers do. Once again we were a complete family; Josephina and Stefan would make up the quartet at this holiday time.
Well, nearly complete. Only my dad was missing; my dad who I had not seen for over a year when I visited him at his flat. Ten years had elapsed since he left the family home, not because of infidelity, but simply being victims of career incompatibility.
Of course after all that time I have become used to life without him, but I still miss his smile, his shy aloofness, and his sharp wit.
“Where is Stefan anyway. Doesn’t he know I’m coming?”
“I expect he will be home soon. Yes he knows you are coming down, but he told me that there are more important things in life than big brothers.”
“What?” I shouted, “of all the bloody.......”
Don’t swear dear. He was joking you know.”
“I bl....jolly well hope so.”
“You know he sees you as his roll model, and he wants to get good marks in his final exams; very soon now.” Unexpectedly her head appeared through the kitchen doorway. “So don’t let him down.”
As if on cue the front door burst open and in walked my little brother. Except that he wasn’t little any more. I had not seen all that much of him during the three years I had been at university, and suddenly; or so it seemed; he was as tall as me. Eighteen years old now, grown up, grown out, a man. Without embarrassment we hugged. It was good to be home.
The reason for this special November weekend was Thanksgiving. My parents had met, married and indeed lived for a few years in America, and the ritual of thanksgiving stayed with them when they came back to England. Even after they split up my mother continued to observe the day. That I should not consider the event worth the long trip home from university was not an option; for her or for me.
Four of us round the table, happy in each others company and looking forward to dealing with the turkey which was set between us. The meal over, it was time for the toasts. Another family ritual when everyone has his or her turn to celebrate something, or someone dear to them. When it was my turn I stood up and raised my glass to “Absent Friends..” a traditional toast made at all gatherings, for all occasions, all over the world, but I meant it sincerely. Though I spoke the words out loud, quietly I was thinking about my dad, and wishing he was with us today.
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Not this time. It was like a glider coming in to land, almost silent as it shyly slipped into it's allotted space.
Long before it stopped I had thrown the door back, and leaning out, watched as the train eased its way by the platform, and would-be passengers strolled by its side easily keeping pace, until a slight jolt brought us to a stop.
Stepping down, a rucksack over one shoulder, and a large old wheeled suitcase following bumpily behind, I looked beyond the waiting passengers. There she was, waiting by the main exit; my big sister. It had been a while since I had seen her and I could not help smiling. She is very petite, slight of build, and of height, but she is two years older than me, so she is - will always be - my big sister. She has a good job in the legal department of a finance company, and boasts that she will be a millionaire before I am.
"Hello Tabby," she said, as she through her arm around my neck and lifted herself to kiss my cheek. "had a good journey?"
"Hi Jo," I responded, trying to hold the rucksack in place, while at the same time holding on to my case so my other arm was free to circle her shoulders. "I didn't expect to see you here." I told her as I accepted her kiss.
My name is Tobias, which happily most people - with my blessing - shorten to Toby. But way back, when I was a baby, and Jo a toddler, she could never manage to get her tongue round Tobias, and the nearest she ever got to it was Tabby. Somehow the amusement it caused my parents allowed their first child's version to continue, until it stuck for good, and I was Tabby thereafter. Even my parents, and later my younger brother, who came along three years after me, called me Tabby. Indeed, I often wondered if he ever knew my real name.
"Where is Stefan?" I asked Jo, "I thought he would be here to meet me."
"So am I not good enough then?" Jo asked, at the same time giving my arm a thump.
Curiously my parents forbade the use of shortened names for their other children. Whether it was a reaction to my name being accidentally reduced from rather smart intellectuality to that of a back-ally cat I don't know. What I do know was that any attempt to shorten the names of my siblings was met with a severe rebuke. But not mine. Somehow the die was cast and I remained Tabby.
Of course, out of the house at school or at play the natural inclination of kids to shorten names was unstoppable. Inevitably Josephina became 'Jo' and Stefan became 'Stef'. At least I was spared the ignominy of a feline nick-name, albeit in favour of a portly jug.
The drive home gave me the opportunity to quiz Joe about recent developments, any gossip, or scandals.”Nothing as juicy as a scandal I’ m afraid, but I’ve got a new boy friend. Does that count?”
“Not unless you’ve been getting up to lots of mischief.” I replied.
“Never mind me; how about you getting a girl friend?” Jo teased.
“Plenty of time for that.” I answered. I don’t want to get sidetracked. Getting my degree is the main thing for me.”
“But you have to get away from it now and again Tabby.”
“Oh don't worry about that. I have my divergences now and again.”
“Ooh, tell me more.”
“No way, it would be all round the town in twenty minutes.” I told her.
The banter went on for the rest of the journey, and even though she was driving Jo managed to land a couple of blows on my arm.
Home was the same as usual; comfortable; familiar; safe, and seeing my family, if only for a few days, was like recharging a battery.
“Hello dear; glad you could make it.” Mum said as she planted the inevitable kiss on my cheek. “Look after your brother Josephina.”
Josephina smiled and put a fist up at me. “Of course mother dear.”
As always mum was busy, efficiently preparing dinner, and doing the multitude of tasks, seemingly all at the same time, that mothers do. Once again we were a complete family; Josephina and Stefan would make up the quartet at this holiday time.
Well, nearly complete. Only my dad was missing; my dad who I had not seen for over a year when I visited him at his flat. Ten years had elapsed since he left the family home, not because of infidelity, but simply being victims of career incompatibility.
Of course after all that time I have become used to life without him, but I still miss his smile, his shy aloofness, and his sharp wit.
“Where is Stefan anyway. Doesn’t he know I’m coming?”
“I expect he will be home soon. Yes he knows you are coming down, but he told me that there are more important things in life than big brothers.”
“What?” I shouted, “of all the bloody.......”
Don’t swear dear. He was joking you know.”
“I bl....jolly well hope so.”
“You know he sees you as his roll model, and he wants to get good marks in his final exams; very soon now.” Unexpectedly her head appeared through the kitchen doorway. “So don’t let him down.”
As if on cue the front door burst open and in walked my little brother. Except that he wasn’t little any more. I had not seen all that much of him during the three years I had been at university, and suddenly; or so it seemed; he was as tall as me. Eighteen years old now, grown up, grown out, a man. Without embarrassment we hugged. It was good to be home.
The reason for this special November weekend was Thanksgiving. My parents had met, married and indeed lived for a few years in America, and the ritual of thanksgiving stayed with them when they came back to England. Even after they split up my mother continued to observe the day. That I should not consider the event worth the long trip home from university was not an option; for her or for me.
Four of us round the table, happy in each others company and looking forward to dealing with the turkey which was set between us. The meal over, it was time for the toasts. Another family ritual when everyone has his or her turn to celebrate something, or someone dear to them. When it was my turn I stood up and raised my glass to “Absent Friends..” a traditional toast made at all gatherings, for all occasions, all over the world, but I meant it sincerely. Though I spoke the words out loud, quietly I was thinking about my dad, and wishing he was with us today.
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