Tim sat alone in the big stone house. The fire blazed and yet he felt cold. The flames licked the sods of turf within the stove, dancing around the sides of each one and meeting overhead to join together. They used to dance like that. Jumping around everyone in the old dance hall and meeting as one in the middle of the floor. Wrapping around each other when the slow sets started.

No matter the weather, they’d race to meet each other after work on their Raleigh bicycles at the train station. Parking their bikes in the bike sheds. They’d buy tickets at the hatch, laughing as they’d head for the next village where the dance hall was. A full night of kicking up their heels followed. Leaving twenty minutes before the end to get the last connection home.

The excitement built up within him remembering her. Julia. Her red flaming hair, hotter than the fire burning in the stove and a temper to match. Her laugh though, infectious and full of devilment. He closed his eyes remembering her rosy lips beneath his on the train home. Julia, his first love.

He never told anyone he loved her, not even her. He should have when she said she was going to Dublin to take up a full-time position. He did follow her, intending to do so. He was too late. The train had just pulled out.

He stood on the platform heartbroken. Then he saw her green scarf on the bench. He picked it up, holding it to his nose, drinking in her essence. He had promised himself he would tell her he loved her when she came home. She never did. Killed in a freak car accident. His Julia. Her green scarf was his last connection with her.

The years drifted by, until he met and married Margaret. They never went dancing. Tim never danced after Julia. Even at his own wedding, he barely shuffled through their first dance, holding up the bar for the rest of the night. They lived a simple life. Margaret joined local clubs, kept her teaching job while Tim farmed away with not much interest in anything. They were blessed with one child, Anna.

It was Anna, at fifteen, that found the green scarf hidden in a box in the attic. She brought it to her mother and asked her about it. As Margaret took it from its box the cup slipped from Tim’s hand and shattered on the floor. Margaret had no recollection of the scarf and wondered where it came from. Tim remained silent.

Six months later, Margaret and Anna took the last train out of their quiet village. Margaret had found a new teaching position in a larger town. She broke the news to Tim. His lack of enthusiasm sealed her decision. She told him they wouldn’t be back. She knew he never loved her. Tim didn’t deny it. He drove them to the train station. As the train departed, the station closed its doors for the last time. Tim’s last connection with Margaret and Anna.

Tim stared into the fire, Julia’s scarf held close to his heart, it bound him to Julia. Marriage had bound him to Margaret. Fatherhood to Anna. He realised now that he had loved them both, but caught up in Julia’s memory he hadn’t known how to show it.

The train had been his last connection to each of them. He thought it had taken them. But now he knew, it hadn’t, it simply had left him behind.