10. Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

Mina shuffled along the bench seat, but to no avail. There was no escape. The man beside her took a slow inhalation, his nostrils twitching with the effort, then exhaled with a whistle. A long line of drool stretched from his mouth and dropped onto her boot.

Third class was bracing, if nothing else.

The man's head lolled onto her shoulder. Mina placed a protective hand over her coin pouch. Between her small savings, and the pennies from the duke, she figured on almost one entire pound. Tickets cost a penny a mile, so she'd decided on Swindon. That would hopefully be far enough away from London to reinvent herself as the widow Mrs Fischer, but not so far it would consume her savings. She'd have a few weeks buffer as a small protection, in case it took time to find work.

Unlike first and second class, third class had no glass over the windows, and the scent of steam and smoke filled the carriage. Mina pulled her shawl tighter. The chill would bite, but at least the air inside would shift, instead of settling. She squeezed her boots together and shifted her knees to allow another passenger to pass.

A thick cloud of steam wafted by, and a whistle rent the air. Mina gripped the wooden slats of the bench beneath her and tried to find a comfortable position for her first train journey, and possibly, her last. Hopefully, London would stream by. Then she wouldn't have to think too much on what she was leaving behind.

If she had a selfish future, one that was just for her, she'd still be wrapped in Enzo's bed, or following him across the city, craving the weight of his body on her chest and the delicateness of his stolen stars. But she couldn't dream selfish dreams. She was responsible for someone else now. Mothers imagined new lives for their babies, and even if their own wings were clipped, they still found a way to teach them how to fly.

It wasn't for her, but for her own, tiny schatz .

The train lurched. Mina grabbed the post to stop herself from falling against the man beside her. Her elbows dug into her hips as the woman on her other side scooted across to make room for another passenger.

Enzo said her name with a slight softness, almost a reverence, like no one else ever had. He'd even given it to her, that first day through the Duke Street gates. As the housemistress from the diplomat's house had spoken with Matron, and settled the sponsorship, a boy with scruffy hair had introduced himself as ‘Lawrence, but everyone calls me Enzo.'

‘Wilhelmina. Wilhelmina Fischer,' she'd stammered in her accent that wasn't quite German but wasn't English, either.

‘I'm going to call you Mina,' he had said. Then he took her hand and led her across the courtyard, and she thought she would follow him forever.

But she could not follow a man who insisted on standing still.

‘Mina!'

She could almost hear him, over the grumbling of the passengers and the grinding of the cogs.

‘Mina! Wait!'

Mina followed the line of boots on the platform, and stumbling, grabbing, clawing his way through the crowd, there he was. Enzo. The man who did nothing for no one, who spoke short and direct, who planted his feet and met life with a sneer. He stood solid and firm and damned the world with a look.

His head turned as he scanned the carriage, and with a jolt, he found her. ‘Mina!' he called, her name half lost to a whistle. ‘I'm sorry. I'll do anything you want. Stay.'

Mina forced herself upright, wavering as the train jerked. She pushed herself through the thin gap between passengers and angled her face to the little oval window.

‘I need my dreams,' she called, even as her heart twisted with longing. ‘I know they might not come true. But I still need them. They're mine.'

‘I'm not much good at dreaming,' he shouted. ‘Will you share yours with me?'

The train shunted forward with one, two steady pulses. The carriage lurched, and Mina fell back against a woman's knees. The woman grumped, and Mina hauled herself upright. Enzo's face contorted with worry. He took a few steps at a walk, and when the train increased its pace, he started to jog. His flat cap lifted and fell to the platform, but Enzo did not lose step with her carriage.

It was only a blink, but the memory of the day he left Duke Street sparked in her memory. The pain of his shouts as he told Matron he would serve no man who didn't deserve his respect, and she had run across the square as he climbed over the fence, as agile as a cat. When she'd called his name, he'd come back, and through the bars, had blown her a kiss.

