twelve

The next morning, with the sun only having just started glowing in the distance, George set off. Mrs Proudhon thanked him again and wished him luck, and George thanked her in return for the food. He had been advised to walk out of town and take the road that went north, and once going along there to try and hitch with a wagon perhaps.

In his backpack George had the little parcel that he was to deliver to Mrs Proudhon’s relative, as well as a note and directions in the town to her home. With these possibly elicit elements on his person George’s bag felt much heavier, and every corner rounded was a confrontation with an imaginary official. Each car that rattled by was the police coming to arrest him, and when a workman shouted to a colleague as they unloaded a truck, or hoisted some cargo from the dock, the shouts seemed to be aimed at him. He was on edge, felt nervous, yet also excited.

Gorlis was coming to life as the sun rose higher, and soon the streets were filled with people walking to work, with cars and carts making their way to warehouses and markets, and the sound of the town was growing as people shouted over each other and engines revved. George felt calmer now with more activity around him, for no longer was he having to move with stealthy steps. He walked boldly and with purpose.

The hinterland of this port town was long and winding, following a river’s course deeper into the countryside, and so George, walking along the coast, soon left the boundary of the town proper. Around him now were houses of various types and sizes; tall town houses that sprouted up in a long row, their windows all in order, all shining in the morning sun. Then there were the bungalows that reclined peacefully at the back of long gardens, the greenery spreading all about them. There were also the tenements built by men who knew how to make money at the expense of quality, for the rooms were visibly small even from the roadside.

Soon though the houses thinned out and fields began to prosper, stretching out over the bumpy hillocks, and slung like green blankets in the dips and small valleys. It was a fine day, warm and with no wind, and so the air was now filled with the pleasant smells of nature; the leaves, the flowers, the earth and even the dung. George felt happy that he had helped Mrs Proudhon, and even though what he was doing was perhaps going against the authorities, he did not mind, for, whilst he walked in nature, he realized there were things bigger and more important than rules and regulations, that these were things that men worshipped to their own detriment.

‘To the side! To the side of the road!’

Harsh cries startled George from his reverie. He spun round just in time to see a wagon moving quickly towards him, pulled by a steaming pair of horses. He jumped to the side of the road and could feel the ground shake under him. The sound was terrific and had completely shook him from his pleasing line of thought. He felt like shouting after the wagon that they should slow down, that if had been deaf he would have been killed, but there was no use in such impotent actions. He carried on walking, his breast filled with agitation.