A Letter to the Giftmaker - Chapter 3

Edwin anxiously pulled at his suspenders as the old woman in front of him haggled over luggage costs. The rumbling locomotive at Track 3 let out another hiss of steam. He flinched in surprise. Time was passing, much too quickly, and he needed to make that train.

"Hurry up," he muttered under his breath. "I need a ticket."

"We both do," Harriet said. At his look, she added "I'm coming with you. To fix this."

"Fine, buy two tickets." He smoothed his wrinkled shirt. He was not prepared for travel today, but so be it. Anything to get his letter on that train.

Harriet pursed her lips. "I'm not paying for your ticket."

"Yes, you are. This situation is your fault."

She scoffed. "If you'd let me do my job back there, your letter would be safely on the train."

"It is not a job, it's an apprenticeship," he said dismissively.

She stepped back, looking down at the ground. "I work hard. I get paid." The tightness in her voice implied she thought he neither worked hard nor had money. She was right on one count.

"So, you've got money then?" Edwin asked.

"Yeah, a bit." She shuffled her feet. "And I'll pay for my ticket. But not for yours."

He grumbled softly. "Some people don't know their place."

Harriet balked at his words. "My place? How is my place any different from yours?" Her back stiff and eyes narrowed. She gestured to his worn coat and thin shirt.

Before he could retort, the older woman finally paid the ticket seller and stepped away. Edwin rushed forward to the young man behind the dirt-stained window.

"Two third class return tickets to Whitbury."

He ignored Harriet's no-so-quiet comment of "Third class?"

The ticket seller shrugged. "Apologies, sir. Third class is sold out. I got second class tickets still."

His stomach was heavy. The soot-blackened ticket building swayed before him. Second class. That would cost far too much for someone of Harriet's station to pay. She probably didn't even have that much money total. His throat was dry. The world was determined to stop this letter from getting on the train.

"Well sir?" The young man played absently with his thin mustache.

Behind him, a whistle blew. The mournful cry stabbed at his heart, echoed around the station, and then faded away. Ten minutes. He had to make a choice.

"Just a moment." He grabbed Harriet's wrist and pulled her aside. "Do you have that kind of money?"

She ripped her hand from his grip. "I told you, I'm not paying for your ticket."

He ground his teeth together. "Do you have it or not?"

"Yes, for one ticket. For me."

Edwin grit his teeth. The gall of this woman. Soon, that will change. Everyone will respect me. He let out a slow, hissing sigh through his teeth.

"Why not ask Jo? He seems keen to help." Harriet pointed to the young man, his toothy grin visible even from this distance as he helped a woman onto the train carriage.

"You think he-" Edwin jabbed a finger at Jo. "-has that kind of money on him?"

She frowned. "No, he'd just let you on the train. He's the steward, the one that checks tickets, right?"

Edwin shook his head. He couldn't do that.

"Too good to beg?" She crossed her arms. Her brown eyes darted to Jo, then back to Edwin, judging him.

Edwin bristled. "No. But we could both get in trouble. You know how bosses can be."

"At least you'd be on the train. That's what you want, right?" She tilted her head.

"I said no!" he snapped. A tiny pang of remorse flicked his chest as Harriet winced. He shook his head and held his voice steady. "I'm not going to risk him getting fired for me."

Edwin stuck his hand in his pocket and rubbed the smooth parchment of his letter. All that he deserved was written down but undelivered. All because this stubborn young woman refused to be deferential to him as she ought to be.

As he glared at her, something hard and smooth clinked against his fingers. The gold coin he'd picked up. He had planned to use it for dinners for the next few days, but his letter was now the most important thing in the world. Spending this coin would not be a waste, not with all he had to gain, it would be an investment. He had to be on the train when it left.

He stepped back up to the ticket counter and slammed the gold coin onto the worn wood. "Two second class tickets to Whitbury."

The man behind the sooty glass took the coin and returned only two paper tickets. Not even a few coppers in change. "Carriage five, seats seven and eight."

Edwin snatched the tickets and spun on his heel. He hurried across the stone platform and to car eight. He brusquely handed one of the tickets to Harriet and climbed aboard.

Their seats were near the front of the carriage and easy to find. Edwin sat down, briefly enjoying the seat cushion thicker than his mattress before huffing and staring out the window.

His breath slowly fogged the window. It looked like a fog was enveloping the station platform and the whole city beyond. There was no going back now.

He already regretted his decision.