Rays of morning late-June sunshine warmed the air. Newly-sprouted green leaves on dozens of tall trees fluttered and rustled in a gentle breeze at St. Margarets station. Under the shade of the white wooden canopy of the building on the first platform, a lean eleven year old boy sat alone on a blue metal bench. His slightly curly, sandy hair hung about his face uncombed. He was dressed in his school uniform, a crimson sweatshirt with a the a white polo shirt underneath, and grey trousers. He scratched at the collar of his undershirt, it had turned to face upwards under his chin and felt uncomfortable. He reached down for his backpack and pulled out a paper notebook in his left hand, on the front his name was inscribed in blue pen – Robin Brush.
Robin turned his gaze to the blue rectangular digital clock which stood beyond the canopy, with green roller blind numbers. It ticked every second, and as the time changed from 08:29:59 to 08:30:00, the tick was louder. He felt a static-like tingle sensation on his scalp, he liked this sound. It was calming.
He then glanced at the three-aspect signal at the northern end of the opposite platform, the middle bulb glowed yellow. The two parallel tracks curved to the west towards Ware and Hertford. He sighed and looked to his left again and peered at the four raised level crossing barriers. These would always go down before a train approached. Beyond, the two tracks curved to the south, towards London.
He turned his attention to the cars which passed over the level crossing and listened to the soft rumble their rubber tires made over the two tracks. The heavy traffic provided an almost rythmic timing to these sounds, which caused more of these pleasant tingles. Although when a lorry passed over the crossing, it was accompanied by loud clatters and judders, which caused a different, unpleasant sensation in his head. A shock sensation, which could often be felt in his spine as well as in his head. Robin groaned in an exasperated tone, why did that lorry have to go this way? There was a dual-carriageway and other routes available that didn't involve going across the tracks.
A loud yodeling alarm sounded. This noise though had been expected, familiar. It was the indication that the level crossing barriers were about to lower. He felt a smile stretch across his face as he gazed at the barriers. First, the two to stop approaching traffic descended, and then the second pair to seal the gap. The siren stopped at the exact moment the second pair of gates had lowered. Robin remembered when he was younger, the sudden noise of the loud siren often caused him to feel a sensation of shock, he hadn't liked it at all. Now though, he felt more used to it. It still caused the sensation, but it no longer caused him to flinch. Perhaps it was because the siren was quieter now, it definitely had a different pitch from what he remembered.
Robin opened his notebook and peered at all of the numbers, locations, dates and times he had written down. On the first page, he saw the number 315858 and sighed. He thought about the last time he had seen that particular train. It was the last day he had played with Justin, his only friend. But Justin didn't live here anymore, he had moved away a year ago. It had been lonely ever since, in particular because he had to endure endless taunting from his classmates. Two in particular, Darren and Joshua.
Just then, two bicycle tires poked around the corner of the yellow brick station building, and before him stood Joshua Meadows, and his younger brother. Both of them had the same school uniforms.
“Hey look! The loser who likes choo-choo trains! You're gonna be late for school!” leered Joshua.
“Yeah! You're gonna get into trouble!” chimed in his younger brother.
Robin winced as he could only glare at them. He began to tremble. But he desperately tried not to.
“Haha. Look, he's scared! Such a wuss. Come on Jake, let's go. We'd better make sure Darren is ready.”
Robin breathed heavily. Darren Young was the bully he feared the most.
With that, Joshua and Jake mounted their bikes and cycled away. Robin turned his gaze back to the tracks just in time to see the yellow and black front of the train appear around the corner from the south. It trundled into the platform with a familiar whirr and whine, and came to a halt with squeaks of protest from the brakes.
The train was an electric-multiple-unit formed of four carriages, all the trains that called at this station were. It was white, but with a big orangish-red stripe from the bottom of the windows down. He glanced at the six black numbers on the yellow front just underneath the cab window, and scribbled it in. 315858, the same one he had just thought about. He felt a wave of anguish overwhelm him as he thought about his friend, and how he wished that he hadn't moved away. He gazed in the other direction, and saw another similar train trundle into the station on the track closest to him. This train was painted exactly the same way, with unit number 315844.
