Platform 3 - Part 4 by Chris Lloyd

“Now, now no more tears young lady, we’ll go upstairs and find you some new clothes. Then we shall see what to do.”
Sandra didn’t like the sound of that – she’d heard those words a thousand times and they always meant something horrid. The lady was smiling kindly but she knew that meant nothing. If she ran to the back door now…..

“Come on slow coach,” Pink lady was looking down at her from the stairs, “up to Steph… your room.”
Sandra gasped; Her room? Had she heard right? She walked up the stairs, thinking that pink
lady’s slippers looked beautiful with the patterns of flowers and the bobbly thing on the front of them and she wished very hard that she might be able to have some like them one
day especially if she could stay here. She asked if Stephen’s room was really hers.
Pink lady looks a bit sad, Sandra thought, maybe the room won’t be mine after all.
“Yeas I suppose so my dear, for the time being.”
“Is that a long time?” asked Sandra.
“Let’s put these clean clothes on, then we’ll have a cup of tea.”
Sandra looked at the clothes pink lady had put out on the bed, a short sleeve shirt, shorts and long grey socks. Good for running in, she thought, but why do we always have to have a cup of tea before something horrible happens. She would have to escape pink lady before railway man came home. Pink lady went downstairs to make the tea.
Sandra got dressed quickly and looked out of the bedroom window. There was a tree, an apple tree but it wasn’t close enough to the window. It would have to be the stairs. She looked round Stephen’s room for something to make a noise and took an encyclopaedia from the shelf above the bed and stood at the top of the stairs waiting for the whistle of the kettle. When the steam was singing, she dropped the heavy book and followed behind it as it rolled noisily down the stairs then lay curled up next to it at the bottom.
She heard pink lady rush out to see what had happened.
“Oh my word, are you alright, I always told Stephen to be careful on those stairs.” Sandra stayed curled up at the bottom of the stairs, said nothing, stayed still and kept her eyes shut.
“Oh my dear child, let me get you into bed.”
Sandra let herself be floppy and kept her shut as she was carried back upstairs and laid gently on the bed.
“Stay there. Don’t move. I’m going to the phone box to ring the doctor, I’ll not be more than five minutes.”
When Sandra hear pink lady go out the front door, she sprung to life and went from Stephen’s bedroom to the kitchen, stealthily making her way down stairs. She stood at the bottom and went through the kitchen to the back door. It seemed locked; she rummaged through every drawer trying not to make too much mess, then her eyes caught site of some string with a key tied on it hanging from a hook. As she reached for the key the front door banged open and pink lady rushed upstairs. She grabbed the key and put it in the lock, praying that it would unlock the door. She turned it one way then the other; pink lady was coming downstairs shouting her. The lock wouldn’t budge. In desperation she tried the knob. The door was unbolted and just as pink lady came rushing towards her she slipped through the door and into the garden. She’d almost reached the back gate when she heard frantic scream of, “Stephen! don’t run, the traffic…..”
She stopped and turned and saw tears streaming down the woman’s red face.