Side-Tracked

Stephen Potter didn’t recognise the phone number calling him on his mobile. 

‘Hello? Who’s this?’ He asked.

‘Steve? It’s Carl. How’s it going mate?’

Stephen didn’t speak to his brother Carl that often. They were very different people, living different lives. They saw each other very occasionally if they happened to be visiting their parents at the same time.

‘Have you spoken to mum?’ Carl asked.

Stephen’s mother had called him earlier in the day. Their grandfather, her father, was celebrating his 80th birthday in two weeks’ time. He was having a party at a pub he’d hired for the evening. As it was a special birthday, the venue he had selected was a pub in the Lake District, over a hundred miles away. The place was a countryside pub and hotel that he and his wife used to frequent when holidaying in their younger days.

‘Are you going to Grandad’s party? I was thinking of getting the train up there.’ Carl said.

‘Yeah, I’m going. I’d not really thought about how I’d get there.’ Stephen said.

‘The train will be fun. I’ll have to change a few times, but it’ll be an adventure. You should get the train with me. Fancy it? A Potter Brothers adventure?’

The last thing Stephen fancied was going on a random trip with his drop-out brother, but the way Carl had asked, he seemed really keen for Stephen to go along with him. To be fair to his brother, here he was phoning to ask, to invite him along. Perhaps Stephen should take the offered olive branch. The train journey might do their strained relationship good, might bring them closer together.

Besides, that also meant Stephen wouldn’t be arriving to the party on his own. He hated parties, but especially walking into the venue on your own. It was always just so awkward. If he arrived with Carl, he would be in company, and Carl could do most of the small-talk with their relatives. 

‘Go on then. We’ll get the train. I’ll book the tickets.’ Stephen said. 

‘Good man.’ Carl said.

Despite being brothers, Stephen and Carl were just different types of people. Stephen had worked at the same office for almost a decade, while Carl had had a string of various random jobs over the years, ranging from bar tender to tree surgeon. Stephen sensed that Carl saw him as square and straight-laced. Mind you, Stephen did view his brother’s fascination with Meditation and nature as tantamount to tree-hugging. Even the way his brother spoke grated on Stephen. Everyone was dude or mate, and Carl was stuck with the label Bruv. Stephen cringed every time Carl addressed him in that way. 

And so, two weeks later, Stephen caught the train from his local station into Manchester city centre. Carl would be travelling from his neighbourhood station into the city to meet him. Stephen paced the platform, glancing from the train due to depart in five minutes to the entrance to the platform. What would he do if Carl was late? Should he go on ahead without him? He grumbled to himself about his brother and his shoddy time-keeping, well, his shoddy life in general. 

As the train was groaning and making noises to leave, Carl strolled onto the platform. He sauntered towards his brother, grinning, as though they had time to kill before their train.

Stephen flinched as his brother went to hug him. Carl sensed his discomfort and simply patted him on the back awkwardly.

‘Alright, bruv.’ Carl said.

‘Good morning, Carl.’

‘Have you come straight from work?’

‘No, why?’ Stephen said.

‘What’s with the shirt and tie, dude?’

‘There is nothing wrong with taking a pride in your appearance. I could pass comment that you look like you’ve just come from a protest march, but I don’t.’ Stephen snapped.

You’re funny, Steve.’ Carl said.

‘It’s Stephen.’ He snapped. 

‘See what I mean? Hilarious, mate.’ 

‘Anyway, the train is about to leave.’ Stephen said. 

Stephen had the details of the changes and the connecting trains written down in the small notepad he carried everywhere. While Carl looked out the window at the Northen towns and cities rolling by their window, Stephen checked the time on his watch. It would be tight but if the trains ran on time, they should be okay. They would be changing twice to connect with the Lake District train, and then depending on timings, may need to get a final train to take them to the small town where the pub was. Worse case, they could always get a taxi the last stretch of the journey.

While Stephen was constantly checking the time and stressing over their connections, Carl had the excited air of a little boy on a school trip. 

Two hours later, Stephen and Carl alighted at a train station. They made their way along the concourse, passing disgruntled passengers. Everyone seemed to be in a bad mood. 