The sight of this train made him think of Grandad, because he also had a notebook of train numbers he had written down. It was more than two years ago that Robin decided from then onwards that he would write down all the numbers of the trains he saw, and that had been the first number he had ever written down. He remembered back then though, unit 315844 had been in plain white, like so many of the other trains. The orangish-red stripe along the bottom had only been around for the past couple of years, but only these two trains carried it. There were a lot of logos on the sides, along with the phone number '0800 40 50 40', and 'Report Railway Crime' printed in blue.
When the trains had departed for Hertford and London respectively, Robin put his notebook back into his backpack and stood up. He sighed and slung his backpack over his shoulder, then he reluctantly walked away from the station. He could spend all day there if he was allowed to, it sounded wonderful. He would often spend hours on either of the platforms after school, or on the weekends. The thought had occurred to him to just not go to school before, but the one thing he hated more than being confronted by his bullies was being confronted by his teachers, or Dad. All too often he had been shouted at for even the most minor things, and the thought of it made him shudder. He crossed the bridge that carried the High Street over the canal and gazed at all of the grown-ups who walked along the towpath at their leisure, or floated past on board their colourful narrow-boats. He felt envious of their freedom, and how he longed to be just as free. But he was a kid, and kids had to go to school.
Robin arrived at school at the exact second the bell rang and he sighed with relief. He entered the cloakroom and put his backpack on the floor. He opened it and took out a drawstring bag, which contained his change of clothes for P.E. Then he hung his backpack on the upper hook, and took out everything else he would need. Darren, Joshua, and Jake strolled past, with menacing grins on their faces. Robin gulped, but they didn't say anything. Fortunately, they weren't in his class. Darren was in the other classroom, while Joshua was in the year below them, and Jake was three years below that.
The hours slowly ticked by. Robin gazed up at the clock. Why couldn't it be time to go home, already? He daydreamed about what he'd do when he grew up. All the places he would go. All the trains he could not only see, but ride too! Maybe he'd even go to visit Justin. He turned his gaze out of the window, again he felt that sensation that he was forced to be imprisoned in school instead of doing what he wanted to do.
He was interrupted from his thoughts by the school bell, but it wasn't the end of the day. This bell announced the change of classes. Robin sighed with relief. Unlike most classes at school, P.E could be fun. Maybe today they would play games on the field, the weather was pleasant enough. Not too hot, but not too cold. Dry and sunny with a few clouds in the sky. This reflected his mood, that is until he went into the cloakroom, and saw that his drawstring bag wasn't where he had left it. He was sure he had hung it up that morning. But it wasn't there now. Had he forgotten to hang it up? He looked all over the cloakroom, but he couldn't find it.
“Robin? What are you doing lingering about? Get ready for P.E” said Mr. Martin.
“My kit is missing!” answered Robin.
“So, you forgot it again?” groaned Mr. Martin.
“No!” argued Robin, “I had it this morning!”
There was pause. His teacher frowned at him. Robin felt uneasy, did his teacher think he was lying?
“Well, you'll have to go and borrow some from Mrs. Bale. Hurry up about it, go on!”
Robin gulped. This was bad enough by itself, borrowed clothes were unfamiliar and often uncomfortable. But this also meant he had to face Mrs. Bale, an elder woman with long straight grey hair which reached down to her eyebrows and eartips. She also wore round glasses. One could think she was just another teacher, but her voice was gruff like an army drill sergeant. He'd heard other children refer to her as 'The Dragon'. He gulped as he entered the green mobile classroom.
“What do you want?” moaned Mrs. Bale.
“I... I need to borrow P.E kit.”
“Again?!” she exploded.
Robin winced as he felt that twinge in his spine. He tried to explain about his missing P.E kit.
“I'm very, very sorry about this...” But he didn't get any further.
“Sorry?! You're sorry?!” interrupted Mrs. Bale, ”I think by the end of today I'm going to be far more sorry than you are!”
Robin just stood there, petrified. He hardly breathed. A most unpleasant tingle trickled up his spine, accompanied by a flash of feeling too hot and a terrible sensation of pins and needles in his head. That was until she threw the required shirt and shorts at him.
