--Back-on-Track-- Read online

  Mike went to his sister’s room, across the other side of the house and saw her curled up in bed, her head resting on her knees. When she looked at him, he saw the tears coming from pink, sore eyes.

  “Mike, I’m scared about Dad,” she said as he hugged her. Moments later, the banging stopped: and the usual train sounds that rang out in the house were no more.

  Mike had a thought. He ran downstairs quickly and pulled out the ball of screwed-up paper, flattened out the creases and started to read:

  Dear Mr Harper,

  It is with regret, having considered it carefully, that we no longer require your services.

  We thank you for the service you have provided for our clients in the past and wish you well in the future.

  Yours sincerely,

  Ms Pinker (Suddenly changing to Ms Fat Stinker -- with the ‘Fat’ added and the P lined out, ‘S’ and ‘t’ written above it.)

  Mike had just added the last part. He may not have known all of the words, but he knew the meaning of the letter, and how it fully explained why Dad was so angry and upset. Money was tight enough for them and he knew that the agency, which now didn’t want him anymore, had been messing him around as he worked hours he never used to do before. He had often been called out for the same night to do work, as no one else could do it. It seemed the agency had only called him when they were desperate, leading to him and his sister being rushed to Grandad’s at the last minute.

  Mike heard the front door slam and a booming sound again, this time however it was just the car with its usual painful starting noises. Mike found Layla reading a quickly scrawled note that Dad had left on the fridge.

  Back soon kids, nothing to worry about, just had to fix something upstairs that broke.

  Love Dad.

  Layla gave a knowing look to Mike. He turned away from her to walk back to his room, his head down. It was when he reached the top of the stairs he nearly fell back down them, as the stairs to the attic had been left half hanging down. Mike jumped and pulled them down fully, then quickly went up to the attic.

  What met his eyes was even worse than he imagined: complete and utter destruction. It looked like a train station did in those old black-and-white pictures he saw from the Second World War. Pieces of track lay strewn across the floor and over the table where his dad did his signalling. There was nothing left of the signal box now, though. Most of the trains had been smashed in two or more pieces and the miniature houses on the track looked like they had been in a hurricane. Scatted sheep were in the fields and on the platforms now also; the engine shed’s roof was half-hanging off and the red phone box on its side, smashed-up like many found in the streets.

  Everything was broken.

  Just like Dad, he realised.

  He was broken and he had to fix him somehow. But how? Where to even start?, he asked himself once again.

  Mike noticed something underneath the debris. He pulled up a shed and saw two of the miniature people on the floor. The one they called Dad -- they’d painted it the same colour as his favourite clothes, was there. At his side was the woman with the red lipstick, looking . . . scared? or was he just imagining it.

  “Layla, come up here, do you see it? How things have landed?”

  She came upstairs and noticed also. They looked at each other and knew what they had to do.

 

  Chapter 6

  The Plan

  The next day Mike and Layla were at a library computer, searching for dating sites. They had brought a picture they had found of Dad looking happy and smart which they scanned on the system. There were so many dating sites, though, it was hard to know which to use. Most said they were only free for 30 or 60 days. Layla and Mike knew it would not take any time at all, once others on the sites saw how amazing Dad was, so this wasn’t going to be a problem. Many had names like FindaFriend or FriendlyMeetings on the search results, which they didn’t quite understand, as Dad did not need a friend, he needed someone to look after him like Mother had.

  Layla had just finished putting in the final details for Dad’s profile for one.

  Loves: Trains, models (trains), children and looking after people.

  Hates: Pickled onions, loneliness and station closures.

  About me: I am a railway enthusiast who loves his children very much. I am great at making funny noises and hugging.

  Mike had completed the second profile where there was a slightly different layout. With both fingers crossed, and Layla doing the same, he tried to click submit to put it online. It turned out to be difficult with the fingers crossed to do this, so, using all his hope he unthreaded them and then clicked.

  You are now online and will be notified when someone messages or clicks on Like You.

  Now they just had to wait for all the messages and Like You’s to come through . . .

  It was with great disappointment that when Mike checked the next day, there was nothing -- not one message or even a Like You. Despondently, Mike went to the corner of the library and began his homework, the Periodic Table being even more painful than usual.

  When Mike got back home, he found his father watching the TV in the front room.

  “Hey, son! How is my Mikey-boy?” he said in a cheery tone, although Mike could sense he was putting on a brave face to make amends for yesterday.

  “I am good thanks, Dad . . . and you?”

  “Could not be better, Mikey! Could not be better at all! Bury Station is having a special steam exhibition at the weekend, I cannot wait!”

  “Great, Dad . . . I better find Layla to catch-up with her,” Mike said, feeling uncomfortable.

  “Good lad, yes that’s good of you. OK, son. Speak to you later.”

  Layla was already waiting for him before he got up the stairs, where she silently signalled him over into her room.

  “Five, six or more? How many messages did we get?”

  “Layla, well . . .”

  “Come on doofus, tell me, was it more?”

  “None, Layla.”

