The First Week Read Online Free PDF

wrinkled face and squeezed along the bench to make room. Marian sat down, bottom barely connecting with the seat, holding her bag on her knee. At the next station more people got in. The man standing in front of her was so close that whenever the train jolted his coat swung into her face.
    At each station she twisted her head around, but the names were unfamiliar. The stations seemed new and more were being built.
    They emerged from the suburbs and passed a cluster of shining buildings big enough for giants. Marian peered through the window.
    â€˜It’s the casino, you know,’ said her neighbour. ‘And the dome.’
    Marian looked blankly at her.
    â€˜Burswood Dome,’ the woman said. ‘Tennis.’
    Marian nodded. Summer TV. Another world. People in holiday clothes going into those clean bright buildings to watch the tennis while she was slumped in the living room, exhausted after the sweat of the day, too tired to get into bed.
    The train rushed on across the river, past a ruined building. East Perth Powerhouse. Soon to be regenerated.
    Soon to be regenerated. It didn’t look it. Broken glass and rusted beams, in a city where everything was new.
    Claisebrook. McIvor. Then into the dark of the Perth station and a burst of activity, people pressing towards the doors. Marian stood up and was herded out of the train by a group of girls in maroon blazers, huge packs slung on their backs.
    The crowd eddied away to the escalators while Marian stood still, bumped and jostled. Once the platform was empty she could reach the man in uniform near the barricade.
    â€˜Could you tell me where the Ladies is?’
    His voice was thick and European. ‘Up the escalator, missus. Over there.’
    On the next level four Aboriginal youths in back-to-front baseball caps were laughing and pushing at each other. Marian clutched her bag closer.
    The Restroom was bigger than she expected. Men to the left, women to the right. Two attendants had their heads together behind the counter, poring over a cross-lotto form. One of them caught Marian’s eye and smiled.
    â€˜Fifty cents.’
    Marian paid her money and dragged her bag through into a light-filled sitting room overlooking the street. She sat down and stared blankly at the tree outside the window.
    If she sat for too long she wouldn’t be able to get up again. She couldn’t stay here all day. It wasn’t a hotel.
    A notice board opposite was covered with bright fliers. After a few moments she realised they were advertisements for accommodation. She got out her glasses and moved closer.
    Country Women’s Association.
    Of course. The CWA. That’s where people stayed because it wasn’t expensive.
    1174 Hay St, West Perth.
    The women at the desk had finished their cross-lotto form and broke off a conversation about reflux to give Marian change.
    The voice at the other end of the phone was matter of fact. ‘Ninety dollars with en-suite. Fifty-five standard with shared bathroom.’
    â€˜Oh standard. Standard is fine.’
    â€˜What time are you arriving?’
    â€˜I’m at the station. But I have to do something first. Can I come up at lunchtime?’
    â€˜Sorry. We shut the office at 11.30. There’s no one here till evening. But I’ve booked the room for you.’
    There were lockers here in the Ladies where she could leave her bag, and armchairs where she could spend the afternoon if it came to that.
    But there might be things she had to do. People she had to meet.
    She didn’t want to think about that.
    Tonight was taken care of, that was a relief. When the time came she could just collect her bag and walk along Hay Street to West Perth.
    What she had to do now was get to the court.
    She shut her bag into the locker. Another bit of home left behind. But all she needed for today was her handbag. It was a process of stripping down.
    Outside the station, the morning was overcast. Marian pulled her old