Short Story ~ Remember the Days of the Quiet Coach?
Quiet Coach ~ Liverpool to London Euston
Short Story
May 31, 2012
Ah lovely. Nice and quiet. Long journey ahead of me. Just three stops though before hitting Euston...
‘Tinn, tinn, tinn, boompf, boompf, boompf, tinn boompf, tinn boompf, boompf tinn boo…
Excuse me, but can you just drop the volume a bit, please?
Sorry? What mate? I CAN’T HEAR YOU.
Well take the ear phones off.
Hey what? (Getting hostile).
This is the quiet coach. Look (pointing at the sign) ‘Q U I E T C O A C H’ – so I don’t want to listen to your music.
Oh. Bloody stupid.
Mate. Just turn it down okay?
Heads all around ducked down below the seats, all heaving relief that someone challenged the guy.
Settling back down. Get the coffee out. Feeling good that the guy didn’t kick off.
5 minutes, 10 minutes, 15 minutes. Great. Yep, I’ll defo always head for the quiet coach from now on.
Rinnggggggggggggggg.
The blond red-varnished girl about town grabs for her handbag.
Feeling sorry for her – she’s trying to get to it to switch it off, looking at the sign with the big red cross over a mobile phone by her shoulder stuck on the carriage between the windows.
She finds it. Oh no!
HELLO?
YEAH, I’M ON THE TRAIN.
YEAH JUST PASSED STAFFORD.
I CAN'T HEAR YOU. SPEAK UP!!
YEAH, I’VE GOT TO BE QUIET BECAUSE I’M ON THE QUIET COACH!!!
Yeah?
Really?
She didn’t?!
Well, that’s disgusting.
Always said she was a slag.
Yeah.
Yeah.
Yeah.
Yeah.
Yeah.
Yeah.
Yeah.
Yeah.
YEAH??!!??
YEAHHHHHH???!!!???
Dirty ghet!!!!
Hey Love. Look. This is the quiet coach. No fones. Neither I nor anyone else wants to listen to your chat.
WOT? You talking to me?
No love. I’m talking to that wasp sitting on your head!
AHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!! What? Wasp????????? Fucking get it off me.
Help me!!!
HELP ME – I’M BEING STUNG...
Fone goes flying across the floor. Suit man two rows down sees it land by his shiny black leather £100 barrister-at-law’s shoe.
Impassive.
He continues reading his brief. Specs on end-of-nose.
Slowly turning the page and leaning ever so slightly back, imperceptible, as he does a Stevie Gerrard arse kick and boots the fone right down the aisle beneath the seats.
Impassive, he turns back the page… ‘now where was I?’ he intones to himself
Two rows back – the wasp is getting the better of Blondie.
Now swatting and flailing around, hair north south east and west – effing and blinding – get it off me, GET IT OFF ME!!!
Heads remain ducked below the parapet.
Everyone disappearing into their books and laptops like Alice as she steps into the wardrobe. Everyone convincing themselves “I’m invisible. I can't be seen. I’m not here.”
A cosmopolitan lady suddenly appears through the sliding doors – oh my god the witch of endor!
The Train Manager!
Blondie flails.
The barrister notes a tut to endor who reads his lips and turns back to Blondie.
What’s the problem madam?
There’s a wasp in my ‘air.
No, I don’t think so. Stand still. I can't see anything. It must have been the air-conditioning you felt.
No, it wasn’t. Him there. He said I had a wasp in my hair.
Me? Wasp? You must have misheard me as we went into the tunnel. But if there was, maybe it was a fly attracted to your hairspray? It’s very strong, let’s say!
Endor eyes suspiciously, the tiniest hint of a smile …
All heads stay below the parapet.
Did I see you using a mobile phone madam?
Where’s my phone? Where’s my phone? WHERE’S MY EFFING PHONE??!!
Barrister heaves impatience, and endor pounces.
You’ll have to move to another carriage. This is the quiet coach.
We’ll have to find your phone when we arrive at Euston. People here are working. Kindly come with me please… …
?!^@@@@F-U-F-YOOZE…!^^@!?
No...! that is not the language to use madam. Now come along; otherwise, I’ll have to radio through to Euston and have the British Transport Police deal with you.
Blondie ponces off, toppling on her very high crimson red heels. She mutters something and suddenly I now know what a desperate scouse wife is!
The doors close.
Peace returns.
‘Big bum’ meanwhile has very quietly hidden his earphones, dreading the witch of Endor finding him out.
And so the writing continues.
***
February 9, 2021
All Rights Reserved
© Kenneth Thomas Webb 2022
First published 2012
"Class 221142 Virgin Voyager diesel multiple unit at Rugby, photographed on a stormy evening” …
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Ken Webb is a writer and proofreader. His website, kennwebb.com, showcases his work as a writer, blogger and podcaster, resting on his successive careers as a police officer, progressing to a junior lawyer in succession and trusts as a Fellow of the Institute of Legal Executives, a retired officer with the Royal Air Force Volunteer Reserve, and latterly, for three years, the owner and editor of two lifestyle magazines in Liverpool.
He also just handed over a successful two year chairmanship in Gloucestershire with Cheltenham Regency Probus.
Pandemic aside, he spends his time equally between his city, Liverpool, and the county of his birth, Gloucestershire.
In this fast-paced present age, proof-reading is essential. And this skill also occasionally leads to copy-editing writers’ manuscripts for submission to publishers and also student and post graduate dissertations.
