The Passenger by Daniel Hurst (great book club books TXT) 📕

my documents and his desperate determination to keep funding his addiction.

He cleaned me out, and now the guy sitting opposite me wants to do the same.

Why does this keep happening to me?

‘Even though I told them it was stolen, they said it was my fault for not taking care of my personal details,’ I say, hoping that my tale of woe might be enough to give the man opposite me second thoughts about his own plan. ‘If a stranger had stolen my credit card from my purse, then they could have helped me, but because it was a boyfriend and he obtained the information easily in my own home, they said I was to blame.’

‘I’ve always hated bankers,’ he replies. ‘Greedy bastards.’

The irony of what he has just said is not lost on me, and I let him know it with my glare.

‘So you never saw Johnny again?’ he asks me, and I shake my head.

‘I have no idea what happened to him. But I bet he pissed my money away in some bookie’s somewhere along the way.’

‘Well, thank you for the cautionary tale,’ he says, shrugging his broad shoulders. ‘But that doesn’t do you much good right now. I still want that code.’

I guess sympathy and pity aren’t emotions that he gives much time to.

‘You’re no better than him, you know,’ I say, shaking my head. ‘He was a thief, and so are you. You should be ashamed of yourself. I worked hard for that money. Why can’t you do the same?’

‘You don’t think this is hard work? You think I want to be here sitting on this train listening to your sob story? I want to be miles away from this place, sitting in the sun with a cold drink in my hand, looking out at the ocean while pretty ladies walk by. Yet here I am stuck with you.’

‘That’s what you’re going to do with my money, is it? Sit in the sun and drink beer. How admirable. At least I have a proper dream.’

He scoffs. ‘You think you would spend it more wisely? You’d just waste it while you were trying to get your book published. No joy would ever come from it, and you’d just end up back where you started in a year’s time. The only difference is at least I would have some fun along the way.’

‘It’s my business what I do with it. It’s my money!’

The volume of my voice is raised again, but nobody bothers looking over at us this time. Nearly everybody has their headphones in, and their faces are buried in their personal devices. Either they can’t hear us, or they are ignoring us. I don’t blame them either way. I always hated noisy passengers too.

‘You’re all the same, you people,’ he says, flattening out his tie against his chest. ‘Working hard day after day, saving up, and for what? Retirement? Something better down the line? You never stop and actually enjoy yourselves in the here and now.’

‘That’s how the world works,’ I fire straight back. ‘It’s not all just short-term success. Some things take longer to achieve, and you have to work for them. You can’t just take them from other people.’

‘That’s where you’re wrong. I can just take them, and I will. You see, while you and the rest of the people on this train have been busy working hard in your offices, I’ve been watching you all, and you know what I see? Hesitation. Desperation. Fear. I pity you, and I pity everybody else you work with. You’re lacking in confidence to do what you really want.’

‘No. I’m not.’

‘How old are you?’

I’m surprised by the question. ‘What’s that got to do with anything?’

‘It has everything to do with it,’ he says. ‘Thirty-five? Forty? Whatever. Why has it taken you this long to go after what you really want in life?’

‘Because life isn’t that simple!’

‘Yes, it is. If you want something, you go and you get it. If you wanted to be a writer, you should have done it twenty years ago. Don’t give me excuses, I’ve been in prison, and I’ve heard them all before. If only it wasn’t for bad luck. If only this. If only that. But now it’s too late, and you are being punished for your hesitancy. You’re being punished by somebody younger than you who knows exactly what he wants and how to get it.’

After hearing his little speech, I feel like reaching across the table and wrapping my hands around this man’s throat, but I resist and not just because I know he would easily be able to fend me off. I resist because there is some truth in what he is saying. It should never have taken me this long to go after what I wanted to do. Yes, life has thrown some curveballs at me, like my unexpected pregnancy and my thief of an ex-boyfriend, but I also know that there was something else holding me back too, and it was something completely in my control.

My own self-belief.

But now that I’m older and wiser, I have that belief. I know what I am capable of, and I know how strong I am in any situation. Yet here is life again, throwing me another curveball. If it were just up to me, then I would fight my way out of this situation and not give in. But it’s not about me now. It’s about Louise too. I have to do what’s best for her, and my tormentor is only too happy to remind me of that as he looks down at his phone and smiles.

‘Your daughter is becoming a problem,’ he tells me. ‘My partner is growing impatient with her.’

‘What has he done?’ I ask, the fear rising in my throat.

‘Nothing yet. But he will do unless you give us that code.’

‘I want to speak to Louise again,’ I say, holding out my hand towards him to take his phone. ‘I want to know she is all right.’

But he