Never Too Late To Explore - 13. Adventure

Eric arrived at the train station out of breath. Although the bus dropped him off quite close-by, he was scared he'd miss the next departure to Leominster. He checked his watch again: fifteen minutes to go. Often he didn't bother wearing it. Why should he? But with catching trains, he thought the watch essential. Hardly anywhere displayed a clock nowadays; though as he walked in, he spotted one high up on a wall.

Now what he needed was a ticket. He looked for the booking office and found it easily enough. There was a problem though. A frown appeared. How was he supposed to buy his ticket if the place was shut up? Both positions had the blind down and a notice which stated 'Position Closed'. He swore under his breath. The website had urged him to buy his tickets online and now he knew why. How the hell did other people manage to travel? He wasn't going to give up. Or not yet, at least. There had to be another way round it. He stood there, trying to decide what to do next.

“The booking office only opens at peak times.”

Eric turned to see the speaker, another man about his age, approach him. He sighed – even he knew Thursday lunchtime wasn't a busy time.

“You'll either need to use the ticket machine…” The other man waved an arm in its general direction. “Or you'll have to pay the guard on the train.”

“Oh… Err… Thanks.” He decided to investigate the machine, if only to avoid making polite conversation.

Although he appreciated the help, he didn't want to be distracted. It was all so different from catching his usual bus. Another look at his watch calmed his nerves: he still had twelve minutes. A fish in his coat pocket produced his all-important piece of paper. On it he'd listed what type of ticket he needed, its cost – £6.70 – and the times of the trains to and from Leominster. There was plenty of room for him to note anything else he needed, and he remembered to put a pencil into his bag. Eric was pleased with his preparations. Before he went to bed the night before, he made sure to put the bag, and its contents, somewhere he couldn't forget it.

The cost of the ticket still made his jaw drop. Too many years of relying on his free bus pass, he supposed. Still, he hadn't spent anything during his stay with the lads. For once, he could loosen the purse strings a little. Peering at the machine, he guessed it only took cards, not cash. Anyway, it looked far too complicated for him to master in the limited time available. He'd have to pay the conductor in any case: he didn't have anything other than cash.

A couple of times recently, Andy pressed him to get a bank card. Eric shrugged. He'd never seen the need. Official payments like his council tax and the electric came straight out of his account because they didn't accept any other method. Otherwise, he relied entirely on cash. He'd always thought it easier to budget that way – he knew exactly what he'd got left in his pocket. His computer was changing his mind, little by little. He realised that to buy anything from the internet would need something other than a few coins. Getting a card would mean another trip into the city – the local branch of his bank closed the year before.

He squinted up at the digital display, trying to see which of the two platforms he needed to be on. Then he noticed a sign on the wall: 'Trains to Leominster and Shrewsbury, this platform'. Pleased, he relaxed a little, before realising he would have to cope with the two flights of steps over the railway lines on his way back. At least he could take his time. He grabbed his piece of paper again. When did his return train get him back? He did still have to catch the bus home. Having settled his mind, Eric sat down on one of the cold metal seats.

Cash appeared to be on the way out. Or rather, he found getting hold of cash was more difficult. He nearly despaired when his bank closed. In fact, he would've done if they hadn't made an arrangement with the Post Office in the main square. Every Tuesday, he went in with his chequebook and withdrew his week's money. The bank only did it under pressure from his local MP – a sop to people like him who would never use the app they forced others to. Eric struck the platform with his stick in annoyance. Who were they to assume so much? He didn't even own a mobile phone, yet he had money and needed access to it. The other alternative would be to change his bank. Knowing his luck, he'd choose another which would also leave the town. It sounded like a question for Andy.

He sat up, noticing the other people moving towards the platform edge. The train drew into the station, just giving him enough time to stand up and get himself sorted. Leominster, next stop.

Eric made sure he sat in a window seat, facing the direction of travel. The train was far from full, with only a few other passengers in his carriage. Heart racing a little, he felt both nervous and excited. Would he remember to get off at the right stop? He rescued a small packet of cheese sandwiches out of his bag and balanced them on his knee. He couldn't bring to mind the last time he'd eaten a meal on the move. Or when he last made a journey on the railway. When would the conductor come round? It didn't feel right to travel without paying. He opened up the greaseproof paper with care, hoping it might be used again. Although he found the roll of paper at the back of a cupboard, he'd didn't discover anything which he might use to carry a drink.

As he ate, he searched his memory, while also keeping an eye on where they were. He knew the journey wasn't long – only fifteen minutes or so. When had he last been on a train? An image flashed up; one long forgotten, of he and his mother journeying to visit her sister. He must've been only in his early teens. Why they went, he had no idea, but he clearly saw the old-fashioned, compartmentalised carriage in his mind's eye. He spent most of the time crammed in between his mother and a fat, older man who stank of sweat. Eric stopped eating for a second and smiled slightly. Strange he should've stored that away.

