The Train from Platform Two

Home is where the heart is, some say. But for Sarah, it filled her with dread. Even thinking about going home gave her the sweats.

She remembers the metal-framed bridge shoogling as she practically ran over it to get to platform two. Getting the hell out of this wee town was the best decision she ever made. She could feel it in her body, she felt taller; the stress was lifting away already.

She caught her reflection in the train window as she waited to get off. Her shoulders weighed down. She looked at least two inches shorter. Even now, years later, she still feels the weight of home. Her foot stepped heavily onto the hard concrete of the platform, she feels the familiar feeling of dread coming over her like a dark cloud. 

Sarah looked around the platform, breathing in that familiar earthy scent of the scots pine that surrounds the station. She spots a new sign, written in large white letters with the same familiar trees in the logo, Welcome to Morlich. Sarah sighs to her herself and mumbles, Welcome home misses.

For the last few years, Sarah’s spent her time serving drinks to drunk tourists in Leidseplein, Amsterdam. A far cry from the one street wee town she grew up in, but it wasn't that different from serving drunk tourists in The Winking Pidgeon pub in Morlich, yet for her, it was an escape. A breath of fresh air away from the pressure cooker of life living at home.

Morlich is a tourist town with around three thousand residents. Arguably not the smallest town, yet swells at the seams in winter for skiers and becomes home in the summer for the tourists who spend their day's golfing and swimming at the local resorts, leaving locals with a lack of opportunities for housing and good jobs.

From the age of sixteen, she worked in the local village shop every day serving tourists and giving them tips on where to eat and drink, she loved finding out where they were from and daydreaming of life elsewhere. When she was old enough, Sarah moved to the local pub hoping to earn more money to save up for the big trip away she had been planning with my best friend Maggie.

Maggie's long red hair was an enormous hit with overseas tourists and she had the most sparkling blue eyes anyone had ever seen. Her entire face lit up one day whilst browsing the holiday magazines.

We should go to Spain, we need to get out of here!

It would be amazing, but we need money first, Mags?

Maggie had been talking about a trip to Spain since she and Sarah met a couple of Spanish boys when the shows came to town 6 years ago. Luis had shoulder-length dark hair and deep brown eyes you could get lost in. He asked them if they wanted to go on the waltzer with him and his friend and for two nights in a row; the girls met them at the shows, playing Hook the Duck and going on the dodgems until it got dark. They didn't speak Spanish until then, but Hola and Adios became their new favourite things to say. Maggie would turn up at Sarah’s house with a new holiday magazine every week.

Guess what misses? I’ve just seen the beach in Ibiza, it's pure white, we've got to go! And the clubs look amazing. I think we should try and get jobs there!

Calm doon Mags, we need more money first! Giggled Sarah.

Sarah hoped Mags was happy. They lost touch when she left town. Maybe Maggie didn't want to think about the freedoms she lost staying at home, not escaping as they planned.

I’ll see her at Mum's funeral, Sarah thought. 

I can’t be on long, I’ve got a wedding to go, I’m fair chuffed for Maggie. Said, Jean.

No worries Mum, I can call another time. Sarah said, not realising it would be one of the last times they would speak.

She will be at Jean’s funeral.  That's why Sarah came back. The only reason. To go to her mum, Jean’s, funeral.  Maggie and Jean grew really close after Sarah left. At least Jean wasn’t alone. She wasn’t a natural mother. Sarah! stop living in dreamland she’d say. It's time you thought about getting a job, settling down, meet a nice boy, not some no-hoper!

Your uncle Ken can get you into the big supermarket. Nice girls don't work nights in pubs, no one will marry you!

She had a tough upbringing, did old Jean, and tried to instil the same in her daughter. Sarah Louise! Whit time do you caw this! As she stomped into her bedroom and ripped open the curtains. Whit will the neebours say! I dinnae want to be talked aboot, we’re no lazy city folk! She’d say.

But no one deserves to be alone when they die. For that, Sarah will always be grateful to Maggie.


Sitting outside at a coffee shop, Sarah couldn’t stop staring at the large static features of the town, no matter where she looked, the hills were all around her. The same place they had always been. Large and looming trees suffocated her with their heavy, balsamic scents. But today she felt calmer and more at peace with her surroundings. 

Up ahead, she could see a platinum-blonde woman pulling a buggy out of the boot of the car. She snapped it together like a professional before clicking the child, already in its seat onto the frame.  Her fashion faded jeans and pure white trainers suggested she had made an effort to look clean for her trip to the town centre. But Sarah thought she probably smelled of milk and vomit. As she walked closer, she could see her face, it was older than Sarah had predicted in her mind and more dishevelled, lack of sleep perhaps.  The woman walked passed to greet another mum with a buggy behind Sarah and friendly chatter ensued regarding little Timmy's teething issues and some popular video on Instagram she just to show her pal.

From the corner of her eye, Sarah could see a familiar redhead approaching and felt shivers going down her back. She knew it was Maggie and could nearly smell the coconut conditioner she used to use and how they laughed that her hair looked amazing and bouncy, but Sarah’s mop looked greasy and limp in comparison. 

