I really don’t think he’s coming.
I don’t know Sammy well but I do know that he’s very gossipy. I am really not looking forward to the whole office knowing that his flatmate stood me up.Afterhe’d seen a photo of me and heard Sammy’s description of me. And quite possibly seen me and then scarpered.
I think I’m going to message Dougie to say that I arrived (just in case he’s seen me) but have had to leave due to a family emergency and I’m so sorry that I can’t wait to apologise in person. Yes, that’s perfect. I’m already cheering up, actually; I didn’t reallywantto go on a blind date this evening if I’m honest.
After this, I think I’ll give dating a rest for a bit. And then, when I’m ready to go again, I’m sure it will be eighth time lucky.
Okay. Just in case meeting Dougiewouldbe seventh time lucky and hehasbeen legitimately held up, and given that we were introduced by Sammy rather than a dating app, I’m going to give it until seven thirty before I leave. Just in case.
2
TOM
I know it’s ridiculous but I’m beginning to worry slightly that Lola isn’t going to turn up this evening. I mean, I know she is, because she’s the one who instigated this and it was only three days ago when she messaged, and she was very precise about where she’d be coming from, where we should meet, everything. It’s a little odd that she isn’t here already, though.
Rationally, her train’s probably delayed, British Rail being what it is.
What time is it, though? We definitely agreed to meet at seven. I’m surprised she hasn’t messaged me to let me know she’s running late.
I walk backwards to look up at the clock and, bugger… I’ve crashed into someone.
I hear a piercing scream (basically a very loudGaaaaah) and get an impression of a lot of red clothing topped off by a lot of dark brown curly hair before I put my arm out and catch her (it turns out that the person I’ve nearly taken out is a medium-heighted woman).
‘I’m so sorry,’ I tell her. ‘Should have looked where I was going.’ I’m surprised I didn’t see her somehow in my peripheral vision; the dress she’s wearing isbright.
‘Oh, no, don’t worry. It’s easily done. Honestly.’
I hope she isn’t just being polite. I have a nasty feeling that I might have crushed one of her feet beneath mine.
‘Are you…’ I begin to ask before I’m interrupted by an incredibly loud Tannoy announcement.
‘What?’ The woman frowns. I’m frowning too. ‘What did they say? Lockdown? As in… what?’
‘No bloody way,’ screeches the middle-aged woman to my right, whose truly vicious argument I’ve been trying to ignore for the past few minutes. ‘No way am I staying here with you,’ she yells at the man she’s been arguing with. ‘That’s life taking the piss one step too far.’
‘I think you’re going to have to stay, Carole,’ the man tells her. ‘We don’t have to speak to each other.’ He sounds quite hopeful.
‘Too right I won’t be speaking to you,’ yells Carole. ‘I’m going.’
The announcer informs us all again at very high volume through the Tannoy that we all need to stay exactly where we are for the time being and that all the station exits to the streets and Tube and Waterloo East mainline station have been closed.
I look around. The concourse is full of people – in ones and twos and larger groups – in various states of confusion, disbelief, irritation. Close to me, under the clock, there’s the woman in red, Carole and her arguing partner, and two elderly women, who’ve been holding hands and beaming at each other since I got here.
The announcement starts again. No-one’s really moving. It’s actually quite hard to believe that this is happening but the gist of what they’re saying seems to be that there’s a suspected terrorist incident unfolding outside the station and that we’re locked down inside. We must stay where we are for the time being until they’ve completed preliminary investigations and then it’s possible that we will be asked to move.
‘I don’t want to worry you, but—’ the woman in red’s semi-whispering, like she even less wants to worry anyone else ‘—do you think they’re telling us to stay exactly where we are because they think there could be a terroristinsidehere with us?’
‘Erm. No?’ I reply cautiously, thinkingFuck, maybe she’s right.Andoh my God, where’s Lola? She must have been caught up in this. And then I think, no, of course the woman isn’t right. That would just be a monumental cock-up on the part of the police. They must have better information than that. I hope. ‘No,’ I state firmly. ‘If there were a terrorist inside with us, they’d be moving us to shelter, wouldn’t they, not leaving us here like sitting ducks.’
I say, ‘Excuse me,’ pull out my phone and try calling Lola. There’s a ringtone, but she doesn’t pick up, so I send her a quick message telling her that I’m already under the clock.
As I type, Carole screeches, ‘Sitting ducks. Oh, God.’
Yep, I could probably have used a better expression.
‘Notsitting ducks,’ I say loudly. ‘Very safe. Very, very safe.’ I don’t feel that anyone is going to benefit from Carole or anyone else getting too panicked. Obviously, I am myself panicking a little, about Lola, but, being rational, it would be incredibly unlucky for her to have been caught up in this and injured in any way. She’s probably just somewhere on the other side of the concourse, or stuck on a train just outside the station. There are probably a million good reasons she hasn’t picked up my message.
‘Exactly,’ agrees the woman in red. ‘We’re all going to be completely fine.’ She waves her phone at us and then scrolls. ‘Nothing on here. Social media, BBC News, nothing. If anyone had been injured so far there’d already be stuff about it online. We’re going to befine.’
