Road, skirted the sofa shops, grabbed little alleyways he thought would get him through, passed the big hospital, and emerged, panting, utterly exhausted yet somehow exhilarated too, in Lissa’s great city, as she got closer with every step. Up now the great throbbing gristly artery of Euston Road, filthy black with traffic, Euston station squat and grim across the road. Not all of London was beautiful. He glanced at his watch. Ten to nine. At home it would have been bright daylight still; here the streetlights were coming on.
He couldn’t cross the road. Six thundering lanes of traffic were roaring without a break. He hopped from foot to foot at the traffic lights. Stop. Stoppp!!
Chapter 77
There was something almost motherly in the way the attendant on the sleeper train greeted Lissa and, worn out as she was, she almost started to cry.
“Have you had a nice day, hen?” said the woman, and it was a familiar accent to Lissa, and she bit her lip.
“Mm-hmm,” she said, as her name was ticked off on a list and she found her way to her own tiny bedroom on the train.
She sighed happily as she opened the door. A bed was made up with a fresh white duvet and white sheets, two pillows and a tartan blanket. There was a sink at one end and a shelf for her clothes and a bottle of water, and it felt at that moment like the ultimate in luxury. A place to shut herself in, lock the world out, and lick her wounds.
The window showed the dank black interior of Euston station. She didn’t want to see it. She turned away and opened her bag to finally—finally—get into her pajamas and forget about today altogether.
“I’M AFRAID YOU need a ticket, son,” said the woman on the reception desk at the train, now looking not quite as nicely at the large, rather sweaty figure in front of her.
“Where can I get one?!”
“From the booking office . . . if it’s still open.”
Cormac looked back in dismay. The booking office was miles away. They both glanced at the clock. It was four minutes to nine.
“Am I going to make it?” he said.
The woman looked sad. “You can get the eleven fifty to Edinburgh,” she said brightly. “That’ll be fine.”
“If I was going to Edinburgh that would be fine!” said Cormac in anguish. If he didn’t get on that train, that would be it, it would be over. She’d never trust him again.
“It’s nice,” said the woman.
He gave her a level glance. The train started to make noises, the engines huffing up.
He screwed up his eyes. “Is there . . . Someone I really need to see is on this train. Can you call her for me?”
The woman protectively hid her clipboard with her hand. “What if you’re a murderer?”
“Okay,” said Cormac desperately.
Doors were slamming up and down the train now, and a guard was raising a whistle to his lips.
“Can I . . . can I just run up and down the train to see if I can see her?”
“Am I going to let you, a murderer, run up and down the train and peer in everybody’s windows?”
“Pleeeease! This is someone . . . this is someone really important to me. Please. Please.”
The woman looked at him sadly. “I cannae,” said the woman. “Health and Safety. We’ve had a lot of training.”
“Me too,” said Cormac ruefully.
Peeep! blew the whistle.
LISSA STOOD UP and leaned her head against the window of the little cabin, peering out into the world of the sooty, fluorescent station beyond, smelling of fast food and filled with the shouts of cheery or drunken commuters. When had London started to feel so strange?
Funny, it was almost as if it were calling her name. But as she strained her ears to hear, there was another sharp blow on the whistle, and the train began, smoothly, to chug its way out of the great black dirty station.
Chapter 78
“That,” said the woman on the reception desk, covering her ears, “is quite the shout you’ve got there.”
And she lightly stepped onto the platform as Cormac, throat ragged, cried out, “LISSSAAA!!!!” one last time, to no avail. As the train took off, he tried to run alongside it, even as security hailed him, and he stopped, put his hands on his knees, utterly out of breath, utterly defeated.
EMPTY, EXHAUSTED, FEELING foolish, simply ridiculous, for having pinned so many hopes and dreams . . . Lissa sank down on the bed, feeling