Copyright © December 2022 by CiaoSteve
CiaoSteve reserves the right to be identified as the author of this work. This story cannot be published, as a whole or in part, without the express agreement of the author other than the use of brief extracts as part of a story review.
This is a work of fiction. All sexually active characters in this story are over 18. The events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons.
Author's Notes
This was always intended to be an entry for the 2022 Winter Holiday Contest, but I sort of got carried away with myself and the story took longer than planned to write. I do hope though that it provides a little Christmas cheer, even if it is a tad on the taboo.
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One
January 2023 (the here and now of the story) - the end of what has been a most eventful Christmas holidays.
The railway station was busier than usual. It was to be expected come the second weekend after New Year when students started to say farewell to their loved ones and head back towards university.
Amidst the crowds, most of whom were waiting for the morning express heading north, were the Robinson family, all four of them: Monica, her mother, her father, and, quite unusually, her brother Jack. It was Monica who was heading back, all the way up to what was going to be a very cold and wintry Edinburgh.
As she waited, Monica kept herself to herself, a little distant from the rest of her family. She had that look on her face, the look of innocence which suggested butter wouldn't melt in your mouth. It was what most expected of the twenty-one-year-old student. Monica had never been an extrovert. She was serious. She was studious. She strived to do what was expected of her, to do what was right, to do what was going to make everyone around her happy.
You see, for all her life, Monica had always worried about what others may think of her, and the actions she took.
Today, Monica was in a reflective mood, the type which hadn't hit her since that first ever journey to university. Back then it was the thought of leaving home which had Monica contemplating. Now though, there was something else on her mind. It wasn't like this was her first time away. She was already in her third year of studies, so the trip home for Christmas was old hat, and heading back again was just one of those things you got on with.
What then... what was different, and why did she feel so unsure?
She had dressed expecting the worst that Scotland could throw at her. The fleece-lined black leggings, oversize fluffy jumper, woollen overcoat, and scarf would protect from the cold. The sturdy trainers would give some traction on slippery streets. It was a far cry from what she had been wearing in the warmth of her home, on those few occasions when she was lucky enough to be left alone.
Was that it? Was it just the thought of departing into the depths of winter which had affected the young woman? Or was it not so much about where she was going, but more about what she was leaving behind? Something had happened this Christmas, something which had changed everything.
For once in her life, Monica had put herself first, had not given a toss about what everyone would think of her, and it had felt so very, very good.
So now, the young woman standing there, waiting for a train up north, was quite different to the one who had travelled down a few weeks before... no, not physically, but for sure mentally, and most definitely emotionally. She wouldn't let it show, that was not Monica's style, but she could feel it deep inside.
"Stand back from the edge platform three, the next train doesn't stop here," a tinny male voice announced.
As if by habit, Monica took hold of her suitcase like her life depended on it. With such a big bag there was no way it was going to get sucked off the platform, but Monica just felt better in knowing that she had a good hold on her worldly possessions. Her whole life was contained in one suitcase and a small rucksack.
Her whole life?
Monica watched the train approach from a distance, a blur on the horizon at first, quickly gaining form as it moved closer and closer. How fast was it going? The speed was deceptive at first, but soon became evident as carriage after carriage hurtled through the station. And then it hit her. As the train exited the station, in its wake came an almost storm force wind.
Quickly, Monica turned to one side, but it was no good. She was too late. Monica's perfectly styled long locks—she had the most gorgeous shiny black-brown hair, straight but for the merest natural wave, all the way down to breast level—were sent flying across her face, as if somebody had turned on a wind machine from behind.
As she tried to gather herself, using fingers to regain a modicum of neatness, Monica caught sight of her brother. For a moment she stood there, looking at Jack, and he just stared back. Then, with a face still half covered in tangled hair, her expression changed. A smile came across Monica's face... no, not a beaming, perfectly white teeth on show, sort of smile... more a sultry, lips closed, mouth upturned a little sort of smile. It was subtle. It had to be subtle. But it was enough for Jack to notice. He didn't smile back, but that didn't matter.
You see... Jack was the part of the problem, part of the reason Monica felt like this. There would have been a time when Monica would claim her whole life was in that very suitcase, but now that wasn't quite true.
"The next train to arrive on platform two will be the ten thirty-six Azuma service to Edinburgh," the tinny voice called out.
The moment was gone. Quickly Monica brushed the remaining hair out of her face and turned back towards the platform edge. Her train was slowly pulling to a stop. Monica reached for the train door and pressed the button. Slowly, the door swung open.
It was time to say goodbye... or rather, au revoir.
There was a hug for both mother and father, with the usual parting words.
"Take care," her father said.
"Look after yourself," her mother responded.
"Make sure you eat well," her mother added.
"And... make sure to ring us when you get there. We love you, Monica," her mother finished.
"I'll be fine. Love you too... Mum... Dad," Monica responded.
"And... don't you be getting up to any mischief, my girl," came her father's parting words, spoken in a half sarcastic tone.
This time Monica just smiled. There was something so ironic about what her father had just said, but there was no way she was going to be letting them know. She grabbed her case and moved it over towards the open train door. It was as Monica prepared to lift the case up onto the train, that Jack took his cue.
"Here, let me help," Jack called out.
In one move, and without flinching, he lifted the case and carried it onto the train, placing it onto a very full luggage rack. For a moment Monica and Jack stood in the doorway.
"I'll miss you, Moni," Jack whispered.
"I'll miss you too, Jack," Monica whispered back. "Promise me though... promise me you'll come and visit."
"I will," Jack responded. "You have my word."
Against her better judgement, Monica stood up on tiptoes and wrapped her arms around her brother. It was a fleeting embrace, a simple show of affection.
