I sat in my sleeper compartment as the train carried me inexorably towards oblivion, a place where I could make the choice between starting a new life, and ending this one before that could happen.
I was not just running away from my old life, I was running away from my old memories, old hurts. Okay, so I'm a coward, what's wrong with that? Someone once said 'he who fights and runs away lives to fight another day.' I'm doing the first part, I've fought and bailed before I got too hurt, and I'm about to decide whether I want to fight another day or not fight.
I chose the Ghan for two reasons; as a train it took its own good time getting from Adelaide to Darwin, and that suited me fine, and it crossed some of the most desolately beautiful countryside in the world.
The Ghan was named after the Afghan cameleers who, with their ships of the desert, helped to open up the lines of communication through the centre of Australia. Its predecessor was a slow, rattly, un-airconditioned series of wooden carriages hauled by, firstly steam locomotives and then diesel, along desperately unstable tracks that would buckle under the oppressive heat or disappear under oceans of brown flood waters on the rare occasions that it rained, stranding the train and its passengers for days, sometimes weeks.
The new Ghan was well appointed and airconditioned, it had lounge cars, buffet cars and dining cars, none of which were of particular interest to me. I went to the dining car for meals and stayed only long enough to eat what was put in front of me and not long enough to get involved with my fellow passengers.
I was travelling light, having sold or given away my past life, my memories. I had not much more than the clothes that I wore and a book that I had wanted to read for years but had put off until I saw it on a rack at the rail terminal at Adelaide. After several attempts to get into the book I began to wonder why I had wanted so much to read it, so it sat, without a bookmark, on the table in front of me.
The further the train travelled, the further it took me away from the hurt that was all that was left of my life. A marriage where my wife failed to recognise the potential for a good life, and chose to gain as much, financially, from the debris that she brought about, deliberately. "I want nothing from you." She had said, "It wasn't my money that bought us the house so I won't ask for anything from you. This is not about the money." Bullshit! Then, "I want something but I'll leave enough so that you can start over." Crap! To finally, "I'm entitled to half of everything, so that's what I want." That was more like her!
She wasn't entitled to steal from me the cards that she had given me from before we were married, and that I wanted to keep as precious memories of the good part of our life together. That hurt, just as much, if not more, than the separation.
By now you have probably decided that I am a bitter and twisted person who has no redeeming virtues to warrant you reading any further, and if I were in your shoes I would have to agree with you, but, like the book that I have been trying to get into, the rewards for perseverance may just be worth the effort.
The train pulled into Alice Springs just after lunch on Monday and I got out, more to stretch my legs than see the sights. I walked from the platform and stood outside the station building looking around me, trying to decide how I would spend the next four hours.
"Can't you decide either?"
"I beg your pardon, were you talking to me?"
"Do you see anyone else? Of course I was talking to you. You look like you need someone to talk to."
"Looks can be deceiving." I began to look at her. She was dressed in tailored slacks and a blouse that looked as if it had been starched. She had a wide brimmed hat that shaded a face that looked as if it saw little sunlight. She was tallish, slimmish and middle ageish.
"I've noticed you," she wasn't about to give up on me, "you spend only enough time to eat your meals before scurrying off back to your compartment and hiding from the rest of the world. I always thought that part of the attraction of coming on these long train journeys was so that you could meet new people, not hide away."
"When the world has beaten you hard enough, and often enough, it takes a stronger man than me to face it. I would like to be left alone."
"Pardon me if I disagree, I know enough about human nature to realise that the last thing a person should be when he or she is going through what you have obviously gone through, is alone. I tell you what, you and I will see the sights of this place for the next four hours, we might even have a drink somewhere, or if you don't want a drink, a cup of coffee, and we won't talk about your problems, and, when we get back on the train, if you decide that enough is enough, then so be it. Is it a deal?"
What the hell, there was no stopping this woman, and it would take my mind off my miserable life, at least for a little while. "Okay, deal." I let the exasperation hang there, just so she knew that I was doing it under sufferance and that there was no hope of me wanting to be with her any longer than necessary.
It was depressing, I picked up yet another souvenir, from the stand in the souvenir shop, which looked as if it was hand carved by one of the indigenous people of this land, only to find that it was made in China. Why does the rest of the world have to take advantage of the uniqueness of this country, why can't we?
Cassie, short for Cassandra, we had gotten that far in our relationship, saw me looking at it. "I know, I know, you'd think that the government would whack such a heavy tariff on the importation of these things that it would be cheaper to produce them locally."
For some reason I had a vision of Meatloaf looking at, I think it was Ellen Foley, and singing 'You took the words right out of my mouth.' I stopped the vision right there because I didn't want to remember the next line. I also didn't want to admit that we were thinking along the same lines, that would end in disaster. "While the punters are prepared to buy them they will continue to import these phoneys."
"Let's make a stand! Let's refuse to buy any souvenirs that aren't made in Australia!" She shouted, the whole store screeched to a halt and all eyes were on us. Revolution! Anarchy! Futility. But we did it none the less. We walked from the store souvenirless.
At around 2 o'clock Cassie grabbed my arm. "Brian, I'm just about ready for a cup of coffee." We were, as it happened, standing outside a coffee shop. So, of course we went in. The coffee was passable, the cakes were an improvement on passable and the conversation was refreshing until it got to this. "I don't mean to pry on your private life," Bullshit! "But I think that I can help you. I might have it all wrong but I think your troubles stem from a relationship break down, one that has hurt you more than you thought possible."
"To quote the classic line, 'I refuse to confirm or deny that assumption.' How could you possibly understand what I have gone through." I was just about to add 'because you're a woman', but thought better of it. "I thought that we had a deal."
"Oh all right, we have a deal. If we can't talk about your problems, maybe you can help me with mine." I said nothing and she took that as agreement. "The reason that I'm on this trip is because I've reached the point in my life where I need to get away, have a break, to decide whether I should continue in my present job with no prospect of being able to break through the glass ceiling, or quit and make a fresh start somewhere else."
