‘This train is for London Euston,’ said the manager happily. ‘We will be calling at Oxenholme, Lancaster and Preston.’

He hesitated, but Ayesha knew that he was far from finished, and that everyone on board would now have to endure the full long list of station-stops, for they had already endured it twice. They would then hear all about all the snacks and beverages – alcoholic and non-alcoholic – and that would probably lead into an earnest, paternal encouragement to keep all one’s personal possessions with one at all times. The man was unstoppable, and poor Maria strained to make herself heard. To Ayesha she was a tinny whisper, calling from a distant planet.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I just can’t hear you.’

‘What?’

‘Wait. Wait…’

She got up and headed back the way she’d come. The train manager spoke slowly, as if what he relished most was his time at the intercom. Somebody’s toddler was in the aisle, but she managed to move past and get into the little vestibule as the open doors decided to close, and knock the phone from her hand.

‘A variety of toasted sandwiches,’ said the manager, but his voice had dropped away a fraction. She snatched the phone up again.

‘I’m here,’ she said. ‘Can you hear me?’

‘Pardon?’

‘I’m here, Maria. Your bag’s safe, okay? I’m holding it—’

‘Hello?’

Ayesha swore quietly.

‘I’ve got your bag!’ she said. ‘Nobody’s taken anything, and it’s perfectly safe.’

There was a short silence.

‘Thank you,’ said Maria.

‘Where are you? Where are you at the moment? Are you still—?’

‘I’m on the station, still.’

‘Carlisle?’

‘Hello? I’m on the station, yes. I’m at Carlisle, I think – Carlisle.’

‘Okay,’ said Ayesha. ‘It’s easy then. You don’t need to worry, okay? I’ve got everything with me, and we can meet up.’

The doors opened, and the toddler’s mother appeared. The toddler was now in her arms, and had started to cry. He was taking a deep breath, for someone had hurt or upset him and he needed to express his grief and rage.

‘Hang on,’ said Ayesha, moving to the side.

‘Crisps,’ said the train manager. ‘Peanuts.’

‘Do you have my passport?’ asked Maria.

‘Your what?’

‘My passport, in the bag—’

‘Yes, I promise. Everything’s here. And you’re going to Burnley, aren’t you?’

She had a finger in one ear.

‘Sorry, when—?’

‘Where are you heading? You said Burnley.’

‘Burnley Manchester Road. Yes—’

‘So you need to change at Preston, I think. Is that right?’

She moved back into the carriage, for the child’s howl was deafening.

‘Yes,’ said Maria. ‘I think so.’

They were rattling over points, and for a moment Ayesha contemplated finding the alarm and slamming her hand on it. She could bring the whole train to a halt, and have a simple, quiet conversation.