**A Train to a New Life**
Julia woke up and listened. The silence in the flat told her Nick wasn’t home. She stretched and padded to the kitchen. A note lay on the table: *”Sorry, forgot to mention last night. I’ll be at work till lunch.”*
She smirked, crumpled the note, and tossed it in the bin. She’d long suspected Nick was seeing someone else. He was never home. They rarely talked—not properly, anyway. Their daughter had married and moved away with her army husband. Just the illusion of a family remained.
Her phone rang—Martha, her closest friend since school.
*”What are you doing?”*
*”Nothing. Just got up.”*
*”Listen, it’s gorgeous outside—spring, sunshine. Fancy a bit of shopping? I need something bright and beautiful. Please tell me you’ve got no plans?”*
*”None. Nick’s at work.”*
*”On a weekend? Right, get dressed—properly—and I’ll pick you up in an hour.”* Martha hung up.
Julia filled the kettle and went to freshen up. Shopping with Martha was always fun—she had an eye for style. Julia would get overwhelmed, but Martha, like some fashion magician, would pull out the perfect dress in the right size and quality.
She’d taught Julia to always dress well when shopping—*”If shop assistants think you’re posh, they’ll show you the best stuff.”* And bizarrely, it worked. They never left shops empty-handed.
Julia applied a touch of makeup, slipped into her outfit, and appraised herself in the mirror. Retail therapy was exactly what she needed.
Ten minutes later, Martha called. *”I’m outside.”*
*”Looking for anything specific today?”* Julia asked as she slid into Martha’s Mini.
*”Nope—new collection just dropped, so last season’s stuff is on sale. Can you feel it, love? Spring!”*
*”Nick’ll kill me. We’re saving for a holiday…”*
*”He won’t. Cut off the tags, bin the receipts, halve the cost when you tell him.”*
*”Right, and I’ll double what I actually spend.”*
*”I’ve got a foolproof way to distract him.”*
*”Oh?”* Julia raised an eyebrow.
*”You’ll see.”*
Martha was striking—not plump, but statuesque, with curves that turned heads. Dark eyes, full lips, and shoulder-length chestnut hair.
Julia was the opposite—petite, slim, with wavy blonde hair and green eyes. In jeans, she could pass for a teenager. Next to Martha, she felt small, unsure.
Martha commanded attention in shops; assistants fawned over her. Julia? They talked down to her, and she’d fluster, refuse help, and leave.
Two hours in, laden with glossy bags, they stepped onto the street.
*”Enough. Nick’ll murder me,”* Julia groaned.
*”Oh, come on.”* Martha tugged her toward a lingerie boutique.
*”No way—he won’t speak to me for a week if I buy this.”*
*”Look at this lace! Raspberry would suit your hair.”* Martha held up a breathtaking bra. *”A chemise to match… No, that’s too much.”*
*”Who’s even going to see this under clothes? And it’s expensive. I’m not buying it.”*
*”Honestly, love! This isn’t for under clothes—it’s for *wearing*. Make him notice what he’s got. With your figure? You’d turn heads. And trust me, he won’t care about receipts after.”* Martha swept to the till.
*”My feet are killing me. Let’s sit somewhere. I’ve only had coffee,”* Julia said. *”I think Nick’s cheating.”*
*”Because he’s at work on a weekend?”* Martha sounded sceptical as they neared a café.
*”I’ve suspected for a while—”*
*”Here—let’s eat.”* Martha cut her off.
They sat by the window. As Julia scanned the room, a man two tables away caught her eye—broad shoulders, a white jumper. Just like the one she’d given Nick for Christmas. But why would he wear it to work? And his office was across town.
She dismissed it—until he turned. Her stomach dropped.
*”Ghosts?”* Martha asked.
*”Quiet. That’s Nick. Let’s go before he sees us.”*
*”Why? *He* should be worried. You said he was at work—what’s he doing here? Dressed like that? Clearly waiting for someone.”*
Julia stood.
*”Where are you going?”*
*”To talk to him. Better now than later.”*
She slid into the seat opposite Nick. *”Hi.”*
His face froze.
*”What are you doing here?”* Julia asked. *”You said work. Or is that what we’re calling it now?”*
*”And you?”*
*”Shopping. Needed a break.”* She waved at Martha. *”She’s behind you.”*
Nick didn’t turn.
*”Waiting for someone? You keep checking your watch. Should I leave?”*
He recovered, shifting to attack. *”How much did you spend? We agreed not to shop till the holiday.”*
*”Don’t worry—it’s modest. Holidays need outfits too.”* She was oddly calm. Knowing the truth, however awful, was better than suspicion.
A text chimed on Nick’s phone. He flipped it facedown.
*”Why do you do that? At home, in the loo—always hiding your phone.”*
*”Habit.”*
*”New one, then. Let me see—maybe it’s important.”* She reached, but he snatched it away.
A young woman passed, lingering near their table before sitting nearby. Nick glanced—too fast, but Julia saw.
*”There she is. Done ordering already?”* The waitress smirked at Nick.
*”Already ordered, darling?”* Julia’s fingers twitched toward the vase of fake flowers. *”Five minutes, please?”*
The waitress vanished.
*”That’s her, isn’t it? Pretty. Twenty-five, max? So lacking in confidence you need girls half your age?”*
*”Stop. We’ll talk at home.”*
*”What about lunch? She must be hungry. I can’t spend, but you can play hero?”*
Julia clenched her fists. Martha was frantically signalling, but she ignored her.
*”How long? Six months? Since you started hiding your phone. Just admit it. After all these years, I deserve that.”*
*”Jules, you’re being ridiculous. I dropped off paperwork and stopped for coffee—”*
*”Let’s see.”* She stood, but the waitress returned with a tray—one plate domed under a cloche.
*”Enjoy.”*
*”Just coffee, then?”* Julia lifted the cloche. A velvet ring box sat inside.
*”When were you going to tell me you’re leaving?”*
*”Let’s talk at home.”*
*”You *don’t* have a home. Pack your things tomorrow. Enjoy your meal.”* She walked out.
Martha caught her on the pavement.
*”Julia! The car’s the other way! I can’t run in these heels—it’s icy!”*
Julia obeyed, tossing the bags in the boot before breaking down.
*”If we hadn’t gone in, I’d still be blind. I *knew*, but I ignored it. I was scared of losing him… but he’s already gone.”*
*”Love, maybe you’re jumping to conclusions? She’s our Lottie’s age! Maybe it’s just—”*
*”Remember his trip to Edinburgh? He took *her*. Someone sent me a photo—him and some girl by his car. He said she just wanted to make her boyfriend jealous. And I believed him!”* She shook. *”What do I do? How do I live? All these years…”*
She grabbed a bag and hurled its contents onto the pavement.
*”Oh, you daft thing.”* Martha gathered the clothes and hugged her.
At home, Martha poured brandy—then another. Between sobs, Julia yanked Nick’s clothes from the wardrobe, stuffing them into suitcases and bin bags, tossing in his razor, toothbrush—
*”Good. Never liked him anyway,”* Martha said, dragging the bags to the hall.
*”I should go. Ring me tomorrow.”*
Oddly, Julia slept—until a light from the kitchen woke her. Nick sat on the sofa.
*”Take your things and *leave*.”*
*”Jules, talk to me.”* He looked wrecked.
*”More lies?”*
*”No. It… happened. Thought it’She boarded the train to Dover the next morning, the salt-tinged wind carrying the first whispers of freedom, and as the cliffs faded into the distance, she finally exhaled, knowing the worst was behind her.