‘Follow me, Mina.'

Fear had coiled in a serpentine curve along her spine, and back then she couldn't, just couldn't leave the small safety she knew. And she'd shaken her head as she stepped back to watch him leave.

The whistle blew.

Before, she'd been too scared to leave the safety offered by the gated perimeter, but the entire world wasn't safe, not really. When she thought she'd carved out a pocket of certainty, it had been snatched from her. She'd followed the rules, only to be plunged into basement after basement. Enzo would share his narrow bed and his small loft and every night he would pluck her a star from the sky. And with another blink, a new spark lit deep in her heart. Would he allow himself light, would he embrace hope and possibility? Would he share her dreams?

The wooden edges of the open window jutted against her temples. ‘In my dreams, we have a red front door,' she shouted. ‘And a room for the baby, with wallpaper patterned with birds.'

Enzo, still at a half jog, huffed, then shook his head, as if trying her dream on for size. He threw back his head and laughed. ‘Cherry red. And hummingbirds, with green and pink feathers.'

‘And a kitchen with windows. And a room in the sky.' The whistle sliced her words, and with it, a desperate panic bit, and the world swirled into just the two of them. She hated the memory of him walking away, but the balm was not in turning her back, but in running headlong into his arms. She sidled along the length of passengers, and stumbled to the back of the carriage, and with a wrench, she heaved the door open. ‘And… and the stars. I want you to steal me the stars.'

‘I'll catch you,' Enzo shouted, every stride keeping pace with the train. ‘Jump.'

Mina closed her eyes.

Took a breath.

And leapt .

Stagnant London air swirled with steam and the thick burn of coal and oil, and the pistons pumped that little bit faster as she fell untethered into an abyss of uncertainty. Like a sliver shaved from a sovereign, her life weighed thin and practically worthless. The reckless abandon of an instant made fear coarse through every beat of her heart, both hearts in her body, then fear melded with hope that while life would be an unplanned path, she would not be alone, because not only would she have the small, blossoming piece of herself, she would have the boy with dark eyes and ruffled hair who took her hand and squeezed like he would never let her go.

To the world, they were nothing. Less than nothing.

But to each other, they would be everything.

Enzo humpfed as she landed hard against his chest. He let out an extra loud whoop as he wrapped his arms around her and staggered back with the force of their collision. He kissed her cheeks, her brow, her lips, then turned their stagger into half a dance as he lifted her off her feet and spun, and he laughed a new laugh, not his cynical chuckle, but a sound made just for her.

‘Wilhelmina Fischer, with the golden plaits and too many dreams. Will you marry me?'

‘I just jumped out of a train. What kind of question is that?'

The whistle echoed in the distance, taking a last inhalation of the train engine with it, before the world of Paddington settled to the hubbub and hustle of the city. Down the platform, someone shouted, and the unmistakable thump of pursuit clapped against the stone. The crowd shuffled to make way for a stout station master, followed by a red-faced bobby.

‘You can't go jumping off trains,' the station master hollered as he swaggered towards them. ‘That's disturbing the peace. Why didn't you wait for the next station and come back? Bloody youngsters.' He pointed at her, then Enzo. ‘I'll have you. Both of you.'

Enzo's smirk creased his cheeks. ‘Should I step onto the straight and narrow and turn myself in, little matron Mina?'

‘Go on then,' she teased. ‘I dare you.'

‘I need an answer before I put my neck out for you.' His voice carried no threat, only a mirror to her own tease. ‘Is that a yes?'

Mina traced his inner forearm, over his wrist, until she buried her fingers in the pocket of his palm.

‘Yes. A million times, yes. I will follow you anywhere, Duke.'

The station master took a step closer. Enzo tightened his grip.

‘Not follow. Beside me. Are you ready?'

Mina nodded as her smile matched his. Mischief danced in his eyes. The bobby and the station master both moved closer.

‘Good show. On my count… Run .'