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Alma Books - Alan Burns

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49 pages

English

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Publié par	Alma Books
Date de parution	27 juin 2019
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9780714549712
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0200€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

Europe after the Rain
Alan Burns

calder publications an imprint of
alma books Ltd 3 Castle Yard Richmond Surrey TW10 6TF United Kingdom www.calderpublications.com
Europe after the Rain first published by John Calder (Publishers) Ltd in 1965 This edition first published by Calder Publications in 2019
Cover design by Will Dady
Printed in Great Britain by CPI Group (UK) Ltd, Croydon CR0 4YY
isbn : 978-0-7145-4916-3
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the publisher. This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not be resold, lent, hired out or otherwise circulated without the express prior consent of the publisher.

Contents
Europe after the Rain
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Note on the Text

to carol

Europe after the Rain

Chapter 1
W e were approaching the river. The modern bridge had been demolished, a wooden one constructed. Passengers were ordered to get out and walk across. The way led from the metalled surface of the road over deeply frayed planks. Seventy yards away the permanent bridge, massive steel and concrete, was still half completed. Danger threatened the wooden bridge – ice pressed against the log piles supporting it. Explosions broke the silence as a soldier with a pole placed packages on the ice. “It’s moving,” she said. Slowly the ice pack oscillated and a large piece broke away to be carried by the current fast beneath the bridge.
In the bus, all the seats were occupied. “Don’t worry,” she said. “When the control comes, the people will have to get out.” Two passengers could not find their tickets. They were taken off to some sort of centre, or so I was told. Genuine passengers were driven to the outskirts of the frontier town. The driver was pleasant enough: “Of course it is bad here, but not so bad as you might think.”
At the first building, I asked her: “Won’t it be closed? It’s already well after seven.” “Someone is bound to be on duty.” A light shone. “You were right, someone is here.” In a room lit by a bulb, a middle-aged woman sat knitting. She did not glance at us. I was left alone with her; a man came in; the three sat in silence; I wrapped in my coat.
The girl returned. “Drink?” “I don’t drink,” she replied. “Never?” “I don’t like alcohol.” The man asked her to dance; she glanced down at his boots, and danced with him. “You’ll have to dance with all of them. Let’s leave – it’s no use waiting. I’ll pay the bill.” The man made a movement with his hand. “We must pay the bill.” He did not reply.
We were separated. I objected: “She is in my care until she has contacted her family.” We had to stand in front of a desk. She understood that the words used were a message of welcome. They appeared to have a most enjoyable conversation. He walked backwards and forwards; I waited – I knew I would have to wait.
The rooms were littered with paper and rubbish. Room after room showed the same sight. A photograph lay in the dust on the floor of one room – she picked it up, glanced at it, then flicked it back to its former place. “Upstairs it’s a bit risky,” she warned. “Have you got a torch?” Everything had gone, even the floorboards. The staircase to the top floor was planks battened together. “That’s the door,” she said. “I shall wait for you here.” The door opened slightly; the eye of a girl. “Do you mind waiting a little? Someone isn’t really dressed yet.” She showed no marked sign of being other than healthy. “We were two patients to a bed. My fellow patient was a man who died. They left him with me for two days before taking him away.” There was no trace of hysteria. “It was nice of you to come.”
We walked fast in a strong cold wind, among loose stuff lying about. A viaduct led to the destroyed bridge; we ran down stone steps to reach the street – whole steps were missing, the gaps protected by wire. Single walls crashed. Music sounded from a church – people with dogs waited at the entrance; the stairway was packed with a stationary crowd of listeners. Two new trolleybuses were being tested. I counted thirty wooden huts. Girls stood in a circle singing a patriotic song. She would not join them.
We knocked. We said we could not stay.
We went to two cinemas.
Someone called for her. She discussed her plans. “As a matter of fact, I have not got any plan.” “You have names and addresses.” “I am probably standing on a dead body.” She bought two and a half pounds of sweets. Anyone could buy sweets. Everyone did a little buying and selling. Loot. Though there was little left. There were other ways. Casual labour received high wages. She did private work in the evenings. Quality work. One house was famous. The owner sang those songs. She sang the one we had heard in the street.
