An Encounter On A Train - Part 1

 

                            - 1 - 
                    *** An Encounter On A Train *** 
 
     I sat contentedly in my seat for some time as the train drew out of  
Euston and made its way towards the edge of London, past the grimy  
backs of the small factories and derelict plots which always huddle  
against railway lines. I read a little, occasionally gazing  
thoughtfully out at the passing scenery. 

	After some time I felt the heating take effect, and soon wanted  
a bit of ventilation, so I looked at the girl sitting opposite to  
ask whether she'd mind if I opened the window a little. She  
indicated that she also would welcome some air. 

	As I stood up my jacket caught the corner of my book, left  
hanging over the edge of the table when I laid it down. It proceeded  
to perform a perfect double back flip and half-twist, then fell under  
the table and disappeared. Reseating myself, I bent under the table  
to retrieve it. A pair of crutches were lying on the floor beside  
the opposite seat, and natural curiosity impelled me to look for the  
reason for them. I guess I expected a plaster cast, or a bandage  
indicating a sprained ankle. Reality took a moment to register, and  
then I was so surprised that I jerked back involuntarily, thus  
fetching myself a resounding crack on the back of my head from the  
table. 

	As I had reached for my book I certainly hadn't expected to see  
just one pretty feminine leg on the opposite seat. Two, yes. One,  
sheathed in dark nylon, a neat high-heeled cream shoe with an  
ankle-strap, with the left side of her skirt interestingly unfilled. 

	Emerging again, clutching my book and ruefully rubbing the  
incipient bruise, I found the girl opposite looking at me with a  
serious expression on her face. I rearranged myself and got back to  
my book. I tried to, anyway, but the words couldn't hold my  
attention. I found myself fidgeting, unable to relax and  
involuntarily looking past the top of the book in an attempt to  
catch further glimpses of that beautiful leg, and to examine the  
rest of her more closely. 

	She was absolutely stunning. Quite small, with features which  
stayed just short of being child-like, but retaining some of that  
elfin quality. Her hair was a darkish blonde color, cut in a very  
sensual way, with a long fall, partly over one shoulder, partly down  
her back. The crown was cut quite short, making it appear squarer,  
with the fringe parted in the center then swept sideways and back. 

	Her face was small and pointed-chinned, with large eyes that  
gazed from beneath fine dark eyebrows, a straight tip-tilted nose  
and a rich, slightly pouting mouth set in velvet skin laid smoothly  
over high cheekbones and clean jaw line. 

	Her neck was slender and in the opening of her blouse I could  
see the beginnings of her cleavage and the swell of her breasts, the  
perfection of which was confirmed by the fine white silk roundness  
of the bosom of her blouse, tucked into the waistband of her gray  
pleated skirt. Her waist was very slender, pulled in by a wide black  
belt and beside her lay an Italian-looking leather jacket. 

	It was her eyes which fascinated me most. Huge, the irises pale  
gray in color, but ringed with a darker, almost black tone. She was  
watching me, and I tried to continue reading again. 

	Suddenly a smile tickled the corners of her lips. She pulled  
the magazine she held towards her, shielding the lower part of her  
face. It seemed that she was trying to stifle the laughter that was  
bubbling up inside her, but she failed, and dropping the magazine on  
the table, folded one arm across her body to cup the other elbow and  
put a hand up to her cheek. Her hair fell forward and hid her face  
for a moment, then she straightened, revealing a perfect set of  
teeth as she grinned broadly. 

	"I'm sorry." she said after a moment. "I shouldn't laugh. That  
must have hurt. It's just that you looked so - " she fumbled for a  
word, "so ruffled. What happened? Or did something surprise you,  
perhaps?" This last she said with a definitely suggestive tone in  
her voice. 

	You know  you can begin to feel a hot flush of  
embarrassment starting, and you know it's going to get worse, and  
you know you're going to go all pink and feel stupid? This was one  
of them. A hot flush of embarrassment started, and it got worse, and  
I went all pink and felt stupid. 