‘According to the time-table the train we need is leaving in a few minutes. We just need to check the screens for the platform. It might be a dash.’ Stephen said. 

Carl pointed to the Departures and Arrivals screen and shook his head. They now knew why everyone was angry. Next to the list of place names, in large unfriendly red letters were the words ALL TRAINS CANCELLED.

Surely not. He turned to a guy hurrying past him, heading for the exit.

‘What’s going on?’ He asked. 

‘There’s a national rail strike, started at 1pm. They didn’t announce it though.’ The guy swore, and hurried for the exit, presumably for the taxi rank or the bus stop. 

Stephen checked the time. 1.05pm. With a feeling of dread, Stephen searched on his mobile phone for more information. Sure enough, the train network had started a 24-hour strike at 1pm. So, here they were, at some random Northern train station, with no way to continue their journey, nor get home.

 ‘I cannot understand why they would let us get halfway across the country for them to just pull the rug out from under us. We’d have been better off if the trains hadn’t been running all day. At least then we’d be at home, not stranded. I am not standing for this!’ Stephen yelled. 

‘What can you do about it?’ Carl asked.

‘I’m going to complain.’

‘Who to? There’s the customer service desk.’ Carl said, pointing to a window across the foyer. The metal shutters were pulled down. The customer service department had clearly vacated the station before the strike kicked in. 

Stephen slumped beside his brother on the hard wooden bench.

‘Chill out. We’ll get there. Everything will be fine.’ Carl said.

‘Fine? How will everything be fine? We’re stuck in this one-horse town with no way home.’

‘Steve, we are where we’re meant to be, man. The universe will take care of us.’ Carl said.

‘The universe? Have you actually heard yourself? Does the universe provide a Replacement bus service? Anyway, how come you’re so chilled out about everything?’ Stephen asked.

‘I was in India recently, on retreat. The Maharishi, this dude with beads and a long beard, he gave me this Mantra. You repeat this phrase over and over, and it really sorts your head out.’ Carl said.

Carl wandered around the station building, staring around at the architecture. A few minutes later he was back on the bench next to Stephen.

‘Earlham Station. Very nice. I love the way they’ve done it up to look dead old-fashioned, all 1920s and that.’ Carl nodded in approval.

‘That’s all well and good, but it doesn’t help that we’re stuck here, miles away from where we need to be.’

‘I’m just saying there’s worse places to be stuck.’ Carl shrugged.

While Stephen simmered and fumed about their situation, Carl headed for the food counter. He returned a while later with paper cups of tea, and chocolate muffins. As they sipped their tea and munched their muffins, Carl spoke.

‘The guy at the coffee counter was telling me there’s a car rental place up the road. He thinks we’ll be able to hire a car.’ 

‘Go on then, Carl. What’s the plan?’ Stephen asked.

‘We hire a car from these guys, go to grandad’s party, and see where we go from there. That gets us out of here and where we should be. It gets us back on track.’ Carl said.

‘And how do you suggest we pay for the hire car?’ Stephen said.

‘You could always put it on your company credit card. You can claim it back on expenses, can’t you?’

‘It doesn’t work like that.’ Stephen said. ‘But, agreed, we’ll hire this car and get ourselves over to the party.’

When they entered the car rental store, a guy in a suit approached them. He smiled warmly.

‘Good afternoon, gentlemen. What can I do for you today?’ He asked.

Stepehen was tempted to give a sarcastic reply, that they were here for the fish and chips. What did he think they were doing in the car hire shop? Instead, he simply explained they needed to hire a car for their trip to the Lake District as the trains had been cancelled.

‘Sure, yeah, sure. No worries, fellers. I’ll get you sorted out. We do have one car available. Follow me.’

Moments later Stephen, Carl and the man were standing in the car park. As he stared at the bright pink Fiat 500 with fluffy dice hanging from the mirror, Stephen wondered if the world had always been this oddball and he had been two wrapped up in himself to notice. Did they really have to hire this monstrosity of a car? As if reading his thoughts, the salesman explained that this was the last car they had to rent that day.

As they pulled off the forecourt, having agreed to return the hideous car the following morning, Stepehen grumbled to his brother. 

‘A pink car? I don’t mind a pink shirt, a pink tie, but a pink car is just wrong. No wonder it hadn’t been hired out.’ 

