The girl suddenly noticed the growing pain in her belly and glanced downwards towards the overflowing bag of shopping resting in between her legs. Rummaging around the inside, she soon found the source of her irritation: a twenty-pack of Menthol Superking cigarettes. She gazed absent-mindedly at the small brilliantly green box in her hand, and then, so swiftly it almost seemed to have not happened, felt the sudden urge to rip off the plastic coating that encased the box, pull a cigarette out and light up right there and then. But she soon returned to her senses, and reminded herself of other people’s expectations.What would everyone else on the train think of her smoking? No, it wouldn’t do to have people staring at her. Instead, she ignored her craving and placed one arm over the swollen surface of her belly. It was at that moment that the boy in the seat next to her cleared his throat and nodded towards the railway map on the wall above their heads. “I think we should get off at the next stop,” he said, as he plucked a single cigarette out of the packet in the girl’s hands. He then pulled out a lighter and singed the end of the small white tube. He had no such fear of the judgement of others. His suggestion seemed logical enough; if the train they were on now was delayed, then others at Victoria could be too, and who would want to go through all that bother? An agreement almost escaped from the girl’s lips, prevented only by the suddenly obvious tinge of demand in the boy’s suggestion. The boy took a drag of the cigarette and offered one to the girl. She, however, declined and produced a pale and bruised apple from the laden shopping bag instead. “This train was late,” she answered meekly. “The rest of the day doesn’t have to be ruined. I’ll stay on even if you won’t.”
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