Strangers

“We will be shortly arriving Durham station, please check your belongings before you leave the train”. I removed my ruck sack and proceeded towards the exit. There was an old lady dragging her suit case with lots of effort but I was so busy adjusting the volume of my I-pod that I didn’t help her. The train slowed down, I could now see Durham Castle under the half moon sky. It was pitch dark outside. “Shall I help you with your bag” I asked, her face lit up, “you are very kind”, she replied. The train halted, I got off and then lifted her suitcase, it was heavy, I was embarrassed for not helping her earlier. To make it up for it I walked her to the taxi stand, put her suitcase in the boot and said good bye.

I started walking towards the bus stand. The road from Durham railway station till the bus stand can be quite spooky at night. I removed my I-pod to be aware of what’s happening around me. I don’t believe in ghosts but who wants to take a chance!

On reaching the bus stand I found out that I had just missed a bus and now there was no bus to Birtley. Only if I had not helped the old lady I would have been able to catch the last bus. Damn! To save money I decided to take the bus till Chester-le Street and then take a taxi. Another 20 minutes wait alone at the bus depot, with just a couple other passengers, probably half drunk. I could have been home in this much time. Only if I had come straight to the bus stand, I cursed myself again.

Finally the bus arrived and after 15 minutes I reached Chester-le Street. There was not a soul on the road. Luckily there were 2 taxis outside the pub. I quickly glanced at the two drivers, driver 1 – ‘young Asian’ and driver 2- ‘old White’. I quickly hopped in taxi 3, It is not that I trust and English man over an Asian, but I prefered to be with an older driver.

“Birtley please”, I said. “Long night eh”, he said. Now I must tell you that it takes hardly 10 minutes from Chester-le Street to Birtley. In these 10 minutes we exchanged what we had been upto during the weekend, he told me where he lived, how long he had been married and what her daughter does and in return I told him that my husband studies in Manchester Business School and I plan to move to London after he graduates. Here we were two strangers exchanging irrelevant details, as if we were old pals. We reached my apartment, I gave him a 10 pound note, and he returned the 1 pound change. “Thank you”, I said, “it was great chatting with you, good night”.

He quickly replied “Get yourself in the house first, switch on the lights; I will leave when you are safely inside. I have a daughter your age and she lives alone, I would never leave her at the door like this all alone”.

I was speechless, I smiled, got off, turned the key in my door, got inside switched on the light and waved him goodbye.

I couldn’t have a good look at his face and will probably not recognize him if I see him again, but I will never forget this small gesture of a stranger. Probably the old lady was also thinking the same about me. I walked up the stairs cursing myself for blaming her when I missed my bus.