Enchantment

.

I meet an Irishwoman on the train from Crewe to Holyhead she is thin and fearsome.

It’s her son who finds the seats for them. He seems to be the one who is taking care of the family: looking ahead, predicting. It is he who generously and protectively settles his little sister next to the window, an action that leaves him sitting opposite his mum and vulnerable.

The boy is sensitive and aware of people watching; he fears judgement and criticism. He fleetingly casts his eyes at his mum; he is calculating her mood. Inside the bag that rests on the table are cakes but he does not dare to ask for one; instead he waits with the patience of an obedient dog until she tells them to take one each and eat. He does so and helps his sister to hers.

His mother reads a cheap magazine and ignores them.

Their hands are sticky by the time they’ve finished. The boy wipes his hands on his trousers the little girl wipes hers on the fabric of the seats. The girl is beautiful. Her wavy blonde hair has one plait down the back. She’s about three years old and wriggly. She has yet to learn the deference of her brother. She is bold, demanding and pushy, though she too is starting to be watchful. She is braver than her brother; though he mistakes her courage for foolhardiness. When their mother snaps harshly at them she stares back defiantly and there is the twist of a smile on her face as she extends her protest.

The boy clever but cowed is thinking ahead and calculating; working out a plan to protect them both.

‘Let’s sleep he suggests,’ he feigns sleep tucking his head onto a seat rest.

I wonder how many times he’s used this tactic to protect them both.

His sister imitates him trying to rest her head onto the cold glass window that offers no comfort. Their mother ignores them, offers no soft cardigan to help, no advice. It’s the boy who shows his sister how to fold down the arm rest. She does so and then returns it to its place. I’m fearful for her fingers, but her mother shows no interest.

The children safe in this realm of feigned sleep from their mother’s sharp tongue, slip into the safer realm of real sleep; as the train travels through the enchanted land of Wales, past sandy beaches, castles and mountains.


.