He ascends the escalator, lump in throat. Halfway up, he looks back and sees her dawdling alone on the concourse, a little flustered, rubbing her face. She tries to open her handbag, but drops it, and clambers to pick it up. She walks in one direction, then walks in another, then back again. She doesn’t know where to go. He wants to go back and help her. He wants to shout, Where are you trying to get to, Mum? Well, what’s he waiting for then! He’ll go to her now and he’ll help her find whatever it is she needs.
