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At first it’s slight and you think maybe a haystack or a petrol tanker or something is on fire somewhere over a hill and out of sight. But then you notice that the clouds themselves are reflecting the glow and you know that it must be something bigger. And a little later the train passes through a cutting and curves away towards the town, a small bright concentrated area of light and beyond and around the town you can see the causes of the glow, the half-dozen steelworks stretching to the rim of the semicircular bowl of hills, flames shooting upwards – soft reds pulsing on the insides of
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‘Things are changing. But not quickly enough to my mind. One day, though, all this will be gone. And then, thank heaven, people will have somewhere decent to bring up their children. Somewhere they’ll want to go home to instead of the street.’ I said: ‘Always assuming what they replace it with will be better.’ ‘Oh,’ he said, ‘but it must be. It’s bound to be.’ ‘Is it?’ I said.
