—
It was still too early to go to work, so he sat at his computer with two cups of tea in an attempt to alleviate his hangover—taking sips from alternate mugs—and pondered on how he might go about cementing a proper friendship with Peggy, something that elevated things above simply spending time together at work. Just the idea of suggesting they go for coffee, or to the cinema or whatever, left him firmly out of his comfort zone, and god how he loved that zone. It was a world where Pickled Onion Monster Munch was seen as the height of culinary experimentation, where ice-breaker games were punishable by death.
He thought about what he and Peggy had bonded over so far. Well, there were the chats about the meaning of life and loss, and the idea of “the club.” But it wasn’t as if he could go steaming in there and suggest they get matching litter picker tattoos via a quick trip to the aquarium, was it? At the heart of that conversation, though, had been the fact that Peggy had been trying to comfort him. She’d used the Apocalypse Game as a fun distraction—that had been a gesture of real kindness. And now it was Peggy who was clearly in a bad way because of Steve. If he was able to comfort her as she had him, then that would surely be the basis of a real connection. So what could he do to try to cheer her up?
What he really needed was advice, and there was only one place he could go to for that. A few clicks of the mouse and he was on the forum. The only issue was that he felt too embarrassed to just come straight out with it and ask for help. He’d have to improvise, see where that got him first. Morning, chaps, he wrote. I’m after some advice. I happened to meet someone recently who’s having a bad time with a seller. They’d been promised a China Clay 5 Plank Wagon Triple Pack but the seller lied and ended up going with another bidder at the last minute. They’re very upset, so any help on how to cheer them up would be greatly appreciated!
TinkerAl replied within seconds: Hmmm. Well it’s the Beckenham & West Wickham Vintage Toy Train Show next weekend. Could take them to that?
BamBam67: Why would they POSSIBLY have wanted a China Clay 5 Plank Wagon Triple Pack when for the same money they could probably have got a Dapol B304 Westminster?
Hmmm. Andrew drummed his fingers on his knees. If he was actually going to get any useful advice he’d have to take the plunge properly. He wrote and rewrote a message several times, eventually hitting “post”:
Okay, truth be told, the person I was talking about is having a bad time of it at the moment, but she’s not actually into trains (for her sins!). I’m just a bit rusty when it comes to this sort of thing. Any advice on fun activities and the like would be really helpful.
BroadGaugeJim: Aha! I’d been curious about whether there was a Mrs. Tracker on the scene!
Tracker: No, no, it’s nothing like that.
TinkerAclass="underline" Ah. Sounds like Tracker isn’t that keen to expand on the specifics, Jim. But we’re here for you, mate, if you do want to!
Andrew felt a pang of something between embarrassment and affection.
Thanks, TA. In all honesty, part of my being so rubbish at all this, hence why I’m asking for advice, is because I’m not exactly a people person. But it just feels a bit different with her. In a good way. It’s been a very long time since I had someone in my life like this, and it’s been really nice. But there’s still a nagging doubt that I should just leave things as they are.
BamBam67: I can understand that.
TinkerAclass="underline" Yeah, me too.
BroadGaugeJim: Ditto. I’m not the biggest people person myself. Sometimes it’s just easier to go it alone in life. No dramas that way.
Andrew went to the kitchen and put the kettle on (just a single tea, this time), thinking about what BroadGauge had said. He knew that he was comforted by how much control he had with this simple little life of his. It was consistent and unspectacular and he had absolutely no desire to jeopardize that. But there were moments—when he saw groups of friends sitting in neat, symmetrical rows on pub benches, or couples holding hands in the street, and he felt a wave of embarrassment that he, a forty-two-year-old man, hadn’t exchanged so much as a cup of tea with an acquaintance or a flirtatious smile with someone on a train in years—that he scared himself with how intense the feeling of longing was. Because maybe, actually, he did want to find people to be close to, to make friends and perhaps even find someone to spend the rest of his life with. He’d gotten adept at sweeping that feeling away as quickly as he could, telling himself that it would only lead to unhappiness. But what if he let it grow—nourished it, in fact? Maybe that was the only way forward. The past was the past and maybe this time, once and for all, he could stop it from dictating his life.
He sipped his tea and replied to BroadGauge.
I don’t know, BG, I thought maybe I was too stuck in my ways, but maybe not! Anyway, perhaps we should get back to train chat, eh? I appreciate the help, though. Opening up like this isn’t really my forte. Feels a bit unnatural, like going for a poo with your coat on. (He decided on balance to delete this last line before posting.)
TinkerAclass="underline" Well, let us know how you get on, mate!
BroadGaugeJim: Absolutely!
BamBam67: Indeed!
—
Despite his newfound determination to get out of his comfort zone, to be part of Peggy’s world and vice versa, Andrew was all too aware that honesty was something of a given when it came to friendship, and as far as Peggy knew he was a happily married father of two, living in relative luxury. He briefly considered the idea of Diane running away to Australia with a surfing instructor, taking the kids with her. But even then, say he managed to convince Peggy it was all just too painful ever to talk about; ten years down the line he still wouldn’t be able to show her a picture of the kids, let alone explain why he hadn’t been out to visit them. His only option was to hope they could get to a point where he could tell her the truth and pray that, somehow, against all odds, she’d accept it.
But his attempts to try to properly cement their friendship got off to a tricky start. Andrew had spent a frustrating Tuesday afternoon working his way through the contacts on an old Nokia phone he’d recovered from a property search, none of his calls being answered. As he plucked up the courage to call a contact saved as “Big Bazza,” he decided to craft what he hoped was a funny e-mail to Peggy. He crowbarred in some in-jokes and generally tried to come across as charming and irreverent, signing off by suggesting they should run away to the pub “right bloody now!!”
Andrew had never before experienced regret quite as potent as he did immediately after hitting “send.” He was wondering whether he had time to locate a hammer and smash up the building’s power supply, or his own face, when Peggy’s response arrived.
“Ha, yeah.”
Oh.
A second message arrived. Here it was—the moment where she saw quite how brilliant and hilarious he was.
“By the way, I finally tracked down the will executor of that bloke who died on Fenham Road. Do you think ‘I want nothing to do with that bastard’ counts as a ‘formal revocation of duty’?”