The Train Sarah Bourne (best ebook reader for chromebook TXT) 📖

felt the barbs in his mother’s words. Once again, at the end of the evening, Sandeep had gone to his childhood bedroom angry, misunderstood and staring into the chasm between his mother’s desires and his own. His father left them to it these days, preferring to watch cooking shows on TV.

Biting the inside of his lip, he told himself he was lucky to have both his parents still and that he should try and look forward to seeing them. And tonight he would tell them about Abby and deal with the consequences.

On the journey from Euston to the office, Sandeep was still feeling emotional. It seemed unfair that he was able to walk, enjoy the warmth of the sun on his skin, look forward to a day at work when a woman (he had overheard this awful fact from the man next to him in the train, which in an indefinable way made the suicide even worse) had died in such a terrible way and would never again enjoy God’s bounty. He hadn’t known this person, of course, but surely there must have been glimpses of a better life, or memories of one at least? He was deeply saddened by the bleakness that must have led to such a decision. Even the thought of seeing his parents later suddenly seemed like a gift.

He pulled his phone from his pocket. He needed to talk to Abby. She always had the right words to educate him in the ways of the Lord and make him feel better.

‘What is it – you never call me during the day. Is something wrong?’ she asked.

It was true. Theirs was not a relationship that required constant nurturing. They saw each other at church, prayer group, Bible study and once a week for dinner. They hadn’t slept together and Sandeep’s few attempts in that direction had ended as awkward fumbles. Abby was saving herself for marriage. At first it had been an issue for Sandeep, although not one he could discuss with Abby. Although no Casanova, he had enjoyed sexual relations with two previous girlfriends, and missed the intimacy. There was something glorious about two people trusting each other with their most private desires, engaging together to produce such exquisite pleasure. He could understand how some people thought it was a path to the Divine. But Abby knew the ways of the church and she smiled in a coquettish sort of way when she mentioned their wedding night, which gave him hope that once they were married their love life would be active. Not that it was the only reason he wanted to marry her.

‘I need to talk to someone – to you. A terrible thing happened this morning.’

He told her about the incident and his response to it in detail, cupping his hand around the microphone to cut out the din of traffic and make himself heard. Abby remained silent at the other end. When he’d finished she made an odd noise, as if she was clearing her throat and exhaling sharply at the same time. Sandeep wondered if she’d caught a cold since he’d seen her at church the day before.

‘You have to realise, Sandy’ – he hated her calling him that, but she said it was an endearment, and anyway, she preferred it to his real name – ‘that this person committed the unpardonable sin for which there is no salvation.’ She said it in a soft voice, as if she was talking about the weather or something inconsequential, but the words struck Sandeep like a blow.

‘But the despair she must have been experiencing to do such a thing – maybe she could see no other way. Perhaps I can pray for her soul.’

‘The un-pard-on-able sin.’ Abby spoke slowly, annunciating every syllable as if he hadn’t understood. ‘Self-murder. Call it what you will, Sandy, but her soul will not get into Heaven whatever you do. It would be a waste of time. Forget about it, put it behind you. There’s nothing you can do for her now.’

Another blow, this one harder, almost knocked the wind out of him so he had to lean against a shop window and catch his breath. Her words were so harsh, cruel even. Surely a loving God would understand that some people, however hard they tried, couldn’t attain perfect faith in Jesus. He himself was still trying very hard, with Abby’s guidance.

‘Sandy, are you still there?’

‘Yes. Thank you. I’d better go, I’m at work now.’

He slipped his phone into his pocket and walked on, his heart heavier than it had been before. Not only had Abby, his guide, his teacher, been unsympathetic, he had lied to her. He wasn’t at work. He was still in the street, as she would have known by the sounds of traffic in the background. She would, no doubt, reprimand him for it next time they saw each other, and suggest they pray together for the Lord’s forgiveness.

Sandeep ran his hands through his hair and stopped, closed his eyes for a moment to calm himself, then hurried on until he came to a church whose doors were open and in he went. It was an old building, with wooden pews and stained-glass windows. The smell of incense in the still air enveloped and comforted him. Candles burned in front of paintings and images of saints; a priest in robes prayed at the altar. It was as unlike his modern unadorned place of worship as it was possible to be, but there was something calming about the way the light shone through the coloured windows, and the flickering of the candles. He sat, bowed his head and prayed. Maybe Abby had been wrong about all people going to purgatory if they took their own life – perhaps there were sometimes extenuating circumstances, and anyway, Sandeep didn’t believe it was wrong to pray for someone’s soul, whatever had happened.

When he got to his desk a while later, feeling guilty he had taken the extra