The Remarkables (The Remarkable Owen Johnson, part 1) by A. D. Elliott

which she had vanished). Sighing inwardly he concluded that he was unlikely to understand anything about today and reached into his bag for his wallet.
    After c onsulting a poster on the wall with the cost of fares, he worked out that he had just enough for his own ticket, but not for Mrs Argyle. Rather than waiting for her to reappear so that he could explain this to her, he decided that she would probably prefer him to at least purchase one for himself whilst he was waiting. He chose to buy it from the self-service machine, as his still bloody appearance might provide too many opportunities for questioning from the woman at the counter.
    He made his way to the platform, feeding his ticket to the automated barriers en route , which in turn spat them back at him ungratefully. Walking down the platform, he was greeted by Mrs Argyle, and wondered how had she had got there so quickly.
    “Ah, here you are ,” she said in an exasperated tone, “the train will be along in two ticks.” She peered down the track expectantly.
    “When did you get your ticket?” Owen asked.
    “Oh, I have a pass. Old age does have some benefits you know.”
    Owen wasn’t convinced by this, suspecting that Mrs Argyle was once again was either hiding or bending the truth. His suspicions of her being slightly dishonest were further enhanced by her hiding behind a pillar whenever a member of staff was in view. Before she had to do this for the fourth time, the train ambled up to the platform.
    “Come on then!” Mrs Argyle encouraged, and climbed aboard. Owen followed, settling into in a seat in front of her in the deserted carriage. She was examining the train’s route on a map on the wall. “Six stops then we hop off. Our host for the night lives in the country not far from there.” Satisfied with their itinerary, she peered down the aisle in both directions. “I wonder if there’s a trolley service? I’m famished!”
    “ Urrm, I doubt it.” The last thing on Owen’s mind was food. He lent back in his seat as the train started moving out of the station, as another train was also pulling away from the adjacent platform. Just as the last carriage vanished from his view, he saw a man standing facing him, dressed in a long grey coat and a brimmed hat. Owen jumped out of his seat and pointed. “Him!”
    Mrs Argyle looked up.  “Who?”
    By now the platform was out of view. Owen stood up and ran down the carriage. “Him!  The man in the funny hat, who was in my kitchen!”
    “Oh him. The hat’s a trilby, very smart if a little old fashioned. In my opinion they suit a lady’s head more than a man’s, but then fashion was never my strongest suit.” Mrs Argyle seemed unimpressed by the man’s persistence, an attitude hardly befitting what had happened between them both and that had resulted in the Johnson’s kitchen having frostbite, the back windows being obliterated, and the untimely demise of their garden shed. “I wondered whether he’d track us.”
    Owen stared at her and flappe d his arms. “How-?  But he was-?!” Words failed him.
    “Sit down; you’ll do yourself an inj ury. We’re well on our way now; I doubt he’ll be able to follow us.” Mrs Argyle was now staring out the window intently as well now, which seemed to betray her outwardly calm demeanour.
    “Not be able to follow? We’re on a train! We can hardly give him the slip by doing a u-turn or by parking behind a hedge, can we?!”
    “We’ll be safe and sound before he catches up , and he’s unlikely to know where we’re headed. Come, have a rest while you can.” Mrs Argyle patted the seat Owen had just vacated.
    “Jack!” Owen exclaimed, suddenly remembering that his brother was still at home when he left this morning.
    “ Your brother is safe and sound, that I do know. A minibus carted him off just after you left this morning. Where’s he headed to? Denmark?”
    “ Denmark, yes,” Owen confirmed, feeling bad for forgetting about his younger