“Wait,” he said, his voice strained. “I stepped off at your station for just a moment, and when I got back to my carriage, all my things were gone. I looked out the window and saw some bloke walking off with my bag. I chased after him, but he vanished into thin air…”
“And you couldnt just get back on the train first, then sort it out?” Emily asked, exhaustion lining her voice.
“You dont understandwhile I was looking for him, the train left without me…”
Emily trudged home after another gruelling shift at the florist’s in the heart of London. The shop was always busy, but the weeks before Christmas were relentless.
The frost bit at her cheeks, snow crunching underfoot as she wrapped her coat tighter around herself. She hadnt sat down all day. All she could think about was collapsing into bed.
Lost in thought, she barely noticed the stranger approaching until he spoke.
“Excuse me could you help me?”
Emily startled, stopping short. The man looked to be in his forties, dressed oddlyhis coat mismatched, his scarf frayed. She edged away instinctively.
“I was” He shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut for a second. “I was on my way to my daughters wedding. And this happened…”
Emily tried to sidestep him, but he stepped in front of her again.
“Waitplease. I got off at your station just for a second, and when I returned to my seat, my things were gone. Saw some man through the window, walking off with my bag. I ran after him, but he disappeared…”
“And you didnt think to get back on the train first?” Emily pressed, irritation creeping in.
“I was searching for him when the train pulled away…”
“You shouldve reported it straightaway,” she snapped, patience wearing thin.
“I did. They told me to wait. The next train isnt for hours. I couldnt stay in that freezing stationeverything was in that bag. My clothes, my wallet, my passport I just need to clean up, warm up. Ill pay you back”
“You must be joking. Next youll ask for my house keys,” Emily scoffed.
“And youre just like the rest.” His voice cracked. “No one believes me. God, why wont anyone just listen?” He looked up, eyes glistening, and something in Emily softened.
She studied himhis shabby coat, his worn-out shoes. Maybe he was telling the truth.
“Fine. Come with me before you freeze. Ill find you something to wear.”
He exhaled in relief. “Thank you. Youre kinder than most.”
The flat was silent when they entered. Emily sagged onto the hallway stool, her body aching.
“Bathrooms down the hall,” she muttered. “Ill dig out some clothes. Whats your name?”
“James,” he said, flicking on the light before closing the door behind him.
The sound of running water soon filled the flat. Emily sighed. So much for rest.
Her brother had left some old clothes behind when he moved to Manchester.
He wont miss them.
She gathered what she could and knocked lightly on the bathroom door. When the water stopped, she called out, “Clothes are on the side table.”
In the kitchen, she reheated leftover soup, sinking onto a chair. If her mum came home now, shed jump to conclusions.
“God, just let her be late tonight,” she whispered.
But the door clicked open moments later.
“Emily? Youre home?” Her mothers voice carried down the hall. “OhI thought that was you in the shower. Whos in there, then?” Her eyes narrowed.
“Mum, dont shout. He missed his train. His things were stolen. Hell clean up and leave,” Emily said quickly.
“And you brought him here?” Her mothers voice rose. “You dont even know him! Have you lost your mind? Im calling someone”
“Mum, stop. Hes been everywhere already. He just needs to warm up. Then hell go.”
The bathroom door creaked open. James emerged, awkwardly adjusting the borrowed jumper.
“Right then,” her mother snapped, crossing her arms. “How does a grown man let this happen?”
James flinched. “I was heading to my daughters wedding in Manchester. Now Ive got no phone, no money, no passport…”
“And howd you end up here? Were miles from the station!”
“Mum!” Emily glared. “Let him eat, for Gods sake. Sit down, James. Ive got soup.”
Her mother huffed but moved aside.
“Youve always been like this,” she muttered. “Bringing home strays. First cats, now men…”
James ate quietly, his gaze flickering between them.
“Your mums intense,” he said under his breath.
Emily smirked. “If she likes you, youre never leaving.”
Her mother shot her a look before storming off.
Later, as James sat with Emilys phone, calling his daughter, she watched his face fall.
“Shes not exactly heartbroken Im missing the wedding,” he admitted.
He called someone else, asking for Emilys address.
“A friends picking me up. I shouldnt have come. My ex didnt want me therenew husband and all. My daughter insisted, but” He rubbed his temples.
“You own a business?” Emily asked, surprised.
“A small repair shop. My mate warned me not to drivesaid Id get lost in Manchester. Shouldve flown.”
Emily studied him. Her mother was right. She was nearly thirty, still living at home, with no prospects.
Thered been Liam, once. Shed been ready to marry himuntil she caught him with her best friend.
“Youre a good person,” James said suddenly. “Things will work out.”
“And you? Alone, despite having it all?”
He chuckled bitterly. “Modern women are too clever for me. Youre tired, and Ive intruded. Im sorry.”
They talked until dark, when his phone finally rang.
“Thats my lift,” he said, standing.
Emilys chest tightened.
“Thank you,” he murmured, placing the phone down. “Ive left my numberunder ‘James from the train.’ I doubt youll call.”
He hesitated. “But if you ever need anything”
She forced a smile. “Dont miss your train next time.”
“No more trains. Planes or cars from now on.”
At the door, he turned, waving once before disappearing into the snow.
“Gone, then?” her mother said, reappearing.
“You yelled at me for bringing him home, now youre mad I let him go?”
Her mother sighed. “He was decent. I could tell.”
“Then whyd you hide your jewellery?”
“Because Im a daft old woman.”
Three weeks later, Emily had almost convinced herself James was a dream.
Working New Years Eve, she glanced out the shop windowand froze.
A Father Christmas stood outside, handing out sweets before marching straight in.
His voice was familiar.
“I knew youd be working,” he said, lifting his beard just enough to reveal James grin. “Thought Id surprise you.”
The shop owner sighed loudly. “Go on, Emily. Enjoy yourself.”
A month later, she quit her job and moved to Manchester.
Her mother was thrilled.
“Finally settled. Now I can relax. Grandkids next, eh?”
Why do we call the bad things fate, and the good ones luck?
As if one ever comes without the other.
