The Centre of the Green by John Bowen

Author:John Bowen [John Bowen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780571305148
Publisher: Faber & Faber
Published: 2012-10-23T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FIVE

A Wet Week-End

Charles awoke from a dream of solitude. It had begun realistically enough. He was at Victoria seeing his father and Julian depart, as he had done that very morning. That was all right; they were as they had been in reality, both quiet, both drab in raincoats and travelling clothes; Julian carried the two suitcases. They were to go by sea from Southampton to Barcelona, then across to Palma by the ferry. All the beginning of his dream, Charles thought as he lay in darkness trying to recall it, had been realistic and natural. He had dreamed even the smell of Victoria, that sour smell of damp and old smoke, laced with the hops from Watney’s brewery close by. The Colonel found a carriage. Julian put magazines on the seat to keep their places, hoisted the suitcases to the rack, and rejoined them at the carriage door, where they stood uneasily, making conversation. In the dream as in fact, a whistle was blown, doors slammed. Charles shook hands with them both, and said, “Enjoy yourselves. I’m sure you will,” and Julian replied, “Surely”. The train pulled away from the platform, and then, he remembered … then it began to grow strange. It was so vivid. Julian appeared at the end of the train, which was an observation car of glass, as Charles now discovered. Julian said something to Charles, but the glass cut off the sound. What Julian had said was important, but Charles could not hear him, and as he strained to hear, Julian was borne away from him by the train—very slowly, because the train was pulled out like chewing-gum, but nevertheless borne away. Backwards. All the time Charles could descry his brother’s figure, could see the tiny mouth opening, the tiny arms making their important, futile gestures. Then the train disappeared altogether. Already Julian and the Colonel had begun their journey to the sea and the warm south. “What?” Charles shouted, “what did you say?” but it was too late now for that; he should have made the effort sooner. “You haven’t got the message, have you?” a voice inside him said. Nevertheless he was not defeated. Many people had come to watch the train depart; perhaps they had heard, and would tell him what Julian had said. Of course, they were leaving now that the train had gone, but he could stop them. He decided to approach a person in uniform, a porter. “Excuse me——” he said, but he could not hear the porter’s reply either, and, when he tried to question him more closely, the porter went away. Nobody remained on the platform any longer. There was no one left to question. Then the platform itself grew broader. Buildings, carriages, railway lines, the Left Luggage and the loo, all receded. The roof drew back. Charles was alone under the bare sky on a broad and metalled plain. And when he looked down, he saw that he cast no shadow, and so awoke.

He awoke to darkness.

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