Civil Servant

6:00am in the pitch black on a cold winter’s morning at Brampton railway platform, a tiny little stop in the woods outside the small market town of Brampton in Cumbria, previously voted the best place to live in England as a lottery winner, in some pole or other, but also renowned as having had the highest number of murders per capita that year, there aren’t many capita, indeed three less that year. I’m waiting for a train to take me across to Newcastle, it’s on the opposite coast of England but only takes an hour; it’s the part of the UK that looks like the waist of a burlesque dancer. My lectures start at 9:00am at the Northumbria University. I’d been lodging with an artist in Jesmond together with her fifteen year old son up until the week before, it hadn’t gone well and so I was staying with my folks for a little while until I found new digs in Newcastle. They'd moved out to Brampton after my brother and I first went to university. Most of the time I got the 685 bus back and forth, but it stopped so often at the string of little towns and villages connecting the coast to coast that it barely got out of the lower gears, besides I had to be on time for once that morning, exams were looming. There was one flickering amber light above the end of my platform, if you’d come from a lit area and straight into this you wouldn’t have noticed it until your eyes adjusted, but mine had, having walked down the minor unlit country road to get there. There was nobody about, at least I hadn’t noticed anybody, it was silent, not even the stirring of a bird or the rustling of any leaves, the air was completely still and very cold. I waited, young and unafraid, in my neck of the woods. A match struck in the darkness, it came from the backside of the platform only five or ten metres away. I looked behind me and saw the glowing embers of tobacco brighten gently and quickly as a steady draw of oxygen passed through and then dimmed off, to be followed by the unmistakable smell of cigar smoke. I didn’t know of many people who smoked cigars any more, especially at that hour. A walking stick came forth first, followed by a short immaculately dressed fellow. He wore a beautifully fitting three piece suit; complete with watch chain and large high soled black brogues which were so well polished they shone up a treat, finding every wave of available light. He came towards me, and in one steady movement, put down his briefcase very carefully, his daily paper on top, then rose whilst removing his bola hat and bid me good morning; his hands remained full, now with his hat in one, and the cigar over the handle of his walking stick in the other. His hair was jet black, brylcreemed down and combed to within an inch of its life, not a single hair was out of place. He had a very unusual face, perhaps a man in his forties but who looked older than his years, exaggerated features, and a posture which was suggestive that he might be doing battle with it. I have never come across manners such as his, his address towards me was completely formal. A civil servant no less, travelling across to his offices in Newcastle, although still living with his mother in Brampton. She required his ongoing care up at the big old house, I didn't ask which one. His voice was BBC, slightly more old fashioned than current, he struck me as a creature of meticulous habit and routine, I’m sure even when engaging in fleeting pleasantries with those he had not met before, whether scruffy students or dignitaries. This man was of another era. We stood together looking up at the trees above the opposite platform waiting for the dawn; the train approached all noise and light out of the dark. I had no idea what a civil servant was at the time, I would ask him if we were seated close by and the train was not too busy, as I hoped would be the case. I followed him onboard, there were more people than I had anticipated and I came up against a friendly guard from whom I needed to purchase a ticket. I didn’t see where my companion had found a seat, nor did I see him again at Newcastle, although I did look out for him, indeed, I made that same journey many more times and I never saw him again.