	The girl laughed again, but more softly. "I'm sorry, I  
shouldn't tease you. It's just that you're the fourth guy today that  
I've had that effect on, though I must admit none of the others  
tried to brain himself!" 

	"I'm sorry." I finally managed, "I didn't mean to be impolite.  
I'm Phil Barker." I didn't really know what else to say. 

	"How do you do, Phil Barker. I'm Felicia Stone. And you haven't  
been impolite." she responded. "It must have been a bit of a  
surprise when you saw that I have one leg. You could hardly be  
expected to have seen that through a solid table, could you? You  
don't look anything like Clark Kent, anyway." she laughed. 

	"Er, no, I guess not." I managed. "Though I feel about as  
tongue-tied as he usually is, at this point." 

	"Why, because I'm an amputee?" she said gently. 

	"Well, yes. I guess so." 

	"There's really no need to be shy of me because of it, you  
know. I promise you, I'm used to it, and I won't be embarrassed." 

	"Don't you use an artificial leg, though?" I asked, "I thought  
they were provided on the NHS." I wondered if it was all right to talk  
about it, but it seemed so, because she answered readily enough. 

	"Yes, of course, they are. Until recently I did, but they're  
such useless damned things. Quite honestly, I've decided I'd rather  
be properly one-legged than very imperfectly two-legged. Now I think  
I'm going to use crutches all the time." 

	"What happened?" 

	"You mean, what made me decide to stick to using crutches, or  
how did I lose my leg?" she asked. 

	"Either. Or both." I responded. "Whichever." 

	"Well, it happened in a motor-bike accident. I was riding  
pillion, and lost my leg. My brother was killed." she said simply.  
She paused, looking out of the window for a moment, then shook  
herself a little and continued, "Actually, I didn't lose it  
immediately. They thought at first that I would be all right, or at  
least, that I would still have two legs." 

	"So what happened?" 

	"Well, my leg was pretty badly mangled, and there was a lot of  
damage to the nerves and blood-vessels. The circulation was poor,  
and it kept developing infections. Eventually it healed after a  
fashion, but it was almost totally numb, and completely paralyzed as  
well, and they told me that I'd have to wear a leg-brace for the  
rest of my life." 

	"Go on." I prompted her. 

	"The next few weeks were awful...I was fitted with the darned  
thing, and I really tried to adapt to it, but I hated it. Maybe  
that's why, but whatever, it seemed to make my leg worse. I even  
tried to do without, using a pair of crutches. The problem was,  
without any motor-control, I couldn't do much more than hobble about  
with it dragging behind me, which was obviously hopeless, so between  
the damage that caused and the problems I was having with the brace,  
it was almost inevitable that my doctor would eventually suggest  
that the only real solution would be to amputate." 

	"Well, the prospect of losing my leg horrified me, even though  
it was such a mess, but after thinking about it for a while, I  
realized that there really couldn't be much difference between  
having one good leg and one crippled one, and having just the good  
leg and not the crippled one. So I said yes." she finished, simply. 

	"When was all this?" I asked, noting that she hadn't placed the  
events at any particular time. 

	"Early last year...or that's when I had my leg off, and things  
began to improve. The accident was about six months before that." 

	She went on, "Afterwards, I was fitted with an artificial leg,  
and taught to walk on it, but I could never get the knack of it  
properly. I used to put the leg on when I went out, take it off  
again as soon as I'd get back home, and use crutches most of the  
time in between. I only wore the thing because everyone seemed to  
assume that I ought to hide the fact that I have one leg." 

	"The result was that I could never do much more than limp very  
slowly around on it, and probably would never get much better than  
that, because I didn't have any real desire to learn. Then one day a  
few weeks ago I realized that I didn't care a toss what people could  
or couldn't see, and that I loathed the discomfort and the feeling  
of clumsiness, in contrast to being comfortable and relaxed on  
crutches. So I put it in the back of the closet, and I haven't so  
much as looked at it since."  

