‘You were good, honestly, I was impressed. If I hadn’t been watching you so carefully, I’d never have noticed you pushing through the crowd to get to his side.’ She shook her head. ‘I’m guessing the police don’t know you were there that day, do they?’

Allison got to her feet. ‘If that’s what you came to tell me, you’ve done it, now fuck off. I don’t want to see you ever again. If I do, I’ll tell the police you’ve been harassing me.’

She was good; Jo could almost believe she had it all wrong. Except she had proof. She reached into her jacket pocket for her mobile. ‘I knew you were up to something, Al, so I was ready with my phone, prepared to snap whatever I saw.’ She tapped her screen and peered at it before turning it to face Allison. ‘I’m guessing the police would be interested in seeing this. Proof you were in the same station where your husband’ – she crooked an index finger in the air – ‘accidentally fell in front of a train.’

When Allison stayed silent, Jo used two fingers to enlarge the image on the screen and held it out to her again. ‘I was quite pleased with the clarity of my picture. Even with your hood up, it’s quite obviously you.’ This time, she was pleased to see fear shimmy across Allison’s face. ‘Absolutely no doubt at all, is there?’ She put her mobile on the seat beside her, folded her arms and watched as the other woman sank back onto the sofa as if all the fight had melted away.

‘Since you haven’t, I assume, brought this to the police’s attention, I take it that you want something.’

‘I knew we’d get on.’ Jo smirked. ‘It seems to me your freedom is worth a considerable amount. After all, what good would the millions do you if you were locked away for the foreseeable.’

‘How much?’

A woman for whom the material things counted for so much, of course Allison would assume it was all about money. It wasn’t. Jo had no interest in what her money could buy… although a lighter wig would be nice. Nice but not essential. There was a time when she’d wished for money to pay for more and more plastic surgery. Only the passage of time had taught her that the pain wasn’t worth it, that no matter how good the surgeon, the scars went too deep. No, she’d little interest in the money, but she knew Allison did.

‘Two million.’

Allison stared, then laughed in disbelief. ‘Dream on!’

Jo waved a hand around the room. ‘You’ll get three million for this, no problem. I’m not greedy; I’ll leave you with a million and whatever else your dearly departed has left you and my word to destroy the evidence.’