Not Meant to Be… The Train Journey’s Second Day: Unexpected Confessions, Knitting Circles, and a M…

…The train had been trundling along for the second day. Folks had already got to know each other, shared pots of tea, and puzzled through a dozen crosswords. At last, the sort of conversations that only happen on long journeys by rail beganfolk sharing tales youd never hear anywhere but in a carriage rattling through the countryside.

I was perched on the side seat, while in the neighbouring compartment, three elderly ladies gossiped over recipes for pastry and their favourite ways of knitting socks come winter. The train clattered onto a bridge, and a marvellous view unfolded before our eyes. The sky was clear and the day bright and warm; the broad river shimmered below, its surface ruffled with gentle waves. On the far green bank, crowned in silky grass, a grand stone church gleamed in the sunlight, its golden spire reaching skyward.

Talk fell away. One of the ladies crossed herself quietly.

Oh, I must tell you a story, said her companion after a thoughtful pause. Believe it or not, as you please.

It happened a few years back, in springtime. I live on my own, no children, buried my husband long ago. Our village is small, but it has crept out across both banks of the river. If you want to get to the shop or the post, you have to cross the footbridge to the other side. That day, early in the morning, I got a call from my brother. He said he was passing on business and would go out of his way to see mewe hadnt met in five years, as he lived far off.

I was so excited! I thought: Ill nip out to the shop, get a bit of flour and sugar, bake some pies, spoil my dear guest. I threw on my coat in a hurry, not bothering to fasten it, just clutching it about me, and pulled on my boots before dashing off.

I ran down to the river and stopped, thinking, Its quite the detour by the bridgewhat if I just nip across the ice? The days were turning warm, but the nights were still frostbitten. I spotted some fishermen, not far off near the main bridge, and that gave me confidence. If solid chaps with their gear could sit on the ice, surely I could make it acrossIm slight and quick. Surely Id be alright.

So I gingerly slid down to the riverbank, took a tentative step then anotherthe ice was silent. All seemed well, so off I went. The river twists here, and its not too wide, so I figured Id be over in no time.

Well, would you believe, at first I didnt even realise Id gone through the ice, the woman carried on. It was like fire, the breath wrenched from my chest in a half-screamthen nothing. I tried to scramble up, but my coat dragged me downthank goodness I hadnt buttoned it! I shrugged it off, and it was easier to rise. Theres nothing quite so terrifying as clinging to broken ice, the edge splintering and cracking while you slip again beneath the water. I couldnt make a sound; my voice was gone.

I saw a neighbour woman standing on the bank, watching me intently. Hope flickered; I raised my hand, waving, sure she’d fetch the fishermen. But instead, she backed away, and then she was gone! Well, thats that, I thought. So this is where it ends. Pity, my brother will come and find me gone.

I tried once more, but the ice kept breaking. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a man was running towards methere was no one there a moment before! How he spotted me I cant say.

He laid himself down on the ice and reached out, shouting, Come on, try for me! You can do it!

I dont know where the strength came from. But just then, the ice beneath him began to groan. He sprang to the bank, yanked up a young birch sapling in a single go, and hurried back. Flattened himself on the ice, pushed the tree towards me.

Grab the trunk! he called. Hold onto the trunk!

I caught the root end, just as he pulled, and hauled me out like I was a parsnip from the dirt. I lay there sobbing, the tears freezing on my face. The man knelt beside me.

Are you alright, madam? he asked.

I nodded, though I hadnt the breath to answer.

Thank goodness, he replied. Home with you now, dont fret. Youll not fall ill.

I wiped my eyes and stood up. But when I turned to thank him, he was gonevanished! Nowhere to be seenthe river bent round, but I could see a fair way, and the fishermen were only then running towards me.

One of them helped me home, and after a change of clothes and a strong cup of tea, I reasoned to myself: shop or no shop, the cupboard wont fill itself.

So off I went again, this time using the bridge. Near the shop, who should I see but that same neighbour, eyes wide as saucers, crossing herself.

You mean you didnt drown after all?

And why on earth didnt you fetch help? I shot back.

Thought if I came near, wed both go under. Never would have reached the fishermen in time anyway. If its your fate to drown, its your fate. But here you are, safe as houses.

My brother stayed just the one night. I never breathed a word about what had happened. When he left, I went round the village, asking if anyone had seen the man whod saved me. He wasnt from our villagethat much I knew. His clothes were odd, a cloak or some such, hooded maybe.

There arent many of us in our village, and we all know each other. Even guests are familiar faces. I knew his face from somewhere, but couldnt recall where. No one else in the village or nearby had seen the man, let alone received a visitor matching his description.

A few days later, I went to the church in the next parish to light a candle for my deliverance. When I stepped inside, I nearly collapsed. There, on an old icon, was the image of my saviourSaint Nicholas himself. I fell to my knees before the icon. I spoke at length with the vicar afterwards.

Strange things happen, the woman finished her tale. But I truly didnt catch so much as a sniffle after that daynot a single chill. Whether you believe it or not, thats as it was.For a long moment, no one in the carriage spoke. The rattling wheels seemed to hush, as if the train, too, held its breath. Then, softly, one of the ladies murmured, There are such things in this world as well never quite explain.

Another just smiled and patted her friends hand. As for me, I stared out over the bright water wrapping the church, imagining the unseen hands that sometimes pull us clear. Each bridge we crosswhether over river, frost, or fearmay be flimsier than it seems, but sometimes, if we are lucky or watched over, we find ourselves on the far bank all the same.

Outside, the golden spire glinted, and the train surged forward. Someone in the compartment began humming a tunesomething old and sweet, about rivers flowing and saints who walk beside us unseenand I felt, for the briefest instant, as if every soul aboard was traveling together beneath unseen wings, headed somewhere warm and bright just around the bend.