	"Oh." I said. I couldn't think of what to say next, but Felicia  
spoke before the silence became embarrassing. 

	"You seem very interested in my leg." 

	I looked up, startled. I confess, I had been staring. "Oh, I'm  
sorry." 

	"Oh, don't be silly...I'm used to it!" she smiled, "I don't  
suppose you see many one-legged girls." 

	"Many?" I exclaimed, with a touch of irony, "Hardly any at all.  
And even fewer who are attractive!" 

	"I take it that's a compliment! I do try to make the best of  
myself." 

	"You get my vote, anyway." I said. 

	"Thank you." she acknowledged, then continued, "You sound as  
though you have some special interest." 

	"Would it offend you if I told that I think you look lovely?" 

	"Not at all...why do you think I dress up? After all, there's  
nothing wrong in having only one leg, is there?" 

	"I think your leg is very attractive." 

	"Make the most of what you have, I always think." she said,  
obliquely, then went on, "It's not all bad, either, you know...in  
fact there's some advantages!" She stopped; another smile tickled  
the corners of her lips, and she added, "At least, I'm beginning to  
discover some. Even crutches have their good points." 

	"Do they?" 

	"Ever thought about wearing high heels and an artificial limb?"  
she returned. I shook my head. "Impossible," she stated, adding, "or  
as near as makes no difference. Which annoyed me, because I like  
wearing smart shoes and high heels. I may only need one shoe now,  
but at least crutches let me wear one with a proper heel." 

	"Any others?" I wondered. 

	"Well, wouldn't the sight of a one-legged girl on crutches  
catch your eye, Phil?" 

	"I think any girl as attractive as you would catch my eye, but  
yes, I wouldn't deny it." 

	"Thank you," she said, acknowledging my compliment, "but unless  
I'm much mistaken, I think you'd do more than just look. I think  
you'd suddenly find you had an errand which meant that you had to go  
the same way as me!" she smiled. 

	I didn't know what to say. She was dead right; I would do  
exactly that. "How can you tell?" I asked, tacitly confirming her  
suggestion. 

	"Because I've found other guys following me. And I'm sure it's  
no co-incidence. At least, I never seemed to get that kind of  
attention before, when I used my prosthesis, I mean, so I guess it  
must be the crutches." 

	"Does that bother you?" 

	"Bother me, Phil? The only thing that bothers me is when they  
won't come up and talk to me! How can I get to know a guy who won't  
talk to me?" she mocked, gently, then went on, "I know I have one  
leg. I can never forget it, and I can't do anything about it. That's  
how I am, and I'd prefer to have someone who wanted me as I am, so  
if someone were interested in me because of it, I'd be delighted."  
Her tone turned to a pastiche of a Bronx whine, "Which kinda means  
someone who likes one-legged goils." she finished. 

	"Er, yes, I suppose it would." I felt another hot flush  
beginning to build. 

	Felicia noticed it too, and said gently, "Don't be embarrassed.  
You're not the only guy who's attracted to amputee girls. I'm just  
beginning to realize that it's more than just one or two guys; more  
like hundreds. And since I happen to have one leg myself, I'm all in  
favor of it." 

	"I'd be stupid to deny it, in the face of such a watertight  
case against me, I suppose. Yes, I admit it. I've always been very  
attracted to girls like you. Does it bother you?" 

	"Like I said, I'm all in favor of it. I mean, I caught your  
attention, didn't I?" 

	"You're very forthright about it, though." 

	"Why be shy?" she shrugged, "Life's too short to wait around  
for it to happen. I prefer to go out and get it. I'm enjoying  
talking to you, knowing that you're attracted to me, as I'm  
attracted to you. I don't mind a bit if part of my appeal to you is  
because I have one leg; in fact I'm rather flattered. Not to mention  
which, you were bound to discover that I'd lost a leg, sooner or  
later, anyway, so it makes it easier all round if I'm open about it  
from the outset. Prevents awkward moments." Her directness took me  
aback. "I wasn't always as up-front as this, I'll admit." she smiled. 

