Fine Lines - SA Read Online Free PDF Page A

wardens, and went to a telephone to arrange for my garage to pick it up. Then I went to the pavement edge to hail a taxi.
    Typical y, the only ones I saw were occupied. I waited ten minutes, my mood deteriorating with each second, until I final y turned away in disgust. A sign told me the underground was nearby. I headed towards it.
    I had not taken the tube in years. I could remember it being busy, but I was not prepared for the mayhem that greeted me at the bottom of the escalators. I was pushed from behind and jostled from the front as I tried to guess which way to go. Everyone else seemed sure of themselves except me. I looked around for someone to ask, but could see only the countless moving heads of other commuters. The crowds parted and flowed around me as I stood indecisively. I saw a map on the wal and made my way over, final y deciphering that I needed to be on another line. I joined the flood of people heading in that direction and let myself be carried along a tiled, echoing tunnel to the sudden space of a concrete platform.
    Compared with the tunnels, it was relatively empty. But it soon began to fil up. I had started near the front of the platform. Now I found myself squeezed steadily back until a press of people stood between me and the edge. I found myself wedged between a West Indian woman with a suitcase, and a tal , shaven-headed youth in a leather jacket.
    A sudden rush of air preceded the appearance of the train. It pul ed to a halt, and immediately its doors had opened the crowd on the platform began pushing against the people getting off. The mechanical instruction to "Mind the Gap' was chanted over the top of the chaos. I felt panic-stricken as I struggled towards the nearest door without seeming to make any progress. Then, just as I thought I would not make it in time, a sudden surge practical y lifted me into the train. A moment later the doors hissed shut, stopped, opened, shut again, and then the train lurched forward and picked up speed.
    I had been deposited in the walkway between the doors. I had thought the platform was crowded, but now strangers pressed against me from al sides, impassively intimate. The train gave a sudden jolt, and I was thrown against a young woman at my side. I stammered a low apology and quickly looked away from her cold stare. Bright light outside the windows announced that we had come to the next station on the line. The train halted and I was nearly pushed off as people rushed for the platform. The corresponding influx of new passengers forced me further inside until I was jammed into the middle of the compartment with no room to turn or breathe. The air was crammed with thick, unpleasant odours. Diesel, hair and sweat. I grabbed for a handhold as the train lurched into motion once again. The blackness of the tunnel had only just engulfed us when it slowed, chugged forward grudgingly, and stopped.
    No one seemed to notice. The darkness outside the window was complete.
    Inside, people sat or stood indifferently. I tried to mimic them, but the situation was alien to me. I felt smothered and isolated. When the train jerked forward once more, my heart jerked with it. It eased slowly through the tunnel, slowing several times but merciful y not actual y stopping again. Then there were lights and faces outside the windows. The doors opened, and without knowing which station it was I blundered my way out onto the platform.
    I gulped in the cold, diesel-smel ing air, hardly noticing the knocks from the people passing. Above me was a sign saying "Exit', and I headed for it blindly, now moving with as much purpose as anyone else.
    I stumbled over a busker's open guitar case, ignoring his shouted insult as I sighted the final escalator. I emerged into grey daylight and saw the line of taxi cabs waiting outside the station with vast relief. I climbed into one, gave my destination, and sank back into the seat. The interior was warm, quiet, and blessedly empty. I gazed out of the