Four Foot Eight

Old Street

As she climbs out of the subway and back into the world of sunlight, fresh breezes, and full Orange coverage, Jane Bradfield's cellphone rings. She answers it.

The man on the other end introduces himself as Sergeant someone of the British Transport Police. A Mr Bradfield has been involved in an incident at West Finchley station. Tripped and fell down the stairs, they think due to the sudden onset of a heart attack. He's stable, but he's on his way to hospital. Yes, madam, your number was found in his wallet. Yes, madam, he's stable. No, madam, there's no immediate cause for concern.

She thanks the policeman, rings the office to say there's been an accident and she won't be in until later, and is about to turn right back round at the top of the escalator when something in her mind waves a little attention-getting flag. West Finchley? Odd place.. it's nowhere near home, and he was supposed to be away at a meeting in Glasgow last night ...