train nudged forward. ‘And we’re away,’ he said.
Felicity looked out the window. The platform appeared to be moving as the train slowly and silently pulled away. ‘Let me know if you need anything. Dinner’s served at seven.’
Felicity nodded then turned back to the window, sighing happily.
* * *
Felicity emerged from her compartment half an hour later. She’d stared out the window, watching the inner city give way to cluttered suburbs then to the more sparse outlying areas as it headed for the Blue Mountains. And now it was time to meet her fellow travellers.
Her neighbour’s door was still firmly closed as she headed out. Maybe she didn’t have one yet. Maybe they’d be joining the train at a later stop? Quelling her disappointment, she headed for the place she knew people would be—the lounge.
And she hit the jackpot. Half a dozen couples smiled at her as she stepped into the carriage, her legs already adjusted to the rock and sway of the train. She stopped at the bar and ordered a glass of bubbles from a guy called Travis. It was poured for her immediately and she made her way over to the semicircular couches where everyone was getting acquainted.
‘Hi,’ she said.
The group greeted her as one. ‘Sit down here with us, love,’ said an older man with a Scottish accent. The woman with him moved over and made some room. ‘If you don’t mind me saying so, you don’t exactly look in the same demographic as the rest of us.’
Felicity laughed. ‘I have an old soul.’
Every other person in the lounge would have to have been in their sixties. At twenty-eight that made her the youngest by a good thirty years. Luxury train travel was clearly more a retiree option than a hip, young, cool thing to do.
But that was okay. She’d never been particularly hip or cool. She was a small-town nurse who genuinely liked and was interested in older people. She had a bunch of oldies at the practice who she clucked around like a mother hen and she knew this lot would probably be no different despite what would be a short acquaintance.
‘What do you do, dear?’ a woman with steel-grey hair over the other side of the lounge asked.
Felicity almost told them the truth but a sudden sense of self-preservation took over. If she told them she was a nurse, one of two things would happen. She’d have to give medical advice about every ache, pain or strange rash for the next twenty-four hours because, adore them as she did, too many people of the older generation loved to talk obsessively about their ailments. Or they’d pat her hand a lot and tell her continually that she was an angel.
If she was really unlucky, both would happen.
She might be a nurse but she was no saint and certainly no angel. In fact, that kind of language had always made her uncomfortable.
And she didn’t want to be the nurse from a small community where everyone knew her name on this train journey of a lifetime. She didn’t want to be the girl next door. She wanted to be as sophisticated and glamorous as her surroundings. She wanted to dress up for dinner and drink a martini while she had worldly conversations with complete strangers.
Nursing wasn’t glamorous.
‘Oh, I’m just a public servant,’ she said, waving her hand dismissively as she grabbed hold of the first job that came to mind. She doubted it was very glamorous either but it was one of those jobs that was both broad and vague enough to discourage discourse. Nobody really understood what public servants did, right? They certainly didn’t ask them about their jobs.
Or tell them about their personal medical issues.
‘What do you do?’ Felicity asked, and relaxed as the woman, called Judy, launched into a spiel about her job of forty years, which kicked off a conversation amongst them all about their former jobs, and that segued into a discussion about the economy and then morphed again into chatter about travel.
Felicity was in heaven. She was on a train surrounded by witty and enthusiastic companions on the inside and the rugged beauty of the Blue Mountains on the outside. For twenty-four hours she was determined to be a different person.
Tomorrow afternoon she’d be back home where everyone knew her name and stopped her in the street for advice about their baby’s fever, their weird allergies or their shingles. Where everyone called her ‘Flick’ and the guys called her ‘mate’ and the older women of the town tried to matchmake her with any remotely available male.
Tomorrow would be here soon enough. Today nobody knew her and she was going to revel in it for as long as she could.
* * *
The first thing Callum noticed when he entered the restaurant at seven sharp was the sexy blonde from the café. He blinked once or twice just to make sure it was her—his vision wasn’t the best after all. Then she laughed at something her companions were saying and it went straight to his chest and spiked through his pulse.
It was definitely her.
If he’d known she was in the platinum carriage too he wouldn’t have wasted the last few hours catching up on some essential reading his new boss had emailed and insisted he read before he started work.
‘Can I find you a dining companion, sir?’ Donald asked.
‘No,’ Callum said. The beautifully dressed tables seated four and there were several spare chairs around the elegantly appointed dining car but his gaze was glued to the empty one beside her. ‘I’ve found one.’
The corner of Donald’s mouth lifted a fraction. ‘Good choice, sir.’
It took him only a few more seconds to reach the empty chair next to blondie. ‘Excuse me,’ he said. The conversation stopped as all three diners turned to look at him. ‘Is this seat taken?’
Her eyes widened slightly. They were smoky grey and fringed by sable lashes. She stared at him for long moments and he stared right back. He liked that she seemed as confused by her reaction to him as he was to her.
She’d changed into a dress, a slinky black thing that showed off her neck and collarbones and crisscrossed at her cleavage. She was wearing lip gloss. Pink. Light pink—the colour of ballet shoes. The ends of her honey hair seemed curlier or maybe that was just a trick of the overhead light.
The old guy sitting opposite welcomed him heartily. ‘Sit down, young fella. Save this pretty young thing from having her ear bent off by us old fogies.’
Callum didn’t wait to be asked twice. He wasn’t someone who believed in instalove but he sure as hell believed in instalust. He may be rusty but he knew sexual interest when he saw it.
She sure as hell wasn’t looking at him with pity, like too many women had these past couple of years.
No more pity sex for him.
‘I’m Jock, this is my wife Thelma and the odd one out is Felicity.’
Callum shook Jock and Thelma’s hand and reached for blondie’s. Felicity. ‘Nice to meet you,’ he murmured, their eyes meeting again, an awareness that was almost tangible blooming between them.
‘You were in the
