The station announcer began to list the stations to London. Leeds (City), Derby, Kettering, London (St Pancras). Change at Leeds for Bradford, Ilkley, Bolton Abbey. The man in the big black coat, chastened now, began to arrange his things. I got up and began to walk hurriedly up and down the waiting-room; I had the sensation of a water-tap running in my stomach. I picked up my suitcase and put it down twice. I took out the ticket and looked at it, vaguely noting the price and the details. I could not think, except in confused snatches. I began to count ten; at the end of the count I would oblige myself to answer one way or the other. One. Two. Three. Four. The train now leaving platform three is the one thirty-five for London, calling at. Five. Six. Seven. There was no need to count to the end. I picked up the suitcase, feeling deflated and defeated. I walked out of the waiting-room and across the booking hall to the ticket barrier on platform three, hoping that I would make a quick decision but knowing that there was no question of it. The man in the black coat and three or four soldiers walked through, showing their tickets.
The ticket collector looked at me.
‘You gettin' on this train?’ I shook my head, taking a step forward at the same time.
I did not wait for the train to leave. I transferred the suitcase to my left hand and walked out of the station. In Bull Ring I stopped and lit a cigarette and buttoned up my coat. The suitcase felt absurdly light. I began to breathe great gusts of air, but there was little air to breathe.
I walked across Bull Ring and up Moorgate. Suddenly I began to feel excited and buoyant, and I was almost running by the time I reached Town Square. I began to whistle ‘March of the Movies' and to march in step with it. There was nobody about. When I came to the War Memorial I transferred my suitcase to my right hand and at the correct moment I saluted with the left – up, two, three, down, two, three, head erect, shoulders back. I brought the whistling to a huffing crescendo and wheeled smartly into Infirmary Street. I dropped into a normal step, and then I began the slow walk home.
Billy Liar Page 18
