LINE FIVE

CW: Suicide, death, mental health issues

           So this is all confidential?

           I know, I know you explained it. But I’m after promotion and if this got out – well, I’m sure you can imagine. I want to get on in life and I don’t need this haunting my career.

I’m sorry. Can you give me a minute. I don’t know why it still affects me like this – it’s ridiculous, I mean, I’m traumatised by something that never actually happened, but I get it, that’s why I’m here.

I was working line five the day I saw him. It was the back end of a long shift, but I can tell you, I wasn’t sleepy. Because I know what you’re thinking, I’d think the same in your place. You think I dreamt it. You think that I must have somehow fallen asleep, just for a few brief seconds. I don’t blame you. That’s exactly what I would say if someone came up with a story as preposterous as the one I’m telling you. It’s the only sane explanation. But I know what I saw. I might not be able to explain it. and it’s even harder to explain what happened later, but what I can say, with absolute certainty, is that I was wide awake and alert when I brought that train into the station and spotted the man standing with the rucksack. I wasn’t distracted either. I’ve not got any personal stuff going on at home, not since the divorce was finalised, the only thing occupying my mind that evening was that I needed to stop at the Co-op and get milk on the way home. What I’m trying to say is that I’ve been driving these trains since I was in my twenties, I know how to stay focused. So I can state with certainty that I decelerated appropriately, took the bend at the correct speed and approached the station with due care and attention. That was when I saw him.

He was standing at the end of the platform with his rucksack on the floor by his side. He was a fair distance from the other passengers, that’s what first caught my attention. In the split second when I was hit by the realisation of what he was about to do I felt myself freeze inside, braced for the crash. I couldn’t see a thing after he sprang forward, but I felt the crunching impact, through every fibre of my being I felt the electric-shock judder of a moving train smashing into a solid body.

Then we were in the station and the passengers were getting on and off as if nothing had happened while I was sprinting up and down the platform like a crazy woman. But he wasn’t there, and neither was the rucksack that had stood next to him.

This is definitely confidential?

Yes, sorry.

So I finished the shift and then I had to get myself home. I was too shaken up to drive, so I ended up leaving the car in the multi-storey and forking out for a taxi. I would’ve asked around for a lift but then I’d have to explain the state I was in, and frankly I didn’t want to have to answer questions about my sanity.

It was late evening when I got home and I couldn’t settle to anything. My brain kept replaying the crash like a never-ending echo, and with every repetition I was plunged into the same state of terror and shock that I felt at the moment of impact. Post-traumatic stress you’d call it. Except it never happened. All night I kept telling myself that, It never happened. But that didn’t stop my heart racing, and sleep was impossible. Every time I closed my eyes the flashbacks burst through and when I did finally drop off I exploded into consciousness less than an hour later, reliving it, the man flying forward, the shock of impact, the judder of the train.

The next morning I had to call in sick. I wasn’t happy about it – I think I mentioned, I’m looking to get a promotion, and reliability is a priority for the company. But safety comes first in my line of work and after a sleepless night I wasn’t fit to have passengers’ lives in my hands. Here’s the funny thing though, when I called in to tell them I wouldn’t be in, I felt aggrieved that I had to make up an excuse. I could hardly tell them the real reason, but I was thinking, I shouldn’t have to do this, they should be offering me time off after what I’ve been through. Except how could they? Because it never happened. That’s what I have to keep reminding myself but try telling that to my racing heart and churning stomach, try telling that to my panic attacks.

The next morning I got up and began cleaning the house. Mainly to distract myself from the relentless images, but also so I’d be exhausted enough to get a good night’s sleep and go back to work.

That was when I found out what had happened. I went in early and headed straight for the staff room to change into my uniform. Steve was in there pushing a mop around the kitchen. ‘Hi Lucy,’ he said, ‘you feeling any better?’ I gave him a look. ‘You were off sick yesterday,’ he said, nodding encouragingly, like I needed reminding – Have you ever met Steve? No, I suppose not. And in your line of work you probably couldn’t tell me if you had. It’s all data protection now, isn’t it? Well anyway, Steve’s like the town bloody crier, he makes it his business to know everything: cutbacks, redundancies, who’s applying for a new job, who’s having a baby, who’s having an affair, he’s always the first to know. I asked him once how he did it and he said no one notices the cleaner when their lips are flapping. I’ll give you that information for free, and you can go back and tell them if you’re so inclined – oh, I see, I thought you were here on behalf of the company – well, never mind we’ll let sleeping dogs lie. All I’m saying is, it was obvious Steve was dying to find out what I’d been off with so he could tell everyone, and I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction, so I just put the kettle on and started searching for my mug. They go missing. You’d be surprised. What people do is, they don’t wash the ones they’ve already used and then they just pick out a fresh one that belongs to someone else. There’s always some people that are happy to let others clean up after them. Anyway, while I’m doing this, Steve just stands there leaning on his mop. He watches me find my cup, he watches me pour my coffee, he waits till I put my bread in the toaster, and only then does he tell me that the boss is looking for me.

I turned around to look at him. I have no idea why I said it. I can’t imagine what I was thinking, the words seemed to burst out of me like a shaken bottle of pop. I said, ‘Is it about the accident?’

Steve gave me an odd look. ‘How do you know about that? They said we shouldn’t tell anyone yet. The family haven’t been notified.’ Then he started gabbling as if my words had opened a valve. ‘Suicide. The note was in his rucksack, he left it on the platform. It was on line five, would you believe?’ He was studying me, greedy for something to gossip about later. Then he said, ‘If you hadn’t been off sick yesterday, it would have been you driving that train.’

I felt my legs go weak. I had to grab his shoulder to steady myself. He was saying, ‘Lucy? Lucy! Are you alright? I think maybe you came back to work too soon.’