Ticket to Ride

This story is a work-in-progress with alternative endings.  At the bottom of the story click on the ending that you want to read or add your own ending in the comments section at the bottom.

It was a warm sunny morning in May and my grandmother brought me a cup of tea in my bedroom. She wasn’t usually this kind to me, but my mother had died not three weeks earlier and I guess she had a tiny feeling of kindness, or maybe guilt towards me. Also, the fact that she was relinquishing her duty to a younger family member, who I had never met and lived miles away across the Mersey, seemed to have put a spring in her step. Of course, she was upset when my mother died, she even put her arm around me at the funeral, but I quickly slid free from her touch. She liked neither me nor my mother, we just weren’t good enough for her. So mother worked part-time for our keep. I never knew what happened to my father, people simply didn’t mention him or how we came to live with this woman in Liverpool.

My grandmother and I took the bus to the Pier Head, which was quite a journey but one I had made happily with my mother. When we arrived it was sunny but windy and I held my suitcase tightly. I enjoyed the warm breeze across my face, blowing my hair in all directions. The seagulls singing a merry sea shanty overhead. We marched smartly down the jetty as it swayed beneath our feet and echoed with the sound of our footsteps in between the waves crashing against the side. When we reached the ferry my grandmother pushed a note and a ticket into my pocket telling me not to lose it. Then she informed me that I should get aboard as it was due to sail soon. I was to be met on the other side by a tall dark haired man who would recognise me and I was to give him the note. She pecked my forehead with cold, hard, dry, lips. She turned and walked out of my life. I would never see her again. 

I stood for a moment not knowing what to do, the ground beneath me was still moving and the boat grunted and groaned as it bashed against the tyres, trying to break free for the open sea. I was so frightened, my stomach filled with a battery acid-feeling, fizzing and swishing around inside. 

“Come on love she’s quite safe, just a bit noisy”. I looked around to see who was talking “ Come on love take my hand, its ok”. The next moment he was by my side picking up my case and taking my hand as we walked across the creaking boards. He was a tall man with a shaven head. He wore a thick navy jumper. His hands were huge and rough skinned, covered in tattoos, but he held my hand so gently. “ Just take a seat in there my love and we’ll soon be on the other side, don’t you worry”. 

I did as I was told, like a rabbit in the headlights I froze when the engine started. I had never heard anything like that before. The journey seemed to take for ages and I never moved from my seat. The noises and smells of the boat filling my head and making me feel slightly sick. But I thought of my mother and wished she could be next to me. The ferry groaned and crashed as it arrived at Woodside and the huge man in the navy jumper picked up my case and took ,my hand again saying “see I said you would be all right, never lost a little one yet, now off you get”. 

A tall man was silhouetted in the mid morning sun. His outline hovered over me offering a warm gentle hand of welcome placed on my shoulder. From that first touch I knew I would be happy. His strong fingers on my tiny shoulder radiated through me and l felt a communicating immediately. He spoke in a gentle, clear tone and introduced himself politely as Uncle John. He took my tiny suitcase from me and, clasping my hand firmly but softly in his, we crossed the road to his waiting car. 

The seats in the car had been warming in the sun and there was a mechanical smell inside. As he drove the car away he began talking to me, talking in a way that made his narrative sound story-like. I was fascinated. He began explaining how l had come to live with my Grandmother and how today there was no shame in these matters as there had been in my Grandmother’s day. 

The car seemed to float along the roads and l gazed out of the window content. I felt at peace inside because l felt loved once more. My hand sat loosely in my pocket touching the note my Grandmother had tucked away in there. We passed through an elegant square of tall grey buildings and huge lawned gardens surrounded by flowers and statues. Along through some busy street, past Central Station. The further we went, the less elegant the houses appeared. 

His story was increasingly interesting and he explained that he was trying to prepare me for a surprise once we arrived home. "Home" he actually said home! I knew then l had found happiness because it wasn't a holiday, this was the real thing. Liberation from my Grandmother. If only my mother had lived to be here today. I felt heavy again at the thought of her. I could see her face, smell her perfume and feel her slim elegant arms wrap around me, as only she could. Silence in my head and a stomach full of battery acid at the fear this may not be true. 

The car stopped. Uncle John turned towards me saying "I realise this is all a bit much to take in just now, but you will never know how much mean to me and your Aunt Jane”. He leant across the car seat towards me and with a little difficulty he pulled me towards him and kissed my forehead saying how everything would be alright and how he realised how much l must be missing my mother, such a beautiful, wonderful woman. 

We continued on our journey up Hinderton Road and along Old Chester Road until we pulled up outside of a chemist shop. Uncle John parked the car, lifted my case from the back seat and tenderly 

took hold of my hand as we crossed over the road together. Uncle John still had hold of my hand as he placed the key in the lock of the chemist shop door. As it opened I entered a whole new world. Dark wooden floors, wall to wall glass cabinets filled with so many colourful bottles and boxes. I gazed around, slowly trying to breathe it all in. 

Most of the shop was the chemist’s but on the right hand side was a serving counter with dark wooden work-tops, brass weighing scales and huge grey till. In the glass cabinets at the side were sweets, rows upon rows of sweets from Mojo's and Black Jacks to Penny Arrowe bars and Lucky Bags. The jars behind the counter were filled to the brim with Pineapple Chunks, Pear Drops, Dolly Mixtures. On and on they went row after row. My stomach was filling up with dancing butterflies until my gaze stopped at the end of the counter. A huge metal drum sat proudly with a lid on. Uncle John could see my gaze change to curiosity as I stared at this thing. He began to grin as we walked towards it. As we got near he dropped my hand to switch it on. My hand fell limply by my side and l felt very uneasy and a little cold and disconnected. While he had hold of me l felt safe and good, but here I was standing alone in a closed chemist shop surrounded by all sorts of things, the floor beneath my feet began to sway gently. As the floor swayed I could hear the creaking of the floorboards and the smell of the river. The strange clinical smell of the shop filled my nose then my head until I floated away into darkness.

Click here to read ending one
Click here to read ending two (from Uncle John's perspective)

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