Sandwiches finished, he relaxed. The conductor had just passed through and issued him a ticket. Eric leant his head back against the seat rest. Sleep overtook him until he jolted awake from the doze, heart thumping. The train was slowing down. He stared out of the window, trying desperately to work out where they were. He saw a town in the distance, but he didn't recognise any of the features.

Then he heard the conductor make a general announcement. We are approaching Leominster. Leominster is our next station stop.

Eric took a deep breath. That was close. Still, there he was, at the start of his adventure. First thing he needed once he left the station was a drink. A half of bitter had never seemed so attractive.

At much the same time, Andy sat in a pub garden eating an al fresco lunch. The Fox was a favourite stopping-off point: good food, fresh cider, and a properly tended garden. It was mostly a low-lying rock and gravel garden with some substantial planters for visual variety. All the plants were doing well and the pretty pink dianthus looked gorgeous against the grey gravel. He basked in the spring sunshine, chewing his way through a generously-filled pear and Stilton sandwich. The wedges of local bread – he could hardly call them slices – tasted wonderfully nutty. To give his jaw a rest, he put the sandwich down and concentrated instead on the dressed green salad. He picked at the leaves, contemplating a phone call to his fiancé.

They usually spoke around lunch-time – just touching base for a few minutes chat before they returned to their respective work. Adam was more than usually involved in a case that week. One of his specialisms was arbitration: trying to get the parties to settle a case before it reached the courts. Andy smiled to himself. He'd be completely crap at that. Remaining impartial in a dispute, even one that didn't impact on him, was impossible. Adam enjoyed the complex work: negotiating both the legal points of the case and the ever-shifting human relationships that surrounded it. For the past couple of weeks, a particularly knotty family trust dispute took up all his mental energy. They talked about other things over supper, then Adam went back to his work, marking that day's progress and preparing for the next. Even when Eric stayed, time for work still had to be carved out.

Although he was used to Adam's infrequent bouts of introversion, it meant he hadn't been able to raise the subject of his mother. Now two days later, he decided it couldn't wait any longer. It sounded as though the case was coming to an end, hopefully, so he would use their phone call to tell Adam there was something else that needed his attention when he got home. He tapped on the shortcut.

Hi, gorgeous. I was just thinking about you.

Andy smirked to himself. That sounded promising. “Hi, yourself, sweetie.” He put as much suggestiveness into those three words as he could. The low chuckle he received in reply sent a shiver through him. “How's the judgement of Solomon coming along?”

Thank, god! It's settled. Finally. Not all the parties are equally happy, but it's done nevertheless. We thought at one point it would need another couple of days. I'm really pleased with how it's gone.

“Oh, yeah?” Andy picked his sandwich up and nibbled round the edges.

Of course! Another chuckle took the edge off what otherwise might sound like boasting. It's a real buzz when something like this is solved. My senior partner's pretty damned pleased as well. The fees payable alone should get me into his good books.

He felt a tightness in his jeans – Adam buoyed up like that was often the signal for some great sex later in the day. On the phone he heard the faint sound of a door being closed, followed by a click of a lock. His cock chubbed more. “Hmm?”

Just making sure nobody barges in for next few minutes. Wouldn't want any of my more conservative colleagues listening in, would we?

Andy's cock twitched and his cheeks burned. Winning – or settling – a case enhanced Adam's dominant streak. While neither of them were into S&M, they both thought the occasional roleplay was sexy. They loved to spice up their bedroom activities once in a while. When Eric stayed with them, they'd hardly done anything beyond sucking each other off.

He got into character. “No, indeed not.”

OK… I'll be home around six. When I arrive, I expect you to be there, at the front door, waiting for me.

“Yes.” Andy looked round, checking no-one else was within listening distance. “What are your instructions?”

He listened as his fiancé outlined his plan. There was nothing new, but the relative novelty would get them both going. It would serve as a prelude to a vigorous fucking. Andy shivered again and became very conscious of his nether regions.

A short, low growl in his ear increased his discomfort. At this rate he'd leak pre-cum soon.

I can hardly wait.

Neither could he. … Andy took a deep breath. They both needed to cool down.

He went back to being himself. “Oh yeah? I don't know what you're doing at this moment, but why don't you unlock your door? Imagine what'd happen if while you're on the phone to me, that homophobic cow of a receptionist came in and saw you stroking your cock through your trousers?”

Huh? Thanks for that. Eugh! And I'm not, for your information.

