Fall of Giants

At last they went inside, and Lev emerged from the shadows and hurried forward. He passed the barn without incident, but as he drew away from it he heard more voices. He cursed. The customers had been drinking beer since midday, and by this time of the afternoon they needed frequent visits to the lane. He heard someone call after him: “Aye, aye, butty.” Their word for friend was “butty” or “butt.” Its use meant he had not been recognized.

He pretended not to hear, and walked on.

He could hear a murmured conversation. Most of the words were unintelligible, but he thought one man said: “Looks like a Russky.” Russian clothes were different from British, and Lev guessed they might be able to make out the cut of his coat and the shape of his cap by the light of the streetlamp, which he was quickly approaching. However, the call of nature was usually urgent for men coming out of a pub, and he thought they would not follow him before they had relieved themselves.

He turned down the next alley and disappeared from their view. Unfortunately, he doubted whether he had gone from their minds. Spirya must by now have told his story, and someone would soon realize the significance of a man in Russian clothes walking toward the town center with a suitcase in his hand.

He had to be on that train.

He broke into a run.

The railway line lay in the cleft of the valley, so the way to the station was all downhill. Lev ran easily, taking long strides. He could see, over the rooftops, the lights of the station and, as he came closer, the smoke from the funnel of a train standing at the platform.

He ran across the square and into the booking hall. The hands of the big clock stood at one minute to six. He hurried to the ticket window and fished money from his pocket. “Ticket, please,” he said.

“Where would you like to go this evening?” the clerk said pleasantly.

Lev pointed urgently to the platform. “That train by there!”

“This train calls at Aberdare, Pontypridd-”

“Cardiff!” Lev glanced up and saw the minute hand click through its last segment and stop, trembling slightly, at the o’clock position.

“Single, or return?” said the clerk unhurriedly.

“Single, quickly!”

Lev heard the whistle. Desperately, he looked through the coins in his hand. He knew the fare-he had been to Cardiff twice in the last six months-and he put money on the counter.

The train began to move.

The clerk gave him his ticket.

Lev grabbed it and turned away.

“Don’t forget your change!” said the clerk.

Lev strode the few paces to the barrier. “Ticket, please,” said the collector, even though he had just watched Lev buy it.

Looking past the barrier, Lev saw the train gathering speed.

The collector punched his ticket and said: “Don’t you want your change?”

The door of the booking hall burst open and the Ponti brothers rushed in. “There you are!” Joey cried, and he rushed at Lev.

Lev surprised him by stepping toward him and punching him directly in the face. Joey was stopped in his tracks. Johnny crashed into his older brother’s back, and both fell to their knees.

Lev snatched his ticket from the collector and ran onto the platform. The train was moving quite fast. He ran alongside it for a moment. Suddenly a door opened, and Lev saw the friendly face of Billy-with-Jesus.

Billy shouted: “Jump!”

Lev leaped for the train and got one foot on the step. Billy grabbed his arm. They teetered for a moment as Lev tried desperately to haul himself aboard. Then Billy gave a heave and pulled Lev inside.

He sank gratefully into a seat.

Billy pulled the door shut and sat opposite him.

“Thank you,” Lev said.

“You cut it fine,” Billy said.

“I made it, though,” said Lev with a grin. “That’s all that counts.”

{III}

At Paddington Station next morning, Billy asked for directions to Aldgate. A friendly Londoner gave him a rapid stream of detailed instructions, every word of which he found completely incomprehensible. He thanked the man and walked out of the station.

He had never been to London but he knew that Paddington was in the west and poor people lived in the east, so he walked toward the midmorning sun. The city was even bigger than he had imagined, a great deal busier and more confusing than Cardiff, but he relished it: the noise, the rushing traffic, the crowds, and most of all the shops. He had not known there were so many shops in the world. How much was spent in London’s shops every day? he wondered. It must be thousands of pounds-maybe millions.

He felt a sense of freedom that was quite heady. No one here knew him. In Aberowen, or even on his occasional trips to Cardiff, he was always liable to be observed by friends or relations. In London he might walk along a street holding hands with a pretty girl and his parents would never find out. He had no intention of doing so, but the thought that he could-and the fact that there were so many pretty well-dressed girls walking around-was intoxicating.