‘No, the people who live downstairs from you are crazy. And surely the most important thing is to protect yourself and your loved ones from crazy people like them.’

Jamie was silent for a moment. ‘Why are you so keen to help? What’s in it for you?’

Mike shrugged. ‘You helped me out a lot when I first started here. You showed me the ropes. In fact, when I started I thought everyone here was a wanker. Except you. So this is my chance to return the favour.’

Jamie furrowed his brow. He remembered how when Mike had started it had been his job to desk-train him and show him around. He didn’t remember being particularly kind to him – nothing out of the ordinary anyway. Still, that first impression must have stuck in Mike’s head.

‘So what do you think? Shall I give them a call?’

‘I… No. No, it’s not right. I’m not into violence. I find it abhorrent. The whole idea. Jesus.’

The door opened and a middle-aged man called Frank, who sat a few desks down from them, walked in. They said hello to him then Jamie went to leave. Before he did, Mike put his hand on his arm, the tips of his fingers digging like claws into the muscle.

‘I think you’re making a mistake,’ he said.

Jamie shook his hand away. ‘No. It’s not right.’

‘Well, if you change your mind.’

‘I won’t.’

Now, carrying his coffee through the train, back to where Kirsty sat with her book, he thought of the offer Mike had made and how tempted he had felt. He had been that close to saying yes. But he had done the right thing. At least he still had that: a sense of right and wrong. He still had some sense of morality.

The train rattled along, heading north, and as they moved further from London – away from the source of their troubles – Jamie relaxed. He felt the tension in his muscles ease; the pressure inside his skull subsided.

At Warrington Bank Quay a woman got on with a baby and took a seat adjacent to them. Halfway through the Lake District the baby started to cry, sonorous screams that seemed to make the train’s windows vibrate. Up and down the carriage, people tutted, disturbed from their doze or just pleased to have something to tut about. To Jamie, the crying baby was far less irritating than the consistent stream of calls the man behind them had made on his mobile phone, all of which began with the words, ‘I’m on the train.’ Jamie glanced at Kirsty and saw that she was looking at the baby, a smile on her lips. Her hands went to her stomach – a now-habitual gesture – and the woman with the baby looked up and caught Kirsty’s eye.

‘You’ve got all this to come,’ the woman said, above the baby’s din.