The Midnight Train — Not Quite Despair

Not Quite Despair

“I missed people,” the Ghost explained as they looked out at the last two years. “Not just Maggie, but Dougie and Charlie and even my mother. I missed Sheffield. I missed a cinema that didn’t even exist anymore.”

Wilbur’s dog died. His neck and hands, in particular, became stiffer, which led to slow progress with the piano. He walked slower. He swore at the news.

But he wasn’t a totally miserable person. He had found a kindness that he had lost during his career. Remembering Victor, the old man he used to chat with in Sheffield, he gave money to homeless charities. On warm summer evenings, he sat in the garden and watched the sun sieve its golden light through the sycamore.

“It wasn’t quite happiness,” the Ghost explained. “But it was at least not quite despair. And I had the gardener and piano teacher to chat with every

Saturday.”

Then the train slowed again.

“Oh,” said the Ghost with dread as he realized where—when—they were.