The Platform Between Two Places

The first thing I noticed was that the station had no opposite side.

I had arrived on Platform 4, although the train's destination board had displayed Platform 9. The conductor had assured me that this was quite normal, but when I asked him where Platform 9 was, he pointed through the window and said, “Over there, of course.”

There was nothing over there except another platform.

I stepped down onto the paving. A station sign read:

PLATFORM 4

Beneath it, in smaller letters:

THE OTHER SIDE IS NOT NECESSARILY OPPOSITE.

I looked across the tracks. A man stood on the opposite platform, holding a red umbrella. He was looking directly at me.

I raised my hand.

He raised his.

Then he walked away.

I decided to find the station entrance. There was a staircase at the far end of the platform, but it led down to a waiting room, and the waiting room had three doors. One was marked TICKETS, another REFRESHMENTS, and the third had no label.

I opened the third door.

It led onto Platform 4.

I was beginning to suspect that the station had been badly designed.

A woman was sitting on a bench. She had a small notebook open on her lap and was drawing something with a pencil.

“Excuse me,” I said. “Could you tell me how to leave the station?”

She looked up.

“Which station?”

“This one.”

She considered the question.

“Are you meeting someone?”

“No.”

“Then it may be difficult.”

I looked at the notebook. She had drawn two platforms, facing one another across a narrow space. Between them was a small black square.

“What is that?” I asked.

“The place where they meet.”

“But the platforms are opposite one another.”

“Are they?”

She closed the notebook.

“Have you tried looking at the other platform?”

“I have.”

“No,” she said. “You looked at your platform.”

She stood and walked towards the end of the bench. I followed her through a passage that seemed to narrow as we approached it. At the far end was a staircase.

“Where does that go?” I asked.

“To the other side.”

I descended.

At the bottom I found myself standing on Platform 9.

The man with the red umbrella was there.

He looked surprised to see me.

“Ah,” he said. “You've come across.”

“I suppose I have.”

He glanced at the tracks.

“It's a long way, isn't it?”

I looked around. The two platforms appeared to be separated by no more than a few metres.

“Not particularly.”

He shook his head.

“From here, it is.”

He opened his umbrella, although there was no rain, and walked towards the far end of the platform.

I followed him.

The platform stretched ahead of us. It seemed to lengthen with every step. The man remained just within sight, his red umbrella moving steadily away.

I began to hurry.

The platform lengthened again.

Eventually I stopped.

The man stopped too.

He turned and looked at me.

“There's no point trying to catch up,” he called.

“Why not?”

“Because you're still looking at me from where you were.”

I looked down at the paving. The tiles were numbered. I was standing on tile 47. A few metres ahead, the man stood on tile 12.

I walked backwards.

The numbers decreased.

When I reached tile 12, the man was standing beside me.

“That's better,” he said.

We looked around.

The platform was now quite short. At one end stood a staircase; at the other, a ticket office.

“Do you know where we are?” I asked.

He shook his head.

“I thought you did.”

“Why?”

“You seemed to know how to get here.”

He smiled.

“I've been here before. But not with you.”

He pointed towards the ticket office.

“Perhaps we should ask.”

Inside, a clerk sat behind a glass screen. He appeared to be asleep.

I knocked.

He opened one eye.

“Two tickets, please,” I said.

“Where to?”

I looked at the man with the umbrella.

He looked at me.

“Together,” he said.

The clerk frowned.

“That's not a destination.”

“It's where we're going,” I said.

The clerk took two tickets from a drawer and passed them beneath the glass.

They were blank.

“Which train?” I asked.

“Any train that stops here.”

“But how will we know?”

The clerk closed his eye again.

“You'll know when it arrives.”

We returned to the platform.

There was now a train standing beside it. Its doors were open, and the windows showed a landscape of green fields beneath a pale sky.

The man with the umbrella stepped aboard.

I followed.

Inside, the carriage was empty except for two seats facing one another. We sat down.

The train began to move.

Through the window I could see the station receding. Platform 9 curved away to the left; Platform 4 curved away to the right. They seemed to circle one another, growing smaller until they became a single narrow line.

“Where do you think we're going?” I asked.

The man folded his umbrella.

“I don't know.”

“Do you mind?”

He thought about it.

“Not if you're here.”

I looked out of the window.

The landscape had changed. We were passing through a town I recognised, although I had never visited it. There was a church with a square tower, a row of houses with blue doors, and a river crossed by a stone bridge.

I had seen these things before.

Not in a picture, or a dream. I had seen them from the other side of the river, looking towards the town.

The man was watching me.

“Do you know this place?” he asked.

“I think so.”

He nodded.

“Then perhaps we're nearly there.”

The train slowed.

Outside, a station sign appeared.

PLATFORM BETWEEN

The doors opened.

The man stood up, but I remained seated.

“Are you getting off?” he asked.

“I don't know. Is this your station?”

He looked at the sign.

“I thought it was yours.”

For a moment neither of us moved.

Then the doors began to close.

I stood up quickly, and we stepped onto the platform together.

The train departed.

There was no station building, no timetable, no staircase. Only a bench and a small signpost bearing two arrows.

One pointed towards the town.

The other pointed towards the river.

The man with the red umbrella looked at me.

“Which way?”

I looked at the two arrows.

“Perhaps we should go together.”

He smiled.

We walked towards the river.

After a little while I turned to look back, but the platform had disappeared. The station was nowhere to be seen.

I stopped.

“Do you think we can find our way back?”

The man opened his umbrella.

“Back to where?”

I looked at the river, and then at the town on the opposite bank.

I couldn't remember which of us had arrived first.

“Never mind,” I said.

We continued walking.

And for the first time since I had arrived at the station, I knew exactly where I was.