The Magpies A Psychological Thriller - By Mark Edwards Page 0,64

mere five minutes to spare before the train was due to depart. They ran into the station, Jamie weighed down by the suitcase, lagging behind as Kirsty scanned the departures board.

‘Platform three,’ she shouted, sprinting off ahead, clutching the tickets which she showed to the ticket inspector at the head of the platform.

‘My boyfriend’s right behind me,’ she said.

‘He’d better get a move on.’

As she waited for Jamie to catch up, Kirsty realised that her conversation with the ticket inspector might be the last time she ever referred to Jamie as her boyfriend. By the end of tomorrow he would be her husband. It was a weird feeling, but also exciting. My husband. She smiled to herself at the thought of introducing him as such. Running off to Gretna Green to get married. What a cliché. But there was also something very cool about it. It was a funny thing to do. She knew the memory of it would always make her smile.

Of course, memory of your wedding, wherever it was, was meant to make you smile. But Kirsty had never been one of those girls who pined for a big white wedding. The idea of it – the fuss, the expense, all those eyes focused on you – was anathema to her. She told herself she would never get married. It was an outdated tradition, based on a sexist ritual of a father handing his daughter over to another man. When Jamie had suggested that they get married, her first reaction had been to baulk, but in the same split-second she had felt a rush of excitement at the idea, as long as Jamie agreed to certain conditions. And now here they were, on their way to Scotland to do what almost everybody does eventually. Kirsty was fully aware of the pattern she was conforming to: boyfriend, moving in together, marriage, baby, all in the right order, with a good career to boot. But at least they were doing it on their own terms, and at least she had got pregnant before they got married. She still had a streak of rebellion in her, even if it was only a small one.

They made it to their seats seconds before the train pulled away. Jamie hefted the suitcase onto the rack above and they sat back with a sigh.

‘Made it.’

She kissed him and smiled. ‘Husband.’

‘Not yet.’

‘Ah, but just twenty-four hours till the ball and chain goes round your ankle.’

‘Can’t wait.’

The train heaved its way out of the station, and they fell quiet for a while, watching some of the grimmer parts of north London roll by. Before long they had left the city altogether and were heading for Milton Keynes. Kirsty took a book out of her bag and Jamie went off up the aisle to buy coffee.

Kirsty settled back into her seat and smiled to herself. She opened her book and began to read.

Jamie queued at the buffet counter, swaying to keep his balance as the train rattled and vibrated. The man in front of him seemed to be on a mission to sample everything on the menu and was taking an age. Still, Jamie didn’t mind. They had plenty of time to kill.

He had been looking forward to this trip. Not just because of what would happen at the end of it, but because for the first time in months he would have some ‘dead’ time. To him, that was one of the best things about going on a journey somewhere, being stuck on a plane or a train: you had five or six hours to spend in this unreal zone between points A and B; time in which to think or read or just stare at the scenery. The train would reach Carlisle in five hours time, which meant – with nothing to distract him – he had five hours to think, to mull over recent events, to try to get things straight in his mind.

Over the last few days, Kirsty’s mood had improved amazingly, her cool serenity, which had taken the place of her edginess, had in turn been replaced by a perceptible happiness. Jamie was pleased but confused. She had Heather on the phone every evening, crying and cursing men, Paul in particular, wondering out loud what she had done wrong. Then there was Paul himself, who had announced that he didn’t want any visitors apart from his parents, not until he was fully recovered, anyway. Kirsty had gone to see him at the end