	"Was that part of the re-evaluation, too?" 

	"Not at first, no." she confessed, "Originally I had intended  
to do no more than accept the way I am and stop pretending to be  
anything else. That meant using crutches and letting people see me  
as an amputee. However, I hadn't anticipated the attention that  
would bring. I guess I must be some kind of exhibitionist,  
underneath. Anyway, the problem was, I got plenty of attention, but  
very few follow-ups, if you know what I mean. So I decided I'd have  
to be a bit more bold, and I'd have to create the openings." she  
explained. 

	"I must say, it doesn't seem to worry you much, does it?" I  
commented. 

	"Having one leg?" she asked. I nodded in reply and she went on,  
"No, not that much. Why should it? I mean, it just is. I'm still the  
same person, inside." 

	"Yes, I know, but it must have made a difference to your life?" 

	She nodded. "Of course it has. And in more ways than you might  
think, too." she answered, slightly cryptically, "But it could have  
been much worse, you know. I'm alive, and most of me is still here.  
At least I didn't have a spinal injury, which are pretty common in  
bike accidents. I think it must be dreadful to be paralyzed. The way  
I look at it, I can either spend my life wishing I still had two  
legs, or I can face reality and get on with living on one leg. I'd  
rather do the latter." 

	I was amazed at her words...here was a girl who had undergone a  
hellish experience, yet who still had time to feel sympathy for  
people whom she thought might have suffered even more than herself.  
"Very commendable sentiment." I responded, jokingly putting a  
'serious professor' look on my face and peering over the top of my  
glasses. She knew I really meant it, but that I was trying to avoid  
becoming too mawkish. I couldn't keep up the pose. My face broke  
into a grin. She was so amazingly easy to talk to and laugh with. 

	She smiled warmly back, her eyes holding mine. 

	"Where are you headed?" I asked to change the subject to less  
explosive ground, and adding, "I'm stopping at York." I hoped she  
was. Oh, Lord, I hoped she was. 

	"Me too." she replied, in answer to my prayer. "What's it like?  
I've never been before. Is there lots to see?" Her vivacity made her  
sound almost girlishly curious, spilling out one question after  
another, not waiting for an answer. 

	"Old, mostly, I think. I haven't been since I was a very small  
child. Are you visiting friends?" 

	"Sort of. Friends of friends. They live just outside. I'm  
staying with them for a few days. And you?" 

	"Fed up with the Smoke." I supplied, using the habitues  
nickname for the vast city now falling rapidly behind us as we  
accelerated through the rolling hills of Hertfordshire. I continued,  
"I thought York would be an interesting place to visit. So I'm  
going. I hope I'll be able to see you while I'm there?" 

	"Where are you staying?" she inquired without answering my  
question. 

	"I haven't booked. Pot luck, I guess." 

	"Hmmm." she said, thoughtfully, but without amplification. We  
sat in companionable silence for a moment, looking at each other. 

	"How do you feel about it?" I asked, eventually. 

	"About having one leg?" she inquired. I nodded in reply, so she  
carried on, "At first I hated it. Everything took such effort and  
concentration. It was difficult to adapt, I guess. And that darned  
prosthesis didn't make things any easier. In fact, I think it was  
mostly a hindrance, instead of a help." 

	"Did you find it made a big difference when you gave up using  
it?" I wondered. 

	"Oh, totally!" she laughed, "Of course, it was a bit strange at  
first, but mostly because I had forgotten what it was like to spend  
a whole day without at least part of it being a terrible effort. I  
seemed so peculiar to be able to get around at a normal sort of  
speed, instead of always moving slower than I wanted." 

	"Is that the first thing you noticed?" I asked. 

	"Almost...don't forget, I'd spent more than a year struggling  
with an artificial limb, and had to drag an almost totally useless  
leg around for six months beforehand. Not surprising that my first  
feelings were a sense of freedom, even if I would always have to use  
crutches." 

	"Do I take it that your attitude to being an - um - er, an  
amputee has altered, then?" 

