again?’
‘It’s going to get worse.’
‘I agree. Things are warming up in worrying ways, but I think this is where you and I come into the picture. They want ideas, fresh ideas.’
He said nothing more to enlarge on that. For a while we sat silently together, enjoying the delicious cheese and sipping the wine. Fatigue was rising in me, though. I looked around the compartment but there was nothing that might be used as a mattress or a bunk. Just our two wooden chairs, side by side.
Bert had obviously cottoned on to what I was thinking.
‘Seems to me,’ he said, ‘that this train isn’t likely to move off for a while.’ The train still had not departed. ‘I was starting to think, just before you arrived, that I might open up my luggage, see if I can find some clothes I could spread out on the floor, up against the wall over there. I’m feeling wiped out. Need to put my head down.’
‘Have you travelled far today?’
‘Only from Essex. Not a bad trip until the train to Folkestone. How about you?’
‘Near the centre of London,’ I said. ‘Bayswater Road. Towards Notting Hill.’
‘I know the area a little. I lived for a while not far away. In Mornington Place, near Camden Town.’
‘Ah yes.’
‘I still have a small flat in London, but I spend most of my time out in the country.’
Bert’s suggestion of trying to bed down was a good one, so we drained our glasses, recorked the bottle and then began searching through our luggage. I was already thinking of my cloak, which was in the case with the other apparatus. It was just about the last thing I had packed: however hard I tried I could not think of a single practical use for it where I was going, but it was so much a part of my normal work that it seemed inconceivable to leave it at home. As chance would have it, it now became ideal for my immediate needs.
The cloak had been made to exacting specifications and at the time had cost me a great deal of money. It is made of purple satin on the outside, warm black corduroy on the inside, and because of the number of hidden layers and pockets stitched into it there is a thick lining.
I tugged it out of the case, spread it out and folded it in four, making a long makeshift mattress several layers deep. Bert watched with interest but said nothing. He spread a couple of coats and some woollen pullovers on the floor for himself. I was dizzy with fatigue.The air was warm in the carriage and the distant sound of the troops in the next car was almost soothing. I crawled on to my satin robe, tugged my greatcoat across me and was asleep within a few seconds.
3
THE TRAIN WAS MOVING WHEN I AWOKE, BUT IT MUST HAVE been travelling slowly because there was hardly any noise from the wheels and the only rocking motion was gentle. Sunlight poured in from a small window in the opposite wall. My companion Bert had moved his chair across to it and was staring out.
A railway official had joined us –
le chef de train.
He wore a dark jacket and cap and was sitting on a stool in a corner at the back of the compartment. He took no notice of either of us and was also staring out of the train through a small window beside him. I was impressed by his full but drooping moustache. As he noticed me rousing he acknowledged me with a raised hand.
‘
Bonjour!
’ I said.
‘
Bonjour, monsieur!
’
That exchange more or less exhausted my knowledge of the French language so without wishing to seem unfriendly I nodded to him in a companionable way, stood up, straightened my clothes and went across to where Bert was sitting. He greeted me with his customary informal friendliness, told me the lance-corporal had been in earlier and that there was a promise of food to come. He also pointed out a cubicle in the corner of the van where, he said, the usual offices would be found.
The physical relief that immediately followed was only marginally spoiled by the primitive arrangements: for a toilet there was a circular hole in the floor
‘It’s going to get worse.’
‘I agree. Things are warming up in worrying ways, but I think this is where you and I come into the picture. They want ideas, fresh ideas.’
He said nothing more to enlarge on that. For a while we sat silently together, enjoying the delicious cheese and sipping the wine. Fatigue was rising in me, though. I looked around the compartment but there was nothing that might be used as a mattress or a bunk. Just our two wooden chairs, side by side.
Bert had obviously cottoned on to what I was thinking.
‘Seems to me,’ he said, ‘that this train isn’t likely to move off for a while.’ The train still had not departed. ‘I was starting to think, just before you arrived, that I might open up my luggage, see if I can find some clothes I could spread out on the floor, up against the wall over there. I’m feeling wiped out. Need to put my head down.’
‘Have you travelled far today?’
‘Only from Essex. Not a bad trip until the train to Folkestone. How about you?’
‘Near the centre of London,’ I said. ‘Bayswater Road. Towards Notting Hill.’
‘I know the area a little. I lived for a while not far away. In Mornington Place, near Camden Town.’
‘Ah yes.’
‘I still have a small flat in London, but I spend most of my time out in the country.’
Bert’s suggestion of trying to bed down was a good one, so we drained our glasses, recorked the bottle and then began searching through our luggage. I was already thinking of my cloak, which was in the case with the other apparatus. It was just about the last thing I had packed: however hard I tried I could not think of a single practical use for it where I was going, but it was so much a part of my normal work that it seemed inconceivable to leave it at home. As chance would have it, it now became ideal for my immediate needs.
The cloak had been made to exacting specifications and at the time had cost me a great deal of money. It is made of purple satin on the outside, warm black corduroy on the inside, and because of the number of hidden layers and pockets stitched into it there is a thick lining.
I tugged it out of the case, spread it out and folded it in four, making a long makeshift mattress several layers deep. Bert watched with interest but said nothing. He spread a couple of coats and some woollen pullovers on the floor for himself. I was dizzy with fatigue.The air was warm in the carriage and the distant sound of the troops in the next car was almost soothing. I crawled on to my satin robe, tugged my greatcoat across me and was asleep within a few seconds.
3
THE TRAIN WAS MOVING WHEN I AWOKE, BUT IT MUST HAVE been travelling slowly because there was hardly any noise from the wheels and the only rocking motion was gentle. Sunlight poured in from a small window in the opposite wall. My companion Bert had moved his chair across to it and was staring out.
A railway official had joined us –
le chef de train.
He wore a dark jacket and cap and was sitting on a stool in a corner at the back of the compartment. He took no notice of either of us and was also staring out of the train through a small window beside him. I was impressed by his full but drooping moustache. As he noticed me rousing he acknowledged me with a raised hand.
‘
Bonjour!
’ I said.
‘
Bonjour, monsieur!
’
That exchange more or less exhausted my knowledge of the French language so without wishing to seem unfriendly I nodded to him in a companionable way, stood up, straightened my clothes and went across to where Bert was sitting. He greeted me with his customary informal friendliness, told me the lance-corporal had been in earlier and that there was a promise of food to come. He also pointed out a cubicle in the corner of the van where, he said, the usual offices would be found.
The physical relief that immediately followed was only marginally spoiled by the primitive arrangements: for a toilet there was a circular hole in the floor
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