The rain drums a rhythm off the slabs of concrete that line the entrance to my home station. The raindrops create tiny impact craters that last for a split second before fading in the shallow pool of sitting water. Need to ask them to fix that.

I'm huddled in my little office, the late shift again. I like the quiet, not many people on a cold night and I can enjoy my crossword in the warm. 6 across, silence shattered by joy. 10 down, a shy parent's praise. The author of this crossword has been teasing me for weeks. I haven't finished a single one yet and I stubbornly refuse to check the answers that lie tantalisingly overleaf.

Tonight is the night, I am feeling in the zone, it's cosy inside and the chilly rain is keeping travellers indoors. 3 down, a friend unsuspecting. 5 across, a smile, swiftly stolen. My pencil scratches across the page and I hum to myself. The pitter-patter of my drizzly percussion accompanies my wayward melody.

"Excuse me sir, can you help me?"

It's a small voice, not young, but I sense that it retreats, even as it asks. My smile slips for a moment as I sit up and stow the paper in a practised move.

"Of course, the timetable is right behind you, but if you're looking for a more complex route then I can help you find your way"

I spy a young face peering up through my internal window. Emboldened she places both hands on the lip and pushes her face closer.

"I'm lost and I can't find my way back home. It's been a little while and I'm worried I got turned around somewhere North of here."

"No problem, what's the name of your home station"

I cast open the curtains of my mind and started to consider some of the usual missteps that had led previous travellers to my stop.

"I can't remember, I was travelling with my friend and we take it in turns. I remember the journey for each day and she remembers the destination."

I chuckle, "Well that's a new one, my dear, what a novel concept. Perhaps if we wait for a little while then your friend will turn up as well. For now, why don't you wait inside the station and stay warm."

She nods sagely, "Yes, that's a good idea. But I'd rather wait outside. The rain likes me." My intrepid, young traveller swings a purple rain cloak around her shoulders and continues the spin until it takes her outside.

The raindrops part as she stamps her feet clad in long, dark boots. Her bare arms swing out and she twirls tracing them up and down as she turns. The droplets slow and glide over her skin, never breaking, she laughs, a merry sound and the rain increases apace.

I laugh as well, what a fitting gift to have, capture joy where you may... That reminds me, I open my paper again, where is it? 8 right , a present unopened. Crossed with what? Ah yes. 9 up, the art of offering a hand to only those in need. I enjoy the rhythmic sounds of the rain, crashing in waves around my happy new traveller.

Time passes, as time does. I'm so close, I'll catch the author this time. His clues are delicious breadcrumbs leading me straight to his door. This is a new thrill, small achievements in the dark.

The drumming of the rain is punctuated by running feet, I look up as I hear a new voice caressing the weather. My new traveller, clad in purple has company now. A taller traveller, dressed in a coat of green, flecked with blue, the hood thrown back and her face turned up, teeth shining in the half-light.

She is singing and her voice makes the water shimmer, it will echo in my heart when I sleep later. The song reverberates from each droplet, it should be a cacophony, an echo hall at odds with itself. Instead it builds, an endless crescendo, my breath catches in my throat and I have to force myself to breathe deep. She blends into the rain that gathers close around my little dancer. They turn towards each other and raise their arms up and forward till they almost touch, one swaying and one singing, the rain splits around them.

The storm above has reached its climax and a sudden deluge wraps itself around the two travellers. They, laugh and dance in a bubble of their own making. Droplets trace their movements until I can barely make out their outlines. The storm has given its all and fades back into the night, still they play. Their antics keep the bubble captive, no choice but to carry them where they will. The two travellers roll away together, I hope they are heading home.

Last clue, 2 left, home is where the heart beats slow.