“Go on, get out of my sight!”
He didn't have to be told twice, he made a hasty departure from the hostile environment of that classroom. This wasn't the first time he'd had to face the wrath of the formidable Mrs. Bale, but this time it really wasn't his fault! He fumed as he stewed over the fact he never even got the chance to explain.
At the end of the day, Mr. Martin stopped him from leaving the classroom.
“Robin, this is the fifth time you've forgotten your P.E kit this term. Mrs. Bale has enough to do, without having to provide you with a change of clothes.”
Again, Robin tried to explain, but his teacher held up his hand and interrupted.
“I don't want to hear it. Constantly you make yourself a nuisance. You never listen. You never learn. I'll be contacting your parents tonight, to make them aware of what has occurred today.”
Robin didn't reply. He exhaled through his nose as he stared at his teacher, he felt hurt, but it was useless to argue. Finally, his teacher stood aside and he went into the cloakroom to fetch his backpack.
Everyone else had already left, and down in the corner of the room was his drawstring bag.
“Really?!” cursed Robin, in frustration. He slouched down to pick it up and stuffed it into his backpack, along with the borrowed shirt and shorts which would now need to be washed and returned.
An hour later, Robin had changed out of his school uniform into something far more comfortable, a green fleece and black jogging trousers. He had been into the village and bought himself a strawberry ice cream, something to try and take his mind off of his pretty miserable school day. He clutched the remains of it as he sat on the metal bench under the station canopy and waited for the trains to come. But try as he might, he dwelled on how unfair it had all been. Those dreadful sensations that came every time he was shouted at, or faced with any form of confrontation. It always made him shut down.
Robin inhaled sharply, as though he had forgotten to breathe for a minute. He took several heavy breaths, and tried to focus on something else, anything else. He tried to forget all about the unpleasantries of his school life. However, he then heard an ominous buzzing noise. It was a wasp. He felt that same sense of panic as it tried to get at the sweet strawberry sauce on his chin.
“Oh, buzz-off!” he snapped at the wasp, hurriedly he walked away down the platform. That unpleasant feeling of pins-and-needles in his head became apparent once again as he feared being stung by it.
Once he had escaped the persistent insect, he paced towards the end of the platform underneath the footbridge and glanced at the four-aspect signal which stood between him and the level crossing. The bottom-most incandescent bulb glowed red. Robin sat on another bench and nibbled at what was left of his ice cream cornet, and swung his feet to-and-fro. His shoes skimmed over the pavement, and he felt the familiar pleasant tingle on his scalp as he listened to the soft scraping noise it made.
Robin then turned his attention to the right again at the derelict signal box which stood on the second platform. Next to it was a passenger shelter, with a flat wooden canopy roof painted white, and a backdrop made out of sandy-yellow bricks and mortar. Next to that was a tall concrete footbridge which stood adjacent to the level crossing with railings painted blue, with white wooden banisters.
As he gazed upwards, three boys appeared from behind the concrete wall of the footbridge and descended towards the opposite platform. Robin recognised them immediately. It was Darren, Joshua, and Jake. Should he run and hide? No, the sound of his footsteps would undoubtedly attract their attention. He took a deep breath and stared across the gap, he hoped that they would turn away towards the other set of steps that led down to the road, instead of the ones that led to the platform. He hardly dared to breathe as he gazed fearfully up at them.
To Robin's relief, his bullies went down the steps towards the road. They'd be out of sight in a moment. He slid his hand into a large pocket on the front of his fleece, and pulled out his notebook and pen. He flicked through the pages of numbers, descriptions and locations.
At that moment a two-tone horn announced the approach of the train from London. The electric traction motors underneath whirred, which was accompanied by several clickety-clack sounds. The train rolled over the crossing and into the station, the brakes squeaked as all eight carriages of the train came to a halt, which was formed of two units coupled together in plain white. Robin glanced at the number of the first unit, 315853, and scribbled it into his notebook, then he stood up and made his way to the crossing to access the other platform.