	She ignored my fumbling with the words and responded  
cheerfully, "Yes, it has, considerably! Nowadays I don't think about  
it; it seems perfectly normal for me to do things the way I do." 

	"You mean like remembering to pick up your crutches before you  
go anywhere? That sort of thing?" 

	"Well, that comes pretty naturally when you try doing without  
them a couple of times!" she laughed, "But the harder part is  
learning to carry things, or to use them without getting them all  
tangled up in swing-doors and suchlike. And what to do with them  
when I'm not using them." 

	"Really?" I remarked, surprised. 

	"Does that sound strange?" Felicia asked, adding, "You'd be  
amazed at how many people fell over them until I figured that one  
out! Nowadays I put them under my seat, if I can, or in a nearby  
corner." 

	"So I see. That's what made me realize that you...you...er..."  
I tailed off. 

	"I thought I'd explained that you needn't be shy about it." she  
said, slightly impatiently. 

	"Um, yes. Well. That you'd lost a leg, I mean." I sputtered. "I  
can't quite get used to the idea of discussing it like I'd talk  
about the weather, or something as everyday as that." I explained. 

	"It is everyday for me, though." she said, quietly. 

	"True, but it's a special treat for me, just to meet you!" 

	She looked at me, opened her mouth to say something, seemingly  
decided not to, shut it again, then turned to look out of the  
window. I waited, wondering whether to prompt her. 

	Eventually she seemed to come to some decision, because she  
turned and faced me, her features serious. "Phil, I know this might  
be a strange thing to ask, considering that we've only just met, but  
can I ask you a rather personal question?" 

	"Of course. Go ahead!" I responded, willingly. I didn't know  
what she was going to say, but I felt a great wish to open up to  
Felicia. 

	"You needn't answer if you'd rather not." she said, slightly  
timidly. 

	"All right, I won't, if I don't want to. But I do want to. So ask. 
" I replied. 

	"Well, it's this." she started, "You just said that it's like a  
special treat for you to see a girl like me, yes?" 

	"Yes, I did. And then what?" 

	"Okay. Why?" 

	"Why is it a special treat? Because I don't see many of you,  
that's why!" 

	"No, I don't mean that. That's pretty obvious. And I wouldn't  
have thought that it's just rarity that's interesting to you. After  
all, there's other ways of being different from the norm, but I  
don't imagine you'd be especially interested in an albino guy, or  
even a girl, simply because of an extremely unusual lack of pigment,  
would you?" 

	"No, not hardly!" I averred, forcefully. 

	"But a girl with one leg is a special treat. You said so. I  
just want to know why. And don't, please, worry about what I might  
think. I know it's true, and I promise you, I really am glad to hear  
it. I'd just like to know what the appeal is to you. I mean, why do  
guys like to see me using crutches, for example?" 

	"Ah, I see. Hmmm...." I pondered for a moment. "It's all sorts  
of things, I suppose. Part of it is the fact that when you use  
crutches you're at your most visibly one-legged. Like you're telling  
people that you know you're an amputee, and you don't mind if they  
know it, too. Then there's the way that a girl on crutches moves;  
that can be very graceful. Akin to it is the contrast between the  
movement of your leg, and the movement of the crutches; one is fluid  
and supple, the other is stiff and rigid." 

	"True, but much the same could be said of someone with a cast  
on, couldn't it?" she countered. 

	"I suppose so. It isn't just the crutches; in fact, they're  
only an incidental item, really. It's the reason for them that's  
important. Your crutches are only of interest to me because you have  
one leg." 

	"That's what I thought. So what is it about a one-legged girl  
that particularly attracts you?" 

	"I hope you won't mind me saying this, but to me, and guys like  
me, one leg looks much more attractive than two." 

	"Why should I mind? You think I'm going to complain if someone  
says that I look attractive?" she smiled, knowingly. 

	"No, of course not. But I'd be worried that you might not take  
kindly to being told that I think losing a leg adds to a girl's  
attractiveness." 

