Chapter 1: A Pub on a Rainy Day
He had been riding the National Rail since his arrival in London three weeks ago. There were no destinations, only stops, only places where he would leave the train and walk, head down, carrying a backpack. The Edinburgh-bound train made a stop in the small town of Airdrie, and after a few moments of apparent indecision, he rose from his seat and stepped onto the platform.
It was late afternoon, and rain fell, the cold wind stinging his face. A pub in a stone building stood on a corner, and he walked to it, pulling on the heavy wooden door to gain entry.
The place was damp, but everything was wet this time of year in this country. He shook off the rain, stomped his feet twice, and moved away from the other customers to an empty table. Once his backpack and coat had been secured, he walked to the bar and secured a pint. The other six or eight patrons in the pub ignored him.
He pulled his phone from a pocket and studied it silently, sipping his pint. Just as he had reached the bottom of his glass, a woman appeared and stood behind the other chair at the table.
"Is this seat taken?" she asked.
Before he could respond, she said, "Good. I'm Peggy. How do you do?"
He stared at her. She held her hand out to him and said, "Peggy."
He shook it. "Jim Martin," he said. "You're American?"
She nodded. "And so are you." She motioned to the two empty glasses on the table and said, "Maybe we should do something about this?"
"Yes!" He said, rising. "I'll be right back."
He returned a minute later with two fresh pints.
The conversation stalled until she said, "Those dunderheads thought you were a lost tourist. Callum, the barkeep, thinks you missed your tour bus. But I've got five quid betting you're on the run from a bank heist. So, can you settle our bet?"
He snickered. "None of the above, I'm afraid. I'm just wandering, I guess. I needed to clear my head, so I came to the UK and started riding the rails."
"You're just stopping in random towns?" She asked.
"That's right," he said, sipping his pint. "It's my version of a walkabout."
"Walkabout?"
"It's an Australian thing, best I can tell," he said. "So, no bank job and no tour bus. I just got off the train."
"Randomly?" She said, squinting.
"Pretty much," he said with a smile. "Now, I've explained how I've come to be here. How is it we find you here, too?"
"That's a long story," she said. "Have you eaten?"
He shook his head. "No, and I've not eaten all day. I guess I forgot. Can you recommend a place?"
She drained her pint and said, "I can do better than that. I can walk you to the restaurant and give you stimulating conversation while we eat."
He smiled and finished his pint before standing. "I would be delighted," he said.
Chapter 2: Dinner
They emerged from the pub into the misty rain. She slipped her arm into his and pointed him toward dinner. Though her hood was up to ward off the shower, he could still see her blonde hair peeking out and her smile when she looked at him. Jim considered himself average height, but Peggy was only a few inches shorter, thin, elegant, and graceful. Her manner, though, was gregarious and joyful.
The restaurant was intimate, and the two were seated in the quietest area in the tiny space.
He looked over the menu but set it aside quickly, returning his attention to her. "It was lucky you found me," he said, "I might have starved." Then he noticed she had not looked at the menu at all. "Please," he said, "you're eating, right?"
"Of course," she said. "I know the menu by heart. What are you having?"
"Bangers and mash," he said.
"Good choice," she replied. Then the two looked at each other for a few moments. "Tell me more about this walkabout. I'm guessing a man doesn't just pick up one day and disappear to wander the Earth."
He looked down. "No," he said.
She reached across the table and held his hand. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to press."
He squeezed her hand, then released it. "It's OK. I've not talked to anybody for nearly a month, and I guess I'm a little out of practice."
She shook her head, and he shrugged.
"Are you sure you want to hear it?" He asked. "I don't want to burden you."
She said, "I'd like to listen if you want to tell me."
Jim took a deep breath and folded his hands in his lap. Without making eye contact, he began. "I was married to Joni for twenty-four years. I lost her two years ago. The first year was the funeral, friends trying to help, and endless paperwork. You're so busy that you don't have time to internalize what's happened. Then, suddenly, you're alone for the first time in years, and you're completely lost. I needed to grieve and find a way to move on with my life, but I couldn't do it trapped in that house. So I threw some clothes in a backpack, found my passport, and took the next flight to Heathrow. After moving around London for a week, I rode trains from city to city. Now I'm here."
"I'm sorry for your loss," said Peggy. "Everyone grieves differently. Is this helping? Are you feeling better?"
"Yes," he said, "I've found a way to be at peace with it, but something still isn't right."
She nodded, and there was a lull in the conversation. She said, "Where's home?"
"The Berkshires in Massachusetts," he said. "We moved there a couple of years before she died. She dreamed of living there close to Tanglewood and the mountains, which is very peaceful."
"It sounds lovely," she said.
Their food was served, and they began to eat.
"Where are you staying?" She asked.
"Um--"
