The majestic St Pancras Railway Station is seething with people. Clara stands near the platform where the train to Paris is about to depart. Embracing a baby warmly, she shuffles her feet nervously.
The sounds of trains rumble along, a feeling of growing anticipation runs through her. After a few minutes, Clara intently listens to the emotionless voice that utters the expected announcement: their train is getting into the station. She looks at the vanishing point as the Eurostar slows down and comes to a standstill. Five minutes and the journey will start.
The train railway carriage smells of life as London is left behind.
– Paul, darling. Please, wake up, I have something to tell you.
– I hear you.
– I’m very happy.
– Me too.
– All I wanted was to be with you, to have our own baby. You can’t know how many times I have prayed to God for this moment.
– I see.
– If only things hadn’t been so difficult.
– I didn’t want to hurt you.
– I know. We cannot change the past.
The ticket collector enters the carriage. Only a woman with her baby at the end. He advances quickly.
– Good evening, your ticket please.
Clara’s has the empty look of people on the vege of madness.
– Are you ok?
Clara remains silent.
– Can I offer you a glass of water?
A baby doll drops to her feet.