All four barriers rose up at once, which granted Robin passage to cross the tracks. He walked up the platform, against the flow of commuters whom had disembarked from the train. He did his best to ignore their grumbles. He stood next to the signal box and peered at the signal at the end of the platform which now glowed green. A rapid beeping announced the imminent closure of the train doors, which ceased as the air-powered doors slid together, all with a clunk. The train then accelerated away, the traction motors whirred, slowly at first and then faster and more noisily while it gained speed and turned the corner past the signal, which promptly changed from green to red.
Robin leaned against the signal box again and sighed in content as he scribbled the set number of the rear four carriages, 315850, onto the page of his notebook. Then, the date and time, and the colour. Then he heard footsteps behind him.
“Oh, no.” groaned Robin, he felt a wave of dread. The last thing he wanted was another confrontation with his bullies. He stashed his notebook in his pocket and looked around the corner at the level crossing. To his relief, it wasn't them. It was a family of five that had disembarked from the train.
“That was a fun ride! I liked that!” came a squeaky voice from a slightly chubby boy.
Robin leaned against the signal box again and gazed at him. His outfit was particularly vibrant. A blue t-shirt, and orange shorts with white flames that were blue at the bottom, with chopper motorbikes. He looked to be around the same age as Jake. As the boy turned to face the two accompanying adults with their large roller cases, Robin saw the red racecar character on his backpack. Then the boy turned to face him again. Robin caught himself staring and awkwardly turned his gaze towards the rails instead.
“I'm glad it's over, how far to the house, Dad?” said an older, thinner boy who looked to be Robin's age.
“Just a few minutes, David. Everything's ready when we get there.”
“Come on, Timothy!”
Robin watched as they left the station, walked over the crossing and disappeared. He looked over at the clock on the opposite platform. There was a loud tick as the rollers of the digital display changed from 16:59 to 17:00. Robin knew that this meant it was 5PM. He preferred the 24-hour clock. It seemed much more definite than having to add either AM or PM to the time. It was time for him to go home, his father would now be on his way home from work and dinner would probably soon be on the table.
When Robin arrived at home, he saw the family outside the house a couple of doors down. He was just about to go indoors when he heard the younger boy's voice.
“Daddy? Where's my bike? What about my train set?”
Robin perked up as he heard this.
“They haven't arrived yet, buddy. They should be here tomorrow,” came the reply.
“Oh!” Timothy cried, disappointedly.
It sounded like Timothy liked trains too. He was just about to walk over to introduce himself when a thought stopped him in his tracks. Again that annoying sensation like a mild electric shock made him wince as it tingled up his spine. What if he scared Timothy? It did look like he was quite a bit younger. He obsessed over his own doubts so much, that the sudden sound of the boy's squeaky little voice startled him.
“Hi! You were at the station, weren't you? I'm Timothy!”
Robin winced as he turned his gaze to face the boy. He tried to speak, but no words came out. Desperately he cleared his throat, and tried again.
“H...Hi. I'm Robin,” he stammered. “I-I live there.” Robin pointed to his house.
“I just went on my first train ride, here. It was so much fun!” Timothy squeaked.
“You like trains?” asked Robin.
“I do! Do you?”
Robin could hardly believe his luck, he stammered as he struggled to keep the conversation going.
“Yeah. I've always liked trains. I often hang out at the station.” Robin replied, eventually.
“Oh, cool! Would you like to be my friend?”
Robin felt overwhelmed with joy. This was the first time in ages that anyone had bothered to ask him that particular question. He nodded, and Timothy grinned back at him.
“Timothy? Come inside, there's a good boy.”
“I'm talking to my new friend, Mom!”
“It's okay. You know where to find me. Go on, I've got to go and have my dinner anyway.” said Robin.
“Bye! See you tomorrow! Maybe we can go for a bike ride!”
“That sounds fun! Bye, Timothy!”
With that, Timothy went inside. Robin turned and headed back to his house. He couldn't help but smile. Finally! He had a friend. Even if he wasn't the same age, he was still a friend who liked trains. That was good enough for Robin.
The next morning, Robin was awoken by the sound of a large vehicle as it noisily attempted to navigate the street outside. The high-pitched beeps accompanied by the occasional hiss of the air brakes told him it was some kind of lorry. He looked out of his window at the street, and just managed to catch a glimpse of a shipping container, which was now beside Timothy's house.
