The Farewell 


Able Seaman Tommy Fletcher stared at the endless waves of the North Atlantic, the roar of HMS St Albans under him like a distant heartbeat. Six months of deployments, countless nights of darkness, and still, one thought never left him: Ellie. His younger sister. His partner-in-crime since childhood. He had promised her over a crackly video call that he would meet her under the clock at Waterloo Station before heading home. 


“I promise,” he had said, staring at the screen as her green scarf caught the afternoon sun. “Under the clock. 1700. Five o’clock. No excuses.” 


Ellie had smiled, her mischievous grin gleaming through pixels. “You better be on time, Tommy. I’ll be wearing my scarf, and if you’re late…” she wagged her finger, “you’ll owe me twenty ice creams.” 


Now, docked at Portsmouth, Tommy’s heart pounded as he collected his luggage and headed toward the train. The countryside blurred past the window, and his mind rehearsed the reunion a dozen times. Would she recognise him immediately? Would she run into his arms, or just roll her eyes and tease him like she always did? 


He arrived at Waterloo Station two hours early. The grand clock loomed above, golden hands gleaming in the afternoon sun, as if counting down to the moment. He checked his watch—16:50 pm. Plenty of time to soak in the atmosphere. 


Commuters bustled past him, rolling suitcases, sipping coffee, scrolling phones. The scent of fresh pastries mingled with other city odours, which he had not smelt for some time while at sea.. Tommy smiled, a little nervous, and straightened his jacket. 


 


Ellie, meanwhile, wound her way through the station, green scarf snug and fluttering slightly. She had texted him twice that morning: “Counting down the minutes! Don’t make me wait!” She had arrived early, eager to see her brother, remembering the countless times he had dashed off on adventures and returned months later. 


Spotting the clock, she felt a pang of anticipation; but no Tommy. Not yet. 


Suddenly, the station erupted. A loud drumbeat. Shouts. And then… chaos. A flashmob. Teenagers in neon costumes, boomboxes in hand, launching into a perfectly choreographed routine right beneath the clock. Dancers spun, kicked, and leapt, oblivious to the chaos they were causing. 


Tommy froze. “Seriously?” he muttered, glancing around. Flamingo costumes twirled past him, a balloon bounced off a hat, and someone’s dog barked aggressively at a percussionist. 


Ellie, on the other side, burst into laughter, clutching her stomach. She hadn’t expected a simple hug and a few tears. Not this. 


Tommy waved frantically. “Ellie! Over here!” 


Her eyes met his, and for a brief moment, the world narrowed to just the two of them. He lunged forward, only to be blocked by a boy performing a backflip over a suitcase. Tommy stumbled, caught a dancer’s leg, and almost fell into a man playing a tuba. Ellie doubled over in laughter, waving at him. 


 


“Tommy!” she called, dodging a pirouetting performer. “You’re late!” 


“I’m… I’m not… wait—what the—?” Tommy shouted, narrowly avoiding a high kick from a teenager in a neon tutu. “Ellie! Watch out!” 


The next ten minutes were pure chaos. Tommy weaved through dancers, Ellie ducked and twirled, and a rogue skateboard nearly collided with both of them. At one point, a balloon bounced off Tommy’s shoulder and got caught in his hair. He swore, disentangling it while Ellie laughed so hard she cried. 


Finally, the music ended. The flashmob froze mid-pose, then dispersed, leaving Tommy and Ellie standing in a heap of laughter and neon confetti. Tommy lunged, catching her in a bear hug, knocking her scarf over her head. 


“Missed me?” he said, grinning. 


“You did miss me!” she gasped, still laughing, pushing the scarf down. “And you came with… style?” 


“Flashmob entrance, low key, very tactical,” he said, brushing confetti from his jacket. “I trained for months at sea to perfect this.” 


Once they caught their breath, they found a bench nearby. The station’s usual rhythm returned: the clatter of luggage wheels, the distant train announcements, the hum of conversations. But for them, time had slowed. 


“I can’t believe you’re really here,” Ellie said, leaning her head on his shoulder. “Six months… it felt like forever.” 


Tommy hugged her tighter. “I’ve missed you too, more than I realized. Every night at sea, I imagined this moment. The clock… you… green scarf…” He chuckled. “I even imagined dodging a rogue flamingo, apparently.” 


Ellie laughed. “You make everything sound dramatic. But seriously, I’m glad you’re back. I kept thinking… what if you missed the clock?” 


“I couldn’t,” he said firmly. “No way. Not after everything.” 


They talked for hours. Ellie told him about university projects, coffee shop disasters, and friends who still teased her mercilessly. Tommy shared stories of life at sea: stormy nights, quiet mornings on deck, runs ashore and the camaraderie of his shipmates. 


At one point, they laughed so hard at a story involving a seagull, a sandwich, and a very confused Petty Officer that other commuters stopped to glance. But they didn’t care. This was their moment, a bubble of warmth amidst the station’s constant motion. 


 


As evening fell, the station’s lights reflected on the polished floors, trains arriving and departing with punctuality. Tommy checked his phone: nearly 1900. 


“I guess I better get moving,” he said reluctantly. 


Ellie nodded, a little somber. “Yeah… but we’ll meet again soon. Maybe next time… no flashmob?” 


Tommy laughed. “No promises. But maybe a tuba solo.” 


They hugged one last time under the clock, the golden hands gleaming above them, silent witnesses to the laughter, tears, and chaos of their reunion. Ellie disappeared into the crowd, scarf trailing behind her like a banner. Tommy watched her go, a pang of bittersweet longing mixed with warmth filling him. 


The train home to Leicester was quieter than the rush of the station. Tommy leaned against the window, smiling. He had kept his promise. Flashmob or no flashmob, he had arrived under the clock. 


And for the first time in six months, the sea of worries, responsibilities, and distance felt smaller. Family. Chaos. Laughter. All worth the wait.