	"You mean that you think I'd be less attractive if I had two  
legs?" she suggested, not looking in the least surprised at or  
disturbed by the idea. 

	"No, not less. Differently. I just happen to prefer a  
difference, I guess." 

	"So tell me." she persisted, "What is it that you like? I still  
want to know." 

	"I think a single leg looks more 'leggy', somehow." I began,  
and went on, "It's as if two of anything force one to make a  
selection between 'better' and 'worse'. For example, the more  
slender of two legs. When there's only one leg, there can be no  
opinion. The one there is, is perfect. It must be. I like to see the  
space where the missing leg was, too. In some odd fashion, even the  
emptiness is fascinating, particularly in the way that a skirt falls  
around it. Does that answer your question?" 

	"Mostly." she said, vaguely, then turned to look at me. "What  
about if I had one arm, or had no legs? Would I still attract you?  
As much as I do as I am, I mean." 

	"I think I'd find you attractive anyway; I mean, you attract me  
as a person, not just as a physique. Sounds corny, but it's the  
truth!" 

	"That may be the truth, but it doesn't answer my question!" she  
accused, smiling. 

	"I suppose not," I confessed, "and the answer is possibly, just  
possibly, mind, you are a tiny little bit more attractive as you  
are. But it's all a bit speculative, because I'm attracted to the  
girl that's in front of me, not some theoretical alternate." 

	"Well, all right," she acknowledged, "but to put it another way,  
you'd not prefer me as any other kind of amputee?" 

	"Persistent, aren't you?" I twitted her, gently, "You should  
have been a lawyer! And no, I wouldn't." I admitted. I paused for a  
moment, "Can I ask a question in return?" 

	"Shoot." she answered, breaking out of a reverie. 

	"Why do you ask? I mean, why do you want to know what I find so  
appealing?" 

	She rolled her eyes to the heavens, "You men!" she said, and  
shook her head slightly, displaying bemusement at my obtuseness. "I  
don't know. Does it have to be written in neon letters, twelve feet  
high? Same reason any woman wants to know what guys like! Why do you  
think?" 

	"Oh. Um." I muttered. "Of course. Stupid question." Another  
rose in my mind. "What did you mean, I was the fourth guy you'd had  
that effect on today?" 

	"Well, as I said, none of the others tried to brain himself,  
but while I was waiting for a cab one guy walking past nearly bumped  
into a lamp-post, and at the station, when I was looking at the  
departure boards, one man lit the wrong end of his cigarette and  
another choked on a can of Coke!" 

	"Why, because they were too busy staring at you to look what at  
they were doing?" 

	"Must have been." she averred, with a chuckle in her voice. It  
wasn't malicious, her humor. She wasn't taking pleasure in their  
discomfiture, just amused. "Is that what happened to you?" she  
asked, sounding suspiciously innocent. 

	"More or less. It was so unexpected event that I forgot I was  
under a table!" I laughed. "I've often dreamed of meeting a girl  
like you on a train, but to find a dream come true, well, it's not  
surprising I banged my head!" 

	Felicia didn't say anything at first, just smiled with an  
almost feline look of contentment on her face. "You really like  
one-legged girls, don't you, Phil?" she said after some time. 

	"I admit I've always been fascinated, yes." I was revealing my  
innermost feelings, but I felt quite at ease with this girl, and not  
simply because she was the embodiment of all my most secret dreams;  
there seemed to be some deep channel of communication between us.  
Not to mention which, if she didn't have a right to ask such  
questions, then who did? 

	"Hmmm," she said, thoughtfully, then asked, "And you've never  
met anyone like me before?" 

	"No - you're the first." I told her candidly, "I've always  
hoped, but never been lucky enough. There aren't many of you around,  
you know." 

	"Yes, that's right. When did you first discover it? Your  
interest, I mean?" 

	"Oh, lord, years ago!" I answered, "When I wasn't more than  
about five or six, I think." 

	"As young as that?" she commented, sounding astonished. "Are  
you sure?" 

