Lanark: a life in 4 books Read Online Free PDF

the rooftops were rows of cranes with metal hulls among them. The train travelled toward these and crossed a bridge over the river. It was a broad river with stone embankments, cracked khaki-coloured mud on the bottom and a narrow black stream trickling zigzag down the middle. This worried me. I felt, and still feel, that a river should be more than this. I looked down into a yard where two hulls stood. They were metal cylinders with rusty domes on top, and a rattle of machinery inside suggested they were being worked on. The train entered another tunnel, slowed down, came out into a marshalling yard and stopped. Through the windows on either side I saw lines of goods trucks with railway signals sticking out of them. The sky was darker now.
    I sat for a while in my warm corner, not wanting to leave it for the bad weather outside. Then the light went out, so I shouldered the knapsack, went into the corridor, opened a door and jumped to the ground. I stood between two lines of trucks. Thin rain was falling, so I put down the knapsack and unpacked my coat. As I put it on I saw a man in black overalls and peaked cap come toward me looking closely at the trucks of the train and pencilling in a notebook as he passed each one. He stopped beside me, marked his book and asked if I had just arrived. I said I had. He said, “They needn’t have provided a whole carriage for one passenger. They could have brought you in the guard’s van.”
    I asked what time it was. He said, “We don’t bother much with time now. The sky is lighter than normal but that sort of light is too chancy to be useful.”
    I asked if he knew where I could go. He said someone was coming who usually helped with that sort of thing then went on along the train.
    A small figure ran toward us and passed the railwayman without a look. He stopped beside me and stared up with a feeble ingratiating smile. He had a weak-chinned handsome face and greasy hair sloping wavily back to a paltry wisp of curl on the nape of his neck. He wore a maroon bow tie, a jacket with maroon lapels which came down to his knees, tight black trousers and maroon suède shoes. His accent was soft and whined on the vowels. He said, “You’re new here, aren’t you?”
    I said yes.
    “I’ve come to help you. You can call me Gloopy. You don’t have a name yet, I suppose. Is anybody with you?”
    I said no.
    “I’ll take a look, just to be on the safe side. Give me a hitch up, will you?”
    He insisted on entering every compartment and looking under the seats. And he giggled when I helped him down and said I was very strong. Then he offered to carry my knapsack but I shouldered it and asked if he would tell me where I could spend the night. He said, “Of course! That’s why I’m here! I’ll take you to my boardinghouse, we’ve got a spare room.” I said a boardinghouse was no use, I had no money.
    “Of course you’ve no money! We’ll leave your knapsack in my boardinghouse and then we’ll go to the security place and they’ll give you money.”
    We emerged from among the trucks and crossed some railway lines. The city lights glittered between a pair of black hills ahead of us. It was dark now and raining heavily and my guide turned up the sodden collar of his fancy jacket. He was far worse dressed for this weather than I was. I asked who paid him to meet people and he said in a hurt voice, “Nobody pays me. I do this job because I like people. I believe in friendship. People ought to be nice to one another.” I pitied him. I knew it was wrong to dislike people for their appearance and way of speaking but I disliked him very much. I explained that I wanted to collect the money before I did anything else. He said slyly, “If I take you to the security place first, will you promise to come to my boardinghouse after?” I told him I promised nothing and walked fast to get away. He trotted behind shouting, “All right! All right! I never said I wouldn’t take you to the security