In the beginning, at the train station: bells and whistles chimed.
His careful hands specialised, pry apart her eye
picking out the coal grit, boiling water for the tea,
steam rising and paint peeling on the walls.
She thought of a miner – his high-visibility clothing –
the gabardine coat, teacups clinked, engine drivers chatting,
hanging from the big ceiling the chandelier acted
as his hard hat with Davey lamp lit the refreshment room.
Casually they meet on Thursdays to watch the films
intense and emotional Rachmaninov music:
Back at the station, engines running, ticket inspectors,
the black soot on the tracks once in the seam of a wall of coal,
honourable backbone, they want to love each other but the heavy-duty
machinery of convention – married to other people.
Both aware of the tearoom assistant tidying the table and chairs.
She cries at home and her husband thanks her for coming back to him.