AS THE TRAIN left the city, light struck the edges of the tables in confident beams. The windows were clean. No faces drawn in smudged remnants of condensation, no patterns of rain left in streaks of dirt. The train carriage was disappointingly like those that never left London, except, Piotr thought, a little older – here and there he could see the signs. The armrest, when he pressed on it, rattled against the chair, and twice now the door between the carriages had opened when no one was standing there. Perhaps this train was a little rougher around the edges. He was glad, after all, that they had a table seat.

He’d originally got them economy tickets – pricey enough, at the last minute – but they couldn’t find seats together. Holly had stomped her way through the carriages, her walking stick resounding against the floor, until Eva suggested they just pay the extra and sit in first class.

‘I’ve got this,’ she’d said as the ticket inspector came by, half an hour later.

‘No, no,’ Holly had piped up. ‘I’ll pay. I have plenty of money, you know.’

Piotr had rolled his eyes then let them work it out between themselves.

Now, opposite him in the comfort of first class, Eva and Holly sat side by side. Holly had the window seat. She was staring out but her eyes were still, looking into the distance. He was a little worried about her. Something had changed with Eva’s mention of the third generation – her certainty was gone, replaced by a worried frown.

It struck him that he was the only member of their trio who didn’t mind whether the pouch remained popular or not. If they found a way to fix it, then they would fix it. If they found there was no way to fix it then he’d make sure everyone knew, and people would stop using it. But it didn’t actually affect him. Did it? He felt his inside jacket pocket. The three photos were still there, wrapped in that old letter and stowed next to his wallet. He looked up at Eva. Her face was softer than Holly’s. Where Holly had a fixed stare out of the window, Eva seemed to be watching the people in the train, her eyes moving back and forth, never settling for too long in one place. Her expression was distant, though. She wasn’t watching the people, he realised, she was thinking. She was running something over and over in her head, trying out different versions.