"Bye, Georgey"

I was travelling home one time, actually, rushing through London, just outside, Gatwick or something, close to home. The rain was thin, and all but disappearing outside the window. I was sad and all the innocence of everything had been lost on me.
There was a couple, possibly mid-late twenties I'd seen waiting, whilst I did, at the previous station. They had a pram and seemed to be disheartened because of the cold. There was a kid of about two or three in the pram and a little girl not much older walking about the platform, peering in windows and eating something from a bag. She knew her parents' cynicism and unhappiness, but it didn't bother her. She wanted to be rebellious.
At this time, I'd been in the waiting room to escape the cold and noticed the couple when I arrived. The girl, of about three, seemed fascinated with me - kept making faces and smiling through the glass door of the waiting room.
Train arrives. "Is that your train?" she mouths. I shake my head, unsure of just what to do.
The cold, at this point, was starting to get to me and I kept staring at the board to see how long it'd be before the train.
Another arrives. "Is THAT it?" she mouths again through the door. I smiled and shook my head.
There's a noise coming from behind as I sit on the train - it's the four of them.
The two parents began to get impatient and I could hear one of the children screaming. The rain, all gone, now I could I just feel the harsh chill through the windows and the doors. My feet were resting on the leg of the table and was slouched side-on into my seat.
The girl starts to explore the train carriage. I knew she was trying to find me and I could hear the adults calling her back as she began to make her way down the train.
Then her great, huge toddler eyes peer round the side of my seat and she gives off a half-smile, half-laugh.
"What your name is?"
"George," I reply, trying as best I could to speak to her like an adult.
She repeated my name, either to confirm or just for fun. I smiled, she was done, turns back to her parents.
She came over again about two minutes later to start a game with me - she'd first surprise me by poking her head through the left side of my chair and then, when I acknowledged that, the right side.
Her father noticed this quickly and I don't know whether he thought she was bothering me or was afraid of my willingness to join in with her little game. Either way, he dragged her back to her seat, without saying a word to me.
She returned about five minutes later as we were passing through all these minor stations that you question the existence of this time of day.
"Hi, Georgey," she proclaimed in true high spirit.
I could hear her parents calling, but decided to say hi back to her, anyway. She seemed pleased and wanted to go back to playing our little game. I didn't know whether to go along with it or whether to try to ignore her.
I played, semi-reluctantly, unsure of why -- I guess I wanted her to be happy. But I could hear her parents threatening to hit her, I think anyway, I can't be TOO sure. I wanted to get up and tell them they shouldn't say that. I didn't want to tell her to go back to them, but I did - trying to put on an act, half-serious, half-understanding; I think that went right over her head. So she went back, informing them - "I found Georgey!" or "I saw Georgey!" or something. That made me smile. She had no idea who I was, no idea where I came from or where I was going -- but she had FOUND me!
Soon after, we'd be pulling into the station and both be getting off as it was the end of the line. Her parents were preparing her and she seemed agitated -- I didn't see, only could tell from her voice. Don't worry. Don't worry.
She knew that this was it, was the end of the line. It's alright.
She made her way towards me one last time as though to complete this wonderful adventure of hers. She probably remembers me now, but won't when she's older; that's the beautiful, brief utopia of childhood. That's it - "Bye Georgey!"