Sarah, Sarah Kennedy, is that you? Christ, it's been forever misses!

She sounded elated to see me, thank goodness, thought Sarah. 

Aye, Maggie! It's me. Sarah stood up to greet her, unsure if a hug was appropriate but she did it anyway.

So nice to see you, sweetheart. Jean would be happy you're here.  I’ve got all the funeral plans. - she grabs a notebook out of her bag. We can go through everything and if there is something that does nae feel right, we can change it, dinnae you worry!

Maggie, I really don’t care. I just want this over with so I can go home.

But this is your home, you're not gonna stay now the old witch is dead? Chuckled Maggie.

Sarah gave her a confused look. This place wasn't her home anymore, and they both knew it. 

Maggie's eyes looked sullen, and suddenly the sparkle had left them. Why would you stay? This place is still a dump, always has been, always will be. Nothing here for the ambitious type like you, Sarah!

I would hardly call running a bar in Amsterdam ambitious, but Aye, at least it's my own place and not some big chain like this coffee shop.  Whatever happened to the local tea rooms and the bakery?

They retired and sold it on. It's a shame but if it wasnae for the chains, most of us locals wouldnae hiv jobs, even if it is in a shop! She snarled back.

Sorry, Maggie, I didn’t mean anything by it!  Sarah hoped her apology would sound as sincere as she meant it, she wasn't here to argue. 

Sarah recanted in her mind the last time she saw Maggie, it never occurred to her that, that conversation would be their last. 

Tickets printed, passport! check, bag packed! oh aye, and we’re ready for the off! She said as Maggie opened the door. 

New life here we come! Cheerio wee toon! She did a wee dance, embarrassing, but she felt the moment called for it. Maggie didn’t join in.

I’m moving in wi Davie, he’s got me a key cut and everything! She said, showing off a shiny key in her hand.

Sarah shrugged. This wasn't the first time he’d tried to stop Maggie from leaving. He promised her a trip away when her passport arrived. They went for a night in a hotel in Inverness. Davie, the true romantic!  This key thing was another lure for her to stay with him. Sarah wasn’t believing it.

We can go on a wee girls’ holiday to Glesgae efter I’m settled in at Davies? Maggie said, trying to appease her. 

I’m leaving on the 10am train the day after tomorrow as planned. I’ll see you there!  She turned round to leave, hoping Maggie would stop her, but nothing.

Lovely laddie that Davie. Said Jean. Guid job an aw, has he any pals they could set you up with? 

I’m leaving in a couple of days mum, remember I've got my tickets booked, I’ve given notice at the pub?

Wheesht, enough of that talk. If Maggies stayin’ you’ll no be goin’ either. You twa are joined at the hip!

Maggies comin’ she’ll no let me down.  Everything's organised and I’ve even got a number for a job. Sarah lied. She had no job, and just enough cash for a month, and zero plans. Hoping it would all come together when they got there. 

When leaving day arrived, Sarah hadn’t heard a word from Maggie.  In the station, the clock above her head clicked to 9.50 am.  Jean mentioned Maggie came round the day before collecting some suitcases but had left before she’d got home. Sarah hoped it was to pack for their trip and not to move in with her boyfriend. Sarah stood fixed on the spot at the entrance to the station. Staring at her was a hunched-over wee girl, with a worried look on her young face,  the weight of the world on her shoulders.  It was her own reflection she saw in the shop window. Sarah stood up straight, took in a deep breath, and headed for the bridge to the other side. She did not look back. 


Well, you have a new life now, somewhere else, that isn’t here. Was it worth it? Maggie snarled back.

What do you mean Maggie? I had two tickets, YOU stayed.  How is Davie by the way? Sarah snapped back in a cheeky tone.

Och him, he left long ago, got a job overseas, would you believe! Left me for somebody else! I’m married to Angus, you know him from the Butcher's shop?

Ah right, sorry Maggie, I didn’t know. Yeh I think I remember him. Sarah felt bad about snapping and continued to look over the funeral plans. This all looks great Maggie, you’ve done her proud, thank you so much. 

The day after the funeral, Sarah took a taxi back to the station. As soon as she walked in, she heard the familiar choo chooing noise. 
The whistling noise, as always, was followed by clouds of steam, which meant one thing. The steam train is leaving Morlich on its daily trip.

The smooth concrete underneath her feet should be easy to manoeuvre. But Sarah was stuck, standing on platform two. Her one-way ticket away from the looming mountains, a place she was once eager to depart.  

A man dressed in a blue uniform, with a whistle around his neck, approaches the open train door.

Are you coming or going? He asks.

Her eyes are hard to see through, everything is blurry. She blinks and realises she’s crying. The man shuffles on his feet. Ahem eh, well ahem we leave in a few minutes, so if you’re not on by then, we’re leaving, we’ve got a schedule to keep!

A while later, the man in blue blows his whistle and the train departs.