  “Yeah I thought so. Had to be that many! What? Did you just say none?”

  “I did. Give it time, though, I’m sure we will get lots soon. It is Dad, after all!”

  “Yeah sure . . . You’re right!” Layla sounded as confident as Mike. He knew they were getting ahead of themselves. It was the waiting that was difficult, as they could see that Dad still wasn’t himself, even if he tried to act like he was.

  Mike thought to himself, They will come, the messages will come. This made him think about aliens and how people were always saying the same thing: that they would come down to see how we were or ‘make contact’. But they never called, they never wrote, they never even sent someone a Like You on a dating site! Anyway Mike thought, he did not want an alien for his dad, just a human would do, one that would look after him and make him feel good -- well, ideally out of this world at times also.

  Mike and his sister were determined to find Dad love. Together they would keep trying until they found him the perfect-suited-person.com.

  Chapter 7

  Tea-Strainer

  It had been two weeks since Mike and Layla had first set up profiles for their father on the dating websites. They had later added his profile to more sites also, to increase their chances: slightly-desperate-dating.co.uk and dating-struggles.org.uk had brought a number of messages for Mike and his sister to sieve through, but although the quantity had increased, the quality had definitely not!

  They had found a woman who liked trains they thought was a dead cert for a date with Dad. On checking Bertha’s profile picture, however, they found a toad-like face looking back with one eye and a hairy top lip. She did seem nice, as Layla said, but they knew they could do much better for Dad. As Mike had responded at the time, “We might as well set Dad up with Margery the Meal Murderer!!!”

  They were not all bad though -- some even had two eyes -- but now that they were receiving lots of offers for dates, they realised i
t was harder than they’d expected. They had been desperate for replies and interest for their dad. Now they wanted less so they could make the best decision for him and the family. (That is to say, Layla and Mike had to like her too, of course!)

  A shortlist of three had been carefully and painfully selected, after scrutinising their pictures and profiles countless times:

  1.Sarah, with bright blue eyes and a nice smile who liked the outdoors (which hopefully included train stations);

  2.Ruby, with short brown hair and deep-red lipstick, who liked cooking (good luck with our stocks Mike thought -- what exactly can you make with mould?); and

  3.Emma, who was blonde with a slightly crooked smile but who liked travelling (again hopefully using trains as a main form of transportation).

  The problem was that they were not all so close to where they lived. Only Emma lived within a fifteen-minute drive on checking this, which was really annoying as she was the one who liked travelling! Also, it was difficult to know how to setup a meeting without offending, or worse, upsetting Dad.

  Layla suggested that they arrange a setup chance meeting where they could tell the lucky woman that he preferred for them to act as if they never emailed before. Or they could just come clean and tell them that they had set it up for Dad. Mike was worried this would scare them off -- finding out his children were interfering would likely do this, but Layla thought they might see it as “sweet, hopefully!?”

  So they’d done it; sending Emma an email requesting a set-up chance meeting, asking first if she would go along with the idea. She had replied and said it was an unexpected request, but she said she would be shy on meeting, so it might work better that way. Mike and Layla had been delighted, jumping in the air then hugging each other when they read this. The knockout blow came only a day later after they had listed some options for meeting: a train station, a garage -- with Dad’s car always breaking down, or another train station. The reply received was short, deflating them both into the bottom of their chairs:

  Hi Michael,

  Thank for your email. I like the idea of a chance meeting, but I am sorry I will not be able to do this. I am really sorry if I wasted your time, I just can’t.

  Kind regards,

  Emma

  They did not bother looking at any of the accounts they had created for the next two days, being too demoralised to check. It had been worse as neither Sarah, nor Ruby, had replied to the same message they had sent about creating a chance encounter situation.

  It was Layla who finally convinced him to meet her at the library again, to check for new messages. She told him to meet her straight after the final class before they left for home. Mike had reluctantly agreed.

  Mike found her at the corner of the library on one of the new PCs the school had bought recently, which shone in bright orange. The colour made sense, as it was an Orange 2000 computer, his friend Rashid would tell him endlessly about its great spec (specifications apparently) but Mike was not really interested in any of that right now.

  “Hey, bro, don’t look soo down, we haven’t even checked yet! I am sure one of them will have replied by now.” Layla said with an enthusiast smile, which always made her nose wrinkle slightly where she had got sunburnt in the past.

  “OK, Layla, let’s see if you are right,” Mike said in a low tone.

  Logging in to the required accounts for Sarah and Ruby (Ruby was actually on two dating sites) they found a number of messages again, but Mike and Layla ignored these for now, looking only at the names of the senders.

  Sender:

  Margery (really hope it’s not that one!)

  Vera

  Martha

  Hyacinth

  Ruby

  Barbara

  “THERE!” Layla shouted then realising where she was, quickly put her head down before the librarian Ms Catherines looked over with the cold stare she gave when people talked too loudly in the Library. Some said if you looked into her eyes too long you would turn to stone, or at least feel a bit rocky.

