A Letter to the Giftmaker - Chapter 5

Edwin entered the next carriage and closed the door behind him. The cold, rushing air had stolen his breath from his lungs, and now he desperately refilled them. The passengers in this carriage ignored him, not knowing the priceless thing in his pocket.

He reached in and rubbed the parchment again. All his wishes, everything he deserved, was still there. Cheap ink on the most expensive parchment in the world. And it was his. It would all be his. He just needed to get into that mail car.

At every turn, the world seemed out to stop him. First there was Harriet, the apprentice, whose interference ruined the simple task of dropping the letter off at the postbox. Then the gate, the locked mail carriage, the tickets. It seemed like the longer he held on to the letter, the more obstacles were put in front of him.

His jaw ached from being clenched tightly. He rubbed at it, going over his options. He could go back and wait until they arrived in Whitbury, hoping that everything would work out. But that seemed unlikely.

The sounds from the other passengers faded away. The aisle stretched ahead of him, inviting. The mail carriage was five cars further back. If he just had a key, he could walk down there, open the door, and place the letter in the mail bag.

Or maybe something like a key.

His eyes scanned the carriage, focused. A few rows back, a mother was berating her young daughter and brushing dirt out of her hair. On the seat next to them, glistening as though a golden treasure, were a handful of brass hair pins.

Edwin took a deep breath and strode down the aisle. He reached down as he passed the seat and palmed a pin. The thin metal pressed coldly against his palm. He did not break his stride until he was through the far door and in the next carriage, when he let out a ragged, anxious breath. He had done it. Now to keep moving.

The dirty, rowdy third class passengers talked and sang and joked as he pushed through the crowd. They paid him no mind. He let out a shaky laugh. His current clothes were no different from what they all wore, so they saw him as one of their own. Soon, he was through the door.

He stepped across the large gap at the end of the last third class carriage and pulled at the door to the mail car. It was locked, as he had suspected it would be. Wind whipped around him in the gap between the carriages as he knelt.

His hand shook slightly as he slid the hair pin into the opening in the lock. He swallowed hard, a lump in his throat. He'd never done something like this before. It was wrong. Except that he wasn't breaking in to steal or destroy. He was simply dropping off his letter, like should have happened back at the end of Irby Lane.

He jiggled the pin in the lock. There was clinking as it hit metal. He moved it, feeling the intricate locking mechanism inside.

Drab trees whipped past the tiny gaps on either side. There were buildings lit up and the impressions of people moving in the windows as they streaked past the gap. Beneath him, the train shifted as it entered a curve.

Adrenaline coursed through his veins. What was he doing? He'd never figured this out.

He could try, though. He furrowed his brow and pursed his lips. He moved the pin in, hooking something inside, then tried to lift it. Metal scraped on metal and the mechanism let out a soft tink inaudible over the clattering of the wheels below him.

The second try, the pin hooked on something else. It lifted up, then fell back into place. He cursed under his breath. Again and again he poked into the dark recess of the lock, but nothing came of it.

The door behind him scraped open.

"Oi, whatcha doing back here?" A tall, muscular man in a bright red railroad guard uniform filled the doorway behind Edwin.

"I was... uh..." Edwin lowered his eyes, tugging at his frayed collar. What should he say? "I'm trying to get into the mail car."

The guard chuckled, his laughter like coal toppling into the cellar. "I can see that, boy. But why are you breaking in?"

"I have a letter I need to be delivered." Edwin shuffled his feet, trying to maintain his balance as the train swayed.

"Heard 'em folks talking. Says you got yoursen some wishpaper." The guard grinned, yellow teeth glistening in the shadow of his face.

"No."

"Ain't no use lying to me, boy. I saw you admiring it on the station platform."

Edwin's shoulders fell. "Fine. Yes, that's the letter I need delivered."

"Alright, I'll open the door. On one condition."

"What?"

A thick, calloused hand reached out. "Give me a scrap of the paper."

"No!"

"Come on. Just a small corner. Then I can write my own wish."

Edwin felt his cheeks burn. He bared his teeth. "Are you serious? Do you have any idea how much even this small sheet costs?"

The guard crossed his arms. "What's it worth to you for me to open the door?"

The way the guard stood there, glaring at him with a self-righteous look, was the mirror of Mr. Pittman. That same contemptuous look from when he got fired. Edwin shivered. The spectre of his old boss haunted him even away from the city.

"This letter is mine and I'm not sharing it."

"Very well." The guard sneered. "Then I should detain you for lock-picking."

"What?" Edwin's voice trembled. He was trapped in the tiny space between the carriages with no escape.

The guard stepped forward. Maybe he could survive a jump off the train into the bushes?

The door behind the guard slid open.

"Ah, there you are!" Jo smiled broadly. "It's time for lunch, Edwin."

Jo grabbed his hand and pulled him past the glaring guard. "Thank you for finding my lost passenger!"

Shoulders slumped and arms limp, Edwin let Jo drag him back to the second class carriage.