The train slowed even more, cranking gradually farther and farther down the line, its brakes giving out that odd sharp smell of asbestos, which she’d never liked but which now reminded her of the night she and Marek had met. At last it juddered to a tremendous halt. It sounded like it was exhaling, slowly.

Then the night and the air were suddenly very still and Nina felt adrenaline shoot through her. Her hand strayed to her mouth. The train was very quiet. Nobody came.

She had worked out from learning their shift patterns that Jim wouldn’t be on the train tonight; it would just be Marek. No sleeper. No timetable, or none they looked at too closely. Just the two of them in the middle of the Highlands, all by themselves.

The cab door opened quietly, and Nina took a step forward. Then another. She was breathing heavily now, a mixture of nerves and extreme excitement.

Marek didn’t emerge, and she had a momentary panic that maybe he wasn’t there after all; it was someone else, coming to tell her how dangerous it was to mess about on the railway track . . .

Still no one. Steeling herself, she slipped through the closed barrier. There was never anyone along at night; surely there wouldn’t be this evening either. That would be the cruelest of luck. But the roads, as ever, were silent, the farmers and the workers finally fast asleep in their well-earned beds.

She moved toward the engine, the enormously long train snaking behind it. She kept her focus on little steps. And then she was there, looking up.

Marek was leaning against the cab door. His hooded black eyes were slightly tentative, his curly hair wild as usual. When he saw her, he broke into a wide smile.

“I didn’t . . . I not sure you would come,” he said, blinking. He still looked amazed to see her standing there, as if she’d appeared from a dream.

“You invited me,” said Nina.

“I did, yes.”

They looked at each other for one second more. Then, in the stillness of the great night, Marek carefully, slowly put his hand out to help her up, and Nina took it.

In the tiny space of the cab, neither of them knew quite what to do or say. “I have . . . I have picnic,” said Marek, blinking heavily. Nina smiled. She hadn’t brought anything tonight, knowing she would see him after all.

“That sounds lovely,” she said. “Do we have time?”

Marek shrugged. “I think . . . I think she will be fine.” He patted the console fondly. “You will be fine. I have informed control of technical stop. They are okay.”

“Okay, wow. That’s great.”

They clambered down again and found a patch of soft grass, the great train blotting out the landscape behind them and keeping the wind away, and they sat on a blanket Marek unfurled with some ceremony.

“Wow,” said Nina, smiling. “A midnight picnic.”

Solemnly Marek opened up a wicker basket and brought out food Nina had never seen before: little meat dumplings, and blintzes, and pickles. She tried a few things, including the tart fresh radishes. He also produced a tiny bottle of champagne with its own straw. Nina exclaimed.

“I cannot drink on train,” he said shyly. “But I thought you might . . .”

He popped it for her with great care and she giggled over something so silly and so wonderful. He took a sip too, and made a face, then insisted she try something else from the little boxes he had unpacked, and she thought it was all wonderful and they chatted inconsequentially of this and that.

After they’d eaten, they both fell silent, and Nina found herself focusing quite strongly on his large, well-worn hands, covered in dark hair, and thinking of the little notes, the poems, the overspilling wildflowers. He was suddenly so close, and she wondered what would happen if she simply reached out and took his hand . . .

She glanced at Marek. He was looking at her with a dreamy, hopeful, dark-eyed gaze. He was attempting to appear casual, but clearly he wasn’t feeling that way at all. He looked intense and, suddenly, overwhelmingly attractive. Nina let her hand stray a little, almost casually, toward his.

And now his hand moved forward, and suddenly it was on hers, covering it completely, caressing and stroking it. She moved toward him, just inching, and he took her wrist and drew her steadily closer until she was practically on his lap; then he turned her face toward his, his wide soft mouth and huge dark eyes, and she found they were kissing, and suddenly Nina realized that what she had imagined and built up in her head was here, was actually happening. That was the last thing she thought of before his strong arms went around her and she lost herself utterly; pressed up against him, his mouth on hers, the rest of the world simply melted away.

Suddenly, shockingly, out of the blue, a bright light shone over the top of the hill, and a Land Rover roared toward the train crossing. When it saw the gates were shut, it honked its horn loudly, in frustration. Nina and Marek leaped apart, both of them startled, breathing heavily. Nina stared toward the vehicle. The voice that came out of it was loud and familiar and cut across the quiet landscape.

“What the bloody hell is going on? Move this effing train.”

Marek leaped up and went to the barrier, where Lennox was standing in front of the Land Rover, looking typically furious.

“Sorry, we’re doing technical—”

“MOVE THE SODDING TRAIN!”

Nina joined Marek at the gate. Lennox gave a sigh of exasperation.

“Oh, I might have known you’d be caught up in this. What the hell?”

“Why are you so cross?” said Nina boldly. “It’s the middle of the night. Where do you have to get to in such a hurry?”

It was then she saw that he was holding the lamb in his arms. There was blood on his jacket.

“What’s wrong with him?” she said in horror.

“Stray dog,” muttered Lennox. “Bastards. They must have let him off the leash. Should have shot the bloody thing.”

“You’d shoot a dog?”

“If it worries my sheep I will. Move the damn train.”

Marek had already leaped up into the driver’s seat and turned on the engine. He looked down at Nina desperately.

“Come with me,” he said.

Nina stared back at him. Lennox was glaring at her. She felt completely torn. Marek’s big dark eyes were pleading. Lennox was growling in impatience.

“I . . . I can’t,” she said. Marek blinked and nodded. They stared at each other for a long time.