”Wow! I've never seen the like,” Robin said to himself. He had seen containers on freight trains, but never seen had he seen one dropped off at a house like this. He stripped from his pajamas and hurriedly dressed himself in the same clothes he'd had on yesterday, he could hardly wait to go over and see Timothy. He made his way downstairs for breakfast.
After he had eaten his cereal, he went outside to see his new friend. He grinned as he spotted Timothy, once again dressed in the same blue shirt and orange shorts he'd seen yesterday.
“Where's my bike, daddy?” asked Timothy.
“We haven't got to it yet, buddy. I think it's behind all these boxes.”
“Oh, okay.” Timothy sighed. Then he turned to face Robin and his glum expression became much more bright and cheerful.
“Robin, look! I've found my train set!”
Timothy lifted the lid off of a green plastic box. Robin grinned back at him, and peered inside. It was a wooden train set, with lots of track pieces, some buildings, wagons, coaches and locomotives. He felt nostalgic as he gazed at it. He'd had a train set just like it when he was much younger. But then, he'd only been about six years old. Robin began to wonder just how old Timothy was. Awkwardly he stood there for a moment and pondered how to ask that question. In the end all he could think to ask Timothy what month his birthday was.
“I'm going to be eight, near the end of September!” came Timothy's reply.
There. Timothy was seven years old. This made Robin ponder even more. Was he too old to be Timothy's friend? When he was that age he was only in Year Two at school, now he was in Year Six. But then again, he was an only child. Robin had always wanted a little brother. If he did have a little brother he might even be Timothy's age. Also he was sure he'd played with several kids who were at least several years younger than him before, either at school or in various playgrounds.
“What about you?” Timothy asked, “When is your birthday?”
“Oh... I turned eleven back in October,” Robin answered.
“Wow, you're almost a year older than my big brother!”
“So, maybe you don't want to be my friend?” Robin sighed, he felt a heavy lump form in his chest.
“What?! No! I do!” Timothy cried, “That is, umm, if you still want to be my friend.”
“Well, we both like trains. Maybe you can come over to play, sometime.” invited Robin.
“Sure! That sounds great!” Timothy squeaked delightedly.
With that, Robin went back indoors. He felt a little uneasy with how young Timothy was, but then he thought about what life was like when he was Timothy's age and how he would have loved to have someone to look up to. Someone that didn't chastise him for his fondness of trains. He had never gotten his wish, but maybe he could be that someone to Timothy.
An hour later, while Timothy was busy with the retrieval of his toys and other belongings from the container, Robin decided to take a short walk along the canal. Just a little way along the gravel towpath brought him to the grounds of the pub with wooden picnic tables on the grass, shaded by half a dozen tall leafy trees and a couple of shorter bushy trees. A brick and mortar retaining wall separated it from the towpath, the difference in height meant both the grass and the top of the wall were at elbow-height for Robin. Slowly he ran the index finger of his left hand along it and felt the smooth texture of the bricks and the rougher texture of the mortar that separated them, while lost in thought.
Robin stopped at the end of the wall for a while and looked around. Two narrow-boats passed each other. A courting couple were sitting on the wooden benches. A woman threw a tennis ball for her dalmatian puppy. A couple of men rode past on their bicycles. The willow trees on the other side of the canal, which partially concealed a row of old houses. Even the trees had at least one companion. This made Robin feel deeply about his loneliness. Why shouldn't he have a friend, too?
After several minutes, Robin stood up and walked up the cobblestone incline to the High Street, he stood in the shadow of even more trees as he leaned on the parapet of the road bridge and faced the level crossing next to the railway station.
“I miss you, Justin,” Robin sighed. He looked wistfully over at what had been their favourite spot. Near the top of the footbridge with a perfect view of the platforms, the crossing and both tracks where they curved to the right towards London. His heart felt heavier than normal, with the pain that came from how much he yearned to have his old friend back in his life.
“Where's your friend, gay boy?” leered a voice, “Did he move away? Did he leave you all alone?”
