‘Is everything all right?’ he asked, kneeling down before the sick man, who was pale and shaking. He was at least ninety years old and didn’t seem to have his teeth in. His unshaven chin was covered in some sort of ectoplasm and there was a smell of urine about his person. When Nelson looked down, he noticed a stream of piss seeping towards him.

‘Jesus fucking Christ!’ he shouted, jumping up and leaping out of the way. The crowd let out a collective cry of disgust and he felt a desperate desire to run away, but the woman pulled him back down to her level.

‘He’s had a funny turn,’ she said, a blast of cheese-and-onion crisps on her breath. ‘His name’s Eric. I told him we shouldn’t go out in this heat, but would he listen? Never listens to me, the daft bugger.’

‘Perhaps we should leave him be,’ suggested Nelson. ‘See whether he gets better on his own.’

The woman’s forehead wrinkled into so many lines that Nelson felt it might be quite calming to count them.

‘Well, aren’t you going to take a look at him, then?’ she asked. ‘See what’s what?’

‘Would you like me to?’ he asked.

‘You’re a doctor, aren’t you?’

‘A nurse,’ he replied.

‘Same thing, when it comes down to it. Both overworked and underpaid. Go on, do your job.’

Nelson nodded and did exactly as instructed. He took a look at him.

‘There he is,’ he said, nodding his head. ‘Old Eric.’ He took the man’s wrist in his hand and pressed his index and middle finger against it. ‘Feeling a bit unwell, are we?’

‘And you can fuck off too,’ said the man, pulling his hand back. ‘There’s nothing wrong with me. That fella over there, that black fella, he tried to push me under the train. So is it any wonder I had a turn?’

Everyone turned now to look at the man in question and several people took out their mobile phones to film the exchange. A tall, slim, handsome black man wearing a suit and holding a briefcase was standing near by and he, too, looked around, assuming that Eric was describing someone else, before realizing that he was the person of interest.

‘Me?’ he asked, pointing a finger at himself. ‘I did no such thing.’

‘Here,’ said Eric, grabbing Nelson by the collar and pulling him forward. ‘He’s after my money. Figured he’d push me on to the tracks, then jump down and save me before the train came along and get a nice little reward for himself. But the joke’s on him. I haven’t a pot to piss in.’

‘It was probably just an accident,’ said Nelson. ‘You might have lost your footing.’

‘He tried to push me!’ insisted Eric. ‘That’s what they’re like.’

‘What who are like?’ asked a young woman of Caribbean descent, pushing her way to the front and raising her voice. ‘You gonna come out with some racist shit now, old man? ’Cos if you are, I’ll push you under the train myself!’