November 1926

The train platform was busy, alive with people, moving on and off trains, coming in and out of the station at a rate only comparable to blood through veins.

Though two blood cells stood still.

Arthur Shelby, volatile, loud, explosive and emotional Arthur Shelby was still, holding your suitcase on the platform where your train to Edinburgh was stationary, boarding passengers.

He'd known this would be difficult, saying goodbye, having you here one day and the next you'd be gone, too far for him to follow, so like a lost dog he vowed to wait for you, his dove, his darling, to come home to him. He'd wait forever and a day for you.

You offered him a small smile, willing him to break the silence, for if you did, you knew you'd crumble and end up staying.

He placed your suitcase on the platform floor, wrapping his lean arms around you to pull you close, closer, closer and it still wasn't enough.

"C'mere t'me my darling," he mumbled into your hair, a gloves hand cradling your cheek.

"Be good eh? Be good f'me." his voice was starting to crack as his grip tightened, his arms like iron rings around you.

"I'll be right here when you come home." he said, pressing his lips to your forehead.