Free I'm on the train! by Wendy Perriam

pursuit. It was a relief to emerge into the basement foyer, which, in contrast, was mercifully quiet and deserted, save for the tall young guy who had taken their tickets, earlier. He was still perched on his high stool, but now deep in some book or other.
    She sank into the squashy chair beside him. ‘Mind if I sit here?’
    ‘’Course not. But I see you’ve left the film. Are you OK – I mean, not feeling ill or anything?’
    ‘No, I’m fine. I just hate blood and guts!’
    ‘Well, in that case, you shouldn’t have chosen a film like My Name is Vengeance .’
    ‘My boyfriend chose it, actually and we don’t have the same taste. Though, to be honest, I’m surprised they should be screening such a shocker at the Curzon.’
    ‘Well, we’re not exclusively art-house,’ he explained. ‘We do show other stuff, and this particular film was selected on account of the director. But why did you let your boyfriend overrule you?’
    She flushed. ‘I didn’t. We take it in turns to choose and, to give him credit, he did sit through a distinctly sloppy rom-com last week, for my sake.’
    ‘Nevertheless’ – he fixed her with his dark, reproving eyes – ‘it means half of the movies you watch you don’t enjoy. Compromise is a big mistake, you know. Why not see something you actually like and see it on your own?’
    Incensed, she looked away. This guy was barely twenty and, as a total stranger, was hardly qualified to advise on her and Josh’s lifestyle . ‘Some of it’s quite gripping,’ she said, in her defence. ‘In fact, I’d better go back in now. The shootout should be over.’
    ‘No.’ He checked his watch. ‘It lasts at least ten minutes longer. The police turn up in force and there’s a vicious three-way gun-battle with the mobsters and the rival gang of drug-dealers. Then another gang moves in and all hell breaks loose and—’
    ‘In that case, I’ll stay put. But, if you want to read, don’t let me distract you.’
    ‘I’m glad of some distraction, to be honest. This book’s a bit hard-going – fascinating but best digested in small doses.’
    ‘What is it?’
    ‘ The World as Will and Idea . You know, Schopenhauer.’
    She suppressed a smile. Typical of a Curzon employee to be reading Schopenhauer, rather than some mindless pap. ‘I have to confess I’ve never read it, but I did get interested in Schopenhauerat university – only via Samuel Beckett, though. Beckett seemed quite taken with him and absorbed a lot of his ideas.’
    ‘So you were reading English, I assume?’
    ‘Yes, at Bristol.’
    ‘What a weird coincidence! I was there, as well.’
    At least ten years after my time, she refrained from pointing out. ‘Reading English, too, you mean?’
    ‘No, Philosophy. But I dropped out halfway through. I hated the way the course was structured – all in rigid modules that had to be covered in a certain order. I needed much more thinking-time and the freedom to study what I chose, instead of sticking to a syllabus.’
    He had probably chickened out of his degree, she thought, with wry amusement, which is why he was taking tickets at the Curzon, instead of working at a proper job. And, if his shabby clothes were anything to go by, he was clearly underpaid. The blue-denim jeans had faded to a murky grey, and the battered black suede boots were worn down at the heels. Even his ‘Curzon’ T-shirt looked shrunken and ill-fitting. He was strikingly attractive, though: lean and rangy with longish, wavy hair as dark as dark molasses, and equally dark stubble accenting his strong chin and sensual mouth. Josh had sandy hair and less emphatic bone-structure and, if anything, his lips were rather thin. Horrified to be making such comparisons, she quickly resumed the conversation.
    ‘I never really got to grips with Schopenhauer. Apart from anything else, he’s such a thorough-going misogynist. In his view, all women are, without exception, superficial, trivial, subservient and