“Yeah, gay boy! You're such a loser!”
Robin winced, that dreadful electric shock sensation in his spine made him freeze in place. He held his head in the palm of his hand for a second, the sensation moved up into his head and gave him that awful feeling of pins and needles on the brain. He took a deep breath and turned to face his adversary.
“Go away, Darren.”
For a moment, they stared at one another. Robin clenched his teeth and breathed heavily through them. He began to tremble. Darren and Joshua looked down upon him, the same way they always did.
“Come on, Josh. Let's go find Jake and have some fun.” Darren flounced.
“See ya. Wouldn't wanna be ya!” taunted Joshua.
The bullies took their leave. Robin continued to breath heavily. Once he had recovered, he walked in the other direction, towards the station. Maybe Timothy would be some welcome company after all. It would definitely be nice to not be alone, anymore. He looked back down at the grounds of the pub and thought about how they could enjoy a picnic, or a fish and chip supper, or even just a refreshing drink with a friend.
Robin looked all around, the village nearly always provided the best of both worlds. There was a sense of tranquility combined with the hustle and bustle of the commuter belt. He breathed in deeply. It really was a beautiful place. All he wished for was for someone to share it with.
Friday morning came in the form of a dreary, foggy day. The street outside was damp from the overnight rain. Robin sighed, and he looked out of his bedroom window. A few days had passed by since Timothy and his family had moved in to the neighbourhood. It was now the first of July.
School would be finished in a couple of weeks. There was just one ominous cloud on the proverbial horizon, that being the thought of going to a different school over a mile away in a couple of months, near Hoddesdon. It was a little daunting, but it was far enough away into the future. He was more concerned with something else, something he couldn't explain. He had searched for Timothy at break time or lunch at school, but alas, Timothy was nowhere to be seen. He had even waited for Timothy after school, but each time he had ended up all alone outside the gates. He couldn't explain why he could never find him. He definitely went to school, because he wasn't at home when Robin returned.
Robin dressed himself in his school uniform, a plain white polo shirt with a black pair of trousers. He then went downstairs and put on his red coat. He grabbed a couple of slices of bread from the cupboard and slid them into the toaster, and retrieved the butter and jam from the fridge.
As Robin finished his breakfast of toast and jam, he looked out of the kitchen window and saw Timothy walk past with his older brother. He scrambled to fetch his backpack and hurried outside to join them. David didn't pay any attention to Robin, while Timothy looked thrilled.
“Finally! I thought you just went to school early or something!” sighed Timothy.
Robin chuckled, he didn't even want to go to school on time, never mind early. Timothy had a puffy blue coat on with a similar black pair of trousers to Robin's. It was quite a change from his orange flame shorts and blue shirt. All-the-same, he was glad to see him.
“Well, I thought I would have met up with you in the playground, or after school. But I just thought you weren't looking for me, or maybe even avoiding me,” answered Robin.
“I looked for you in the playground every day, but I couldn't find you!” squeaked Timothy.
“This doesn't make sense, I mean, we should have seen each other at school by now?”
A few minutes later they reached the road junction where Lawrence Avenue joined the High Street, next to the level crossing, Robin turned to the right. However, Timothy and his brother turned left.
“Wait, where are you going?” called Robin.
“School's this way!” answered Timothy.
“No it isn't. It's- Oh...”
Robin's face fell. He realized what this meant, the feeling of disappointment hit him like a ton of bricks. Timothy didn't go to his school. That explained it all. He could hardly believe it.
“That's why we can never find each other. I go to the school at the end of the village!” cried Robin.
“I go to the school up the hill!”
For another moment, the two boys looked sadly at each other. Finally, David called out to Timothy.
“Come on, slowpoke! We'll be late again!”
Dejectedly, Robin sighed and waved to Timothy. When Timothy waved back, Robin called out to him.
“See you after school, Timothy!”
“Okay!”
