‘Silly fucker.’

Somehow, in all his fifty-six years of life, Michael had never broken a bone – so he walked on, carefully, and went down the steps. The freight train was gone, and nobody was hurt: there was a rag on the line, but it wasn’t a ripped-off, bloody shirt. Everyone had obeyed the teachery voice: ‘Stand well back!’ Like children, they had obeyed, and – as a result – they were able to continue with their lives.

No ambulances were needed, and there was to be no cordoning off.

No trains would be delayed just yet: the horror was going to take place later, at Crewe – and it would be screened by trees. The general public wouldn’t see.

At 12.36 his train rolled in, and he was relieved to find that it was the type he liked most. It was a stopping service, and the fact that it had eight coaches meant it wasn’t too crowded, off-peak. He hurried to the carriage he’d chosen and waited for the door to hiss itself open. He stood back, then, for a lot of people were getting off. Some were in a rush, and some weren’t. There were more men than women, and one elderly man delayed everybody because he had a stick and had to climb down carefully.

Fourteen people disembarked – Michael counted them, knowing he would never see them again. They all had one thing in common, he thought: they all had business in Southampton. Whether they were visitors or residents, and whether they were in the middle of a journey or at its end, they were all using Southampton’s facilities in some way – except that this was Gloucester or possibly Salisbury, and he was getting confused. It was Gloucester, of course, and they had all been brought together in this tight little clump, easing through the neat little door: they had all arrived, and were almost touching, obeying the rules of courtesy, for if the man with the stick stumbled someone would catch him. If the old lady’s bag was too heavy, someone would lift it down for her, and if the pushchair teetered men would leap to support it, laughing and smiling.

‘That was close! What a handful! Rather you than me! Are you okay, now? No, not at all. Have a good day.’

‘Have a good day, a better day! Hey, you? Have a fucking good day.’