The Fix - Chapter Three

For a summary of what's happened in previous chapters, please see author notes.

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The train jerks into Stratford Station. Georgia takes a step closer to the automatic doors, brushing back her golden hair. I stand up. She’s getting off.

The doors slide open and Georgia steps onto the platform. A cool breeze whips at my hair as I step out. I sprint after her, keeping enough distance between us so she doesn’t see me following. It’s too crowded. I’m going to lose her. God, I can’t breathe. I shove past a man talking on the phone and don’t look back when he shouts after me.

She’s walking in the tunnel now. My shoulders relax a little. She’s in sight. I watch her run up the steps of platform 5 and follow. People stream towards me as I climb. They all seem to be on their phones, paying no attention to the direction they’re walking in. A train must’ve pulled in. I need to hurry.

I leap frog up the last few steps and my feet slam onto the platform. There’s a train just to my left. There’s Georgia, still a few paces away, waiting to get on board, there are still plenty of people getting off. She gets onto the train. It’s now or never. There’s a bleeping noise to announce the trains about to close its doors, and I jump on, clutching my chest. The doors shut behind me. Thank God I made it. I fall onto a pole and grab hold of it as the train judders away from the platform. 

Georgia’s sitting now a few seats away from me. I’m going to have to keep an eye on her. Where does this train even go? I find a spare seat and sit. I look up at the screen which tells me the next station is Romford. So I’m not going to be too far out from where I live, at least that’s something. I relax into the seat, knowing it’s going to be a good fifteen minutes or so before the train pulls into the station. Just keep your head down and don't look at her.

The announcment on the tannoy makes me jerk forward in my seat. The man sitting opposite me glares as my knee grazes his. I mouth an apology and fix my eyes on Georiga. She's getting up. 

I tense. The train’s pulling into Romford station. The doors fly open. I jump up. There seems to be a mass exodus of people filing out onto the platform. No, please don’t let me lose her. Everyone's moving too slowly. But there she is. Okay, calm down, breathe.

We all file through into the main station where the ticket barriers are. I touch down using my card and burst out onto the street outside. Above a train roars as it shoots across the bridge. Beside me there’s a young busker trying to impersonate Ed Sheeran, but he’s not doing a great job.

My eyes clap on The Goose pub to my right, and I stop in my tracks. It's an old haunt from when I was in my twenties. A vision enters my head of me tumbling out of the doors, grabbing hold of my friend's arms, singing some football chant, and punching the air with my fist. I can’t believe how much Romford’s changed since I used to come here. It's got; I hate to say it, dirtier. A McDonald's plastic cup rolls towards me, crackling on the pavement, and an overweight man, who looks as though he's already had a few pints, lumbers in my direction. I dive out of the way. 

I glance to my right and spot Georgia heading further down South Street, past the pub. I follow, keeping my head down. I move out of the way of a bunch of kids laughing and joking as they make their way towards the station. A whiff of weed hits me in the face which makes me cough.

Georgia’s turning left now. I cross the road, picking up my pace, my heart lurching in my chest when the bus that’s turning into the road toots its horn. The driver shouts something at me, which makes me curl my fists, but I ignore him.

I continue to follow Georgia for another ten minutes at least. It’s starting to drizzle now; the water’s stinging my eyes. I shiver. She’s turned off into a quieter side street and at last pulls out a set of keys. I stop, and watch her slide the keys into a lock of a house a few paces away, and then the front door slams shut, making me flinch.

This is where she lives. I can’t believe I’ve followed her all the way back here. It was that easy. If I hadn’t focused as much as I had on her during the trial, there was no way I would’ve recognised her.

Now what do I do? I hold my hand up to my forehead. When she realises who I am she’s going to . . . I have no idea how she’s going to react.

Taking in a deep breath I march up to her front door. The houses down this street are all the same, all little semi-detached Victorian properties. A car whizzes past me as I stride up her drive. 

I knock on the door and wait. She’s probably in the kitchen making a cup of tea. I rub my hands together. Then a face appears at the window and the door is wrenched open.

‘Yes, can I help?’ she asks, still holding onto the door frame.

What the hell am I doing?

I swallow. There's nothing for it now. ‘I . . . I was wondering.’ I can't think straight. The world seems to tip on its axis. 

My knees give way beneath me and Georgia cries out.

‘Oh my God, are you alright?’

I can’t respond. Instead everything around me fades to black.