  “There,” she whispered and pointed at Ruby’s name on the list that Mike had nearly missed. There was no sign of Sarah but they had ‘Red Ruby’, the name they called her after seeing her powerful (only slightly clownish) trout-pout.

  Mike held his breath and clicked the mouse (which was actually the shape of a satsuma) as the message slowly opened before them:

  Michael,

  Many thanks for your email that I received slightly later than expected, due to being away for a short trip to the coast. I like the idea, as you know I did some acting in the past so creating a chance meeting scenario sounds fun. There is a lovely new coffee house in Cutherly I would like to meet you at, it’s on Broad Terrace Road. Say Saturday around 1 p.m. How does that sound?

  Look forward to hearing from you soon.

  Regards,

  Ruby

  Without any hesitation, Mike looked at Layla who started typing furiously to say that would be fine and he looked forward to seeing her soon. They did not want to delay further by trying to set up another location when Ruby had already given a day and time. Click and it was sent.

  Now all they had to do was to try and get Dad to go to the place. Seeing as though he only ever drunk tea and never had been to one of these popular coffee places, it was not going to be so easy.

  Saturday morning came after making noises all week about how they wanted to go to the local train station -- it was all they could think of.

  “But there is no Steam Gala this weekend kids, not even a model railway exhibition.” Their father was scratching his head a little.

  “Yes, Dad, we know,” Layla said with her best enthusiastic voice, “but as you have said yourself, there does not need to be another reason to see a station, as seeing it is as good a reason as any!”

  “Well, dear, you have me there. I just thought as we have not been together for a while, you wouldn’t be so interested in a non-event day.”

  “It is always an event to go to a train station,” Mike chipped in to make his father smile. This was another saying he often used.

  “OK we shall go to your favourite then, Rauntingston Station then, kids, eh?”

  “Nooo,” Mike and Layla both said together, too keenly.

  “We prefer Cutherly Station, Dad,” Mike said to try and rescue the situation. “We decided that recently, didn’t we, Layla?”

  “Yes that’s right, we changed our favourite one,” Layla said, trying not to give anything away. Their father looked slightly suspicious, but only for a moment.

  “Ahh, of course, they have repainted the turntable there a darker shade of black than before; now I see why it’s your favourite!”

  “Erm . . .” Mike began.

  “Yes, that’s it, Dad, exactly!” Layla said straight away.

  “Right, kids, the adventure starts, get your coats! I will pour another pint of oil in the car, so it’s ready for the journey.” Their father was now beaming. Mike and Layla wiped the sweat from their heads and breathed a huge sigh of relief. Layla gave Mike a light dig in the right arm as she went up the stairs.

  “Doofus!” she said with a cheeky smile.

  They had spent a good few hours at the station and Mike could not stop looking at the large clock at the station-end, which had patches of green paint missing. It read 12.00. They had to get moving fast, as it was around a thirty-minute walk to the coffee shop and they wanted Dad to get there first.

  The plan had been carefully practiced in Layla’s room. He looked over at Layla to wink, which was her cue.

  “Daaad, I am so thirsty and tired, I need a coffee!” Layla said with a sweet but painful expression on her face.

  “Coffee, dear? I didn’t know you drank coffee? Aren’t you a little young for that!?” (Oops, Mike thought.)

  “Dad, please I am so tired I’m going to fall asleep. Samantha’s mother gave us some and it helped so much!”

  “I need coffee too, Dad” to make his father l
ook completely befuddled now.

  “You as well, Mikey, but you drink tea like your old man, you always have!” His father scratched his head.

  “Tea is out of fashion now, Dad, and er, didn’t you know that (think of something Mikey) that there is a new coffee shop that has gingerbread pieces shaped like trains?”

  “Steam or electric?”

  “Steam ones, Dad,” Mike said nervously.

  “Why didn’t you say that in the first place? It all makes perfect sense now, who could resist eh?! Come on then, let’s go and get one to share, I think I have just enough money, maybe even to also get one of those small express train coffees I heard about.”

  All three walked back up from the station platform out onto the road and towards the main high street, Broad Terrace Road being just off it.

  Dad kindly got them both a babyccino -- the waitress seemed to guess Dad wanted an espresso in the end, after some confusion. They had gingerbread men, but no gingerbread trains surprisingly!! Mike coughed and told Dad they must have run out. “I am not surprised. They must have gone like hot cakes!,” he said, seeming more than satisfied with this explanation.

  Layla had picked a table not too far from the door so they would be able to spot Ruby. Her bright lips would probably be seen across the street anyway, Mike thought.

  Mike looked up at the clock. It read 12.55 p.m. and then stopped.

  Or so it felt, as he kept looking at it and saw Layla doing the same, but it did not seem to move or took much, much longer than usual to do so. Luckily Dad did not seem to notice, as he had his head in a railway timetable . . .

  It finally read 1.10 p.m. but there was no sign of Ruby. Where is she? A fixed look said from Layla to Mike.

  Then he saw her, crossing the street, like a bright red jewel shining out in the earth. Those lips were beaming in the rays of sunlight. She had just put her hand on the door and was about to enter---