“Get back to work, tiger.” He sniggered briefly, then changed tone. “Actually, I need to talk to you later, after everything else.”

OK… Sorry, I know I've been selfish with my time this week. Adam matched him for changing his tone. What's up?

“It's not something we can talk about over the phone.”

You sound serious?

“Yeah, I am, but it can wait a little.”

Sure?

“Yeah. Let's have our fun first, then supper. We can talk then.”

You're getting me worried.

“It's nothing about you and me, love. Put it away until supper. You're good at that.” He was.

OK… get something quick and easy to eat.

“Fish?”

Sounds good. Another shift. Make sure you're in position later, or there'll be trouble.

Andy rolled his eyes. “Yes, sir.”

They were both laughing as he cut the call. Adam's threat was only as real as their game plan allowed it to be. The smile slipped off his face. Unlike the situation Felicity found herself in. Feeling instantly sober, Andy drained his glass and went back inside to pay his tab.

Eric stood on the station forecourt in Leominster, wondering where he should go next. Only a few people got off the train with him, and they all dispersed in different directions. A phone tutorial with Andy the previous day introduced him to online maps. He managed to call up a local plan of the town, but of course now, he remembered virtually nothing. It was a pity his laptop wasn't there with him.

A motherly woman stopped on her way past. “The bus stop's just over there, love. It'll drop you in the centre of town. Only takes a couple of minutes.” She looked at her phone. “The next one'll be along soon enough. Better than walking if you're getting on a bit.”

Eric saw the stops now she pointed them out. “Ah … Thanks. That's very helpful.” Twice in one day, a stranger had stopped to help him.

“Not a problem. You have a good day now.”

The woman bustled off towards the station car park. He crossed over the road and joined the two other older men who were already waiting. They took no notice of him, continuing their spirited exchange. He listened in to their complaints of shop closures, the decline in public transport, and how the price of everything went up all the time. He grimaced – nothing new there. Just as the other two got launched on the closure of the local police station, the bus pulled up. Eric scrabbled in his pocket for his pass before he boarded for the next brief section of his adventure.

Some forty minutes later, he took another gulp of his beer and watched the world outside go by from his warm seat in The Dukes Head. Another five minutes, then he'd better return to the plant shop, and the one that sold artists' stuff. He was used to fitting in his shopping against bus timetables. At least the walk from the bus to the pub reminded him where both shops were. He wasn't going to waste time wandering around, given his ankle still wasn't right. There'd be plenty of opportunity to rubberneck on some other trip. Eric gave a wry smile. He'd not even finished his first excursion before thinking there might be another one.

Looking out at the busy lunchtime scene, he focussed on one bloke who stood across the street, outside Boots, with his back to him. The man chatted with a couple of friends, using both his hands – and indeed his arms – to illustrate or add extra weight to whatever he was saying. Something about those gestures niggled at Eric. He forgot about his drink and concentrated on grabbing hold of the snatches of memory that floated around inside his head. Then the bloke moved slightly to give a more side-on view. Eric gasped. That beard! God, what was his name? Bob. No, Rob? … Rob what? He let that puzzle go, instead concentrating on getting his thoughts together. The beard sealed it – that pointed, almost sculpted look hadn't changed in over three decades. It was greyer, but the shade of blonde was much the same as before. Blimey.

Eric sat back in his seat. The other man joined his group of estate workers in the mid-eighties to learn the traditional ways of working with timber and stone. That, and his beard, made him stand out at a time when both were seldom seen. A younger man, he'd left an office job in the city. Working in a bank or some such. Eric sighed. With his new self-awareness, he could admit now that his younger self found the other man attractive, though at the time he would've scarcely allowed himself to even think it. Somewhat taller and more muscled than he, Rob quickly became a fixture. His open, friendly attitude gained him mates amongst the other workers. Though looking back, he wondered how close he let anyone get?

Was the other man gay? He had no idea. Rob stuck it out for three or four years before he moved on to other projects elsewhere. For all Eric knew, he might have a wife and three kids. They never saw him with a partner of any kind during the time he knew him. But there again, he recalled wondering whether a divorce was the driving force behind Rob's change of direction. Some time later, he heard Rob returned to the area and apparently stayed for another couple of years before again moving off. Eric sighed. He hadn't tried to contact the other man; they'd hardly even been acquaintances really. Did he live in the town now? He looked out of the pub window to see the group had dispersed. His usual sense of regret came to the fore: looking back, he felt Rob would've become a friend, if he'd allowed himself to lower his barriers.

Eric frowned. What was Rob's surname? He shrugged. Finishing his drink, he got himself ready to go back outside to spend some money.