Meeting on a train.

It is midwinter in 1976 - 77, it is snowing so hard that the train has ground to a halt. We are four in the carriage. Me and Bill a pleasant faced blonde woman and a foreign looking man. They smile but little is said. Half an hour later, boredom having set in we are chatting. I tell the man I lived in Greece for a couple of years.<br /> “Where?” he asks.<br /> “Athens.”<br /> “When were you there?’<br /> “62 - 64.”<br /> “I lived there then, where did you live?”<br /> “Kolonaki.”<br /> “Me to. I liked it for the people.” I agree and we talk about the Bohemian mix. He begins to talk about an artist he knew, an American. It’s as if he’s describing a friend of mine.<br /> “That sounds just like a painter I knew - Phillip H .. . .” I say.<br /> “That’s him. Phillip . . .” We are very excited at this and compare information making sure we are talking about the same man. There is no doubt we are. “How strange then that we never met.”<br /> I agree but I am not surprised Athens back then was full of people who lived life in separate boxes, so to speak.<br /> Conversation becomes general again. And the train is still stuck. He mentions he lived in Spain after Greece.<br /> “I’ve only been there once to a small fishing village called Nerja.” I tell him.<br /> He looks puzzled. “That was where I was living.”<br /> “Do you remember that wonderful house on the top of a cliff with a thatched roof?”<br /> “Very well. It was a lovely house.”<br /> “I went to the most amazing party there. I drank too much Sangria, oh my poor head.”<br /> The stranger looks uncomfortable. “When were you there?”<br /> “Just for a holiday, in July 1968.”<br /> “I was there then . . .” he appears agitated. “I was at that party.”<br /> “What a coincidence,” I laugh. “We were evidently destined to meet.”<br /> “But why? I don’t want to speak to you anymore.” He looks angry now. “I fear you are my nemesis.”<br /> He huddles in the corner and true to his word refuses to speak to me. The train moves. Finally on the boat, I see them across the lounge. The Norwegian waves, he gets up and runs from the room.<br /> I never saw him again.<br />