At the orphanage we were told that orphans arrived in a number of ways. “The police find them. Or neighbours bring them. Some arrive on their own.” A boy of twelve had just arrived. He presented himself. A woman came with two children – she was their neighbour; their father had had an accident. They were disinfected and medically examined. They went through the hands of an examiner – a heavy woman with a strong face, cold, distrustful; a woman on the other side of the writing desk. She tested the children. She showed us her equipment. “I have to carry out my tests. Most of the children are of normal intelligence. The history of each is written down. When it is a case of a brother and sister, this is marked on both cards. The building has three floors. Each floor is isolated to prevent the spread of infection. Children from three to eight are encouraged to play with toys.” “Who sends them toys?” “And there are kitchens, and there are laundries.” The interview, though it produced no useful information, was most pleasant. There were no armed guards or admittance permits. She was a member of the aristocracy. We could speak direct. “What do you want? Where would you like to go? No, it is too dangerous.” “Someone must make a start.” “I shall see what I can do.” We saw the kitchens. We tasted the food. It was the same. The food was available. They achieved the maximum flavour by careful cooking. “A soup well made is the best means of deriving the most benefit.” The shops were filled with food. The children got milk for breakfast twice a week. A fine piece of work.
A boy. The sun. The windows. The rays of the sun streamed direct from the heavens. The boy talked to her: “We got on a boat, a train, they caught us, back you go, they bought us tickets, we hid till the train went, we came out, why are you not on that train? It’s gone, it’s your fault, you told us the wrong time. Wait here for the next train. Before we started out we collected anything we could find, and our friends gave us things. When we got hungry we sold everything.” They asked his name. No one knew his parents – they had disappeared, absolutely; he wasn’t sure of his name – it had been signed away to someone else. They took his clothes, bathed him, turned him over, gave him other clothes. He asked for his own. She said: “With very little you do a great deal, and do it well.” On our way to the dining room the boy stopped us: “I’m glad you’ve come. I thought I had been forgotten.”
Up two flights of steps, a room: forty feet by forty feet, thirteen feet high. The walls and ceiling were painted white. On each wall, a fresco: undamaged cities, a dancer, an eagle five feet square, done in black on scarlet, no intention of flight, massive legs – it was not an eagle. A continuous table, along three sides of the room, had been laid for supper: plates of excellent ham, thin slices of sausage made from meat, fish in oil, boiled eggs, salted and spiced, various salads and cheese. But eating would not take place for some time. Sweet biscuits of several kinds were placed on the table. Conversation started. They recalled the tortures in the building. An undercurrent of recklessness. “We can stand anything, if you know what that means.” We had to ask questions. It had been agreed that I was to remain. I asked about the boy. “I don’t know whether I should tell you. It was done without my knowledge. These young people. If I had known I should not have allowed it.” I noticed her eating the biscuits. “Look at the roof – just above the room with the high windows. You see? The yellow tiles are new. Crawling and working on a steep roof. A drop of forty feet from the gutter.” A hasty whispering took place. It was time for us to go. “Do you mind waiting? We shall have to give you an escort – that is, if you wish to return.”
We drove back across the bridge. The river ran past the town from south-east to north-west. We went round two sides of an open square. The doors of the car would not close properly. The driver demanded to be paid. I refused.
I bought her a belt for her birthday – a broad band of lemon yellow. She said: “Today is a day. I don’t notice any difference from other days. We visited the blind. Nurses gave their lives. I have no time. I have work to do. But now I must go to sleep.”
We had identical conversations with high-placed officials. I asked if we had a chance of finding the right direction. They laughed. She said afterwards: “If you overwork them, they collapse. Something happens. They break down.”
They worked by candlelight. The electric cable had not been relaid. Hesitation was not tolerated. Each was required to correct mistakes. The standard of atte