With that, they went their separate ways. Robin couldn't help but feel a little downhearted. He finally had a friend, but he didn't even go to the same school. Furthermore, he was now a quarter-of-an-hour early since his school was only a ten minute walk away, while Timothy's was almost twice as far. Robin stood on the corner and looked over at the station. Some of the lamps were still turned on, the bulbous undersides of the electric lights gave off a warm, pale orange glow against the foggy backdrop that obscured the end of the platforms from view, and gave the signal box a fairly atmospheric silhouette. Finally, he took a deep breath and continued his journey to school.
Maths was the last class of the day. Robin sat quietly while Mr. West handed out a set of worksheets.
“This is the last practice you'll get before taking the standard tests next week,” announced Mr. West, “So if you do have anything that's still troubling you, this is the time to work on it.”
Once Robin had his worksheet, he held up his pencil and began to answer the questions. Most of them were fairly straight-forward multiplication, though a couple did still give him some issues. In particular, seven times seven was one that just didn't compute in Robin's mind. He knew that six times six was thirty-six, from memory. However, he just couldn't figure out the answer to that problem. Eight times eight posed a similar problem. Robin knew that nine times nine was eighty-one, though this was only because nine times ten was ninety, and subtracting nine was a simple continuation of the equation.
He took a break from the worksheet and looked out of the window, he couldn't help but think about Timothy. His friend wouldn't be working on multiplication, he'd most likely be working on addition and subtraction, like seven plus seven, or nineteen minus eight.
A memory resurfaced of when he was in Year Three, about the same age as Timothy. Seven plus seven similarly didn't compute for him then, because he had never actually been shown how to add numbers. Instead he relied on memory, and nothing came to mind as to what the answer to that was.
Robin turned his attention back at his math equation, but his eyes just drifted in and out of focus as he pondered what to do. Should he ask for help? No, previous experience had told him that asking for help was looked down upon, and it seemed to be a nuisance to the teachers when he had asked for assistance with this type of problem before.
“Ten minutes left, everyone.” called out Mr. West.
Robin took a deep breath and returned to his multiplication problems. Then he remembered just a month or so ago, he had been shown how to tackle complicated math problems like this and began to work on the two questions that had stumped him. Eight times eight... Eight times ten was eighty. Subtract eight from that equaled seventy-two, which was eight times nine. Then to subtract another eight equaled...
“Sixty-four.” Robin whispered to himself, he wrote the digits on his worksheet.
Now came the trickier question. Seven times ten was seventy. But the thought of subtracting seven from that figure more than a couple of times was a pretty daunting prospect, the chances of miscalculation were much higher. How could he make the equation less challenging? Seven times five? It took a couple of minutes for him to add seven up five times in his head, but eventually that came to thirty-five. He added in seven to that, which was forty-two, which he had to do again.
“Forty-Nine.”
Finally, Robin actually felt that he was ready for his maths test. He filled in the answer just as the school bell rang for the end of the day.
Some of Robin's classmates stood up to fetch their backpacks, but Mr. West sternly put his foot down.
“This isn't America! I know they get up and leave as soon as the bell rings. We don't! You aren't free to leave until I dismiss you! Now sit down, and I'll collect your worksheets.”
Several of the pupils moaned about this, but they all sat back down and waited, impatiently.
Once he got home, Robin changed out of his school uniform and into his olive green jacket and black jogging trousers. After he had had something to eat and drink, he went over to Timothy's house. The weather had improved considerably since the morning, the fog was gone, replaced by a pleasantly warm, sunny afternoon with a few puffy clouds in the sky. Timothy was outside, already dressed in his orange flame shorts and blue shirt. He squealed with delight when he saw Robin.
“Yay! You're here! Come on, let's go play with my train set!”
Robin chuckled as Timothy firmly gripped his hand and practically dragged him inside his house and led him up the stairs. Inside, it looked similar to his own house, but somehow bigger. Instead of just three bedroom doors, there were four. All identically white with two indentation patterns, the lower one was rectangular while the upper pattern had a rounded edge on top. He ran his fingertip along one of the patterns on the nearest door.
“No, not that one! That's David's room. This one is my bedroom.” said Timothy.
