The sky above the horizon had already turned pink, the sun soon to rise. Everyone in the train compartment was asleep—except for Edward, who lay wide awake on the top bunk, watching the birth of a new day. Through the window, villages and empty station platforms flashed by. Could it be true? Would he soon be home?
The compartment door slid open, and the carriage attendant peeked in.
“Your stop in half an hour. The train waits two minutes,” she said, closing the door softly.
Edward heard her waking passengers in the next compartment. He turned back to the window, but the dawn had lost its charm. He sat up, then swung down lightly, landing with a quiet thud. The man in the lower bunk sighed and turned toward the wall.
Edward grabbed his towel and stepped into the corridor. Most compartment doors were ajar, the air stifling. A few passengers stirred inside.
The lavatory was occupied. Edward leaned against the window, lost in thought. He hadn’t been home in four years. No one expected him—he’d wanted to surprise them. Now, he wondered if it had been foolish. His own heart had raced all night. What would his mother do when she saw him on the doorstep?
Since his father’s death, she’d been delicate. Joy could hit her as hard as grief, sending her pulse racing. He should have at least called William, given him time to prepare her.
Edward dressed, shouldered his rucksack, and scanned the compartment one last time. Then he stood by the corridor window, waiting for his stop.
William. His mother always called him by his full name. After their father’s death, he’d taken his place—the dependable eldest son she turned to for every decision. She adored him, proud of his steady mind and serious nature.
And Edward? He’d always been Eddie—the scamp, the mischief-maker. He’d sworn his mother loved William more. But their father? He’d favored Eddie.
“Where did you come from?” his mother would sigh, scowling at another bad conduct note in his schoolbook.
“Every family needs a jester,” Eddie would boast. “Just wait. One day you’ll be proud of me too.”
William finished school with top marks, breezed into university to study economics. He excelled, and their mother never missed a chance to hold him up as an example. Eddie? He loved football, pirate tales, and adventure stories, dreaming of faraway lands.
Their mother’s admiration for William galled him. When she praised his brother, Eddie’s defiance flared—he’d do the opposite, just to spite her. He was who he was. He wouldn’t mimic William, though he respected his brother’s sharp mind.
When William graduated, Eddie barely scraped through school. They were opposites in looks, too—William fair and blue-eyed like their mother, while Eddie had unruly dark hair and amber, cat-like eyes. His mother had called him “kitten” as a boy. What had she called William? Eddie couldn’t recall. Probably just “William.”
Naturally, he was expected to follow William to university. Instead, Eddie lied—claimed his marks were too low, then dodged the technical college his mother begged him to attend.
“At least try,” she fretted. “William, talk some sense into him.”
“Eddie, you can’t make a life without qualifications these days,” William said. “Enroll in the technical college. I’ll go with you. You can work and study later. Don’t break Mother’s heart.”
“I haven’t figured out what I want yet,” Eddie shot back. “One scholar in the family’s enough. Someone’s got to serve in the army. If everyone becomes a professor, who’ll defend the country?”
“Keep this up, and you’ll regret it. Think of Mother.”
Eddie enlisted. The first months were hard, but he found his footing, made friends. After his service, he followed a mate to the North Sea oil rigs—big money in the booming industry. He called his mother, told her he’d work awhile. She wept, begged him to come home. William scolded him over the phone. But Eddie stood his ground.
Why should he follow William’s path? He’d spent his life in hand-me-downs—William’s shirts, trousers, even shoes. No more. He’d prove his worth. His father, had he lived, would’ve understood.
He called home rarely, insisting life was grand, work too pressing to visit. Four years passed before he finally boarded a train home. Only now did he realise how he’d missed his mother and William.
He’d saved for a flat, furnished it decently—respectable enough to bring a girl home. But luck with women had been thin. He’d fallen for an accountant, Sarah, only to learn she was married. Heartache drove him home—an escape, a respite.
The train slowed as city towers rose outside. Edward stepped onto the platform, adjusting his rucksack. The sun climbed, promising a scorching day. He walked familiar streets, breathing in scents of childhood, turning his head at every corner.
How would it play out? William, home before work. His mother opening the door—gasping, rushing to embrace him. God, how he’d missed her.
At the flat door, he hesitated, then pressed the bell. A sleepy-eyed figure appeared—his mother in a dressing gown, squinting. Then recognition flared. She swayed, clutching the doorframe. Edward caught her, guided her inside as she wept, touching his face.
“Eddie! Why didn’t you call?”
“Wanted to surprise you, Mum.”
“You’ve changed. Are you back for good?” Then she shook herself. “You must be starving.”
She hurried to the kitchen. Edward locked the door, toed off his trainers, and fetched gifts from his bag. Home.
The table held his favourites—scrambled eggs with tomatoes, milky coffee, cheese toast. He ate greedily as she watched, chin propped on her hand. A knock interrupted them.
“Who now?” She rose reluctantly, then voices drifted in—a woman’s, young and bright.
Edward peered into the hall.
“Yes, do come for supper with William. His brother’s home.”
“Really?” The girl—Emma—beamed. Then she spotted Edward and blushed.
“We’ll be there. I’ll ring William now—he’ll be thrilled.”
“Off you go, Emma.” His mother shut the door.
“Who was that?” Edward stared after her.
“William’s fiancée. Don’t you recognise her? Emma Watson—old Mrs. Thompson’s granddaughter from downstairs?”
“Pretty,” Edward murmured. “Why didn’t you invite her in?”
“Nosy, aren’t you? That’s your brother’s girl. Don’t even think about it. Wedding’s next month.”
“They live together?” Edward mused. “Lucky timing, my visit.”
“You haven’t changed,” his mother sighed.
That evening, William arrived with Emma. His brother had filled out, grown a beard.
“Look at you,” Edward said, offering his hand.
“Still a scoundrel, I see.” William pulled him into a bear hug. “How’ve you been?”
Edward talked, stealing glances at Emma. Their eyes met often. A mismatched pair, he thought.
The next day, he found her carrying groceries.
“Fancy a sit?” He nodded to a bench. “You and William—it doesn’t add up. He’s dull as ditchwater.”
Emma laughed. “He helped me. When my parents died in the crash, I came to Gran’s. Then she passed—her heart gave out. I was lost. William handled everything—the funeral, selling my parents’ house. He proposed after.”
“You don’t love him. You’re grateful.”
“I do love him,” she insisted, standing.
Edward watched her go, resolve hardening.
The next day, he visited her flat. She answered in a tank top and shorts, so fresh it stole his breath.
“May I?”
She hesitated, then let him in. The flat mirrored his mother’s, recently refurbished.
“William did this?”
“Yes. Tea or coffee?”
“Tea.” He spotted William’s jacket, slippers. Jealousy flared.
“Are you sure about this?” he pressed.
“Yes. He’s steady, reliable.”
“But you don’t love him.” He stepped closer. “You’re light, alive. He’ll smother you.”
The kettle whistled, cutting him off. Over tea, he couldn’t stop staring. They met daily while William worked.
On the wedding’s eve, his mother urged him to leave.
“Kicking me out?”
“I know you. Don’t ruin this for William.”
“Fine.”
At the station, he bought a ticket. On the walk back, he schemed.
“Daydreaming?” Emma hailed him, struggling with bags. “Help me with these?”
He took them. “William couldn’t be bothered?”
“He’s working.”
“I’m leaving tonight,” he said.
“What? Why?” She halted, stricken.
His heart liftedAnd though the years passed and lives unfolded in ways none had expected, Edward would always remember that summer—the one where love, like a train bound for unknown places, carried them all forward into the unscripted future.
