Apologies, my updates won't always be this frequent! Surprising, the trains do end up chugging around as there's always something on the rails, 'Sleeping Beauty' and Disney World belongs to Disney, New York, Manhattan, Queens and Coney Island (as well as Brooklyn etc.) belong to USA, Kate Middleton owns herself and Greater Manchester owns the Trafford Centre.

It picks up a bit, longer chapter.

-pureclass

The train chugged noisily into the station – electric trains shouldn't do that? he questioned none other than himself. Great, he had had apprenticeships as mechanic and chauffeur but couldn't – Damnit! What was her name? How was he going to wake her up without knowing her name? Eegit.

"Georgia, Georgia!" he muttered, shaking her a bit. She roused after the twelfth call of not-her-name and corrected him straight away.

"I'm not called Georgia." She reminded him.

"Yeh, but since I don't know your name it was either the one piece of information I do know about you or 'Sleeping Beauty'."

She swatted him away and then uttered "Sybil."

"Huh?"

"Sybil, my name is Sybil."

He took her proffered hand and declared "Tom."

Unravelling the hoodie, which, subsequent to her falling asleep, had fallen from behind her head and onto her backpack, she pulled it back on over her head then pushed her arms through the sleeves, writhing beneath the thick woollen garment. She pulled the bag onto her shoulders, sliding her now available arms through the loose straps, and stepped gracefully – was that possible – through the sliding door held open by her new acquaintance.

"Is it nice in America?" he asked, quite gentlemanly offering his hand to help her off the train.

"I suppose," she answered, "My mum's from there, so we visit Manhattan often; and the rest of New York, really. $6 from Queens to Coney Island." She laughed at her own joke. "Plus all the times we went to Disney World when we were younger. Me and my sisters, that is. Though by the time I was old enough to really enjoy it, they were both old enough to not care less. Well, Edith did, I think, but chose to act like Mary."

"So those are your sisters? Edith and Mary?"

"A-Hu. Do you have any?"

"Yep. Three, Rose, Sinead and Jess. And four brothers."

"Wow! How does your mother cope?"

"Gets rid of us all, last time I checked. That's why I've been banished to Yorkshire!" He replied mockingly, without even the slightest hint of solemn.

"Well, if she did, you certainly seem happy about it." She smiled a devilish smile.

"How could I not be? Within an hour of landing I get to know a pretty girl, who looks amazing in everything and – slap me if I'm wrong – doesn't seem like she could give one."

"I presume you're talking about me? Or did you invite Kate Middleton into the compartment whilst I was snoring?"

"It was an angelic snore." He smiled back. "Hey," he spoke again and stopped them when the coach park was in sight, "You never told me what you're doing in Yorkshire."

"Oh, yeh, I'm going to my family's ancient castle – which just so happens to be plonked in the middle of nowhere. But, hey, I'm not due there until tomorrow, want me to show you all the cool places round here?"

"You're not going to drag me round the Trafford Centre, are you?" he enquired.

"Don't tell me you wouldn't enjoy it." The statement came with an implied winking smiley.

"Are you?"

"If you insist then no, we'll stay round here. We could visit Haworth."

"Brontë country, I like your style."