Robin grunted and turned his gaze towards Timothy. The door opened with a creak as Timothy pushed it open, and Robin gasped in awe when he glimpsed the sky-blue colour of the wall inside. He followed Timothy inside. He felt his feet touch the soft cream coloured carpet, and a pleasantly clean smell greeted his nostrils. His old friend's bedroom had occasionally smelled just like this. Another smell accompanied it, freshly-washed clothes. He felt nostalgic for a moment and closed his eyes, with a sigh. When he opened them, Timothy had disappeared.
“Timothy?” he called.
“Down here!” came his companion's muffled voice. “I'm trying to get my train set box out!”
Robin gazed downwards and chuckled, all he could see was Timothy's shorts, and his legs. He heard him grunt as he seemed to struggle underneath his bed, his socks slipped on the carpet. A soft squeaky rustle immediately intrigued Robin. What was that noise? It made his scalp tingle in that oddly pleasant way. He heard it again when Timothy's shorts moved with his legs, as his socks slipped again.
“Ah, got it!” came Timothy's muffled voice as he struggled to back out from under his bed.
Robin couldn't take his eyes off of Timothy's shorts as they made those sounds, but then he gazed at the green plastic box his companion had pulled from under his bed.
“I'm so glad I could bring these with me.” said Timothy, as he began to assemble his train set.
“Hey, you know what, I've actually got some of this tucked away in my loft. I haven't played with them for years. I'll bring those over next time.”
“Cool!” answered Timothy, “You can help me to build the best train set ever!”
Robin chuckled and obliged, before long both of them had built an impressive layout, they pushed the little wooden trains along the tracks, over bridges, and through tunnels.
“This is my favourite engine,” said Robin, he held a little green four-wheeled steam locomotive in his right hand, “I think he's cute, and green is my favourite colour.”
Timothy chuckled, he held up a much bigger black engine with eight wheels, “This one can pull any train with no trouble at all. It's big and strong, like how I wanna be. It's my favourite.”
Robin continued to play with Timothy. He realized, at that moment, for the first time in ages he felt truly happy. For the first time in years, he felt like he belonged. Even though Timothy was nearly four years younger than him, he felt more complete than he'd ever felt before. The one thing that had been missing from his life, a real friend, was no longer absent.
For over an hour, Robin and Timothy played together. When it was dinner time, Robin had to go home. Timothy looked disappointed that his friend wasn't allowed to stay for dinner, but Robin reminded him that he would bring his old train set over, which would let them make an even bigger and better train set together next time. This seemed to satisfy Timothy and with that, Robin returned home.
“How did you get on with your pal, Robin?” asked Mum.
“It was so much fun. It reminded me of playing with my friend, Justin.” replied Robin, “I'll never forget the last time we played with his train set.”
Robin's Dad frowned, “You mean when you invited yourself over to my boss's house, just because you wanted to play with Justin's train set? The only reason we went over there was so I could find out why my boss didn't give me the raise he promised me.”
Robin held his breath as his Dad took on the condescending tone of voice, it made him feel like he'd done something wrong and was being told off. The twinge of that dreaded tingle when it trickled up his spine was combined with the instance of feeling too hot, and then a second or so of the pins and needles in his head. He couldn't find any words to respond. It was true, but what exactly was wrong with that? His Dad seemed annoyed, which made Robin feel like he had to hide, to withdraw himself from reality, a feeling of being unsafe. He didn't dare to speak another word in case it made his Dad raise his voice and cause yet another twinge of pain to ring through his head.
“Sorry,” Robin finally mumbled, he sat down for dinner and tried to think about Timothy instead. Maybe he could go and play with him again tomorrow. But then Mum spoke.
“We're going to visit your Aunt and Uncle tomorrow. So make sure you have a bath tonight and put clean clothes on tomorrow, okay? I'll put those in the washing machine before we leave.”
Robin groaned in response, it was never a pleasant experience for him when he had to visit his relatives. They always went by car, and Mum and Dad would spend hours just talking with his Aunt and Uncle while he was always bored after the first ten minutes. They lived in Buntingford, a town which took half an hour to travel to. There was no train station to go to, and his cousins never wanted to watch any of his train themed videos, which was the only thing he was allowed to do there.
“Can't I stay here?” asked Robin.
“No, you're not old enough, nor are you mature enough to be left here on your own.” grunted Dad.
