Not Meant to Be… The Train Journey That Changed Everything: Cupfuls of Tea, Knitting Patterns, and t…

Luck Wasnt on Her Side

The train had been rolling on for a second day. By now, the passengers had grown familiar, shared more than a few cups of tea, and filled in countless crossword puzzles. The air was thick with chats about lifethose sort of confessions youd only ever hear whilst sharing a carriage.

I found myself perched on the side seat, just outside a compartment where three elderly ladies were swapping recipes for shortcrust pastry and tips on knitting socks. As the train rumbled onto a bridge, the view sprawled before us: a clear sky, bright and mild, a broad river dotted with gentle ripples. On a high bank, lush with silky grass, stood a white-stone church crowned with golden spires.

For a moment, the ladies fell silent; one crossed herself. Then another spoke up with a weary smile, Let me tell you something, believe it or dont.

It happened a few springs ago, she said. She lived alone, no children, her husband long gone. The village was small but split by the river, so to reach the market and post office, she had to cross to the far side over a wooden bridge. That morning, her brother rang, said hed be passing through on business and would make a special detour to see her. Theyd not met for yearshe lived far off.

She was overjoyed and thought, Best nip to the shop, get some flour and sugar, make a pie for him. She threw on her old coatdidnt bother with the buttons, just pulled it round herslipped on her wellies, and dashed out.

She reached the river and paused. To the bridge is a long walk, she considered. What if I just nip across the ice? Even though the days had been mild, nights still brought a freeze, and there were fishermen sitting out further down, near the bridge. If those grown men with all their kit arent falling in, I should be alright, she reasoned. Im little and quick, Ill be fine.

She clambered down to the river. The first few steps were solid, not even a creak. Thisll do, she thought, seeing as the bend in the river made for a narrow crossing.

And would you believe itshe didnt even realise straight away that shed gone in. She felt a searing shock, her breath burst out of her in a tiny scream, and that was it. She fought to surface but her coat was dragging her down. Thank God she hadnt buttoned it upshe shrugged it off underwater and found it easier to swim. It was terrifying; clinging at the edge, the ice crackling and breaking beneath her hands, tumbling her down again and again. She tried to shout but it was as if her voice had vanished.

She glimpsed her neighbour, standing on the riverbank, watching intently. She waved desperately, hoping the woman would call for the fishermen. But the neighbour stepped back and left. Well, this is it, our storyteller thought. Not long now. My brotherll come and never find me.

With one last effort, the ice gave way again. Suddenlya man was dashing towards her. Thered been no one nearby a moment before. Where had he come from? How did he know?

He dropped to his stomach, stretching out a hand, shouting, Come here! You can do it!

Out of nowhere she found the strength, though just then the ice started to creak under his weight too. So he dashed to the shore, yanked up a young birch sapling in one go, and hurried back. He lay across the ice again, holding the tree out to her. She grabbed at the branches, but her fingers kept slippingbranches grew slick with ice as the spray froze to them. With patience, the man spun the tree around and pressed its root end toward her. Grab hold of the trunk! he called.

She latched on, and he hauled her up like a turnip from the garden. Laying there on the frozen river, tears sticky on her cheeks, she saw the man look down at her.

All right then, love? Youll be fine, wont catch a chill, he said.

She just nodded, still speechless.

He nodded back, Thank heavens. Home you go, dont fret, youll be right as rain.

She wiped away the tears and got up. When she glanced backthe man had gone. Where could he have vanished to? The river was open on all sides, none of the nearby bends would hide him, and now she saw the fishermen were running her way.

One of them helped her home. Once inside, she changed into dry clothes, sipped some strong tea to warm herself. But you cant put off the shopping foreverneeds must.

So back she went, crossing the bridge this time. As she reached the shop, she found her neighbourthe very same onelurking outside, eyeing her as if she were a ghost, crossing herself again and again.

You mean you didnt drown?

So why didnt you call for help? she asked.

Well, I thought if I got too close, wed both go in. No way Id have made it to the fishermen in time. If you drowned, well, must have been your fate. But, look, you survived. Lucky ending, Id say.

Her brother visited for just the day, and she never told him a word about it. When he left, she walked around the village trying to find out if anyone had had a male visitor yesterdayhe wasnt from their village, that was certain, and his clothes had been unusual tooalmost like he wore a cloak with a hood, though she couldnt quite recall. With so few houses, you recognised every outsider; visitors stuck out, even friends and family from other towns. She felt sure shed seen the mans face once before, but couldnt remember where. And no one else had seen a stranger at all.

On a whim, she travelled to the next village and stopped in at the church, determined to light a candle in thanks for her rescue. The moment she crossed the threshold, her heart stood still: on the icon there, the very same manthe look of her rescuer stared back at her. St Nicholas, the white-haired saint himself. She nearly collapsed then and there, and afterwards spent a good while talking with the vicar.

Well, there you are, she finished. I never caught a cold or so much as sneezed after that. Believe it or dont.

As I sat there listening and the landscape whisked past my window, I realised once moresometimes, when all seems lost, help arrives from where you least expect it. No one truly stands alone; if you hold on a little longer, your rescue may be on the way in disguise.