ABE’S FEET SHIFTED with the rhythm of the tube train. Warm air pumped through the ventilators inside the carriage and he took off his hat and scarf and stuffed them in his pockets. Deep in the underground tunnels weather was absent. The puny inch or so of snow that lay above ground was irrelevant, existing only as an anxious thought in the faces around him. Other passengers were standing but not so tightly packed that Abe was held steady by them. He ignored the overhead rail nearby – he didn’t enjoy strap-hanging. He was aware of the need for balance and subtle footwork. Balance was a matter of the body – or was it of the mind? He could follow his thoughts, but only at a slight distance. Too close, and he lost the movement of the train and jolted sideways, as if coming to from a dream. Then he had to regain equilibrium. This took a few seconds.
Abe had woken with the beeping of an alarm clock. He had heard ticking though not from the clock. The ticks were loud, not quite regular – accompanied by gurgling from the other side of the room. He was baffled at first, then realised that he was in an unfamiliar room and the sounds were in the pipework. Water in a heating system was beginning to flow. Abe was aware of a strange posh smell that hung about the bedhead – new upholstery mixed with the kind of room spray that came in glass bottles. He opened an eye and saw the weird ruched curtains that trapped shadows in undulating lines. Richard was silhouetted against them, pulling on a bathrobe. Abe turned over into the place where Richard had been lying – warm as a jumper he had just taken off. He felt comfortable burrowed there but the next layer – beyond the hollow of the bed – he resisted. Abe stuck his nose back in the pillow. ‘Is it still snowing?’ he asked when he emerged.
‘No, it seems to have stopped for the moment,’ Richard said.
Abe was relieved. He wouldn’t have wanted to be marooned at Richard’s. He would have dug his way out.
They had taken showers in separate bathrooms. Richard had disappeared to the en suite and Abe had used the guest bathroom, decked out with an array of thick towels and baskets of miniature soaps and bath products. Abe picked them up and sniffed them. He made a face as he pulled the previous day’s shirt over his head, missing the whiff of fabric conditioner, which, if he was on top of the washing, eased him into a new day.
Richard had made him breakfast – tea, cereal and toast. He turned on the kitchen television and they listened to the chirruping presenters. They heard the weather forecast and the travel news. The routine had gone smoothly, as if Abe were a regular house guest. As Abe was swallowing his last gulp of tea, Richard slipped his hand in his inside jacket pocket and muttered something about ‘meeting up again’. A business card was pushed across the kitchen table. The action was commonplace enough but the words reminded Abe of his economics teacher who had said something similar on the last day of school. Abe had been polite and given Mr Owen a phone number. Realising that some similar response was called for, Abe patted his own pocket. Then, seeing the card with the feather on still lying where he had left it, he reached for it, took out a pen and scribbled a number down on the back – also out of politeness.
They had been ready to leave – Abe was putting on the shoes that he had left by the front door – when the unhurried pace changed. Richard turned abruptly and shot back up the stairs that were tucked round the corner of the hall. Abe heard him above, walking across the bedrooms – checking up, Abe supposed. But he hadn’t left anything – he had nothing to leave. The footsteps went to and fro. A cupboard door clicked. Abe thought of another kind of checking up. His bent head went hot, starting at the nape of his neck and moving over his skull to his forehead. Richard came back down again. From the corner of his eye, Abe saw that he had an odd, panicky look – but it wasn’t suspicion. Abe could read suspicion on a face.
Richard stood fingering the buttons of his overcoat, as if wondering whether to undo them. ‘You go on ahead,’ he said to Abe, who was still crouching on the floor, tying his laces, tugging at them. Richard started to explain the way to the tube station.
‘Cool,’ Abe said about the explanation that had somehow taken the place of saying goodbye. Abe straightened up and left, shutting the door behind him. His last view was of Richard locked in position in the middle of the hall. It was as if the sight of a man doing up his shoes had unhinged him.
The trains out of Paddington Station were running sporadically. ‘CANCELLED’ appeared several times on the departures board and there was one deranged heading composed of a string of consonants. Among the positive entries was the Oxford service, which called at Reading. Abe bought a newspaper and a takeaway cup of coffee. There were no crowds; in fact, remarkably few people. Abe felt a change in mood – a lightening – as if he might be going on holiday. This buoyancy continued throughout the journey. The unusual brightness, reflected by the snow, shone through the dirty train windows. Once they left the built-up districts and were out in the open, Abe shifted across to a seat that was in shadow. He looked at the changed white fields. The countryside in the Thames Valley had expanded under the snow. He sipped at the coffee and enjoyed the scenery.
When Abe arrived at work he remained upbeat. Ben and Holly, who shared his office on the third floor of the slab-like building, had taken advantage of the transport chaos and called in, stranded. Liam, the boss, sent an e-mail round cancelling the weekly departmental meeting and kept his door, on the floor above, shut. This gave Abe a chance to progress BRAND BUILDING IN THE BUSINESS TO BUSINESS MARKET SECTOR but he failed to get started. The words sounded aggressive, reverberating round his head. Abe wandered about the empty spaces between the desks. He stared out at the similar premises across the courtyard; the figures inside, jackets discarded, sitting at their computers. If he moved his head to one side he could see some white in a gap between buildings. Usually it was green. That was Berkshire. Or maybe it was the university campus. He had never got to know Reading, only the walks to the station and to the pub round the corner.
Abe made a few calls not connected with work. He left a message for his friend Shane, suggesting they meet. Shane was hoping to start a business leasing Japanese exercise equipment to gyms and health clubs. He had asked Abe to go in with him. The equipment, Shane claimed, was superb. It made even the top-of-the-range stuff seem clunky. The machinery was powder-coated in soft colours and had some nice features, like the built-in screen that tracked the simulated run up Ben Nevis or the row along the Boat Race course between Putney and Hammersmith Bridges. Shane was planning to target spas and fitness centres. Abe hadn’t said yes or no. He needed to check it out – but the idea of working for himself appealed to him. Maybe he’d go to Tokyo.
At lunchtime, Abe went down to the Beehive and ate a vegetarian chilli. It was on the Specials board. He returned to the office, feeling bloated from the chewy undercooked beans. The daylight was going. A dark patch of sky beyond the next building was spreading like dye across wet cloth. The fluorescent tubes that had glimmered redundantly throughout the morning now turned the office pink. Abe got down to work.