People, shivering inside thick coats, bunched in couples and small groups around red formica high tables. The train station café was cold. Cold enough that Melly could see the wetness of her breath. Cold enough that Lou curled her fingers inside her gloves, letting the knitted fingers flap free. She lifted her paper coffee cup with her fists. Melly wore her scarf wrapped three or four times anaconda-like round her neck. Her woollen cap was pulled down over her forehead. Only her eyes and flushed red cheeks were visible to Lou. The rest of the space between Melly’s cap and scarf was filled with frenzied red hair.

Melly watched bursts of steam gather around Lou’s chapped lips as Lou sipped the coffee. Lou didn’t own a hat. She kept her hood up. The hood framed her face with a ring of fake fur.

‘This cold is hellish,’ Lou said, breaking the ice.

‘I wish I were dead,’ Melly said, re-freezing the space between them.

Lou sighed. The sigh was inaudible, but Melly saw it snake from her lips. A curl of water droplets suspended in winter. ‘You’ll survive,’ Lou said. Her eyes flicked to the departure board and then back down at the coffee cup. ‘Train’s delayed.’ She put her fingers back in her gloves and picked at the cup’s plastic lid. She imagined being on the train, warm and squeezed into a window seat. Trying not to touch a stranger’s leg with her leg. Passive, watching the landscape change as the train travelled south. Getting warmer as the train approached London. Back home. Back home. Things, life, could begin again. Impatience made her look back up at the departure board. The delay had increased by five minutes.

‘Can’t wait to be off. Can you,’ Melly said, she didn’t put a question in her tone. She had her arms crossed and her hands tucked into her armpits. The end of her nose was cold and beginning to feel damp, but Melly didn’t want to release a hand to dab at it. She looked around at the other people in the train station café. She peered at the little huddled pairs and groups, trying to decide if they were looking at her. No-one stared openly. Melly bit her lip, and got some fluff from her scarf caught on her tongue.

‘Lou – do you think they can tell –?’ she asked.

Lou put her coffee cup down hard on the high table. She tried to mitigate the violence of the sudden movement by bending down to pick up her rucksack. ‘Melly, don’t,’ she said. ‘No-one needs to find out. So don’t you go saying anything, okay?’ Melly’s eyes, visible in a clam-like opening between scarf, hair and cap, wrinkled around the edges and became glassy.

‘Melly – don’t cry,’ Lou said. She hugged Melly; her rucksack was heavy and the hug was off-balance and awkward. Melly’s flushed cheek brushed soft against Lou. The touch reminded Lou of peaches. She felt conscious of her own cold bony cheek. Melly held Lou tight against her. Lou felt dampness seeping through her hood’s fur rim. She let Melly stay there, judging by the rhythm of Melly’s shudders when her crying slowed down. Lou watched the departure board over Melly’s shoulder.

‘Ah – my platform’s been announced,’ Lou said, ‘I’d better go.’ She untangled Melly from the embrace. She kept hold of Melly’s face by slipping a hand into Melly’s hair and under the cap. Melly didn’t struggle. Her heartbeat thumped in her ears. She could feel the pads of Lou’s fingers digging into the side of her head.

‘Melly,’ Lou said, ‘we had to do it. Remember, we didn’t have any choice. And no-one saw him with us.’ She paused. Melly felt Lou’s grip loosen under the cap. ‘Anyway, he slipped. It wasn’t even our fault. In the end.’

Melly took Lou’s hand away from under her cap, and then she loosened the scarf around her neck so that Lou could see her mouth again. ‘I know all that,’ she said. Lou watched Melly’s tongue flick the words out. ‘I’m not going to say anything.’ Melly took her cap off, let her manic red hair loose. ‘Have a safe journey,’ she said, ‘you’d better go to your platform.’ Lou was suddenly short of breath. She leaned forward, uncertain of Melly’s response. Melly kissed her on the mouth. The chapped skin on Lou’s lips broke and both women tasted blood. Melly licked her lips.

‘Sorry,’ said Lou, ‘sorry.’ They walked to the platform ticket gates. Lou felt Melly’s eyes on her back as she went through the gates, but when she turned around Melly had gone.