There are a thousand ways to go home again.

Rumi

The train slows down as it pulls into the station. The soothing, gentle voice over the communication system says, "Good evening, pilgrims. We have now arrived at Forward station. You may disembark as soon as the train comes to a complete halt, and the doors are fully open."

There is a pause, and then the voice continues, "Each of you will be met by someone upon your arrival, so please, do not leave the railway station until you have found them. Thank you for travelling with Empyrean Rail, and have a pleasant eternity."

Julian tenses slightly as the train comes to a stop. He wonders how he will find the person who is meeting him. Will it be like an airport, with someone holding up a sign with his name on it?

The doors of his carriage slide open, and Julian steps out onto the platform, running a hand through his curls. It feels strange to be getting off a train with no luggage, no possessions. Not even a wallet or keys in his pocket. 

He should be nervous, but instead is filled with excitement. It's bubbling inside him like it's every Christmas morning he ever had, as he looks around at his first glimpse of Forward.

The railway station is purest white with pale blue trim, lit by the soft glow of brass lamps, and it smells slightly of peppermint. Its high glass roof shows the violet sky above, streaked with the pink and gold clouds of sunset. 

There are not many other passengers getting off the train, and the station isn't crowded. Julian scans the people waiting, trying to see which one is there for him.

There is a big clock in the middle of the station, its hands together to signify that it's half-past six, and she is standing beneath it. His eyes are drawn to her at once, the girl in a white dress with a pale pink cardigan over it, a deep red rose tucked into her satiny black hair. She is looking at him steadfastly, as if he is the only person in existence.

She is the most beautiful girl he has ever seen. He could not say which of her features makes her beautiful, he only knows that every love poem he has ever written was dedicated to her, every cheap pop song he's hummed along to was sung in her honour.

The girl begins walking in his direction, slowly, deliberately. Without thinking, he walks toward her, as a compass needle naturally points due north. It is as if their shoes have fallen in love. 

At first he thinks she is a very young girl, hardly old enough to have left school, then he changes his mind and thinks she is around his own age, perhaps even a little older than he. And finally he gets close enough to look into her deep brown eyes, and they have gazed upon many ages, and none.

At last they stand face to face.

"Hello," he says. "I'm Julian Barratt."

"I'm here to meet you," she says, in a low voice.

"I hope I haven't kept you waiting long," he says politely.

She says something strange, then. "I would have waited until the end of the time for you."

"Oh, I'm so glad you didn't need to do that," says Julian with a smile.

"You look ... you look exactly the same," the girl says in surprise, and she reaches up to caress his dark face, as if hardly daring to believe he is real.

"The same as what?" asks Julian.

"The same as you did when we first met," the girl says, reluctantly taking her hands from his cheeks.

Julian can't understand their conversation at all. They only just met – of course he looks the same as he did a minute ago! Nothing makes sense, and yet instead of feeling dizzy or confused, his mind only seems to be getting clearer and sharper, like a picture coming into focus.

He reaches over and gently touches the flower in her hair. He wants to tell her she is beautiful, but instead he says, "That rose you're wearing is so beautiful."

"It's called a Miranda rose," the girl says, and her voice trembles slightly.

"That's funny," he says. "Miranda is my favourite name of all time. I've always loved it."

"That is funny," the girl says in a serious voice.

"Everything has been so strange, yet so enchanting here," Julian says. "Instead of writing poems, I feel as if I'm living in one."

"Oh, so you're a poet," the girl says, her eyes widening.

"Well, I only had one volume published," Julian says. "I was known more as a performance poet. My stage name was Julie B."

"And tell me, Julie B," the girl asks, looking into his eyes, "were you searching for a new kind of poetry to perform?"

"That would be rather arrogant, don't you think? To imagine I could develop a style of verse that nobody else had thought of?" Julian says. "Actually, I was inspired by the medieval poets, by the romance of the past. I expect that sounds horribly pretentious."

"No. No, it doesn't at all," the girl says. She smiles at him for the first time, and her smile is a sunrise and a new day dawning.

She takes his hand, and leads him out the big glass doors of the railway station, and then Julian stops in shock. It is completely surrounded by a garden of roses, hundreds upon hundreds of fragrant bushes blooming.

"These are ... they are all the same as the Miranda rose," Julian says. "I never saw anything more perfect. So soft and velvety, so sweetly scented." But he isn't looking at the roses. He is looking at the girl.

"I am the gardener at the station," the girl says. "I planted a new rose bush for every year that passed on Earth, and each one was a sign of hope in my heart that I would see you again."

Julian looks at her in wonder, and as they stand with their hands clasped, surrounded by perfumed walls of crimson roses, his mind feels clearer and clearer, as if he could remember a thousand years all at once. The sky becomes a darker shade of blue, and there is a cool breeze blowing.

"What are you here for?" he whispers.

"I have come to take you home," she says with a little smile on her lips.

And he looks at her, and he knows. Knows her right through, all the way down - mind and heart and body and soul. He knows her name, and when he says it aloud, it sounds like a benediction. There are tears shed between them, but they are joyful tears which take place among the kisses and embraces of soulmates who have been long parted, but are now reunited forevermore.

A star comes out, and shines above the roses, bright and silver. And there is no need for them to wish upon it, for every one of their dreams has come true.

THE END

Notes

Well done to anyone who guessed this ending from the start or the middle, you are much cleverer than me. It was embarrassingly late in the day before I realised who the other Julian Barratt was! And only after I finished the story did I realise that Julian not only saved Noel's life, he was the catalyst for poor Rudi finally being allowed to move Forward. He really is a hero.    

(By the way, Julie B is an urban poet and rap artist who is yet another of Julian's characters. He appeared on the TV sketch show Comedy Nation. The program aired in the middle of the night, and was described as "the cheapest comedy show ever made").

I hope you don't mind that it wasn't Julian and Noel at the train station, but they were happily reunited on Earth, and are not ready to go Forward yet. It would be too sad to think of them leaving us now, and Rudi and Miranda deserved a happy ending.