The Phantom Passenger

The 2pm train from London to Swansea was always quiet once you’d passed Reading. The world got off at Reading, leaving a strange eerie, silence, free from mobile phone conversations and music leaking from headphones; perfect working conditions.

As the train sped through the countryside, I was typing furiously, trying to finish a story before the ideas for the next one took over my brain. I looked up and around the carriage, trying to find inspiration, looking for people’s faces to give me the word or phrases I needed. I noticed that the seat two up from me was empty despite there being a jacket on the seat, a bag under and a computer on the table and papers spread all around.

That’s trusting I thought to myself. I remember first noticing that the person was gone just after Reading and now we were nearly in Bristol, that’s a long time to be at the buffet car or in the toilet. I wasn’t sure I’d leave all my personal goods unattended for so long.

Oh the words buffet car sparked a thought process in my mind that made me come to the conclusion that I would like a cup of tea and a cookie. So I too left my computer’s safety in the lap of the gods and headed to get me a snack.

I expected to see a businessman on the phone somewhere en route or a businesswoman enjoying a g and t in the buffet car, but I didn’t come across anyone that could have been the occupant of my ghost seat. It was strange, that seat had been empty over an hour; that really was a long toilet break.

When I returned to my seat with bacon roll and cup of tea, my fellow passenger was still gone. I tried to wrack my brains to think if I’d noticed who had been sitting there when I got on the train in London, but it was much more crowded then and my mind was telling a story to itself that desperately needed to be got down on paper (or internal hard drive), so I’d not noticed anyone but myself.

I decided that when the ticket collector came around after Bristol I would let him know that the person was missing. Or maybe I wouldn’t, after all it was none of my business and he or she was probably talking to a friend in another carriage somewhere and I was just over reacting. But didn’t they say if you see anything suspicious tell the train staff? Wasn’t the mantra in these paranoid days better safe than sorry?

The ticket collector looked ashen-faced when I told him of my concerns. Despite me thinking I was being foolish, he took it very seriously. He immediately got on the phone to his train manger and then walked purposely up the train opening toilet doors as he did so.

‘Would the passenger seated in 32 C, in carriage C please return to your seat immediately.’ came the announcement but no one came to claim the seat. 

The ticket collector came back. He emptied the pockets of the jacket, wallet, car keys, house keys, mobile phone. He looked in the wallet and then got on the phone again.

‘Would Mr John Walters please return to his seat immediately.’

Again there was no response to the announcement. The rain belted down against the window. It was chilly out there, no place to be without your jacket or phone.

At Newport we were met by an anti-terrorist squad. We evacuated the train in an orderly fashion and then were interviewed by police on the station.  I told them what I’d told the train guards.

After a 20 minute delay we were told it was safe to get back on the train. I sat in my previous seat, now 32C was completely empty, no bag, no coat, no PC, no papers and certainly no John Walters.