Sneak preview - Lost in Time - Part 3

Isaac Grows a Pair

Staring at his kindle to avoid making eye-contact, Isaac had never felt so alone. Of all the places to be stuck for two and half hours, an Austrian train wouldn’t have been his first choice – he didn’t share Sheldon’s love of them. But he did have many other things in common with The Big Bang Theory’s main character – especially when it came to the OCD tendencies. This entire journey had him well out of his comfort zone on so many levels, but he’d made a conscious decision to stop being so needy. Or as Kevin so quaintly suggested, to “put on his big-boy pants and man-up.” The ability to quote a cliché for every occasion was the guy’s superpower – or one of them. Despite the irritating class-clown persona, he had many redeeming features and was definitely someone Isaac would want in his corner in a crisis.

A raucous outburst from the end of the carriage provoked a pursing of his lips in what Kevin described as his lemon-sucky face – there he was again. Maybe it was simply the comic, visual nature of his epithets. Isaac grimaced at the noisy gaggle of youths, who he concluded were undoubtedly British and almost certainly drunk. Hunkering down, he tried not to raise his head above the parapet, nor his eyes from the kindle, despite the overt disapproval of those around him.
The older woman sitting opposite tutted. “They sound as though they are enjoying themselves a little too much. I suspect alcohol is involved.” Although aimed at no one in particular, her remark received supportive grunts from the other two men in their seating cluster.
He kept his eyes down as she glared in his direction. “I think this is common behaviour in young Englishmen.”
His mind screamed a protest that he’d never acted so thoughtlessly, even when he was young enough not to know any better. Resisting the weight of her expectant gaze, he recognised she’d spoken in heavily-accented English. The man next to her spoke in rapid German and she switched language as they chatted with the stilted to-and-fro of strangers bonding over a common foe.
Relieved at losing her attention, Isaac wondered briefly how she’d guessed he was English, remembering something Andrea had said about how he dressed like everyone’s idea of a perfect English gentleman. He sighed. How much easier would it have been if he’d got a seat on the same flight as Andrea, a seasoned traveller? Her plane was full, but it gave her the opportunity to spend a couple of days with her parents before he arrived. Although a bonus for her, it left him trying to tackle his first journey outside the UK alone. Big-boy pants indeed.

Feeling the woman’s gaze once more upon him, he reactivated the sleeping kindle, scrolled to the end of the chapter and resumed. His ability to shut out the background noise failed completely as one of the louts stumbled closer, still shouting to his mates, his language loud and offensive. As he reached their seats, the train swayed and he overbalanced, showering their table with lager from the can in his hand. Some of it landed on the woman opposite and she gasped.
“Sorry darlin.” He peered at her, gesturing with the can as he giggled. “Quite tasty for an old Kraut, ain’t ya?”
Isaac couldn’t believe the reaction of the two men who simultaneously found something fascinating in the scene outside the window. Something about the woman reminded him of Andrea, and he felt it his duty to protect her from such repulsive attention. Channelling the kind of courage his housemates displayed in their Dungeons and Dragons sessions, he adopted a cool tone. “You should apologise.”
“I already said sorry.” The lout’s gaze dismissed him as harmless. “Wasn’t my fault anyway. Blame the bleedin’ driver for taking the bend too fast.”
“You should apologise for your foul language and insulting attitude.”
“Oh yeah? Who’s gonna make me? You? Don’t make me laugh.” He towered over Isaac, puffing out his beer-belly.
Having had years of experience with bullies, Isaac knew his lack of height meant it would be a mistake to stand toe-to-toe in an attempt at physical intimidation. Instead he used a handy trick, raising his gaze to a point on the lad’s forehead and lowering his voice. “You have made a grave mistake. Martina is a black belt in many martial arts and could inflict serious damage. I strongly recommend you apologise.”
“Like I said, who’s gonna make me?” The nervous glance at his distant mates confirmed the crack in his bravado. “You an’ whose army?”

“My colleagues here are equally proficient so your little gang of inebriates would be completely outclassed.”
“Using big words don’t impress me much.”
Luckily the woman, whose name-tag identified as Martina, was up to the challenge, and had hardened her features as Isaac spoke. After a neutral glance at her aggressor, she rattled out a swift command to the other two, who both fixed the lad with menacing stares, resulting in complete deflation and a mumbled apology.
It would have to do. No point pushing it. “I suggest you mind your manners and run along.” Which he did.
Unfortunately, Isaac had lost all chance at anonymity as the woman introduced him to the other two who were, in fact, her colleagues. The three of them praised his courage in standing up to the scary thug who thankfully made no comment on his return journey.