Interpoetry

A SECRET LOVE AFFAIR

Hannah scrunched herself down inside her big, black, woolly scarf as the wind whipped along the
platform, biting at her nose, making it run. Her pale eyes stared up at the departure
information, which flick flacked before her, momentarily hypnotising her. As she tried to
concentrate and absorb the information, Hannah began to gently gnaw on the side of her lip, a
nervous habit she had yet to grow out of. A ball of emotion began to swell in the lower part of
her stomach. A confusion of feelings, excitement, anticipation, craving, guilt, apprehension and
fear, combined to produce an unpleasant sensation she found difficult to shift. She was
embarking on a clandestine journey to meet Tom, nearly 200 miles away. She had neglected to
tell her Mum of their plans, or of Tom’s existence; she wasn’t quite sure why.

Tom was five years older than Hannah; they had met in a club whilst he was visiting friends, who
were studying in Newcastle. They had hit it off immediately, sharing a love of indie music,
quirky bands and the style of Pete Doherty. Flattered by the attention from a much older boy,
Hannah and Tom had begun to trade emails, text messages and comments on myspace. They
met up whenever he made the journey up north and languished in long secret phone
conversation, often late into the night. As the friendship had developed, Hannah overlooked
telling her parents about Tom, thus adding a frisson of romance and an air of secrecy to their
relationship. The secrecy added a spark and thrill to their meetings or conversations, which
appealed to the creative side of Hannah’s character. Besides, she felt sure that her Mum would
be disapproving of an unemployed, older lad, with no plans for work or college, but a head full
of dreams of having a successful band, especially since she was due to sit her GCSE’s soon. It
was easier, and more exhilarating, not to tell.

Tom and Hannah had met a few times since their initial encounter but she had never travelled
to visit him before, or for that matter been away from home on her own other than for school
trips. As the train pulled alongside her, a dart of fear and uncertainty flashed through her. She
pushed these feelings to the back of her mind, trying to reassure herself that everything would
go to plan, dismissing the nagging voice in her subconscious that their deception would be
uncovered. She went over the complex layers of lies she had laid to cover her tracks in an effort
to diffuse those niggling doubts. She was lucky to have fiercely loyal friends, who she knew
would not betray her secret. What is more, she would be home again in less than 24 hours,
chances were she wouldn’t even be missed.

The train rattled on through the countryside, past ever changing scenery, fields turned to towns,
towns turned back to fields, speeding once again to the outreaches of another town, where walls
sprawled with graffiti flashed past her, blurring to a cloud of colour. She lingered on thoughts of
Tom, as she plugged herself into her MP3 player, listening to strains of the band they would be
dancing to in a few hours time. She couldn’t wait to meet up with Tom again; it had felt like a
long whilst, since they were last together, she hoped he felt as excited and high as she did about
their planned night together. She could imagine his arms around her, the squeaky crush of his
leather jacket, the musky smell of his skin, the warmth and safety she felt when he hugged her
towards him, her tiny frame encased by his much taller, gangling limbs. She could picture his shy
smile and his deep brown eyes, as rich, warm and gleaming as melted chocolate. Every clink,
clatter, jangle and rattle of the train urging them closer together, it was not long before the
train slowed and the quivering in her stomach signalled her feelings, a physical manifestation of
her adoration of him.

Hannah stood under the station clock, trying to appear nonchalant whilst the unswerving tick-
tock seemed to taunt her, reminding her of how long she had waited. Tom had been due over an
hour ago, but there was no sign of him. The station was busy with people, all rushing to their
chosen destinations, no-one noticed the sheen of tears welling in her eyes, as Hannah tried to
make sense of her situation. Where was he? Perhaps he had been caught up in traffic, or had an
accident, or lost his phone, or become suddenly and violently ill, or maybe his house had burnt
down, or perhaps he just didn’t want to see her. She tried to call him again but, just as it had
the previous 10 times she had tried, she heard the pleasant but bland and unconcerned voice
stating, ’The mobile phone you are calling is switched off, please try again later.’

It was getting colder as the sky darkened and the wind swirled wildly around, blowing papers
onto the tracks and grit into her eyes. Hannah tucked her fingers inside her jumper and drew
them up towards her lips, where she breathed warm air onto them in an effort to revive them
from their frozen state. Pulling her phone from her bag once more, she angrily punched the
words ‘where r u?’ on the keypad pressing SEND before glancing up and hoping that she would
see Tom rushing towards her, arms outstretched with a million apologies falling from his lips.
But as she searched the station she saw no familiar faces, no knight in shining armour crashing
through the sea of people to pull her up from her misery into the safety of his warm embrace.
What was she to do? She did not know his address or anyone else in this strange, unfamiliar city.
She had very little money and, at 15, no credit card. Her return train ticket was for tomorrow
lunchtime - non transferable. It was getting late, the earlier bustle of the station had subsided.
Hannah shivered, feeling a chill to the core of her bones, wicking up cold from the concrete
below through her thin soled shoes. As the people dispersed and night fell the station took on a
more sinister atmosphere, seeming grubbier, unwelcoming, almost sordid. She was frightened,
apprehensive as to the repercussions of her actions. She was really cold, lonely, saddened and,
worst of all, she felt foolish. She began to realise the naivety of her decision to trust someone
she hardly knew. Her rational self began to taunt her for her stupidity, for the overly
romanticised view she had taken of their friendship. The relationship had taken on a life of it’s
own, grown out of all proportion, uncontrollable, unstoppable. How could she have allowed
herself to get into this position, she was infuriated with herself but sad that the beguiling spell
had been broken.

Suddenly there was a loud beep-beep from her mobile phone, she had been so caught up in her
thoughts she nearly leapt out of her skin. Rummaging around in her oversized bag, she retrieved
the phone, her heart pounding at the notion that everything was going to be OK, there would be
a rational explanation, Tom would find her and they would go laughing off into the night. She
flipped open her phone and stared down at the text which read ‘Where r u?’ - was he having a
laugh! Then she realised who had sent the message. With tears in her eyes, resignation and
recognition in her heart, she dialled the familiar number, “Mum” she wept, “I’ve done a stupid
thing and I need you.