Chapter Thirty-Nine

I feel calmer when I’ve boarded the next train, even though it means a long wait in Birmingham. I will still arrive in Liverpool before 8 a.m., well before she has left her house. I get off this train at New Street Station just before 11 p.m. and head for the waiting-room. There is an electric fire mounted on the wall in there, and a heater suspended over the door, giving out waves of heat. At the moment there are still a few people sitting half-asleep on the plastic chairs, waiting for the last ride home, but I think that they’ll disappear soon enough, and leave me in peace. I think I’ll probably be able to get some sleep in here before I catch my connection, which is due to depart at 4.03 a.m. tomorrow. The place is squalid with discarded sandwich wrappings and empty cardboard coffee cups. I’ve seen a cleaner further up the platform, clearing up debris with a huge brush. I hope that he won’t want to come in here and disturb me.

The station lights dim just as the last person leaves the waiting-room and I stretch myself across four of the plastic chairs, as near to the wall-heater as I can get. I’ve set the alarm on my mobile phone and am just falling asleep when the lights in the waiting-room are snapped on again and a fat person enters, all of a bustle with his own importance. He talks to me civilly, however.

“Now then, sir, missed your train, have you?”

“No,” I say, “it isn’t due for several hours yet.”

“Well, I’m about to close up the waiting-room. I’ll be opening it again at 6 a.m. tomorrow, before I go off duty. I’m afraid you’ll have to find somewhere else to wait meantime. We can’t let people stay in here overnight. It’s against the rules.”

“Are you saying you’re going to kick me out?”

“Sorry, I’ve no option. The waiting-rooms are closed at night. Security.”

I swing my legs round, and plant my feet on the ground. I don’t like him, and I’m taking my time. I stand up slowly.

“I suppose I’ll have to wait on the platform, then.”

“I’m sorry, sir, that’s not allowed, either. There are no more passenger trains now for almost four hours, and our instructions are always to clear the station overnight. We’ll be opening it up again about ten minutes before the first train is due in, tomorrow. You’ll be able to see when that is if you look at the board.”

I see red. I’d like to punch him, but I’m conscious of the need not to make myself conspicuous. I have to get to Liverpool without anyone taking too much notice of me.

“That’s quite outrageous,” I say half-heartedly. “You mean to say that you’re turning me adrift into a city I don’t know, with nowhere to sleep?”

“I wouldn’t say that, sir. If you come back with me to the office, I can give you some lists of hotels and boarding houses where they’ll accept you this late. Quite reasonably priced, some of them. You’ll be more comfortable in one of them.”

I shrug, and walk away. When I reach the ticket barrier, I see that it has been left open. There is another railway official standing beside it, but he barely looks at me. I shoulder the small rucksack that I am carrying and walk out of the station and into the night.