Free Chasing Freedom Home (Malinding) by Tom Ireland

with you – everything could be traced. Keep hold of this rope while I chuck the raft overboard. As it hits the water it should inflate. Good job it’s fairly calm.’ He looked at the waves. “Fairly calm” did not seem an appropriate description. He held the rope firmly and Rachel heaved the raft overboard. For a long moment nothing happened, then, with a bang the chambers inflated and the raft bobbed gently along side. Time to go.
    ‘Rachel, thanks. I hope … thanks, anyway. Why “Rachel”?’
    ‘It’s where mum thought I was conceived. Saint Rachel's Gardens. Dad was all for calling me “Gardens”!’ He climbed unsteadily into the raft.
    ‘Bye, Ed. Take care.’
    ‘Bye, Gardens. Nice kiss!’ The vessels drifted slowly apart. Rachel increased speed and swung in a wide circle round the raft. Ed was sure she blew him a kiss. He settled down to inspect his new station. There was a stencilled sign which read ‘not to exceed four passengers’. There was barely room for one, he thought. He found the pouches containing water and the medical kit. He took one of the pills with a swig of water. Rachel was out of sight. He discovered the raft had an inflatable canopy, and he wriggled round to allow it to form a rubbery roof above his head. He left a small hatch unzipped so he could keep an eye on the outside world. The outside world rotated on a variety of axes. The rubber floor of the raft took on a life of its own.  He tried to think of Jane, and her baby.  Rachel kept intruding into his thoughts. He tried to think of rescue, of arriving home, of killing Mr Jones, slowly. He failed. The pill did not work. He managed to stick his head out of the hatch before he vomited. He was grateful to the wave that broke over him, rinsed him and drove him back into the flexible coffin. The Irish Sea hadn’t looked so large when Rachel had shown him the charts. He was a black dot in a grey raft on a grey sea. A sea which heaved and rolled and pitched regardless of whatever he felt or wished for. He wished to be alive – he was alive. He wished to be free – it was difficult to envisage a greater freedom, alone on the ocean. He wished to be safe – he hadn’t drowned, so far. He might drown at sometime in the future, he might be captured, but, for the moment he had everything he wished for. Except Jane. He slumped against the unstable side of the raft and sobbed uncontrollably. He took another pill and drank half the remaining water. He felt drowsy, and closed his eyes just for a moment.
    ‘Oh look, a stray life raft’ said a loud voice.  ‘I wonder how it came to be here. It doesn’t look like a railway station.. .’ Ed was reminded of the Mad Hatter’s Tea Party. He crawled to the hatch and looked out. Two black faces gazed down at him from a rigid inflatable boat. They smiled. 
    ‘Hello. How are you? I’m Ed-Lam-‘
    ‘We don’t want to know your name’ said one of the faces ‘not yet, anyway. Just tell me if you think you’re on a railway journey?’
    ‘Yes, sir. This is the third station, I think. Or is it just a waiting room?’
    ‘You’ll do. Can you scramble into this boat, d’you think?’  They might as well have asked him if he could climb Blackpool Tower using only his teeth.
    ‘Sorry, I seem to be a bit wobbly. Could you possibly give me a hand?’ Two pairs of arms reached down, took a tight grip on his wrists and hauled him aboard the other boat. He collapsed on the floor of the cockpit and heard the engine roar beneath him. This voyage lasted only a couple of minutes. The motor launch idled up to a battered, rusting cargo ship. Dangling lines from a pair of davits were fixed fore and aft to the launch and it was winched slowly up to the boat deck. A man in a sweater, wearing a captain’s cap, helped Ed onto the deck, and steadied him while he found his footing.
    ‘I wish I could say “Welcome aboard the Great Western” but it’s a bit misleading and there’s a famous predecessor so