	"Absolutely certain. It was when I was still in the junior  
class at the day-school I left when I was seven, and I seem to  
remember it was some considerable time before that." 

	"What was?" 

	"The event that first alerted me to the fact that for me, at  
least, amputees were intriguing, and young, attractive one-legged  
girls in particular." Felicia nodded, and waited for me to explain.  
"I was sitting in my mother's car, outside the Bank, when a  
'crocodile' of girls from the local convent, just across the road,  
came out to go down to the cafe where they had their lunch. In  
amongst these girls, somewhere near the front, was one girl who had  
lost a leg, and who used a pair of aluminum elbow-crutches." 

	"I remember being utterly fascinated by the way she moved, and  
my eyes followed her as far as I could, until she vanished down the  
street. I saw her at least once more after that, one morning when my  
Father was taking me to school, I saw her arriving at the convent,  
climbing out of her own father's car." 

	"And you never saw her again?" 

	"I don't remember doing so, though once, many years later, I  
saw a one-legged woman of about the right age to have been this same  
girl grown up. Not long after these first two episodes, though, I  
had another. I was over at a friend's house one day; that evening,  
just before my parents came to collect me, my friend's father's boss  
arrived, with his wife, who was one-legged, and also used  
elbow-crutches. I remember that she sat beside me on the sofa, and  
to this day, I wish I had been twenty years older at the time!" 

	Felicia laughed. "Can you remember every single occasion on  
which you've seen a one-legged girl?" she wondered. "And in such  
detail?" 

	"I think so." I mused, casting my mind back. In over thirty  
years I hadn't seen a hundred, if that, and I was sure that I could  
remember the most salient details of each occasion. What I could  
hardly believe was that, after so long, I was sitting talking to a  
girl who not only had lost a leg, but was genuinely beautiful as  
well. The train was slowing. The time had flown by for me, and all I  
could think about was how to see more of Felicia. 

	"Can we meet again?" I asked, my heart in a mouth dry with  
anticipation. 

	"If you'd like." she replied, then added, "But how, if you  
don't know where you're staying?" 

	"I could call you." I suggested. 

	"Not in York, I think, though." she said, explaining, "I'm  
staying with people I don't know too well yet, and I don't think  
it'd be very polite to go out with someone else while I'm there.  
Look, why don't we wait until we're back in London?" 

	She tore a corner off her magazine and wrote on it, the passed  
it to me. "Here's my number in London. I'll be back a week from  
today. Call me then, Okay?" 

	I passed one of my business cards across to her. She took it  
and examined it. "Philip A.R Barker." she read out, "International  
Jewel Thief." She looked up, a twinkle in her eyes, "That you?" 

	"That's for friends, of course. The formal ones say 'Broker in  
Precious Stones'. That's what I do." 

	"So you could shower me in diamonds?" she giggled. 

	"Yes, but you wouldn't like them much. Be a bit like being  
coated in gritty soot. Sorry. The ones I deal with mostly get used  
for cutting coal and making aircraft engines, and suchlike.  
Industrial diamonds. Smaller than very fine sand, and often nearly  
black." 

	"How dull." she grimaced, adding, "I thought industrial  
diamonds would at least glitter a bit. Seems only fair, considering  
how important everyone says they are!" 

	"Perhaps. But don't forget they're just squashed coal. That's  
why you need 'em to cut it. Some kinds are only a hair short of  
being diamond, as it is." 

	"Journey's end." Felicia said, looking out at the city of York  
sliding past. She bent down and picked up her crutches, stacking  
them beside her, leaning against the seat. "I guess it's time. It's  
been a pleasure meeting you." 

	"And you. I'll call you the minute you get back." I replied,  
standing up and putting on my coat. "Would you like me to help with  
your bag?" I offered, putting my own on the seat. 

	"Yes, please. It'd take me ages to find a porter." she agreed,  
then smiled ruefully. "That's one of the shortcomings of using  
crutches - I can't carry things!" 

