The carriage jolts gently, and the little world inside the steel tin rocks a little. Shoulders rub a little, knees touch and thumbs flick screens and eyes are fixed to them.
The woman opposite wears a peculiar expression. Her hands are clasped tight, her feet are pressed together.
Etienne knows she has a story, and as the doors slide open at Earl’s Court and passengers percolate between carriage and concourse he decides to tell it.
Her face is tight, he notices. Her mouth is set.
And it comes to him, not just her story, her anger, her decision to lay down the law to an underling as soon as she sets foot in the office, but the stories of everyone.
He decides to tell the stories of London.
He balances the notepad on his knees.