The Passenger with No Ticket
Conductor Snip checked his watch.
Then the platform clock.
Then his watch again.
They agreed.
He found this reassuring.
The Twilight Express stood beneath the station lamps, breathing little clouds of steam into the evening. Its windows glowed amber. Its wheels gleamed.
Snip straightened his orange cap.
“All aboard!”
A rabbit hurried past with a basket.
Two squirrels climbed into the second carriage, arguing about which window had the better view.
Ziggy waved from the first.
Snip lifted his ticket punch.
Then he noticed the bundle.
It sat beside a bench at the far end of the platform.
Small.
Tied at the top.
Behind it stood a hedgehog who appeared to be trying very hard to look like part of the bench.
Snip lowered his punch.
“Travelling this evening?”
The hedgehog glanced toward the train.
Then down at the bundle.
“I was going to.”
“Changed your mind?”
“No.”
Snip waited.
The hedgehog rubbed two small paws together.
“I haven’t got a ticket.”
“Well,” said Snip, “you’ve come to a useful place. We have quite a few.”
He nodded toward the ticket window.
The hedgehog looked at it.
A little wooden shutter covered the opening.
“I thought it was closed.”
“It is now.”
“Oh.”
“But it wasn’t when you arrived?”
The hedgehog shook his head.
Snip sat beside him on the bench.
The station clock ticked.
“I didn’t know what to say,” the hedgehog admitted.
“At the window?”
A nod.
“And then other people came. They knew which train they wanted and where they were going, and I thought I should let them go first.”
Snip glanced at the shutter.
“Until there was nobody left?”
Another nod.
The hedgehog pulled his bundle closer.
“I thought perhaps I wasn’t ready to be a passenger.”
From the first carriage, Ziggy leaned farther out.
Snip raised one paw.
“One moment, please.”
Ziggy nodded and disappeared inside.
Snip turned back to the bench.
“Where were you hoping to go?”
“Willow Halt.”
“Excellent little station.”
“My sister lives near there.”
“Does she know you’re coming?”
“She said I could visit whenever I liked.”
The hedgehog looked at the lit windows.
“I’ve never gone on my own before.”
Snip’s moustache lifted with his smile.
“That explains why you brought such a determined-looking bundle.”
“It has my toothbrush.”
“A sensible passenger.”
“And a spare scarf.”
“Very sensible.”
“And three biscuits.”
Snip nodded solemnly.
“Prepared for delays.”
He fetched his small ticket book.
The hedgehog watched as he turned to a fresh ticket and wrote down the destination.
“We can arrange your ticket here,” Snip explained. “You needn’t miss your train because the shutter’s down.”
The hedgehog let out a breath.
The rest took less time than he had spent trying to think of his first sentence.
Snip held out the ticket.
“There.”
The hedgehog accepted it with both paws.
“That was all?”
“That was all.”
“I thought there would be more questions.”
“Would you like more questions?”
“No, thank you.”
“Then we shall get along beautifully.”
At the carriage steps, the hedgehog stopped.
Snip stopped too.
“Something else?”
“Where do I put my bundle?”
“Beside your feet will do.”
“And where do I sit?”
A small black-and-white face appeared at the doorway.
“There’s a place here,” Ziggy said.
The hedgehog looked up.
“Are you saving it?”
“Yes.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
“For you,” Ziggy added.
Inside, the seat was soft.
The window showed the platform lamps, each surrounded by a little halo in the gathering dusk.
The hedgehog placed his bundle beside his feet.
Then he moved it slightly.
Then he checked that it wasn’t in anybody’s way.
Ziggy sat opposite.
“First journey?”
“Is it obvious?”
“I asked where to put my paws on mine.”
“Where did you put them?”
Ziggy lifted them.
“Still trying places.”
The hedgehog smiled.
Snip came through the carriage.
“Tickets, please.”
The hedgehog held his out immediately.
Snip took it, raised his punch, and made one small, satisfying click.
A star-shaped hole appeared near the edge.
The hedgehog held it toward the light.
“A star.”
“Now I know I’ve checked it.”
“Does everybody get one?”
“Everybody.”
The hedgehog examined it again.
Then he tucked it carefully into his bundle.
The whistle sounded.
The platform began to slip past.
The hedgehog sat very straight as the last lamp moved beyond the window.
Snip paused beside his seat.
“I’ll tell you before Willow Halt.”
“Thank you.”
“And if you need anything, you may ask.”
The hedgehog looked down at his paws.
“I might need a little practice.”
Snip rested one paw on the seat back.
“We have several stops.”
Later, as twilight deepened beyond the glass, a small voice reached Snip from the first carriage.
“Excuse me?”
He turned.
The hedgehog held his opened bundle.
“Would you like a biscuit?”
Snip smiled.
“I would. Thank you for asking.”
Outside, the rails curved toward Willow Halt.
Inside, the passenger settled back against his cushion, his bundle safe at his feet.
When the trolley rattled into the carriage a little while later, he looked up.
“May I have some tea, please?”
And this time, he didn’t wait until everybody else had asked.