As she pulled up at the now familiar train crossing and turned off the van’s headlights, she felt like the only human being for miles around. Then, realizing that she was the only human being for miles around, she pulled up her scarf and stepped out of the vehicle.
It was cold outside. Owls hooted in the trees, the flapping of wings merging with the noise of the leaves rustling in the wind. Oddly, even though it was right in the middle of the night, it didn’t feel quite black. The moon and stars were bright against the patchwork landscape in a way they never could be in the city sky, with its fiercely delineated halogen lights. The chill air caught sharply in her throat, and the world felt very strange.
Suddenly, from far off, she heard it: a tremble, then the slight rattling of wheels on the rails, slowing down; then, coming around the bend, a shockingly bright light. It gave her a quick, unnerving flashback to being trapped, and she found herself glancing instinctively back at the van to make sure it was still there, safely on the other side of the barrier.
The train was huge in the night, utterly vast and dark, a great metal dragon. No wonder people used to be so scared of them. It slowed and slowed but still made a dark and sinister outline against the gray fields, until a light went on in the cabin and she saw Jim’s cheery face, someone else by his side.
Down beside the track she heard footsteps, and she wondered who the second person in the cabin was, for there, suddenly, was Marek, beaming, his white teeth visible above his stubble in the headlight of the train. She flushed at the sight of him, as she always did when, as so often, she had excitedly built up a book-fueled idea of someone in her head, someone who would match up to her romantic fantasies. She felt foolish immediately. But his smile was genuine; he was truly pleased to see her. And his curly black hair still fell over his heavy-lidded eyes.
“Come!” he said. “Come unpack!”
Nina grinned so widely it almost split her face. “I will!”
“AND!” he shouted, excited, moving more quickly. “Come see!”
Jim jumped down from the front of the train.
“Hurry up, hurry up!” he said. “We can’t dawdle. The sleeper will have our guts for garters.”
“The sleeper stop too early anyway,” grumbled Marek. “They should be pleased of a few more minutes in their beds. And also, look!”
Behind Jim, the figure Nina had glimpsed in the cab jumped down. To her amazement, it was none other than Surinder.
“SOORS!” she screamed, running to her friend and flinging her arms around her. “You’re here! Why are you here?! I’ve missed you so much.”
Surinder grinned. “It was Marek’s idea. When they came to pick up the books. By the way, can you let me know how you managed to persuade these two gigantic hunks to do all your dirty work for you?”
“It’s Scotland’s newfound proud confidence as a nation,” said Nina, amazed by how delighted she was, even after just a week, to see a friendly face—or rather, it seemed, three friendly faces. She realized suddenly that despite all the new exciting feelings—of autonomy, of freedom—that she’d felt since she arrived, she’d been missing the simple familiarity that came with . . . well, someone you understood, she supposed.
“Come on!” said Marek. “Move!”
They all scurried to the first car, and Jim loosened the pegs, first glancing around furtively. Fortunately there wasn’t a soul in sight. Underneath the tarpaulin were what Nina knew were over seventy boxes of books. She eyed them guiltily.
“I had no idea there were that many,” she lied.
“Really?” said Surinder, hoisting two at once. “No, how could you, with only all the many, many warnings from me to move the damn things?”
Nina felt awful. “I must have been the worst roommate in the world.”
Surinder rolled her eyes. “Actually, I moved someone else in too fast. She cries in the bathroom a lot. Then when I ask her if she’s all right, she says, ‘I’m fine, but why are all these books in here?’”
Nina frowned. “That sounds awful,” she said. “She’s probably depressed. I have a couple of excellent books I could recommend.”
Surinder dumped the boxes in the back of the van.
“Okay,” she said. “I’ll pay you on the way out.”
“No you won’t,” said Nina, as the two men lifted large boxes off the flatbed. “Oh, I am so thrilled to see you! How did you meet up with them?”
“Flew to Inverness and hitched a ride. It was quite exciting, actually. And I have a bunch of annual leave left over. The office can fall apart. Which it will. I need a break from that place.”
Surinder watched Marek bend over and load a large pile of boxes effortlessly and tidily into the van.
“Good view here, though,” she said.
“Surinder!” said Nina, shocked. She’d had more romantic thoughts.
Surinder looked at her. “Come on, don’t say you hadn’t noticed,” she said slyly.
Nina thought of the poem suddenly, and caught herself blushing.
“Don’t be daft,” she said. “He’s a very nice man doing us both a favor.”
“It’s a hell of a favor, risking their jobs.” Surinder glanced back. “Do you think he looks a bit like Mark Ruffalo?”
“Stop it.”
“I’m just asking.”
“Do I think a Latvian train driver looks like Mark Ruffalo?”
“A little bit.”
“Hey, you two, hurry up, huh? I do not want to get fired for deeply illegal move on Britain’s railways.”
The girls straightened up and giggled.
“Also, I have tea,” added Jim helpfully, holding up his thermos. “So unload the boxes before it gets cold.”
They scurried back to the train to fetch more books.
“Is there not loads of this going on?” Nina asked suddenly as the thought occurred to her. “Lots of illegal naughty things traveling up and down the railway? Smuggling and stuff?”
Jim and Marek smiled.
“Not with us,” said Jim. “I’ve seen what drugs have done to the place I grew up in. Won’t have nothing to do with anything like that. No way. This. This is different.”
Marek frowned. “You know,” he said, “when my parents were little, books were banned in my language. That is why, alas, I read in Russian first and then in the beautiful music of my homeland. So. Anything that spreads books and brings about more books, I would say it is good. Good medicine, not bad.”