‘I think it’s funky, bruv. It’s got character.’ Carl grinned. ‘And this is getting us back on track. We’re on a road trip now!’

Ten minutes later, they headed down the slip-road and onto the motorway. Stephen weaved his way into the flow of traffic. Then it happened. The flow stopped. The traffic stream stopped moving. The line of cars in front of him was still, all red brake-lights.

An hour later they had hardly moved. Stephen felt the anger and frustration burning in his chest. Carl simply tapped his fingers on the dashboard and hummed a tune to himself. 

‘I can’t cope with all this, Carl.’ 

‘We’ll get there when we get there, bruv.’ Carl said. 

‘I need you to give me your Mantra.’

‘I can’t. It’s a secret. The Maharishi told me if I share the Mantra, it will ruin its power.’

‘Mate, I’m stressing here. I need something. I need your Mantra.’

‘It’s Lucy In the Sky with Diamonds.’ Carl said.

‘What? The Beatles song?’

Carl nodded.

‘The Maharishi in India gave you a Beatles song title to repeat? Why would he do that?’

Carl simply shrugged and stared out of the windscreen. 

‘I think it’s starting to move a little.’ Carl said, craning his neck to see further up the motorway lane. 

It was dark by the time they passed the sign welcoming them to the Lake District. By this point in their journey, the brothers were saying very little to each other, all topics of conversation having long been exhausted. They travelled down the dark country lanes in silence, apart from discussing the directions on Stephen’s mobile phone app. 

The road stretching out in front of them twisted left and right, up and down, in almost complete darkness. They peered out into the glow of the headlights, trying to tie up the road they were travelling along with the lines on the mobile phone screen. Every so often, an automatic voice would declare, Recalculating, and add another forty minutes onto their already endless journey. 

Then Stephen’s mobile phone ran out of battery. Stephen swore as the life drained from the device like water from the kitchen sink. 

‘We’ll have to use your mobile phone, Carl.’ Stephen said. ‘Go into Maps and type in the Boat House in the Lake District.’

‘I don’t have a mobile phone, mate.’ Carl shrugged. 

And that was it. At that moment Stephen was done. It was over. He couldn’t take any more. After the trains letting them down, this ridiculous car, then the traffic congestion and now no way of finding the venue, he was done. Game over.

He pulled over into the lay-by at the side of the road. Darkness on all sides, nothing but the glow of the dashboard, and the beam of the headlights in front. Stephen felt like they could have been the only people on the planet. 

‘I can’t believe this. Why does everything have to be so complicated?’ Stephen said, on the verge of tears.

Carl sighed heavily. Stephen turned to his brother, studying him in the reddish glow of the dashboard lights. He also looked crest-fallen, rather than his usual upbeat self. Stephen had never seen him look so dejected. Carl looked as fed-up as Stephen himself felt. 

‘I never went to India. Never met the Maharishi.’ Carl confessed. ‘I’m a failure. A failed hippy, can you believe it? I’m even a failure at being a drop-out.’

‘You are not a failure. You do you, isn’t that what they say? You’re being true to yourself.’ Stephen said. 

‘That’s easy for you to say, Mr Big-Shot businessman.’ Carl replied.

Stephen said nothing for a long moment. Finally, he tugged his tie loose, yanking it from around his neck and tossing it on the dashboard. 

‘I’m not the big executive, Carl. I’m just a clerk. I’m a pleb. You said I should put the hire car on company credit card. I don’t have a company credit card. I even have to bring my own pens to work. I turn up each day in my shirt and tie, while everyone else wears polo shirts. I even bring a briefcase to work. Every time there’s a senior vacancy I apply, and every time, I get knocked back. Last time they picked some young kid in trainers who’d only been there five minutes. Part of the reason I try so hard to act like the businessman, is in the hope that the management will eventually look around and think, why don’t we give this guy a shot. I’m still waiting.’ Stephen said.

‘Sorry, man. I had no idea. Well, it’s their loss if they can’t see how good a manager you’d be. Look at how you’ve organised this trip.’ Carl said.

‘And look how that has turned out! An absolute shambles!’ Stephen said, laughing despite his mood.

