64
The
T
he journey had been
his idea. He was bored
and numbed, he said,
by sitting around in the
company of her sombre
relatives. It was like waiting for
a funeral. The idea was that four
days on a train would give him an
opportunity to reflect on what had
gone wrong and to plan for the future.
For her part, she would have time to
read, to think and to make sure that
nothing terrible happened to him.
By the evening of the second day the
tea in the restaurant car had run out.
She requested boiling water and dropped
her own teabag into the small silver
teapot. He had stopped going to the
restaurant. There was no point, he said,
what with there being no tea and little food.
Besides, he didn’t want to talk to anyone.
“It’s something to do,” she said.