Shoes on the suburban train

I’m on my way into the city to buy a book and a pair of shoes, sitting on the train from the Subiaco station to Perth. It’s a short trip, a few stations on the suburban railway system known in Western Australia as Metronet.

The station marks the end of my village-suburb where it’s likely, when I leave the front door of my apartment block, I will know or at least recognise some people. In any case, whether or not we’ve met before, passers-by are likely to smile and say, ‘Good morning!’ as they pass.

A book and some shoes

It’s not just any book I’m off to buy, but the latest offering from Helen Garner, one of my favourite authors. The book’s about her relationship with her grandson, or so the reviews say, and his relationship with his junior Australian Rules Football Club.

He’s fifteen and the author wanted to find out more about the boy’s passionate interest in the game. The book’s title is The Season. A season, in AFL terms, includes the time through a training process, the bounce of the ball in the first game of the year to the end of the grand final, some months later.

The shoes I’ll buy will be cream or oatmeal coloured, either ballerina style flats or sneakers to see me through the rest of the summer.

People watching

I’m a people watcher, and where better to watch people than on a train, with everyone sitting in orderly rows being transported to who knows where.

Young men and women passengers ignore each other, scrolling frantically on their mobiles. Perhaps they’re keeping up with their friends, or else searching for and following up the news of the day, good and bad, and goodness knows there’s enough bad news out there to keep them occupied.

A middle-aged woman bends her head over a large and heavy book. I try to see the title, but can’t quite read it from where I’m sitting.

Baby play

Two rows away, a couple in jeans, T-shirts and slip-on shoes play an absorbing game of ‘pass the baby’. The child, I guess she’s about eight months old, participates willingly in this pastime. She crows and grins as she goes from the man to the woman and back again.

I imagine they’re her parents. But, having watched how my adult grandsons play with their nieces and nephews, and the fun they have, my assumptions may be quite wrong. I’ve already put my neck out. I’ve assumed the baby’s a girl from the way she’s dressed and the purple ribbon in her hair.

Corporate dress

My enjoyment of the game is interrupted by a young woman in what you’d probably describe as ‘corporate fashion’. She’s wearing a navy dress of some silky fabric with a ditzy white pattern. Her clothes on this train cause me to wonder if she has an appointment for a job interview.

Over the dress she has a navy blazer with silver buttons. Small silver stud earrings. A large leather bag, big enough to carry a laptop and perhaps a small lunch. I imagine a salad, in a green plastic container. I can’t see them, but her shoes will be elegant, probably court with heels.

She catches my eye and smiles, and I move closer to the window to make room for her on the bench. We’re only one station from the city. She makes no attempt to read or look at a phone, but stares past me and out of the window.

Have you noticed how metropolitan railway terminals almost always display ubiquitous landscapes which include merging railway lines and stationary carriages? In Perth, at least, most of the carriages are new and shiny.

The woman accidentally drops her travel Smartcard on the floor between us. As we both duck awkwardly to retrieve it, I notice that as I predicted she’s wearing court shoes.

Then we both notice that one is navy and the other black. She smiles, a small embarrassed smile, her face tilted down. Shrugs. I hope she has time to buy a pair of matching shoes before she goes to her appointment. Perhaps we’ll meet again in Myer.

Do you ever think of yourself, when you’ve burped loudly in public, or missed your footing and stumbled on the footpath, or spilt coffee down the front of your white T-shirt, as a cute little thing?

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About Shoes on a suburban train

I adapted this from a piece as a response to a prompt in an intensive twelve week online writing course. The title of the course is ‘For the Joy and the Sorrow’. It’s another in Writing in the Dark series.

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