‘You got us this far, bruv. You sorted the train tickets, took care of the hire car. You’re the man, I’m telling you.’

‘If you say so.’ Stephen shrugged.

‘I am going to get some fresh air and meditate.’ Carl said.

‘Are you going to ask the universe for help?’ Stephen asked with a smile.

‘D’you know what, yes I am. Namaste, my brother.’ Carl laughed.

Carl climbed out of the car. He wandered up the road, humming, chanting and singing to himself. Stephen watched his brother, moving in the headlight glow.

‘What good is that going to do us?’ Stephen said out-loud.

A few minutes later, Carl came dashing back towards the car, bounding towards the car like a Golden Retriever puppy at walkies time. Stephen wound down the window.

‘Bruv! What did you say the pub was called?’ Carl said.

‘The Boat House.’ Stephen said. 

‘You mean THAT Boat House?’ Carl asked, pointing wildly up the road ahead.

‘What? You’ve found it?’ 

Stephen hopped out of the car and followed his brother down the road, moving through the headlight beam.  There was a bend in the road. Just around the bend, surrounded by thick woodland was the Boat House. The fairy lights surrounding the double-doors beckoned them.

As they neared the entrance a figure waved at them. Their mother put her cigarette out.

‘Here they are, my boys.’ She hugged each of them.

‘Good evening, mother.’ Stephen said.

‘Hey, Ma.’ Carl said.

‘I was wondering where you’d got to.’ She said.

‘We got lost.’ Carl said. ‘And you should see the car we’ve hired. It’s like driving a strawberry milkshake.’

‘How did you find this place?’ Stephen asked.

‘You know what you’re dad’s like. He’s been studying his maps since we got the invite. Our trip was planned like a military operation.’ She said. 

‘I’m ready for a pint.’ Stephen said. 

‘Come on, I’m buying.’ Carl said.

‘You’re just in time, your grandad and his ukulele group are about to start.’

She linked her sons’ arms and ushered them into the pub.

The brothers approached the bar and ordered two pints of beer. As the barman pulled their drinks, he asked if they have a room booked for the evening, as a lot of the revellers were staying the night.

‘No, we haven’t booked a room. I didn’t think.’ Stephen said. ‘Let me guess, you’re fully booked.’

‘We have just had a cancellation, actually. A twin room has become available. I can let you have it for free, if you like, as they’ve paid the deposit.’ 

‘Really?’ 

‘Yes, they couldn’t make it, the trains were cancelled, apparently. Would you like the room?’

‘We’ll take it. Thanks you so much, man.’ Grinned Carl.

Having wished their grandfather happy birthday, and greeted all their friends and family, the two brothers found a free table. As they sipped their pints and the ukulele band launched into a rousing rendition of Bring Me Sunshine, Carl spoke. 

‘See, the universe took care of every-’ 

‘Don’t even go there, mate.’ Stephen laughed.

By 1pm the next day, the brothers had returned the brightly-coloured hire car and caught the train back to Manchester. Thankfully the trains were back up and running. While not quite running as per the timetable, the trains seemed to be running as randomly as they ever did. But, Stephen thought, at least they were running.

Back at Manchester Picadilly train station, the two brothers lingered on the busy concourse. Their journey together had come to an end. Stephen and Carl would be heading to catch their different trains home. 

‘It’s been fun, Steve.’ Carl said. 

‘It’s Ste-’ He stopped himself from correcting him. ‘It’s been fun, Carl.’ Stephen agreed. 

Stephen reached out to shake his brother’s hand. Carl responded by throwing his arms around him, giving him a hug. Stephen laughed, patting him on the back.

‘Keep in touch, bruv.’ Stephen said.

‘Defo, mate.’ Carl said. 

Stephen watched as Cal walked away across the station.

As Stephen headed for the platform, he found himself humming a familiar tune. The train was running late, of course. Rather than getting worked up as usual, he shrugged and hummed under his breath. At least I’ve got time for a coffee, he thought.

Half an hour later, as he boarded the train, the name of the song going around in his head came to him. It was the tune Carl had been humming all through their journey. 

He smiled to himself. Lucy In the Sky with Diamonds.

By Chris Platt

From: United Kingdom