To the Back of Beyond(2)

It was a relief to Thomas when he reached the edge of the woods. There was no moon in sight, and inside the woods, the gravel path was just a pale suggestion. Night seemed to draw him onward with its emptiness. The path carried on along the embankment, and then over the flood-protection barrier and to the far side of the narrow strip of wood. Here it was a little brighter. From the distance he could hear cars, and suddenly a locomotive. Thomas looked at his watch and with difficulty made out the time. It was half past ten, the train was punctual. For a moment he thought about the way the short line of carriages entered the brightly lit station, and the handful of passengers who got out walked through the underpass and to the bicycle racks, unchained their bicycles, and cycled off in every direction.

Now that Thomas was standing still, he noticed how quiet it was in the woods. Perhaps it was that that was giving him the sensation of not being on his own there. It was as though something was lurking in the darkness, neither man nor beast but a sort of unspecified life-form that took in the whole of the woods.

He walked on down the path to its end. From that point it was just another hundred yards across the meadow to the place where the canal joined the river at an acute angle. Thomas wandered over there; he used to light campfires and hang out there sometimes with his friends when they were teenagers. The canal seemed to have more water in it than the river, whose bed seemed almost dry. In spite of that, it would have been difficult to cross over to the other side. Thomas sat down on one of the rough stone slabs. There was a smell of rising damp from the river. He took out his cigarettes and with his fingertip felt how many he had left. Eleven. He lit one and looked up at the sky, which was now completely dark. It was a clear night, but there weren’t many stars to be seen. He went through his pockets to see what he had with him: a key ring with a tiny torch, a penknife, dental floss, a lighter, and a cotton handkerchief. By the light of the torch, he counted his money; it came to more than three hundred francs. He shivered and briefly wondered about making a bonfire. Then he decided to go on, back to the little pedestrian footbridge, and then follow the canal west.

The narrow planked bridge felt wet and slithery underfoot. Thomas held on to the rail so as not to slip. He struck a footpath that was so narrow it gave him the feeling he was being gripped and passed on in complete darkness by the shrubbery to either side, to a gravel road that led straight through the woods for a quarter of a mile and then as far again across open pasture. Ahead of him he saw two cars speed across the road bridge, brush the houses on the far side with their conical beams, and disappear behind the hill. As he reached the road, he heard another car in the distance. He hid in the tall roadside grass and waited. The car sped past him. When he heard nothing more coming, Thomas jumped up and jogged across the bridge. He left the main road before the village and took a side road that followed the river to a glider airfield and beyond. When he was little, they had sometimes bicycled out here to watch the gliders, but it had never really interested Thomas, he just stayed for the sake of his friends, who had dreams of one day becoming pilots.

At the edge of the grass runway was a long hangar, and behind it, in the lee of a hedge, a dozen or so trailer homes, of which Thomas could only see the outlines. There weren’t any lights anywhere, or any sounds to be heard. He was feeling very tired. He walked up to the nearest trailer, groped for the door handle, and turned it cautiously. It was locked. The other trailers were locked as well, but one had an awning that was easily opened. When Thomas stepped inside, he could feel there were duckboards over the ground. The air smelled stale, a smell of grass and old plastic and something gone off. By the feeble light of his little torch he saw a camping table and chairs and an improvised kitchen with a two-ring gas burner and a sink. In a corner was a ground cloth of stiff layered material. Thomas rolled himself up inside it and lay down on the ground, but even so he felt cold. He couldn’t get to sleep on the hard floor, and he thought of home, wondering whether Astrid would have noticed his absence yet. She often went to bed ahead of him and didn’t wake up when he came to bed.



When Astrid realized that Thomas wasn’t lying beside her, she would suppose he was already up, even though she almost invariably got up first. She would go upstairs half asleep and wake the children and go downstairs again. Ten minutes later, freshly showered and in her robe she would emerge from the bathroom and call the children, who were bound to be still in bed. Konrad! Ella! Get a move on! If you don’t get up now, you’ll be late. Always the same sentences, and always the same replies too. One more minute. I’m up already. I’m just coming. On the way into the kitchen, Astrid would dart a look into the living room and wonder that Thomas wasn’t there either. But these first forty-five minutes of the day always followed such a rigid plan that there wasn’t a moment for her to think about anything else except what had to be done next. Switch on the coffee machine, add water, set the table, put out bread, butter, jam and honey, milk and cocoa. She shouted to the children once more, louder this time and with a note of anger, and she poured herself a first cup of coffee, which she drank standing up. Then at last the children came clattering downstairs and sat down. Konrad rubbed the sleep from his eyes, Ella set an open book next to her place, and Astrid had to tell her twice before she shut it and sulkily spread jam on a piece of bread. Then, finally, with mouth full, Konrad asked, Where’s Papa? He had to leave extra-early today. Astrid had no idea what made her say that. It just seemed like the simplest thing, and even as she said it, it became a sort of fact. He had to go to the office early. The children didn’t ask any more questions, even though Thomas hardly ever left the house before breakfast. Astrid tried to think whether Thomas had said anything about some appointment or something, but by then the children were getting up, and she needed to see that they didn’t forget anything. Do you have swimming today? Put your sandals on. No, you’ll need a pullover, it’s quite cool outside. Leave the book here. Off you go! She kissed them on the cheek and pushed them out the door. For a split second she stood in the doorway, watched them go, saw them disappear around the corner, heard the familiar creak of the garden gate and the crash as it banged shut. There was fall in the air already.