The train pulls into the station and people surge towards it. As soon as I get on my heart sinks. Every seat is taken. I push through the door at the end of the carriage; it's a dead end. But it’s also a breathing space, which is more than anyone has in the over-crowded carriage I just left. It’s cold here, peaceful. I sit on my bag and stare out the window as London slips away. This will be a very long three hours.
I’ve been sitting on my own for about five minutes when a girl with dreadlocks pushes her way through the door.
“Oh bloody hell. No carriages after this?”
I shake my head. She looks back over her shoulder with distaste.
“Do you mind if I sit with you?”
I shrug.
“It’s a bit cold.”
“I don’t mind. It’s awful back there.”
We sit in silence. The train slows at a station and she jumps up to see if anyone has left a seat. If they have she’s too slow, because she sits down again.
“Going far?” I ask.
“Loughborough.”
That’s where I’m going - back to uni. I tell her so.
“Oh? What hall?”
I tell her, but we aren't in the same hall. We’re quiet again. I shiver, and wish I had dressed warmer this morning. She notices.
“Here, do you want to share this?”
It’s her sleeping bag. She throws half of it over me. Warmth seeps into my bones and I stretch my legs out, luxuriating in the space. The door opens again. Another girl walks in, clutching a book. She sees us, and just as we did, realises there’s nowhere else to go. The girl whose sleeping bag I’m sharing shakes her head no, just as I had. The new girl sighs and from her expression I can tell it’s still pretty bad out there.
“Would you like to share our sleeping bag?” asks my dreadlocked companion. The new girl looks hesitant.
“No, I’ll be ok.”y
She sits down anyway and opens her book. Dreadlock Girl tries again.
“Where are you going?”
“Leicester.”
“Uni?”
She nods, and starts reading.
The door goes again. We all look up, and watch the now-familiar realisation that there's nowhere else to go flood a fourth girl’s face. We all shake our heads.
“Dead end,” I tell her.
“Can I sit with you?”
It’s getting cramped back here, but it’s not unpleasant. We make room. She makes herself comfortable and pulls her dark hair back into a ponytail.
“It’s awful out there.”
We all agree.
“Where are you going?”
“Nottingham.”
“Uni?”
Ponytail Girl nods and rubs her arms, which look cold. I offer her some sleeping bag. She accepts.
The conversation becomes animated. Book Girl has put her book down and Ponytail Girl is regaling us with tales of a drunken weekend. Dreadlock Girl, not to be outdone, tells us about her weekend, also very exciting. I notice that somewhere along the way Book Girl has given in and is under the sleeping bag with us.
The door goes again. Another girl. She looks like she’s been crying, and tells us she’s just been dumped. We console her and declare all men bastards. Ponytail Girl produces biscuits. We pass them round.
The train slows for a station. Book Girl peers out the window. Lots of people are leaving. None of us look out into the carriage that is now more empty than full.
I wonder if Book Girl knows Dreadlock Girl and I are strangers. I wonder whether Crying Girl thinks we’re all travelling together. Everyone is telling stories and laughing at jokes.
I’m happier than I’ve been in weeks, sitting with people without names.
We arrive at Leicester Station. Crying Girl, no longer crying, leaves with Book Girl.
As Loughborough station approaches Dreadlock Girl apologetically rolls up her sleeping bag. The cosy atmosphere fades away.
We walk out of the station together, Dreadlock Girl and I. In the car park she asks about sharing a taxi, but I’m not going her way.
I see her again some time later, in the distance, with her friends. I think about saying hello, but I don’t.
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You can find Amanda on Twitter at @mandawyn