The 9 by Madalyn Morgan (tools of titans ebook .txt) 📕

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, ‘I didn’t mean to be rude. What does your boss look like? I might have seen him.’

There was something about the man that Ena didn’t like, but she needed to know if he had seen Mr Silcott. ‘He’s in his mid-fifties. He’s an inch or two taller than me, so he’s about five-ten. His hair is dark, almost black, with grey in it, and he’s wearing a camel coloured overcoat and brown trilby.’

The man shook his head. ‘Sorry.’

Ena blew out her cheeks. ‘He’s got my ticket, so I’d better go and find him.’

‘I boarded in Birmingham, and I haven’t seen anyone fitting your boss’s description. If I had, I’d have said.’

‘Of course you would. I’m sorry to have troubled you. I’ll leave you in peace.’

‘If you don’t find him, come back. These seats are vacant now, but for how long?’ He shrugged.

‘Thank you, I will.’

‘Tell you what!’ the man said, stopping Ena, ‘Why don’t you leave your heavy case in here while you look for him. I’ll keep my eye on it for you--’

‘I can’t do that. Thank you anyway, but I’ll manage,’ she said, picking up her belongings. She walked the short distance back to the next compartment. Mr Silcott wasn’t in there, or the next. She described her boss to everyone, even people she passed in the corridor, but no one had seen him.

Her arms were dropping off by the time the train pulled into Northampton. Worried that the first compartment she went in to, the only compartment with vacant seats, would be full by the time the train left the station, Ena returned to it.

Putting her case under the window, Ena sat next to it and stared out. Not focussing on anything, she sighed heavily.

‘You didn’t find your boss then?’

‘No. I suppose he could be in another carriage. I thought I saw him get into this one, but it was raining heavily… I could have been mistaken.’

Looking to the heavens in exasperation, a coat on the overhead rack caught Ena’s eye. It had been turned inside out, and folded double, but she could see it was camel in colour. Her heart gave a couple of quick beats and she felt suddenly hot. Instinctively she leant forward and pulled the case nearer. As she did so, she saw the man’s shoes. A cursory glance was enough for her to see they were wet, and the floor around them damp. If the man had been sitting in this compartment all the way from Birmingham, his shoes would be dry by now. If not dry, they wouldn’t still be soaking wet, or would they? She wasn’t sure how long the train took to get from Birmingham to Rugby.

‘Do you have pear drops for the journey?’ the man asked.

Startled, Ena repeated, ‘Pear drops?’

‘Yes. I have just remembered that you and your friend ate pear drops when we met. And, as you are looking a little pale, I wondered if you still suffer from travel sickness… Ignore me. I didn’t mean to be personal.’

‘It’s fine, you’re not being… Yes, we always suck pear drops when we travel.’ Taking the cone-shaped packet from her handbag, Ena undid it and held it out to the man for him to help himself. ‘Would you like one?’

‘I would. Thank you.’ The man took the packet out of Ena’s hand and looked at its contents. ‘Now, which flavour shall I choose?’

Ena laughed. ‘Don’t be fooled by the different colours, they all taste the same. If not the same, they are very similar.’

The man took a pear drop and put it in his mouth, before passing the packet back to Ena. Popping one into her mouth, she twisted the top of the packet, and returned it to her handbag. Leaning back in her seat, she looked out of the window.

The crick in her neck and the pain in her side made Ena think she had fallen sideways. She reached out to push herself up, but her hand, as numb as her feet, liquefied like an unset jelly. She screamed, but could make no sound. Her heart thumped and her pulse throbbed so loudly that she could hear the blood pumping in her ears. ‘What the--?’ was all she said before she gave into the pain in her head, which was followed quickly by silence, and then darkness.

Vaporous images floated in front of her eyes. She shook her head to rid herself of the ghostly apparitions. If she could lift her head, she would turn her back on them, but it was too heavy. Ouch! Her forehead bumped against something hard and cold.

‘Where am I?’ a small voice deep in the recesses of her mind called out. ‘Help me. Please,’ she called again, but her voice refused to come forward and make itself heard. Her lips were dry. She tried to moisten them with her tongue, but it was stuck to the top of her mouth.

What was the matter with her? Why couldn’t she speak, or move? Had she had some sort of stroke? Surely the man sitting opposite her would have noticed if she had. If only she could sit upright. She tried again to push herself into a sitting position but her arms melted in the same way that her hands had done, so she gave up trying.

Nausea washed over her in giant waves. She was always sick if she closed her eyes when she travelled. There was only one thing for it. Ena forced her eyes open, but instead of feeling better, a kaleidoscope of bright, piercing lights darted towards her and she closed them again.

In the darkness, Ena heard whispering. Relieved that her senses were returning, she strained to hear what the person was saying. She couldn’t tell if it was a