	I watched, fascinated, as she slid across to the seat beside  
the aisle. Her skirt dragged to her right as she moved, pulling  
tightly into the empty space left by the amputation, and revealing  
either that her leg had been taken off very high up and she had a  
very short stump indeed, or it had been disarticulated completely. 

	She swiveled her leg out into the aisle and pushed herself up  
with one hand on the table and the other on the back of the seat  
until she was upright, then, keeping one hand on the table to  
balance herself, adjusted her skirt. 

	She looked up and caught me watching. "See? You can't stop  
looking, can you?" she teased, but with a smile in her voice making  
it evident that she had no objections. 

	"Not at someone like you, no." I admitted. She wrinkled her  
nose at me, then turned around to reach for her crutches, leaning  
against the seat. Slipping them under her arms, she took a couple of  
small steps to adjust her position. "My stuff's under this seat."  
she said, pointing down, and pulling the strap of her shoulder-bag  
over her head. 

	I looked into the luggage-space between the seats. "More  
crutches?" I asked, noticing two other pairs, both Canadian-style,  
in contrast to the axilla-crutches she was using. 

	"Of course. I have different kinds. Which ones are better  
depends on what I'm doing." 

	I reached for them, and took out the suitcase. The train came  
to a halt with a sudden jerk, causing Felicia to lose her balance  
momentarily. She  grabbed my arm, then released it, saying with a  
shy smile, "Sorry, I panicked for a second." 

	"No, don't worry. They always seem to do that." I reassured  
her, my arm tingling at the memory of her touch, and slung the strap  
of my overnighter on my shoulder. I picked up her bag in one hand  
and both pairs of crutches in the other, and thus arrayed, headed  
for the door. 

	I held it for her as she followed, waiting as she set her  
crutches on each step, brought down her foot to the same step, and  
repeated the process until she stood on the platform beside me. I  
was surprised to discover that she was taller than I'd first  
thought. Granted, she was wearing a high heel, but even so, her leg  
was so long that her incredibly slender waistline was almost on a  
level with mine, and I'm a good six feet in my socks. I hadn't  
realized how long, lean and lissome she was. She was fabulous! 

	"Ready?" I asked, motioning to the ticket-collector at the  
barrier. 

	"Ready!" she averred, and started off towards the gate. I  
followed, half a pace behind, entirely so that I could watch her and  
soak in every detail of the way she moved. I was intrigued, as well  
as excited, by the slight bob she made each time she moved her  
crutches forward, as her foot flexed, lifting the heel off the  
ground a fraction, and equally fascinated by the way the empty left  
side of her dress swayed and fluttered in response to the motion of  
her gorgeous single leg. 

	She knew I was looking, and stopped to turn and look at me,  
"You are awful!" she said, accusingly, but with a smile that belied  
her tone, shifting her weight back to the crutches and falling into  
step alongside me. 

	"I thought you said you liked attention?" I countered,  
fascinated by the way slight thump of the crutches alternated with  
the click of her high heel. 

	"Oh, I do, I do!" she laughed, "but you're ogling, aren't you?" 

	"Yes, but you're so good to look at." I answered, "I can't help  
myself!" 

	She laughed at that and tossed her head as she went through the  
gateway. I had to fumble for my ticket, so Felicia waited for me on  
the other side, having had hers more to hand than I. 

	"My friends are over there." she pointed, waving to a man, who  
waved back and started to come over. 

	"Well, I'll leave you to it, then." I said, putting down her  
bag and leaning the crutches against it. "And I'll call you when you  
get back! I promise." 

	Felicia laughed. "Oh, I know you will!" she said, "I'd put  
money on it, even!" 

	"See you, then." I said, giving her a parting wave and heading  
for the taxi stand. 

	I took one last backwards look as I passed under the arch,  
catching a final glimpse of Felicia swinging gracefully along on  
that wonderful single leg and pair of crutches, beside the man who  
had come to meet her. I knew that I'd see her again. I just hoped it  
was soon.