He plucked up all his courage, and walked towards the bench. They were all sitting down, and the one who’d looked like himself still had the same hair and the same frightened eyes. The one in the middle had provoked him, and Michael saw the f-word on his lips even as the other two howled with laughter. Then he was in front of them, and it was too late to turn back.

‘Boys,’ he said – and they jerked to attention.

They were staring at him.

‘Listen carefully, please. Don’t speak. You see that machine over there? The vending machine?’

They looked, and so did Michael. Nobody was using it, so he still had time. The boys were silent, and you could almost smell the apprehension, for some inviolable code was being broken and they were just on the edge of panic.

‘Be quick,’ said Michael. ‘It’s out of order, and there’s so much stuff, just… lying there. Hurry.’

He turned at once and walked away. He kept walking, making it obvious that he didn’t want any further contact and therefore couldn’t possibly be dangerous. He was a harmless, drunk stranger who had spoken and gone. He only dared look back when he’d returned to the far end of the platform, and the boys were just visible. They were at the machine.

They appeared to be on their knees, reaching through the flap: they had found the treasure, and they would never forget him.

Michael sat down on the nearest bench, and found he was shaking. He was hot and cold, and out of breath, but the boys would never forget the moment. They would never forget him – just a man with earnest eyes, stopping to pass on a bit of wondrous good luck. Young Michael would never, ever forget that day – so he took the whisky from his bag and poured another drink. Could he go forwards now?

He allowed himself to smile, and then he started to laugh. The 15.41 had come looking for him, in a way. It had even changed platforms, hunting him down! And he’d still managed to miss it.

He was obstinately, utterly alive.

STUCK

11

Her wallet was gone, as was her passport.

So was her tablet, her phone and her tickets… the horror was taking hold even as she watched the last coach get slowly smaller and disappear. Her bag was sailing away all on its own, and her plans had been wrecked in an instant. Her bank cards were gone, as was the cash she’d withdrawn – and even the directions she’d been given. That meant her trip was at an end, but more importantly it meant she would probably have to pay hundreds of pounds to get replacement documents – if she could get replacements, and what if she couldn’t?